I remember the day like it was yesterday.
Not September 11, 2001 (although that day still resonates heavily in my mind).
No, the day I’m referring to is the day that forever changed the way I recall 9/11, and other misfortunes like it.
My wife Amanda and I had driven down to Orlando in separate vehicles (I was in town on business and she would later join me for a planned, kid-less weekend once I finished up business at work).
That morning we left the hotel headed in different directions, she went out for a little shopping and I drove to my Orlando office for a meeting.
The day seemed to be entirely ordinary, but that would quickly change.
In the middle of my meeting, my cell phone began to quietly buzz – it was Amanda.
We’ve worked out a little system for situations like this.
If she calls while I’m in a meeting or if I’m busy, I simply let it go to voicemail.
But, if it is imperative that she contact me right away, she immediately calls back.
So when I saw the words “Amanda Cell” appear again within seconds, I excused myself from the meeting and answered her call.
Apparently while she was shopping, she had received a message that a mutual friend of ours, Jennifer, had suddenly fallen ill with a seizure and before she could reach the hospital was placed on life support.
To give you a little background on Jennifer, she had just come through an immense battle with breast cancer the year before and looked to be in total remission.
But on this particular morning, she collapsed in her bathroom from a brain tumor.
The cancer was back, but this time it had moved to her brain in the form of a golf ball-sized tumor.
I have to be totally honest here, at that time I was really only just “OK” friends with Jennifer and her husband Steve.
And there have been several instances in the past when similar circumstances involved someone closer to me that I didn’t feel the need to react suddenly.
But for some reason, the moment Amanda called to let me know what was happening, I felt strangely “compelled” to leave Orlando and drive back to Gainesville immediately.
So I politely excused myself from the meeting and within a few minutes, Amanda arrived and we headed back toward Gainesville (remember, in separate vehicles).
It was during that drive back that I felt – for the first time in my life – an overwhelming urge to reach out to God.
I really didn’t know what to say, but because the impulse was so strong, I just started talking to Him like I’m talking to you now.
And to give you a little background on me, you need to understand that until that very moment, I had never genuinely prayed – ever.
Oh, I talked about prayer prior to that.
I even use to look people right in the eye – when they were going through a tough time – and tell them, “I’ll keep you in my prayers,” yet I never did.
In my defense, I honestly meant no harm, but I guess I simply viewed prayer as the right thing to say to someone who was going through rough times.
Well, needless to say, I had my first conversation with God that day on the drive back.
I don’t remember everything I said, but I spoke to Him for about 25 minutes or so.
I’m sure the people having to maneuver around me on the interstate thought it a bit strange/annoying to see a guy just rambling on and on with no one else in the truck.
But I suddenly felt as if a HUGE weight had been lifted off my chest.
It was the most freeing conversation I’d have ever had in my life!
From that point on, I speak to Him often – mostly in the mornings over peanut butter toast and coffee on the way to work – behind a steering wheel, just like our first conversation.
My life literally hasn’t been the same since that day!
It’s changed the way I view God, how I view others and how I view what most people call tragedy.
I use to question how God could let bad things happen.
And right or wrong, I now firmly believe that it isn’t God who “allows” the bad things or “creates” the pain, suffering or death – it’s the wonderful things that happen during those awful occurrences is what He’s doing.
For instance, I would imagine not one single person in the Critical Care Unit waiting room just outside Jennifer’s room that afternoon was thinking about me.
And rightfully so.
Though Jennifer would eventually (maybe even miraculously) fully recover, their thoughts were focused solely on a wonderful young lady battling for her life and how this situation was crumbling around her family.
To the casual observer, it was obvious nothing “good” was happening in that situation.
Except for the fact that two hours south of that hospital, somewhere along the interstate, someone as insignificant as me was encountering the Holy Spirit for the very first time – all because of this “tragedy.”
Now whenever I hear or see something terrible happening, I automatically turn my thoughts to what God’s mercy and grace might be up to in that situation, regardless of whether or not it is visible at that moment or not.
And that brings me to the terrorist attacks on 9/11/2001.
On the surface, most people recall that day as horrifying, heart-breaking, sad, angering, etc. – basically, nothing “good” seemed to be happening in that situation.
And though I’ll never downplay the senseless and tragic deaths of all those people, because of how Jennifer’s situation has changed the way I look at things, I now look at that infamous day with a sense of awe and wonder.
Crazy?
Not if you think about the hundreds of people who – under tremendous duress and unthinkable chaos – willingly and selflessly sacrificed their lives to save the lives of complete strangers in moment’s notice.
I know it’s not easy to accept that the reality just may be that we are all somewhat at the mercy of death, tragedy and suffering – mostly due to the free-will decisions of others – here in this world.
But just remember this, God is infinitely larger than this world, and one day He will perfectly and completely undo every pain, every suffering and every death.
And until then, take comfort in the fact that He is and does work tremendous “good” in every “bad” situation, whether we see it or not.
A Changing Grace 