This poem was written by Toni Kirkman (my ex-wife) on September 11, 2001. \u00a0This is a date that is burned into our collective memories. \u00a0<\/p>\n
September 11, 2001
\nby Toni Kirkman<\/p>\n
How many saints did God welcome with open arms today?
\n“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints”<\/p>\n
How many loved ones saw the terrible news or received a phone call they’ll never forget?
\nAnd then fell with tear stained faces into the sweet embrace of our risen Saviour
\nReceiving the divine peace of his love and comfort.<\/p>\n
And how many children will grow up knowing that they will again see their mother or father.
\nThat they await their reunion in the new Jerusalem when time is no more.
\nWhere we’ll never again say good-bye.<\/p>\n
But then,
\nHow many went from a firey inferno on this earth one moment
\nTo an endless, bottomless pit of full of flames and sulfur.
\nWhere unimaginable pain and torture will never cease.<\/p>\n
No end. No escape.<\/p>\n
For those spouses and loved ones, will there be peace?
\nFrom whence will the comfort come?<\/p>\n
Or will they rail at God with flailing fists, crying “Why, Why?”
\n“There is no God of love!” They’ll say.
\n“No justice, no answers, no peace!”<\/p>\n
But God is in His heaven, feasting with those newly arrived.
\nPerhaps wondering, “Will they continue to reject my salvation?”
\n“How many must perish for all time before they grab hold of the life preserver I have provided?”<\/p>\n
“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and
\nopen the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with
\nme.”<\/p>\n
These numbers may never be revealed. They won’t be broadcast on the
\ndaily news.
\nYou won’t hear how many perished eternally on the radio.
\nThe reporters won’t be investigating the real tragedy.<\/p>\n
Do you think we’ll have another chance to tell those lost of their mistake?
\nOr don’t you think they know it now?<\/p>\n
Will we remember them when we’re rejoicing in the light of His brilliant
\nGlory?
\nHow can we when there will be no more crying, or sorrow, or pain?<\/p>\n
Perhaps they will be a distant memory, like a dream that one can’t quite
\nrecall.<\/p>\n
On one side death and dying, pain and eternal flame.
\nOn the other, everlasting joy and gladness.<\/p>\n
Let us heed the unspoken words of the perished.
\nThe anguished voices that cry out, unheard, to those who remain.<\/p>\n
“Don’t wait any longer! Open the door to Him now!
\nElse it will be forever too late”
\nToo late.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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