Twenty-five years later, I still remember September 11, 2001, vividly.
That morning, we were picking up a rental car in Chicago to drive to the Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, Kansas. We were excited to see old friends and hear some great bluegrass music. When we arrived at the rental office, someone told us that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center, but no one yet understood the full magnitude of what was happening.
We packed our belongings, including our two cats, into the car and headed out of the city. As we drove, I kept looking back at the Sears Tower, then the tallest building in Chicago, wondering whether it might also become a target. We listened to radio reports as we crossed Illinois, slowly learning about the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and the crash of Flight 93 in Pennsylvania.
By the time we reached the Iowa border, the sky was eerily empty. All civilian aircraft had been grounded. About an hour later, we saw four contrails close together, moving high and fast across the empty blue sky. In the uncertainty and fear of that day, we wondered if they were missiles. I remember us saying, “At least we are all together.”
We worried about family and friends living on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. We wondered what would happen next. We were frightened and confused, yet deeply grateful to be together.
That day changed countless lives forever. Nearly 3,000 people were killed, and many more died or suffered lasting harm in the wars and violence that followed. Twenty-five years later, families still carry the grief of loved ones who never came home. Survivors and first responders continue to live with the physical and emotional consequences of that day.
In the days after the attacks, people filled churches seeking comfort, answers, and some assurance that God had not abandoned us. They came carrying the same question people have asked throughout the ages: Where is God in the midst of such horror?
Following the attacks, Presbyterian minister Fred Rogers offered words of comfort to frightened children and adults. His enduring counsel was to “look for the helpers.” Do not look away from the tragedy or minimize the suffering, but also notice those who move toward danger and pain with courage and compassion.
On September 11, we saw helpers running into clouds of dust and debris to rescue strangers. We saw first responders risk, and sometimes give, their lives for neighbors they did not know. We saw people offer shelter, comfort the grieving, donate blood, share food, and hold one another through unbearable loss.
God was not the author of the hatred and violence of that day. God was present in every act of courage, compassion, sacrifice, and love. Even amid horror, we caught glimpses of the divine in our midst.
As we mark this twenty-fifth anniversary, may we remember those whose lives were taken. May we comfort those who continue to grieve and care for those who still bear wounds in body and spirit. May we also remember the unity and compassion that emerged from the devastation, resisting the fear, hatred, and prejudice that seek to divide us.
And when tragedy leaves us wondering where God can be found, may we look for the helpers. Better still, with God’s grace, may we become the helpers: people who run toward suffering, stand beside the grieving, welcome the stranger, work for peace, and answer fear with love.
“God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.”
—Psalm 46:1
