A Ray of Hope

Ray of Hope

Today we remember 9/11.

Eight years ago, the world was stunned as we witnessed a truly diabolic act unfolding before our very eyes, watching in disbelief as Al Qaeda terrorists crashed two hi-jacked airplanes into New York City's Twin Towers in a series of coordinated suicide attacks.

I watched the events with many tears flowing down my face.

Over here we responded in a tide of intercession for this dear nation.

I sent email to many of my American friends. "This is not an attack upon America alone," I wrote them. "This is an attack upon the whole of humanity...upon what we hold as sacred, valuable, and dear."

The Sunday after the attack, we lifted up America in prayer. In church, we played "God bless America." We in the congregation were asked to stand as we listened to that beautiful song.

There were tears in our eyes.

That was eight years ago... but I believe the wounds inflicted by the enemy upon our hearts that day are still fresh and bleeding.

My friend Eileen, puts it so beautifully, and I quote part of what she has written here:

We still feel it here in New York. We still have the scars. We still have a hole in the ground. Thousands of fellow New Yorkers are still gone. New York's Finest and New York's Bravest are still missing their comrades.

Yes, we've risen from the ashes, and our city has gone back to what it should be. We have banded together with courage and dignity, and with the generous hearts of our fellow Americans, we were able to move forward. The spirit of America upheld us. And the prayers of the world sustained us.

But we have not forgotten...

Read more here

Eileen and I met on cyberspace. She lives in New York City. We have never seen each other face to face, but I have come to love her as a dear friend.

--0--

I got back from Manila on Wednesday, two days ago. It has been a fully-booked two days, so far.

My dear friend Pat, an American missionary serving with Youth With A Mission, was in hospital for "subdural hematoma," a medical term that means there was water under her brain.

Straight from the airport, I decided to visit her...to pray for her, to encourage her and cheer her up. It was a good opportunity to see each other again.

That evening, news of Barb's death reached us. As I had written in my September 9 post, Barb was a mentor and friend who had such an impact upon my life.

I had a chance to talk to Pastor Jerry, her husband, this morning.

It was 9 p.m. of September 10 in Minnesota. I tried to hold back my tears as I heard his familiar voice over the phone. "How are you, Pastor Jerry?" I asked. "I'm tired," he said, "but rejoicing."

Tired... but rejoicing.

This had been the hallmark of Pastor Jerry's faith.

Joy under all circumstances.

Let nothing steal your joy, Lidj.

I still clearly remember his words, encouraging me each time I would share something with him that was affecting me.

--0--

Tonight, as this day comes to a close, I want to share encouragement and hope to my dear American friends who have been, or still are, very much a part of my life journey...the Pats, the Barbs, the Jerrys, the Eileens of my life.

I dedicate this post to you.


Jesus said in Luke 21:28

Now when these things begin to happen,
look up and lift up your heads,
because your redemption draws near.

Jesus is our ray of hope. Let our hearts be filled with joy.

Rejoice in the Lord always,
again I will say, rejoice.

- Philippians 4:4