In the Arms of Comfort
“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” —Matthew 18:20 (niv)
The elevator stopped at the twenty-second floor and I got off, just as I did every weekday. “Hey,” Elizabeth said, “I heard there’s been a plane crash somewhere downtown.” We had no information and no idea yet of the enormity of what was happening on that September day in 2001.
We all crowded together with questions that had no answers. There was a portable TV in the conference room, so we strained to make sense of the blurry images of what was happening only a mile and a half from our office. We were transfixed and horrified. As the truth of the disaster became clearer, those with family and friends in the financial district tried to make contact. We held hands with those who could get no response, while the sounds of police cars and fire trucks became one high-pitched wail.
As information trickled in, we began to feel panicked, helpless, unable to function. I felt a kind of unimaginably heavy responsibility because I was the boss. “Let’s go to my apartment,” I said. It was within walking distance, and we could stay together and find out more about what was happening. Ten of us came together there and prayed. Some prayers were simple: “Help us.” Others were the same prayer that was being said all over the city: “I am safe. Are you safe? I love you.”
As we prayed for all those who would never say those words, and for those whose lives were forever changed, we were grateful for the hands we held and the comfort we shared.
Lord, comfort those who will never forget, and bring Your peace to the nations of the world.
Written by Brigitte Weeks
Digging Deeper: Is 26:3; Eph 2:14
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