My Hope is Found.

Ten years ago floors fell out beneath thousands of people. Planes plummeted from the sky, and America watched in horror as terror struck our country.

Ten years ago I was thirteen, barely old enough to grasp the concept of what was going on...at twenty-three, I still feel quite young and naive. But I know what it is like to have my blanket of safety stripped away.

Innocence was a distant memory after September 11, 2001, and in the years since, as many friends have volunteered their lives to serve our country in the war against terrorism, fear has laid claim to many of my thoughts.

It is hard to find hope in a world that shows the capability of destroying so many innocent lives. It is hard to trust that terror does not, and should not, reign. 

But then I think about the thousands of firefighters and policemen who selflessly laid down their lives to save the horror-stricken New Yorkers and Pentagon workers. I think about the brave passengers on Flight 93 who chose to sacrifice themselves to save thousands of others. 

These men and women are heroes. Their actions in critical moments saved countless lives, and their bravery and self-sacrifice will not be forgotten. 

But ultimately, still, I have realized that my hope can not be found in these courageous people. There is only one place my hope is found, only one solid rock on which I stand.

Yesterday my church opened it's new, much larger sanctuary in order to accommodate its growing numbers. The Pastor challenged us to not focus on the building itself, as there are no guarantees in this world. His message, on September 11, 2011, was that everything in this world is fleeting. 

Towers may fall, health may decay, relationships may fail, but God is constant. He is the Rock, the solid ground on which to stand. It is in Him that I should look for safety, for refuge. 

The world may crumble around me, terror may strike my beloved country, and heros may fall, but God is still greater.

In Him alone, my hope is found.