Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Friday, September 14, 2001
There are certain images that implant themselves in our minds and
remain there forever, suppressed, but not forgotten, ready to be
called to the forefront when the memory is stirred by new events.
One such image that I carry is of a man in a ski mask, standing on a
balcony, and holding a rifle in his hand. The year was 1972, the
place, Munich, Germany. Everyone who was alive at that time surely
remembers the horror we all felt as Palestinian terrorists murdered
eleven Israelis in the middle of the Olympic Games.
I was eleven years old when that image was planted in my mind. It
was, I believe, the first time I ever heard the word "terrorist." In
the years since, I have heard that ugly word many times, and many
more ugly images have planted themselves in my mind. Now,
twenty-nine Septembers later, terrorism is yet again in the news,
and all of us have seen images that will remain with us for the rest
of our lives.
My daughter is now eleven, the same age I was during those awful
events in Munich. Now as she sees these events unfolding, I wonder
what impression they make upon her, what pictures will remain in her
memory when she is forty, when she has children of her own. I
struggle with how to explain to her and her brothers what is
happening, and why, and what will come of it, and why God would
allow such a thing to happen. But how can I explain what I don't
understand myself? I pray that she will never have to make such
explanations to her children.
As an American, I am unspeakably angry. I crave justice,
retribution. Yes, even vengeance. I am filled with righteous
indignation. I desire blood, drop for drop, in payment for every
innocent American who was slain on Tuesday.
As a Christian, I am filled with compassion. I pray for the souls
of those who died, for God's comfort on the bereaved, for His
protection over those who labor to rescue survivors, and for His
wisdom on our leaders, who will face difficult choices in the days
to come. And even in my anger, I realize that there is another group
for whom I must pray: the perpetrators themselves. I pray for God's
mercy on them, knowing that they will not, and believing that they
should not receive it from men.
Our Lord taught us to turn the other cheek, to forgive, to love
our enemies, and to pray for our persecutors. Those of us who know
Christ as our savior can and should do all of these things, even
after such horrors as we have witnessed this week. As individuals,
we cannot conveniently forget this, to satisfy our anger. To be
driven by our anger and our hatred is to put ourselves on the level
of those on whom we seek reprisal. It makes us no better than they.
But as a nation, there are times when the righteous are justified
in taking up the sword against those who espouse evil, when the
institution of government becomes the instrument of God's justice.
We now face such a time. For decades we have lived with an evil
called terrorism. The time has come to eradicate that evil. Let us
serve notice to every nation on Earth that harbors or supports
terrorism: surrender the murderers within your borders, or face the
consequences. Let the consequences be severe. And let us not rest
until we can rest assured that the next generation will not have to
sit by as their children witness the brutal slaying of innocent
thousands.
War has been with us for all of recorded history; it will remain
with us until our Lord returns. It has always been, and will always
be, horrendous, a thing not to be undertaken lightly, and never
merely for material gain, or even, as we have learned in recent
years, for religious or political idealism. But there have always
been, and will always be, some things worth fighting for. Some of
these were laid out in our Declaration of Independence: life,
liberty, the pursuit of happiness. All of these things that we hold
so dear are now at stake, not only for this nation, but also for
every nation and all peoples who live under the shadow of terrorism.
That is, every nation, and all peoples.
I belong to a blessed generation, too young to fight one war, too
old for the next. We are blessed because we have reaped the benefit
sown by the sacrifice of others. I know that if war is fought, I
will not be among those risking their lives to preserve our way of
life. I enjoy my freedom because one generation stood up to British
oppression, because another would not countenance slavery, and
because another opposed genocide. I thank God for every man and
woman who made that ultimate sacrifice for my freedom. But I do not
deceive myself. A war on terrorism will not be a quick war with
minimal casualties. It will likely last years. Long enough to
involve my oldest son, who will be fourteen this month. I may not be
called to go, but I may very well be called to send my own.
The terrorists call us cowards, because we value life, and we are
not eager to die for our cause. In fact, they are the cowards,
because they send men to their deaths, in the slaughter of unarmed
innocents. They see that we are reluctant to kill, and mistakenly
believe we are unwilling to die. It's time for them to learn
otherwise.
We were reminded this week that the freedom we have become so
accustomed to is anything but free. It comes, in fact, at a high
cost, and we are now called to make another installment on that
perpetual debt. If we fail to do so, we risk foreclosure, the loss
of the very thing that has been purchased for us with such a dear
price.
