Although I had seen the smoking ruins of the World Trade Center on television, websites and in newspaper and magazine accounts, it was still a jolt to see the actual ruins during our trip there just two-and-0ne-half weeks after the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks.
Beyond the smoking ruins, the greatest imprint was left by the people of New York City. From a police officer who teared up after we told him we were praying for him to a little girl at the Red Cross Family Assistance Center who said, "We are looking for my mommy. We think she is here somewhere," the personal toll of that day was with us for weeks to come.
In retrospect, I was reminded of the passage from the great hymn by reformer Martin Luther.
A mighty fortress is our God,
a bulwark never failing;
our helper he amid the flood
of mortal ills prevaling.
For still our ancient foe
doth seek to work us woe;
his craft and power are great,
and armed with cruel hate,
on earth is not his equal.
Did we in our own strength confide,
our striving would be losing,
were not the right man on our side,
the man of God's own choosing.
Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus, it is he;
Lord Sabbaoth, his name,
from age to age the same,
and he must win the battle.
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