Shaun Groves
On September 11, 2001 I was on a tour bus heading to Wichita Falls, Texas. Bebo Norman’s road manager, Kirk, woke me up. “You need to see something,” he said and walked to the front of the bus with me dragging behind him.
There in the front lounge sat my tour mates, speechless, staring at CNN’s coverage. “A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center,” someone explained. I called home, woke Becky, and we sat watching, 700 miles apart, in shared silence. Then the second plane hit. Becky worried about her little sister who lives in Manhattan and hung up to call her. I sat there dumbfounded, thinking about my little girl that had just been born a few months before. What kind of world did we bring her into? What will it be like when she’s my age?
That day not much was said among those on the tour. Some of us laid in our bunks hiding from the sorrow and shock inside our dreams. Some talked politics and revenge. Others cursed, letting words fueled by anger slip out, words none of us would want our fans or mothers to hear us say.
We played to four people that night. In the days after 9/11 some shows canceled from fear of creating a target by gathering too many people together in one place. The shows that didn’t cancel were half attended. We watched the news together every day, for most of the day. Politicians from both sides of the aisle spoke of military action as an increasingly viable option. Celebrities held telethons raising over a billion dollars to do something about 9/11 – though no one had a clue what that could be.
3000 people who looked just like us died on 9/11. And we, as Americans, rushed to fight anyone responsible and fund anyone who could bring hope out of our sorrow.
In the months that followed I became increasingly uneasy with what we were calling “patriotism.” Country stars sang about putting boots in the asses of our enemies. Politicians spoke of Saddam Husein and Bin Laden as if they were subhuman. My church sang “God Bless America” with more gusto than “Amazing Grace” and my pastor preached on why God wanted us to war with our enemies.
Our mourning the loss of friends fueled our love of country above most if not all. We vowed to bomb terrorists nations into the stone age and our president declared war by walking into a cabinet meeting and announcing, “Let’s kick some ass.” And all God’s people said “Amen.”
We forgot the Garden, the bile and devastation that spilled from it eons ago when man and woman sought to become like God – avenger of evil, defender of the good. Abortion, child abuse, divorce, greed, selfishness, murder, rape, arrogance, theft and terrorism seethed through the trees and past the Garden gates and into the heart of every one of us in every land and every time. The root of the evil we mourn and fight against is in the human heart, in all of us. It’s not in Hollywood and it can’t be destroyed with a petition. It’s not in Orlando and it can’t be defeated with a boycott. It’s not in Bagdad and it can’t be bombed into oblivion. We wrestle not against flesh and bone. We wage a war of another kind against an enemy far more sinister than those holed up in the mountains of Pakistan or underground bunkers beneath Iraq.
We American Christians forgot all this after 9/11. We began boasting in chariots and not in our Lord and often confused the two. We forgot what “Lord” meant as well. Maybe we never knew and the tragedy of 9/11 only revealed this to us.
“Lord.” King. President. As in the head of a nation. A nation we Christians are citizens of. Philippians 3 says as much:
“…Their mind is on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.”
Only one translation of this verse doesn’t use the word “citizenship” or something similar in English. That translation was commissioned by a king named James. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe kings have always benefitted from Christians forgetting where home is, where their allegiance lies, where their hope comes from. Ours did.
3000 Americans died and we fell in line behind the flag ready to war, or, more accurately in my case, send others off to war against our flesh and blood enemies. 3000 Americans died and we opened our hearts and our bank accounts and flooded their families and countless non-profits with our compassion. This is what American patriots do.
But what do Christians do? What do citizens of Heaven do? I’ve struggled with that question ever since Wichita Falls. I owe that day in history for years of wrestling with such questions. What does Jesus say about violence and war? What is the Church’s response to violence and evil? What are our weapons? Why do I tend to care less about the 30,000 children who die every day of poverty related causes than I do about the 3000 who died in the towers? If the answers to these questions required me to change my life radically, to be strange or hated or uncomfortable could I do it?
Today is the anniversary, for me, not just of a national tragedy but of my awakening to my own mixed allegiance, my own dual citizenship, my own inability to follow Jesus without flinching when evil knocks on my door or knocks over a piece of the skyline. 9/11 toppled my theology and politics and forced me to rebuild on firmer foundations.
What did 9/11 do to you? How will you never be the same?
Billy Chia says:
Shaun,
Thankyou for this post. Sometimes I find myself with an uneasy feeling. It’s one that says, “Things are not quite right here, but I can’t put my finger on it.” I’ve felt this way all day today becuase it was 9/11.
I’ve thought to myself, “Yeah it’s 9/11 I bet everyone’s gonna blog about this, why don’t I care about it more?”
Your words here are real, and I greatly appreciate them. They articulate what I’ve felt all day, but couldn’t seem verbalize.
It’s not that 9/11 wasn’t a tragedy, it’s that we face great tragedies everyday and in the mix often forget that our war isn’t against enemies of flesh and blood. We often forget that our citizenship is in heaven.
angie says:
My husband was called up to serve in the weeks following 9/11.
My faith is in Christ alone, I am heir to the throne of Christ. I am also a proud citizen of America, I get teary when I sing God Bless America and I cover my heart with my hand when I say the pledge.
Because I am an American, living the greatest nation on earth I have a responsiblity to care for those who cannot care for themselves. To love the poor and helpless, here and around the world.
It makes my sad that you cannot reconcile those two things in your mind, but that’s alright. My husband and many more like him will stand up in your place and fight for your freedom to say and blog about anything you want!
I don’t think this makes you ‘less’ of a christian either, perhaps less of a patrotic citizen, but that’s ok too.
We are not all called to be the same, our voices are suppossed to be different.
And I’m sure it was a typing error but it was 3000 not 300. We should never forget!
God Bless you and God Bless America!
To whom much is given much in required.
Michelle says:
I was in shock for about a week after 9/11/01. I too watched the news non-stop (one of the only times in my life I’ve done so) and when the smoke finally cleared out of the city and I saw the NYC skyline minus the towers…that’s when it hit me and I cried.
Six years later, I still tear up during memorials. But I cry more for the individual losses, not the “blow” to our country.
Six years later, my politics are a lot different than they were that day. I recognize now that the war we’re in now has nothing to do with 9/11. I recognize that as a country, we should defend our borders and our citizens and I respect that. When the “defending” puts us on the offensive, though, that’s where the problems come in for me.
Six years later, I’m still trying to sort out how much of my faith is Americanized rather than it being the other way around.
Grovesfan says:
I was in England on that day and I too watched the scene unfold on tv. Shortly afterward, I went through baracaded gates and several heavily armed Military Police to pick my children up from the base school. My husband was in Crete at the time and my brother in law as assigned to the Pentagon. I was worried for family and friends I knew at the Pentagon. I struggled with an explanation to my children about what had happened. I was angry and felt violated. I saw hundreds of Brits line the gates outside our bases with flowers, cards and letters of sympathy, etc.
I grew up in a Christian home that was VERY patriotic as well. (Much like yours Shaun). My political views have changed a great deal since 9/11 too. Not really because of 9/11, but because I’ve prayed through a great deal, been educated by some great teachers, and been open to what the Holy Spirit is saying to me. Not that those who don’t share by beliefs are any less educated or open to the Holy Spirit. Not sayin that at all! I still struggle with a lot of things and I haven’t come to any solid conclusions on some things either, but I’m learning, and growing, and my faith is being tested. That’s what it’s all about afterall. A deeper relationship with God as my LORD is where this has all taken me and I hope it will continue to do so.
Beth
Cali Amy says:
I remember sitting in chapel at my Christian college while everyone prayed until I couldn’t stand it anymore and I went to watch tv. I can’t remember what I felt…partly that we should have expected it and that my friends and I had sort of expected it–we’d had a conversation earlier in the week about just waiting for something bad to happen. Not specifically the events of 9/11 but a wake up call to the complacent comfortable America. I felt terrible sorrow and uncertainty. And I felt love for my countrymen. I was also in a class called Intro to Islam that semester which was helpful in understanding where our attackers were coming from and how they operate. We learned about the Taliban and Afghanistan.
and then everything still seemed normal and I had to finish my senior paper and take my exams and contemplate my future.
But because it changed you, Shaun, it also challenged so many of us who read your words. The combination of living in another country, and reading your thoughts on peace, citizenship, etc. challenged me to think about things I had never really thought much about before. So thanks for that.
Nancy Tyler says:
I was in my office, two blocks from the White House on 9/11/01.
We read over an online news alert that the first aircraft hit the World Trade Center. We figured it was a small plane, lost somehow. It was sad. After we heard the second plane hit, we went into our boss’ office to watch together as the towers collapsed and to receive the news from another coworker who was on the roof of our building that a pillar of smoke was coming from the direction of the Pentagon.
We looked outside to see what we later learned was the White House staff, running for their lives down the street.
One after the other, we began receiving reports that there had been a car bomb in front of the State Department and a fire on the National Mall between the Washington Monument and the Capitol. We heard that the Sears Tower had been bombed. We didn’t know at the time that those reports were false.
The DC Metro subway system shut down. The roads were impassibly jammed with cars trying to get out of town. We were stuck in the city.
A coworker–normally ruddy, playful, and chatty–got off the phone from talking to a friend in “secret places” to say that a fourth plane was still in the air and heading, they thought, for the White House. He was pallid and couldn’t speak beyond that. The nation was under attack, we were told. We called home and left tearful “I love you” messages for our mothers and then the phones went dead.
The question became, do we stay in our building, which is in the path of that plane, or try to make it home? Home, we decided, or as close to it as we could get.
A coworker went to get his car and as I waited for him, I got to share my hope in Christ with a bunch of people–even some who had blown me off before when spiritual topics came up.
A few of us then decided to wait on the street. So I grabbed food and water from the office, not knowing where we’d end up or for how long, and went outside with one coworker who was fighting to keep from going into premature labor from the stress and another whose fiancé worked in the Pentagon and was missing.
We walked a block toward the parking garage and wound up in front of Secret Service headquarters where heavily armed and bulletproof vested agents were running in every direction. Two of them ordered us to take cover. We were unsafe being on the street so close to the White House, they said.
My friend finally extricated his car from the garage and we crammed into the seats and the footwells and the trunk and began our two hour, eight mile drive home. Emergency vehicles nearly sideswiped us as they squeezed through the lines of cars. Police and military aircraft seemed to swoop down on the traffic like enraged wasps. We gasped at the burning Pentagon as traffic crawled by it and we hugged tightly as we said goodbye at the suburban Metro station parking lot.
Alone outside my car, I looked up to see the most brilliant blue sky and gleaming sun. Emotionally, I was as numb as the day my husband died. But my mind still worked. And at that moment, I thought it cruel that the day was so clean and bright outside when, inside us, our hearts had been shrouded by such a sooty darkness of fear and sadness.
It wouldn’t stay dark inside of me forever though. In fact, I began to understand the change that God had in mind for me through the experience of that day when I got in my car and turned the key in the ignition.
P.D. Ross says:
Great post Shaun. When 9/11 happened I was working at a house next to the Greensboro airport. I noticed that a lot, and i mean a lot, of planes were constantly landing and none were taking off. They were grounding all planes in the U.S. My wife called to tell me what was happening and i remembered that i had a friend visit the trade center about a week before and i was glad he wasn’t there that day. I was sad and could not believe that we were “attacked” as the media was putting it. I went home at lunch and watched with most of the world what was happening. i remember seeing people from other countries dancing in the streets and feeling really confused about that. I prayed a lot for people I did not know that day. And for our country.
But deep inside i knew that this would lead to some terrible things that would be done in the name of patriotism or even worse in the name of God. I knew that our goverment would use this to lead a “campaign” fueled by hate and greed, with hidden agendas. I knew I would see more “God Bless America” stickers than i ever have. And would wonder why these people sticking these stickers could not see how God had already blessed America beyond belief. I wondered if God is disappointed in our nation because he has blessed it and we somehow seem to waste that blessing. I wondered if we would start killing innocent people in the mideast in the name of God and give high fives to each other when we here news that we took out a “key terrorist leader”, never mind the school full of children that went with him. I guess i could keep going but I think you see how I was feeling. I hate that it ever happened.
P.D.
Cali Amy says:
Nancy, when is your book coming out?
Trey says:
Hey Shaun,
I just want to let you know you weren’t the only one who questioned American Christianity after 9/11. It actually didn’t really hit me until America went to war in Iraq. It was in those months leading up to the war, in the winter of ‘02 when war was on everyone’s mind and lips.
I was attending a Bible study and we watched a movie called The Mission with Jeremy Irons and Robert DeNiro. You may have seen it, but it’s about 2 missionaries, one who decides to take up arms and fight off the Spanish invaders with the tribe and one who passively accepts his fate.
The leader’s intention was to get us talking. I don’t remember about what in particular, but the night ended with me and my friend debating in front of the whole group of about 12 whether or not Christians should fight and if so what should we fight for. It dawned on me that night, “Can I see Jesus killing another human?” I couldn’t answer that with a yes. I saw no reason to justify it. So could I?
And taken a step further, do I think it’s right for America to go to war? There the lines were blured (And today I would say no). But should Christians encourage/support war? Should Christians desire the death and demolition of others?
I know there is that seeming “God of War” from the Old Testament. And God told the Israelites to destroy their enemies. But America is not Israel. And the “Kingdom of God” as I understand it exists in every nation.
So for me, as a follower of Jesus, how could I wish death on another? I don’t think a Christian has any rights to himself. I think of all the martyrs who gave their lives to “terrorists” and they never lifted a finger to hurt another.
Scott says:
On the subject of September 11th….
I know that God is faithful, even when we doubt His very existence. When we have the audacity to, having seen, touched, and tasted the wonders of this world which He created, still desire to probe His wounds, He remains faithful.
Too many times we attribute amazing works in our lives to “coincidence”. I am ashamed to say that I am guilty of this. When my faith has been weakest, I seem most willing to excuse amazing examples of God’s perfect plan at work. During one of these particularly weak times and shortly after my recent medical troubles, a family friend prayed with me that I would experience something so impressive in my life, that I could not simply attribute it to “coincidence”.
I had all but forgotten that prayer, in the midst of our getting rid of property and preparing our home to sell. Then, one rather unimpressive item we had decided to get rid of would come to symbolize God’s faithfulness to another family, and to ours, by using us as a vessel.
One of the items that we were disposing of was a trumpet. I had purchased it some years before at a thrift store or yard sale. I couldn’t remember which or exactly when. We had it for several years. I had given it to one of my sons. He and his brothers occasionally spit and coughed into it in attempts to make sound. My wife and I wanted to donate it to a thrift store, because we didn’t really feel that it was worth the effort to put on E-bay. My son would have none of that. He insisted that we attempt to sell his prize trumpet. However, the several times when we attempted to list the trumpet, he could not produce all of the parts required to make it work. It seemed we were always missing a mouthpiece or some other integral part of the horn. One day in late August, we found everything and listed the trumpet and case on E-bay. My son was quite pleased.
A couple of days into the auction, we received an e-mail from a potential buyer asking us if there was any identification on the trumpet or case. Oddly enough, we had never even looked at it that closely. Upon close inspection, we saw that the name “Chic Burlingame” was carefully scratched into the handle of the case. My wife and I wondered if Chic might have been a famous jazz musician. I performed an Internet search for his name and learned that Chic was not a famous jazz musician, but he was quite an amazing trumpeter, nonetheless.
I learned that Charles “Chic” Burlingame was the son of two military parents. He and his brothers and sister were brought up in a loving and supportive home. His mother encouraged a love of music and dictated that each child learned to play an instrument. Chic selected this trumpet. He practiced it every day, while he was learning to play. His sister, from the other side of a bedroom wall, could testify to his dedication to learn this instrument. On Sundays, Chic would strap this trumpet in its case to the back of his bicycle and ride with it to church, where he played in the band. Chic played the trumped in the High School band with his younger brother. Chic went on to play the trumpet at the United States Naval Academy, where he attended college.
In addition to his love of music, he had a love of aviation from an early age. At the age of six, he fashioned a model airplane from scraps of wood. On the wings, he wrote the letters “U.S.A”. Chic, with his trumpet in hand, eventually went on to graduate from the United States Naval Academy. He was known as a gifted pilot. He flew F4 “Phantom” fighter jets from the U.S.S. Saratoga aircraft carrier. He served several tours at and was an honor graduate of the Navy’s elite “Top Gun” school in Miramar, California. He remained in the Naval Reserve, even after became a pilot in the private sector.
Chic was definitely a great American success story and an example of exemplary character. We were proud to learn that we had found the beloved trumpet of his youth. The more we learned about Chic, the more we were inspired.
We learned that, during his time at the Naval Academy, Chic played the trumpet with a man named Frank Culbertson. Frank was also a gifted aviator. He went on to become an astronaut. Frank Culbertson observed the events of September 11, 2001, from his position as the Commander of the International Space Station. He, with his trumpet, was the lone American in space that day.
Frank Culbertson watched the smoke rising after the attacks on his homeland. He did not know, at that time, that his classmate and fellow trumpeter was the Captain of American Airlines Flight 77, which had been hi-jacked and flown into the Pentagon earlier that morning.
After learning of Chic’s death, Frank memorialized him and the thirteen other Naval Academy graduates who lost their lives during the attacks on September 11, 2001 in a special broadcast from space. It concluded with Frank playing “Taps” on his trumpet. Frank later commented how differently tears flow in space.
We ended our auction of the trumpet.
Cali Amy says:
That is an AMAZING story. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Tamara Cosby says:
I had not thought about 9/11 in this manner. I appreciate your writing it…I will be chewing on it for awhile.
Also…wanted to say it’s been awhile, but saw you play at the Nashville Sounds game…ages ago, it was amazing!!!
marine says:
I think the naval academy is a very decent place to get training.