9/11 Ten Years Later

As I contemplated September’s blog the question that crossed my mind is should I contribute commentary on the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks and seriously what can I say that would be of significance? It seemed pretentious to write about it especially as one who did not personally lose someone to …..I don’t even know what to call it...a tragedy? I don’t like that description as it implies randomness and there was nothing indiscriminate about what happened; yet all descriptions pale. On the other hand how can I post a blog in September ignoring that this is a landmark anniversary? I think I asked the wrong question. Every one of us lost someone in that historic event – a part of ourselves that was naïve to the horrors of war. The inherent innocence that was America’s DNA – national security - was gone forever. I decided why not write. I'm living this time in history.

I have, for the most part, avoided the annual coverage refusing to watch specials that revisit its images - why? What for? However, on last year’s anniversary I viewed a re-run of the Dr. Phil show. His guest was a New York City employee who was called down to the WTC to look for survivors. This gentleman spent the days and weeks following the attacks coming across pieces of death in all its deformity as well as fielding desperate requests from family members whose loved ones were missing. His sacrifice left him with PTSD, lung problems and so much emotional pain he is trapped inside a broken mind and body unable to engage in the present…his story is just one of 9/11’s ripple effects. The solidarity I felt with this man snapped me out of my own denial and I decided to face my own pain.

I spent last year’s anniversary reading articles, looking at pictures, viewing video footage and contemplating the changing of our world. Three pages later I had processed through some emotion. I thought about saving myself the effort of writing and post what I had previously composed, but so much of it is reflective of where my thoughts were then. This has not been an ordinary year in the life of Carol, but one of tremendous shifting…..a lot has changed, my views have changed and I have changed. I faced some of the darkest places in my soul and through this process have come to a deep understanding of how little of life I see or understand clearly. Secondly, my doctrinal foundations have been excavated leaving me a very differing theological worldview. Third, I have to admit I had been informed by media rhetoric that I no longer buy into. The only honest approach is for me to rework some of what I wrote to echo my current perspective.

What direction should this blog take? So many streams of thought flow from this one occurrence. When reading back over last year’s journal I could see myself chasing after each without any overall cohesiveness. The emotion attached plagued me as I wrestled with the idea of political ideologies, the building of a mosque on the WTC site and the increasing division in the nation following the attacks. It is hard to divorce the issues from passion that is attached to so much pain. The place that I am always drawn back to is how as Christ’s follower should I respond? I am disturbed with the divisive thinking that I see permeating the Body of Christ over the past decade; what I call us versus them thinking. We are in, they are out; we are righteous, they are not; we are chosen, they are the outcast. It gets applied to anyone who holds a differing philosophy, theology or ideology to our own; we all suffer degrees of it - it is the human condition, yet it has nothing to do with the message of Christ. The Gospel is that all of us are corruptible and Jesus came to bring redemption and reconciliation. Any other interpretation is a distortion.

I do not want to be influenced by divisiveness. This is not nor will it ever be God’s will. He calls us to love one another and to love our enemies. It’s a mandate – one that I struggle with especially when it comes to issues of violence, however, there can be no compromise. It is a non-negotiable when one calls themselves Christian. I HATE VIOLENCE! I hate it in all its manifestations. I think it is the only thing that a Christian can legitimately hate. It brings with it nothing but pain and it’s after affects are exponentially felt long after the initial blow - redemption is never attached to it.

I read an article for my Christian Ethics class that spoke to my heart. The chapter titled Idealism and Realism in the book War and Christian Ethics states,

"The Christian faith ought to persuade us that political controversies are always conflicts between sinners and not between righteous men and sinners."

The author also writes,

"It is a terrible thing to take human life. The conflict between man and man and nation and nation is tragic. If there are men who declare that, no matter what the consequences, they cannot bring themselves to participate in this slaughter, the Church ought to be able to say to the general community; we quite understand this scruple and we respect it. It proceeds from the conviction that the true end of man is brotherhood, and that love is the law of life. We who allow ourselves to become engaged in war need this testimony of the absolutist against us, lest we accept the warfare of the world as normative, lest we become callous to the horror of war, and lest we forget the ambiguity of our own actions and motives and the risk we run of achieving no permanent good from this momentary anarchy in which we are involved."

I too wrestle with my fallen nature longing to repay evil with evil, the desire for retaliation and retribution is very much still a part of my DNA. I was one of those, who in the rawness of the attacks, agreed with America’s decision to enter this war on terrorism. Even ten years later I am angry at those individuals who chose to board planes and participate in such a horrendous act of evil. But, what I am angrier about is that those who bore God’s image ended up twisting and distorting their souls into a caricature of humanity. Who is this God they chose to serve? Evil is the name of this God, no other. Yet, with this said, I have also come to ask the question has our response been anymore God honoring.

America has retaliated long and hard and it is no closer to reconciliation than it was the day we began engagement in this war. A large portion of the church continues to stand in righteous indignation toward those who are calling for peace. I ask isn’t it time for us to re-evaluate this strategy as a nation and especially as the Church? Should we as Christians support the use of violence in order to promote righteousness - is there such a thing as righteous acts of violence? I don't have an answer to these questions. What I am reminded of is our call to humility. When watching some of the original footage of 9/11; several of the NY Fireman were asked how they got out of a collapsed building, their answer was, “They walked toward the light.” My prayer is that we all continue to walk toward the light and may God give us wisdom, passion and a plan for reconciliation with each other and with those that call themselves our enemies.

"The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, bur rather it is the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority" MLK Jr.

The Darkness

It was dark when I got up this morning for my daily walk – it has been over a week since I have done this and I was hoping that it would help combat some of the weariness that has found residence in my soul.  I overextended myself this summer and what I thought would be a good distraction is turning out to backfire…..I suppose I should back my story up a little.    

I have spent the past year walking a journey of what Christian culture calls transformation.  When those in leadership preach on the term it seems so innocuous – so innocent – so safe.  The truth is it is a journey back into the darkness of one’s soul revisiting places of pain that have long been cut off  – places that are so infected with toxins that opening them up is like releasing a contagion back into your very existence that births one thought, will my faith survive. The anguish that attends this process is excruciating and if bottled could take a family of rhinoceros down.  Coupling this with the academic expedition through seminary; one that is specifically designed to deconstruct, has left the foundations of my life in constant movement – what I am calling my emotional and theological earthquake.  This is testing the very core of who I am. 

I have faced severe trials in the past – those that have ended other people’s lives both literally and figuratively.  Nonetheless, this time is calling for me to pull on internal resources that I sometimes wonder if I possess.  The tentacles of agony grab and drag me down at the most inconvenient times.  I sometimes find myself crumpled in a corner like yesterday’s dirty laundry tears pouring from a place so dim it oozes from every pore making it difficult to breath.  Yet, this is not the darkness I experienced before – the sable that permeated much of my youth.  I have been blinded by evil’s sinister fingers where the daytime is as black as a starless night; where everything is obscured by a veil of hopelessness concealing any of life’s beauty.  I have been imprisoned by shadow’s nefarious claws that bound me to a deep depression and I have been held captive in desperation’s dark dungeon entombed with no way out.   But this is different…. 

As I walked this morning I thought back upon a recent conversation with a friend in which we shared intimacies about our past.  Both of us had been bound by despair and our shared experience had me reflecting on what I am going through.  This journey is the testing of everything that I believe about God, people and myself.  The structure of my life has scaffolding surrounding it and the foundations have been unearthed.  This has me in a place of extreme vulnerability and one that sometimes suggests that the darkness will once again overtake me.  But that is a lie.  I am intimately familiar with darkness – I know it like a wife knows her husband.  I know it like others will thankfully never know it.  I possess an understanding of its nature that has not; nor will it ever fully disappear from my soul.  It has left its indelible handprint on me like a tattoo that has been permanently etched into my skin.  However, the darkness overextended itself.  In its quest to destroy my life it underestimated one thing…… the nail shaped scars that cover those handprints allowing for the light to shine hope back into my soul.

Solidarity

I should be sitting here finishing up my Matthew outline, but I can no longer in good conscience keep silent.  A good friend of mine and Christian brother has been navigating an extremely painful journey of healing; along with facing an astronomical crisis of faith while attending seminary.  He has been particularly transparent in the process; blogging for a wide variety of reasons.  Mainly to come to terms with questions that erupt from a place of such deep agony that only one who has been to hell and back can understand.  At the same time he has had the brave tenacity to often move against the tide of popular opinion; while at the same time holding onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe; he will find a place of peace and encounter the God we as Christians are all so quick to protect.

I have respectfully watched him knowing that he has the resolve to do what most find difficult – to be publically vulnerable and transparent in the midst of internal torment.  Those who have not traveled a similar road cannot begin to comprehend the weight of shame carried by those who have suffered abuse in all its varying forms; and how that keeps so very many silent and hidden in plain sight.  For this friend to put himself in the firing line in the midst of this type of struggle is admirable to say the least and heroic in terms of his Christian faith.  It is his example that gave me the courage to open up to my own soul’s deepest darkest dwelling places; which had been encased in steel, in order to let the poisonous demons (for lack of a better metaphor) out into the light. 

Many of you are not aware of the traumatic past I have experienced and the journey of restoration I have been navigating since becoming a Christian.  Even now - especially now, I am choosing not to write about these experiences due to my own level of vulnerability, quest for healing and unanswered questions.  It is not that I have not shared my story with some – I have.  However there is a huge difference in reporting incidents and the gut wrenching experience of sharing the deepest emotions of what has been done to you.  The fragility and exposure is excruciating to say the very least.  I have spent the greater portion of the past school year in hours of torturous prayer, writing and sharing some of the most deeply held pain with the people I finally found safe enough to open myself up to; a blog subject in and of itself.

Those who have not faced crisis of epic proportions or lived with unbearable pain are blessed and have been spared….for now.  With that comes a naïve view of the world – one that platitudes and pat answers often satisfy.  No matter how hard one tries to step out of that place of innocence; through education and/or heartfelt sincere desire, one can never fully understand the solitary journey it is until they face their own dark crossroad.  This has me ask the question of why we talk at one another about experiences we know nothing about.  Why we are so quick to talk at all rather than listen and hear the cry of the broken heart?  At a particularly dark point in my journey I was railing at God, railing at the church and especially railing at the trite answers people had continually given me in response to my pain.  A friend of mine who had the fortitude to sit with me in that deeply black place validated my feelings by saying; ‘platitudes are words that don’t give room for brokenness’.  How healing those nine little words were.  What they said was, I hear you.  

I have watched some push back against my friend with what I perceive to be an agenda of furthering their own theological position/worldview rather than listening to his heart.  I know as one who has traveled the tumultuous road of restoration, being heard is much more healing than finding answers.  No one has a right to dictate the acceptable avenue one should take in order to process their personal pain, nor does anyone have a right to stand in judgment of decisions made in order to obtain healing.  Those who have not lived with intolerable burdens do not fully understand how isolating an experience it is.  The only two that have experienced this journey; know its unique obstacles are the sufferer and God - they should be the ones to determine what is in the best interest for deliverance.  I stand in solidarity with you brother as you make choices that bring healing to your soul.  

Why Blog....

I have thought long and hard about the concept of blogging.  The idea of publishing one’s personal thoughts on the internet for whomever to read brings with it a host of concerns.  By their very nature words are limited; symbols that are supposed to encompass the human experience leave so much unsaid.  Communication is difficult in the best of circumstance and with the ninety-three percent of non-verbal cues missing from writing; a lot can be read into what has been composed.  I am a communicator by nature.  Yet, even with this inherent ability and the skills I continue to sharpen, I am limited.  Articulating ideas clearly takes a great deal of effort.  In some contexts the presenter may know their audience allowing for modification of their message; not true with the internet – the differences are numerous creating the potential for emotional and philosophical landmines.  Age, gender and ethnic background affect how we interpret information.  Political values, religious beliefs, educational level and presuppositions inform how we all construct our internal world of ideas.    

So why risk it?  Why write?  There are many reasons to place the metaphorical pen to paper – or to the postmodern generation - fingers on the keyboard.  We all communicate.  Maybe not formally, yet we all have a message we want to share with others.  By communicating relationships are created and can grow; boundaries can be defined and redefined, perspectives and mindsets can be expanded or transformed.  Communication is an ongoing growth process for both the reader and this writer.  Are there clearer forms of expression?  Yes, but that takes hours of face to face interaction.  Writing has become an avenue of self-discovery that allows me to process my thoughts, reflect on them, edit and adjust  my attitudes with the goal of presenting a picture that deeply resonates; or at the very least brings insight to those who graciously sacrifice their precious time to read what has been written.   

During undergraduate, my communication’s professor said there is no such thing as pure information – it is all persuasion.  I struggle with this concept.  When I think of persuasion I think of used-car salespeople or politicians that are feeding people lies and innuendo in order to manipulate and use.  Nonetheless, I suppose my instructor is right – my goal is to share – to influence – to persuade.  What it comes down to is credibility.  I hope to prove that I am an honorable and trustworthy source.  There are many reasons for me to write – to create meaning, to express ideas and to inform.  Some of what I share will be a representation of my experience – a perspective grounded in years of struggle to overcome traumatic events – to create something of worth out of what was meant to destroy.  It is my hope is that within these scripts someone will be touched and that we all grow in knowledge and grace. 

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."  Maya Angelou

  

Initiation

Yes, its true - I'm taking the plunge into uncharted territory.  Risks.  That is what this new time in my life is becoming about.  Never thought I would want to join the ranks of bloggers, yet here I am - hesitantly setting up an account.  I have not decided whether or not I will publish or keep this as my own personal space - time will tell.