September 11th, 2001



Hard to know what to write on a day like this. Nothing is sufficient, nothing captures the horror. The brokenness of the world could scarcely be more public or stark than today. I've been wrestling with brokenness and evil all day: I started the morning reading about Jephthah's daughter in Judges 11, and when I heard what had happened, I immediately headed home. Staggering, surreal images-- causing me to whisper, "Dear God," involuntarily, over and over again.

Now I'm back home, feeling the feelings slowly. I'm glad I'm alone. On the way home, I saw a woman who had just given blood. Blood center is packed. Everyone wants to be able to do something-- something to help, something to hold off the fear that comes from helplessness. I pray.

In the apartment building across the street, an American flag now hangs proudly from a window over the door. Seeing it made me feel better somehow. I'm ashamed to admit that the same loss of life in another nation would likely not move me as deeply. But this is my home.

Christ have mercy on us all. I'm glad to be His right now.
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