I don’t know where you were when you first heard, saw. I don’t know if someone you loved, or at least someone you knew, was in one of those buildings or planes. I do know that we Americans, to varying degrees, were affected. We were affected by hate driving planes into buildings, by forces set against freedom—the very thing that Christ died to give us.
And today, twelve years later, my heart hurts for children without fathers and husbands without wives and all those who lost loved ones. Time is grace and maybe the pain isn’t as fresh, but it still stings. Nine-eleven now rings in our American ears as the date that hate changed our world. Nine-one-one. Emergency.
Someone, somewhere, is always in a state of emergency. Halfway across the globe, daily, millions mourn and the date rings in the ears as hate.
We cry, twelve years later.
And today, children are raped and starved and handed rebel weapons.
But suffering is suffering. Everywhere. And blessed are those who mourn (Matthew 5:4). To mourn for what we’ve lost isn’t to take away from the injustice happening around the world. And to let the weight of all the world’s suffering sink heavy into our chests isn’t to lessen the pain of the wound inflicted by the losses incurred in America on 9/11. This morning, I mourn for it all. My heart is heavy and I don’t know what to do with it, so I pray. And it’s then I remember I’m not meant to carry it, so I take it to the One who can carry it all, and calls me to cast it on Him.
When you’re heavy with the weight of the world—today, and every other day—hand it to Him?
When you’re weighed by the weariness of evil’s toll on earth, lay it at His feet?
The Father is not blind to the suffering of this world He created. And His Father’s heart mourns when we, His children, mourn. We, those who have accepted the sacrifice of His Son, have the heart of a Father who knows loss. Who saw His Son suffer at the hands of injustice. And had the power to stop it all, but did not spare His own Son so that He could give us—freely—all things (Romans 8:32). And offers this heart of a Father to any who will call on the name of the Son He didn’t spare, for all of us orphans and rebels who didn’t deserve, but desperately needed, His grace. Where sin abounds, grace all the more (Romans 5:20). The evil that pervades, and promotes suffering? God’s grace reaches and touches and heals—deeper. More abundant. Let it? Let Him? He’ll take your sin and forgive it, take your shame and erase it, take your pain and carry it. And one day He will take this world He created and make it all new. Eradicate the evil that kills, and steals loved ones and dignity, and remove it, once and for all.
Emergency days will be no more.
Until then, He promises to be our Lifeline, to rescue us when we call, to carry the weight of the pain that threatens to crush us. Cast it on Him. Let Him take it. All of it. He can handle it. He’s big enough to handle all of your emergencies—and loves You enough to want to. Let the days you remember where you were standing, and when the world changed, be the days You remember He carried You through.