Reaching Out

     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.