A Brief Word on 9/11
Today it’s easy black pill—that is, to adopt a hopeless attitude in the shadow of 9/11, yesterday’s anniversary of the assassination of Charlie Kirk, and the litany of other concerning events past and present which consume our cultural consciousness. Many have noted that since the 9/11 attacks, NYC has forgotten the smoking towers, signaled by their election of a Muslim mayor who, along with his wife has clearly signaled support for the Palestinian cause—the same cause that catalyzed Osama bin Laden and the other architects of 9/11. This post isn’t to highlight the nuances of these events but to note that there’s no shortage of ominous chatter given the state of the world. In fact, while sitting here writing this in a Starbucks, I have overheard from the same table, references to 9/11, Columbine, the JFK assassination, and more. All over a single caffeinated beverage. Black pilling over world events out of our control isn’t only morbid, it’s lazy. It’s the easiest thing in the world to stare into the abyss. You realize at the end of your cup of coffee that nothing of value—no solutions and no hope was uttered.
Over my vacation, on a long run along the beach in Narragansett, Rhode Island, I pondered what it means to be a believer and live in chaotic times. The convicting truth is that we should be the last ones in the world to black pill because of our hope in Jesus. I wonder if Peter, Paul, and the rest of the Apostles sat around the table black pilling under Nero’s reign. I think not. Their circumstances were dire. They were hunted and every one of them save John was put to death for their witness of Jesus. There was no such thing as religious liberty for the apostles. There were no protections. Persecution from government and neighbor was a looming threat. Houses and properties were plundered. Some were sawn in two. And yet, the pages of Scripture, many of them written by soon to be martyrs, are glowing with hope of an eternal kingdom that can never be shaken.
One of the things that woke me up to my calling to be rightfully optimistic about the future was that some of our conversations on the trip, with the kids present, circled the drain of hopelessness. At times, we found ourselves painting a bleak picture of the future based on issues of politics, culture, and world events. But what stung me with fresh conviction was, what are my children hearing right now? Do they hear a man who is firm in the hope of the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, or is my hope buried in the passing dirt? We should not put on a facade for our kids, acting as though everything is top-notch under the curse. But our discourse should always ring and return to that blessed hope we have in Jesus. Even if the bottom falls out, yet we have such a hope that we can refuse to eat the black pill under the most devastating circumstances. 9/11 is horrible day, the events of which are seared into my memory. And yet, there are many stories of heroism and survival in the rubble. May we trust God with every trial and tribulation, and may we remember Christ, who died to redeem not only us, but a world groaning under the devastation of sin.
