I apologize to those of you who may have seen my “sneak peek” at today’s blog post. I had intended to post something else without realizing the date today’s post would fall on. In light of today and the significance it holds, I decided to go a different direction. The aforementioned post should be up next week. I hope you’ll let this speak to you until then.
Like most people, I remember where I was when the towers fell. I was at lunch in Souers Middle School when a teacher came up to me and told me my older sister was there to pick me up. I was annoyed because it was chicken sandwich day, and I loved chicken sandwich day. I didn’t get a chance to eat my sandwich.
I didn’t know why I was being picked up from school. And when I got to my sister’s house, I still didn’t really understand. The news was on and they were replaying videos of planes hitting the towers and were continuously giving live updates. But we were nowhere near the action, so it didn’t make much sense to me. Why was this affecting my life right now? Why was I not with my friends at school enjoying my chicken sandwich just because something was happening hundreds of miles away?
I’m a little older now, and while I still can’t say I fully understand what it was like that day for somebody a little older and a little more mature than I was, who really understood what was happening, I can reflect back and share some significance this has for me now. There are probably several things I could talk about, numerous facets of the events that unfolded could speak to different areas of life, but there’s one part I want to focus on: compassion.
Most people who understood what happened that day did not share my chicken sandwich mentality. They were not irritated to have their life interrupted by something so far away and so meaningless to them. People weren’t worried about their day, they were worried about their fellow countrymen. They were worried about the people trapped, the people killed, the broken and hurting families, the sacrificial and heroic rescue workers. People let their life take a back seat to care for others who weren’t in the same life situation they were in.
There’s more that could be said. There are individual stories that would drive people to tears. There are stories of sacrifice and resiliency. There are stories of incredible love through an incredibly dark situation. But what stands out to me the most today, as I look back, is that people cared. They genuinely cared.
The world today is divisive. It’s “us versus them.” Everybody has an agenda. Everybody has an opinion. Everybody has a complaint. And, at the end of the day, many of us are only concerned as far as we are involved. I’m as guilty as the next guy. Why should I care about the Black Lives Matter movement? Why should I care about the LGBT+ movement? Why should I care about the Women’s Liberation movement? Why should I care about immigration reform? Why should I care about any of the hot-button social/political movements currently happening in our country or our world? They’re so far away! They don’t affect me! I just want to enjoy my chicken sandwich!
But that’s not true. These issues aren’t far away. They’re not happening somewhere out there. They’re issues that affect my neighbors and my loved ones. They’re happening next door.
When the towers fell, people gave of themselves to help rebuild. They understood the radical implications that the event had in the lives of the people involved, and they wanted to help. People could have stayed safe in their homes with their families beside them, turned off the TV, and not been bothered with it. But they understood something. They understood that there were others who were affected. They understood that there were others who could no longer sit beside their families, safe and unbothered. They understood that where one person is hurting, we’re all hurting. And they knew that if they were in a position to help the hurting, it would be wrong to sit idly by and do nothing.
It may not have affected them personally. The issue may have stayed far away. But if they could help broken people, they needed to help.
That’s my take away. As I look around at the world today, I can respond in one of two ways: I can see the broken and the hurting, and I can see how they don’t look like me or how I don’t agree with their point of view, and I can be happy and content with the hand I’ve been dealt and eat my chicken sandwich. Or, I can see the broken and the hurting, and I can see how they don’t look like me or how I don’t agree with their point of view, and I can recognize that we’re all dealt different hands, but we’re all human and God loves each one of us, and I can get off my high horse and love people and be compelled to stand in the corner of the people that need it most.
I pray that I can always take a stand for compassion. Life is short. People are precious. I hope I can learn to choose people over my preferences.
The Endeavor 