Wednesday, September 11, 2019, was closer to the fateful morning 18 years ago than today.

Though time is a line, there is in a sense, moments of time that are closer than others, though years, decades, apart.

Modern Life is structured by time. Eight hours of sleep; eight hours of work; eight hours of leisure. Constant, unbroken time.

Until tragedy strikes. There is a term used for this: when time stopped. When it stood still. When tragedy forced us out of our routines and into the deeper concept of time.

Christopher Nolan touched on this somewhat, though not fully fleshed out, in the monologue Anne Hathaway’s character gave Midway through his film, “Interstellar.”

“Maybe it means something more - something we can’t yet understand. Maybe it’s some evidence, some artefact of a higher dimension that we can’t consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to someone I haven’t seen in a decade, who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can’t understand it.”

Days like yesterday break us from the secular – the normal – and pull us up to the transcendent; we pause to reflect on where we were - who we were - 18 years ago.

 Memories, emotions, experiences, remind us there is something more to the world than this. That although we understand time moves in a constant time and in reality we are moving further from that day in 2001, we are still tethered emotionally to that day, as we Christians are tethered to the event of the cross.

Though two millennia have passed, we are still “crucified with Christ,” bound through time by Christ’s substitutionary atonement for our sins. He died 2,000 years ago for sins we commit daily. That in itself transcends time.

Moments in time stand still, yet can reach through time, even into eternity; and consequently, when the eternal Son of God stepped from eternity and took on human flesh. Time, as we know it, has never been the same.

And so today I am 32 and married to my kind, loving, beautiful wife, Jesse.

But yesterday, though still married, I was just a scared kid sitting in his high school theater classroom, not fully understanding what was taking place on the small black screen: the smoking towers, the trembling voices of the news anchors - and wondering why all the teachers’ faces were red from crying.

Never forget this tragedy; never forget that God is good.

JOSEPH HAMRICK

Commerce

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