I remember exactly where I was. 

If the house were still standing, I could take you to the precise spot. I was in my home office in Amite County where I was pastoring at the time. I was holding my almost 13-week-old daughter as I stood near my desk. 

When the phone rang, I answered, and the urgent voice of one my church members told me to hurry and turn on the television. Which channel, I wanted to know. She said it didn’t matter. Just turn it on.

It’s bad enough when someone tells you to hurry up and turn on the TV — you know instinctively they’re talking about something on the news, and it’s probably not good. Then when they say it doesn’t matter what channel you turn to, you know for sure it’s bad. Really bad.

With baby on my shoulder, I went to the living room as quickly as possible and turned on the TV. I saw something it took a few seconds to process: smoke was billowing from a tall building that looked kind of like one of the World Trade Center’s twin towers. As I saw the flames, and began to hear what was being said, I saw a plane crash into the other tower. It was 8:03 a.m. Central Standard Time, and I was shocked. 

What was happening? What had I just seen? This can’t be real. This can’t be.

Even as I recently rewatched footage, my heart was wrenched nearly as much as it was that day, Sept. 11, 2001. 

Dear God, what’s happening? Dear God, help us. Dear God, help the people there.

As I watched, it seemed to just be getting worse. 

My phone rang so many times, with calls one right after the other — What do we do? Can we come to your house to pray? Why is this happening? 

Very soon, my living room was filled with church members, holding hands and standing in a circle, tears flowing freely and voices breaking as we cried out to God.

For the next few weeks after 9/11, churches all over the nation were packed with people who asked the same questions: Why did this happen? What do we do now? Where was God then? Where is He now? 

It seemed a great revival was taking place among God’s people, and that so many people who woke up unbelievers on that fateful Tuesday were beginning to put their trust and lives in the hands of God — who had been there all along, and was there for all of us now, too. 

But as things “settled down,” so did the religious fervor, because that’s all it was, and that can’t last forever. Emotions die down, feelings change, and fear and hope go back to complacency.

It’s been said there are no atheists in foxholes — though that’s not really accurate. But it is true that people tend to cry out to God when things are not going well, and to stay silent when things appear to be just fine.

It’s akin to taking medicine for a serious illness, then stopping the medicine when the symptoms subside. It’s only when the symptoms return (as they will if you stop taking the meds) that the medicine is desired once again. 

So much has happened in the years since my little girl grew to be 23 years old. She knows about that day, but of course does not remember it. But the world she lives in now is in many ways a different one that the one into which she was born. What has not changed, however, is the fact that God allows evil people to do evil things, and desires His people to do good things. 

That’s something worth remembering.