“I am the true vine … Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers.” – Jesus (John 15: 1a, 4, 6a)
In honor of those whose lives were taken on this day twenty-five years ago, the survivors of the attack, and the heroes who sacrificed their lives for others, I want to share an excerpt from my book SPARROWS. It relates the thoughts of a businessman named Phil, who finds himself in the middle of a surreal nightmare on what started out as an ordinary day at work. The following is the epiphany he receives after he and a friend have fled the tower and taken refuge in St. Paul’s Church, just a stone’s throw from the World Trade Center:
Although the world outside had been dark all day, Phil’s watch now told him that true night was falling. His friend had finally succumbed to the weariness that comes from extreme stress, followed by a sprint, followed by a long heart-to-heart talk. Ben was sleeping soundly on the pew in the back, and Phil had moved toward the front, though not knowing exactly why.
His mind was still reeling with the thought of his own helplessness, a thought still so foreign to him. He had never been helpless before in his life.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. Of course, he had been completely dependent as a baby, before he could even make his needs known clearly. But he didn’t remember those days. His first memories were of being a child in preschool … of course, he had been dependent there, too. He had felt like a big boy, because he could walk, but he had unknowingly depended upon his parents to see that he didn’t walk into the street or the swimming pool. He had felt independent, though of course he wasn’t really. Then he had become a cocky, popular teenager … Well, he had been dependent then, too, although he never would have admitted it to anyone. But obviously, someone had fed him, clothed him, and provided a roof over his head, a car, and driving lessons …
As he looked back over his life, Phil was gradually becoming aware that every act of “independence” and “achievement” on his part – getting a degree, landing a great job, flying all over the world – had actually been made possible by others, from those who paid his tuition to those who believe in him enough to take the risk of giving him is first job, to those with the training and experience to safely fly a jumbo jet across oceans.
Sure, he had had a small part in it all, but as he sat in the pew, still grey with ashes and utterly clueless as to what was going to happen next, he was realizing for the first time Mankind’s dirty little secret: that every living, breathing individual was helplessly dependent; some were just allowed for a brief time to believe that they weren’t. They were all like children running around the mall play area, doing their thing and oblivious to the watchful eyes of the adults that kept them safe.
At first to someone like Phil this was an extremely unsettling realization, but as he gradually began to let go of his pride and accept the notion, it was as if a rosy glow on the horizon was announcing a new day, and he wondered if the revelation he was experiencing was actually the beginning of a new stage in his life, one of enlightenment rather than despair.
And he wondered why, at that moment, the Cross that stood steadily before him seemed like the one remaining sign of stability in the world. Sure, he was helpless, and as he now knew, always had been. But somewhere, Someone wasn’t, and the fact that he was still alive made him dare to hope that Someone just might care about him, might actually have been looking out for him all along.
Prayer: Father in Heaven, we acknowledge out utter dependence on You, and we thank You for being utterly dependable. Increase our awareness throughout each day that You are ever with us and every good thing comes from You. Remind us daily that we are here to love and serve You, our gracious King. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Seeking Divine Perspective 