It has been almost twenty years since September 11, 2001. Everybody refers to that day simply as 9/11, but it wasn’t always like that. That fated day started like any other, normal, autumn day.
I was leaving my plant’s daily production meeting when our HR Manager pulled me aside. He told me that two airplanes had flown into the towers on the World Trade Center in New York, destroying them. He didn’t know if it was an accident or if we were under attack.
All air flights were immediately cancelled. Travelers were stranded across the country. The same HR Manager who had just seen the towers fall was designated to account for every one of our plant’s employees. If they were travelling, were they OK? How could we get them home?
The men who crashed four airplanes into the heart of our society had been in our country for almost two years. We had no idea how many more there were or what plans they had. In those early days, I had no idea if I should lock my young family in the house or resume our normal activities. I lay in bed at night wondering if this had been an isolated attack or if it was only the beginning.
The term “terror” was introduced to the masses.
Our nation’s policymakers kicked into top gear, making immediate changes. The Department of Homeland Security was born. Travel became confusing and inconvenient. Trash cans emerged at the security checkpoints, filled with confiscated fingernail clippers. My deodorant and toothpaste suddenly posed a security risk. Racial profiling became illegal even when the demographic of terrorists seemed specific. Three hour waits to enter the airport became normal. Luggage was screened at the designated areas, then rechecked before you boarded the plane.
The Patriot Act was swiftly passed in the largest single expansion of government oversight in history. To privacy advocates, it is still one of the most Orwellian policies ever introduced.
We were living through changes that would impact future generations, even if we didn’t realize it. Although the legal and procedural changes were enormous, there was an even more important battle raging.
Everyone was shocked by the attacks. Nobody knew what more would come. We didn’t understand people who sacrificed their lives to kill innocent people. All that we knew about the “bad guys” was that they were Muslim and middle-eastern. We had to decide how we viewed the generally peaceful Muslim inhabitants of our country. We had to face the fear we felt when we saw a group of men that appeared to be of middle-eastern descent.
Whether we realized it or not, our hearts were the primary battleground. Would we fiercely protect ourselves or reach out in love to our neighbors? Most of us started with the former and had to decide if we would pursue the latter.
We adapted and survived, but it will never be September 10th again.
Two decades later, we are facing another enemy that we do not understand. It also travels among us, difficult to identify in a crowd. Once again the responses seem disjointed and bizarre while we want things “to get back to normal”.
Our elected officials are tasked with deciding what freedoms to limit in the name of our defense. What businesses get to open? Who gets to work? Will schools reopen for the fall? Should masks be required? How many people can gather together? The implications of those decisions are enormous.
We are living through another season of change that will affect generations to come. The echoes of the past are a warning that our hearts, not our laws, will determine who we are as a society. We have to choose if we will defend at all costs or reach out in love.
The danger is slow to find, but judgment comes quickly. Heads covered by turbans are now faces uncovered by masks. We watch people suspiciously as they yawn, sneeze, or cough. The threats are real. How do we resume our lives?
We have had four months to mourn our situation, but it will never be 2019 again. We need to separate what we can change from what we cannot. The sooner we adapt, the sooner we will thrive in this season.
My church was scheduled to resume services this Sunday. Everyone eagerly awaited their chance to shake the greeter’s hand and hug the friends they haven’t seen in too long. We were ready to lift up our voices in praise together. However, as case counts grew, our hopes shrank until the lead pastor finally announced that we will have to wait for at least three more months before traditional services return.
His two-part message also announced the introduction of Circles. They are on-site gatherings at our church campuses with tables holding up to five people each. There are lots of restrictions, but also the first glimpse of resuming our lives. We are beginning to find our way in 2020.
I don’t know how my church family is receiving these changes, but I am as proud as I’ve ever been. In this small step, we have demonstrated that we are bigger than the threat that faces us. Although the virus may mutate, we will evolve faster. Faith, hope, and love are beginning to conquer the fear and uncertainty that has strangled our country.
We will never again wake up in yesterday. We can’t sit back and wait for things to return to a normal that isn’t coming.
Creativity, adaptability, and commitment to change must mark our next season. Maybe Circles are the way of the future and maybe they launch imperfectly. It doesn’t matter. We are beginning to lay the bricks that build our future.
Twenty years from now, we will reflect on the ways COVID changed our country. In retrospect, some of our decisions will seem as naive as the trash cans full of confiscated fingernail clippers. Then as now, we won’t remember each choice, but we will remember what we decided was worth fighting for.
I choose to make my employer successful in an embattled economy. I choose to find a way to worship with others. I choose to strengthen my community.
Just like the Circles at my church, I will have to start small and lay one brick at a time. If my work is torn down, I will start again. Life goes on.
I encourage everyone to choose something to fight for. Find a way to embrace what has slipped away from us. Navigate through the various orders that have posed obstacles. Respect authority but do not surrender what our hearts hold dear.
Our circumstances may be fractured, but our spirits cannot be broken. It is time to rebuild.
I’ve got two projects that are racing around in my mind. One will encourage worship and community. The other is an investment in my family. I’d love to share those now, but they will have to wait until another post and another day. I’ve got work to do building the future.
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This is a tough time for Americans who are accustomed to instant gratification and achieving instant results. And they are unaccustomed to exercising patience. The future will be a real challenge.