When I was a boy we used to play outside in our yard for hours.  Our favorite game was “hide and seek.”  Although the lot was a small city plot we had a couple dozen very large trees and lots of places to hide.  My favorite spot was nestled in the crook of a large spruce tree.  I could just barely see out from my perch to spy on the “seeker”  and the hunter could not easily see me since I was completely obfuscated from view on three sides.  It was a safe spot and I felt at ease there.  Dozens upon dozens of games came and went and my spot remained secret.
 

Today is the anniversary of America’s introduction to vulnerability.  We thought the oceans would protect us from harm but a few demons were able to wreck our delusion of security using four stolen airliners.  I wept alongside hundreds of millions of others as we mourned the loss of nearly three thousand souls.  It was doubly grievious for me since I know that many of those souls entered eternity without the Savior.
 

Today, my children in Uganda watch as military police rumble through Kampala.  They see the smoke rising from burning tires and hear the exchange of gunfire (Riots Rock Uganda for Second Day, 3 Killed).  They may even see the remains of someone who no longer lives left in the street until someone is brave enough to come and collect the body.  I cannot hide them, I cannot help them. 
I am deeply troubled, yet joyful.

“But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them sing joyful praises forever. Spread your protection over them, that all who love your name may be filled with joy.” (Psalm 5:11, NLT)

My refuge as a boy was not in a tree, but in the fortress of a Mighty God.  Although I grew up in a neighborhood that was for many years violent, full of drugs, and filthy I had the time of my life.

My comfort as a man is not in military reprisals and heightened security measures, but being under the protection of the One to whom praises must be sung.  While I have not forgot, as many have, the violence of this day in 2001, I have been able to personally witness hundreds enter eternity with the confidence of grace in Christ Jesus.

My power as a protective father does not give me the ability to wisk my kids away from the violence of the evil men found in the United States or Africa, but my strength is found in the one to whom all my treasure, all my life, all my everything is due.  Since I have learned to love him, he invites me to come on my knees, crawl into his lap, hug his neck and be filled with joy.

I think I shall.