15 Years Hence

In the immediate aftermath of 9/11 I observed things I never thought I would see in my bohemian, politically left-leaning, decidedly humanist neighborhood — spontaneous altars. At lampposts and street corners, candles and bouquets of flowers would be laid. They appeared like votive offerings “to the unknown God” of Athens fame. It signaled to me that my neighbors wanted to believe that there was something, someone, that sat outside of the realities of the tragedy that could bring sense, comfort, even peace in the face of the assault. This impulse was echoed across the city in the numerous “interfaith” services that were organized. Did the attack make people realize that they needed something other than themselves to believe in? Perhaps, but only for a while. 

New York is a remarkable place. Its mettle has been proved in not being undone by having a target painted on its chest (a target that every New Yorker knows remains in place). The city has long gone back to its famous hustle and bustle. This place is an astonishing and persuasive example of God’s common grace. But common grace is not saving grace. Those relative few moments of self-awareness (if that’s what it can be called) did not spark an awakening. 

There are signs, however, that fallen humanity, no matter how determined, will not have the last word. The church responded well post 9/11, serving sacrificially with time and materials, and in the years that have followed, the church has continued to respond as God has drawn an unprecedented number of young men to move themselves and their families to New York to plant churches. Perhaps our God who shines light into darkness and overcomes evil with good used the attack to bring our great city onto the radar screen of these Gospel entrepreneurs. In the end we might just discover that what the islamists meant for evil God meant for good. I think it possible. 

Whose in Charge?

The late Leon Morris, the respected New Testament scholar, offers this observation in his commentary on Revelation: “We feel ourselves caught up in the world’s evil and misery and we cannot break free . . . we all, at times, feel a sense of hopelessness and helplessness in the grip of forces stronger than we. The world’s agony is real. And the world's inability to break free from the consequences of its guilt is real.” (Tyndale NT Commentaries, IVP, 1987, p. 91). When we hear of a powerful politician flexing his muscles, daring others to stop his incursion into a neighboring country, or read of a yet another sect of religious zealots murderously seeking to establish a crushing theocracy, we sense the kind of helplessness to which Morris refers seeping into our souls. For the believers in the first couple of centuries after the resurrection of Christ, when ambitious Rome, invincible Rome, pagan Rome, had control over more than 25% of the world’s population, the future must have seemed even more precarious. How was it all going to end?

A powerful antidote for such fears is found in the vision granted to us through John (see Revelation 5). The heavenly scene that we are introduced to leaves no doubt about who is in charge of history and the goings on of the world. The victorious Lamb is the one who breaks the seals on the scroll of God’s purposes, setting all in motion. What transpires involves divine justice and gracious redemption. Evil, all evil, will be overcome, and those who the Lamb ransomed for God “from every tribe and language and people and nation,” bask in the glory of his triumph.

We need to be reminded of this super-reality when the closer reality closes in. The knowledge that the exalted status of our Savior was gained by his redemptive obedience, coupled with the truth that our prayers in the midst of such troubling times will not go unanswered, must shape our responses. Tyrants and terrorists do not have the final word. That is reserved for the one to whom the multitude in heaven declares, “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals.”