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We're still hoping we'll wake
up.
We're still hoping we'll
open a
sleepy eye and think,
What a
horrible dream.
But we won't, will we, Father?
What we saw was not a dream.
Planes
did gouge towers. Flames did
consume our fortress.
People did
perish.
It was
no dream and, dear Father, we
are sad.
There is a ballet dancer who
will no longer dance
and a
doctor who will no longer
heal.
A church has lost her
priest, a classroom is minus a
teacher.
Cora ran a food
pantry.
Paige was a counselor
and Dana, dearest Father, Dana
was only three years
old.
(Who held her in those
final moments?)
We are sad, Father.
For as the
innocent are buried, our
innocence is buried as well.
We
thought we were safe.
Perhaps we
should have known better.
But we
didn't.
And so we come to you.
We don't
ask you for help; we beg you for
it.
We don't request it; we
implore it.
We know what you can
do. We've read the accounts.
We've pondered the stories and
now we plead,
Do it again, Lord.
Do it again.
Remember Joseph? You rescued him
from the pit.
You can do the
same for us.
Do it again, Lord.
Remember the Hebrews in Egypt?
You protected their children
from the angel of death.
We have
children, too, Lord.
Do it
again.
And Sarah? Remember her prayers?
You heard them.
Joshua? Remember
his fears? You inspired him.
The
women at the tomb? You
resurrected their hope.
The
doubts of Thomas? You took them
away.
Do it again, Lord. Do it
again.
You changed Daniel from a
captive into a king's counselor.
You took Peter the fisherman and
made him Peter an apostle.
Because of you, David went from
leading sheep to leading armies.
Do it again, Lord, for we need
counselors today, Lord.
We need
apostles. We need leaders.
Do it
again, dear Lord.
Most of all, do again what you
did at Calvary.
What we saw here
on that Tuesday, you saw there
on that Friday.
Innocence
slaughtered. Goodness murdered.
Mothers weeping. Evil dancing.
Just as the ash fell on our
children, the darkness fell on
your Son.
Just as our towers
were shattered, the very Tower
of Eternity
was pierced.
And by dusk, heaven's sweetest
song was silent, buried behind a
rock.
But you did not waver, O Lord.
You did not waver.
After three
days in a dark hole, you rolled
the rock and rumbled the earth
and turned the darkest Friday
into the brightest Sunday.
Do it
again, Lord. Grant us a
September Easter.
We thank you, dear Father, for
these hours of unity.
Disaster
has done what discussion could
not.
Doctrinal fences have
fallen.
Republicans are standing
with Democrats.
Skin colors have
been covered by the ash of
burning buildings.
We thank you
for these hours of unity.
And we thank you for these hours
of prayer.
The Enemy sought to
bring us to our knees and
succeeded.
He had no idea,
however, that we would kneel
before you.
And he has no idea
what you can do.
Let your mercy be upon our
President, Vice President, and
their families.
Grant to those
who lead us wisdom beyond their
years and experience.
Have mercy
upon the souls who have departed
and the wounded who remain.
Give
us grace that we might forgive
and faith that we might believe.
And look kindly upon your
church.
For two thousand years
you've used her to heal a
hurting world.
Do it again, Lord. Do it again.
Through Christ, Amen.
As written by Max Lucado for
America Prays,
a national prayer
vigil held Saturday, September
14, 2001.
Permission to copy not only
granted but encouraged.
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