Where Were You?

On September 11, 2001 I was playing golf with friends from my congregation. We were in Conway, SC playing The Witch. While still on the front nine a man rode up to us in a golf cart and said, "Someone's flown planes into the Twin Towers and attacked the Pentagon. They're evacuating Washington!" And then he drove off. We wondered if he was drunk, but since it was still before mid-morning that would have been unusual even for the Myrtle Beach area.

The men I was playing with asked me if I thought it was true. I said I didn't, but that if it were true, it was probably "that guy named bin Laden." I already knew that name because of various acts of terror thrown against us that he planned, orchestrated, or supported. Still -- we were shocked when we returned to the clubhouse just in time to see the replay of the second plane hitting the tower. Shortly afterwards, the towers fell.

I got home to my wife. My daughter had called me when I was still on the course. She was getting my son -- her brother -- out of school. At that time we didn't know if schools would be safe. The desire to get home was very strong; I remember that most of all. I walked in and hugged my wife and kids as they stared at the TV screen. Nobody knew how many attacks would be launched or where the next one would be. I got calls asking if we should gather at the church building. My opinion was "no, stay home with your families and don't give the terrorists another target by gathering believers in one place." I'm still not sure I made the right call.

Some of our neighbors and a couple of our church members had made it very plain in previous months that they considered our family political and evolutionary throwbacks. We owned guns and competed in shooting competitions and that made us right wing loonies. Suddenly, those same people came to our house. Their husbands were trapped in far-off airports and nobody knew when, or if, they would be able to come home. Fear gripped the neighborhood as it did the nation. They came to us and asked us if they could stay with us, under our protection. Of course, we waved them in and comforted them. One particularly nervous woman asked, "Should I buy a gun?" I told her, "No. We've got you covered."

Another asked me how we should feel, what we should do next. I responded, "One thing must be understood. Fear is not an option. We do not and we will not fear these men. They must fear us." My young son, already a strong young man, stood silently nearby, eyes free of fear or confusion. It was clear: we were at war, open war.

While politicians play "gotcha" games and toss empty attacks and promises back and forth the airways, we will continue to pray for the soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen. We will continue to pray for those who wake up every day with the knowledge that a loved one was taken from them by terrorism or war. We will remain vigilant -- remembering that Jesus said WATCH and pray. Duncan -- whose Gaelic name is Donnachad (try saying it DAWN-ach-eg), meaning "dark warrior" -- has raised his hand and sworn an eight year commitment to the US Marine Corps. The US and Marine Corps flags fly from our front porch.

We know they are out there. We know they are near us. We know they want to kill us. But we will not let them defeat our faith or our commitment to Christian service. We will continue to grow the Rochester Church, serve this area in various charitable works, and love our neighbors. We are well aware that this world is not, and will never be, heaven. We will not live with a Pollyanna or pie-in-the-sky attitude that says "if we just talked to them, they'd like us!" We will walk wisely, redeeming the time.

And we will trust that "the battle belongs to the Lord."