Today is the first time in twelve years that my husband has gone to work on September 11th. No. It’s the first time in thirteen years. He never made it into the city on the day of the attacks. He tried. He couldn’t get in.
When I shared this with my mom, she asked if I was scared. I’m not. I’m not even nervous. I’m just sad. Tremendously, immeasurably sad.
I don’t want to talk about what I remember of that day. Everyone has their story — where they were, what they were doing, how they reacted. In truth, my story isn’t very exciting, but it is mine and it’s personal and still, more than a decade later, feels raw and cruel.
On this very somber anniversary, I don’t want the focus to be on what I remember, but that I do. I do remember.
I remember that this world is harsh … for everyone. And I remember that GOD IS BIGGER. I remember that He is always good and that He will prevail and that in the midst of terribly painful times, we can still trust Him.
Author Philip Yancey has updated a title he wrote and published over 15 years ago. It tackles the question the question of pain and purpose. No matter how much everyone wants to answer and explain it (“once and for all“), we can’t. The question persists. What is God up to — or not — in a world of such tragedy and pain? Where is He and how can He be good in the face of all our troubles? Why? WHY?
Get the book. Read it. Yancey is probably my favorite nonfiction writer. He’s exceedingly thoughtful, sincere and transparent. He doesn’t write as one who has all the answers (though I believe he has many); he’s on this journey of faith with us.