Early in my ministry I was a member of the
First Baptist Church single’s department mission team. Over a three year period
our little team went to New York City and for a week during the summer we
dedicated ourselves to introducing people to Jesus. (I know – “New York City!”…Get
a Rope)
One year we did vacation bible school in
Central Park, another year we handed out tracts and Gospel of Johns underneath
the iconic Cyclone Roller Coaster on the boardwalk at Coney Island. God blessed
us with being a part of a food drive in the heart of Brooklyn. Along with our
host Church, the Brooklyn Tabernacle, we were a part of a Children’s ministry
in the most dangerous park in the United States, Fort Green Park in Brooklyn.
We saw many children come to know Christ and we got to love on some people that
we may never have been exposed to in our life.
On these mission trips we were given down
time that we could use anyway that we saw fit. During the down time we were
able to do some sight-seeing. One morning I was rudely awaken from my sleep only
to escort the woman of our group down to the set of the Today show to see if we
could get on TV with Al Roaker. We ate incredibly good Pasta at Luna’s in
Little Italy. We saw Derrick Jetter pitch in the now none existent iconic old
Yankee stadium. We saw Les Miserable and Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. We
shopped in FAO Swartz and Macy’s, and ate breakfast at Tiffany’s.
One of the greatest memories that I have
is of a Fourth of July that we spent in New York. Most of the group wanted to
stay at Central Baptist Ministries where we were staying but two of the women
in the group and I decided that we wanted to go down to the Hudson River so
that we could see the Macy’s Fireworks Display and if possibly hear Ray Charles
sing the National Anthem. As we made our way down to the river we were joined by
wave after wave of people who had the same idea that we had.
Somewhere under the FDR Bridge packed in
the middle of thousands of people we waited for the fireworks. It was one of
the most awesome experiences of my life. Just looking around me I saw almost
every type of people you could see, people of every nation, color, background
and age. I was standing next to a Methodist Pastor from the Midwest. The only
thing that I could think was that this is what it is supposed to be like, this
was America. For that one night we were all Americans. I was so proud to be an American;
this was Mom and Apple pie.
Two months later, high-jackers flew two
planes into the twin towers and nothing will ever be the same. You do not know
what it is like to look into a jagged pit and try to reconcile with your brain
that a building should be there; that your brain insists has to be there, yet is
no longer there. There is no going back.
Genelle Guzmon was the last person to be
pulled out of the rubble of the twin towers. Genelle was buried in that
wreckage for twenty seven hours. The authorities had already come to the
conclusion that anyone that was going to be found alive had already been found.
No one could survive the devastation.
The first responders had traveled over the
area where Genelle was buried hundreds of time without knowing that she was
there, never hearing her muffled cries for help. Trapped under the rubble
Genelle prayed that she would be found. She prayed that God would give her
another day and another chance. Genelle heard the voices of the responders and
in desperation she thrust her fist forward hoping against hope that someone
would find her. She did not know which direction that her hand was going or if
anyone could see it but somehow it hit open air. A responder named Paul found
her and grabbed her hand never letting go until Genelle was finally uncovered.
Paul reassured her that he would not leave her. He never left her side until
they took her to the hospital. He did not leave her side until he knew that she
was safe.
I was blessed to be able to hear Gazelle’s
story firsthand about a year after that fateful day in September. Genelle still
walked with a limp and had to lean on the arm of her fiancé. The story of the
twenty seven hours that she spent buried in the rubble of the twin towers will
stay with me for the rest of my life.
Day after day we live our lives. We travel,
going back and forth over the same territory. We never know what we are missing
in the course of our days. There are people who are buried under the rubble of
their lives, covered in their desperation. There are people who are close to
giving up.
Christian has been charged with taking the
words of salvation to a hurting and lost world. We are to find those who are
desperate, those who have lost hope. We may be the one who finds them before it
is too late. We may be the ones to set
the captives free with the love of Christ.
