“They shoot from ambush at the innocent, attacking suddenly and fearlessly.” Psalm 64:4 (NLT).
Not every day is the same. Everyone over thirty remembers where they were on the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001. I am old enough to remember November 22, 1963. My parents will never forget December 7, 1941.
On 9/11/01, I was on a golf course in Arizona. Twelve men from Northern Ireland had joined twelve Americans for a spiritual retreat disguised as a Ryder Cup type golf match. The week was scheduled to be a glorious re-union of friendships. Monday night’s dinner was full of stories and memories of previous gatherings at Chicago Golf Club, Ballybunion in Ireland, Hilton Head, and Royal County Down in the north of Ireland. We were anticipating one of the best weeks of our lives.
Thanks to Arizona heat, our 7am tee times put us on the putting green early when we were summoned to a TV screen inside the pro shop. The Twin Towers were on fire. Something bad had happened.
Not knowing what else to do, we played golf while the towers were burning. In hindsight, it seems ridiculous, but this was a golf trip, so we played golf.
The jokes and laughter of Monday were replaced by somber conversations and even tears on Tuesday and beyond. Our friends from Belfast had grown up with terror night and day. Bombs detonated in schools and hotels, killing innocent people, was a routine part of the daily news. I remembered my first trip to Belfast, around 1992, when everyone was checked for bombs going into a breakfast where I was to speak. I was sharing my testimony at the Lord Mayor’s Prayer Breakfast, an annual event sponsored by CBMC. Looking back, I should have been there to listen, not talk.
Our four-day golf retreat turned into ten days when no one could fly home. I still consider the men on that DeMoss Cup trip to be my best friends in the world. John. Bill. Rowan. Harry. Ian. Tony. Johnny. Jim. Joey. Roger. Billy. Tom. Dale. Ivor. Not to mention two golfers with the same name (Bob Nelson) who are reading this from heaven. Indeed, several men have already left us.
On September 21, 2001, it was finally safe to travel. I flew to a men’s retreat in Wisconsin. On the plane, I read a newspaper ad that simply said we would never be the same after that fateful Tuesday. I started writing on the plane and by the time I arrived in Milwaukee, I had the basics of a poem. “Monday is Gone, Tuesday is Forever”. It was a cry of hope that the world would be a better place after September 11, 2001. Twenty-two years later, I am not sure. It sure feels like things have gotten worse, but I stay confused.
“Monday is gone. Tuesday is forever.”
· On Monday, we complained that church was too hot yesterday. On Tuesday, church was just fine.
· On Monday, we were experts on everything. On Tuesday, we knew nothing.
· On Monday, we had answers. On Tuesday, we had questions.
· On Monday, we talked about heroes in the NFL. On Tuesday, we talked about real heroes called firemen.
· On Monday, we discussed the return of Michael Jordan. On Tuesday, we discussed the return of Jesus.
· On Monday, we heard about Michael Jackson’s tribute to himself. On Tuesday, we heard about America’s tribute to cops.
· On Monday, Barry Bonds and a baseball were a big deal. On Tuesday, a fire chaplain and his courage were a big deal.
· On Monday, strangers in New York never spoke. On Tuesday, strangers in New York saved each other.
· On Monday, the flag was forgotten. On Tuesday, the flag was forever.
· On Monday, Wall Street mattered. On Tuesday, the people on Wall Street mattered.
· On Monday, Letterman joked. On Tuesday, Letterman choked.
· On Monday, the President was a question mark. On Tuesday, the President was an exclamation point.
· On Monday, we were asleep. On Tuesday, we were wide awake.
· On Monday, there was no prayer in American schools. On Tuesday, there was prayer in every American school.
· On Monday, the ACLU was in court. On Tuesday, the ACLU was on their knees, like everyone else.
· On Monday, we were Democrats and Republicans. On Tuesday, we were Americans.
· On Monday, Americans were black and white and Hispanic and Asian. On Tuesday, Americans were brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers.
· On Monday, we were Dutch, or South African, or Japanese, or Mexican, or Ethiopian, or American, or Lebanese, or Afghan. On Tuesday, we were children of God.
· On Monday, we asked God to bless us. On Tuesday, we asked God to have mercy on our souls.
· On Monday, we turned our eyes to the stock market. On Tuesday, we turned our eyes to Heaven.
· On Monday, there was never enough time. On Tuesday, time stood still.
· On Monday, this world was all we had. On Tuesday, eternity was all that mattered.
· On Monday, Jesus was just a man. On Tuesday, Jesus was The Man of sorrows, one of us.
· On Monday, Jesus wept alone. On Tuesday, we all wept, for our friends, for our nation, for our world, for our own souls that are so lost without God.
Now we pray that from this day on, Monday is gone… Monday is Never. From this day on, it’s Tuesday Forever.
(September 21, 2001 - Tim Philpot)
Over the last twenty-plus years, I have often threatened to write a sequel entitled simply “It’s Monday Again.” But no inspiration has come. The reality certainly seems to be that by any objective measure, it is not only Monday again- it’s far worse. Every Barna or Gallup survey about America shows a decline over the last twenty years in all things related to God, religion, or faith. Look it all up on Google. The generation that has grown up with little memory of 9/11 has mostly seen no reason to follow in the footsteps of their parents and grandparents. Church attendance (not even much of an accurate indicator) is now at about 20% in America, and a reliable survey shows that no more than 45% of church attenders are actually Bible believing Jesus people. That would mean that true Jesus followers are in single digits. Any notion that America is a Christian nation is an absurdity.
So, I suppose it is indeed Monday again.
But EVEN IF it is Monday again for our beloved USA, it does not have to be that way for you and me. It can always be Tuesday in our souls and our spirits. In the midst of the moral vacuum that is the contemporary American scene, there is still a remnant that hungers and thirsts for righteousness. The Asbury revival of 2023 proved again that the hunger for the true God found in Jesus Christ is quite real. That will never go away. So….
Twenty-two years later… Is it Monday or Tuesday for you?
