On a personal level, my husband had known quite a few people who died in the Towers. Former co-workers, childhood friends and even his Little League coach were among the dead. I had really only known one of the them well, but the whole event was crushing. The deaths were sudden and violent and added exponentially to my already anxious disposition. Was I on God's proverbial death docket?
If you are old enough to remember those first few months post-9/11, you will recall all sorts of pontificating of why God allowed this to happen, and who exactly does God favor and who God does not favor. Who does He love and who doesn't He love. The popular American preachers of the day were loud and clear...believe what I believe about God and you'll be fine and saved.
For a very small while, I listened attentively to this and gave their ideas some true consideration. It was easy to do. They were all over the television and the Internet. Easy access. But in my gut, this all seemed forced and inauthentic.
Their pervading message was everyone who didn't think like them was going to hell. If you didn't live the perfect life and have perfect thoughts, you were not loved by God. If you did not tithe, you were not loved by God. If you did not have material blessings, it was evidence that you were not loved by God. The list went on and on. There were so many things that restricted God from loving me. Additionally, I would talk to evangelical Christians and there was no depth to them. Their "theology" had so many holes in it, that I was embarrassed for them. Their pastors were taking advantage of their naiveté and so that all that these people could do was regurgitate what had been fed to them. I'd try to talk about God and spiritual matters but it would always come back to canned phrases that were not in the least bit sensical. When I'd ask where the Bible came from, the response was always "from God". Yes, it was, but there had to be actual people who assembled the book, no? It didn't simply fall from the sky in a published format. I'd either get crickets or they would say the same words again but this time with a hint of disdain, "It came from God." Okey dokey.
I don't doubt that some of these folks love Christ with every ounce of their being, but honestly their version of God was one who was demanding, quite fickle and had it out for people like me. And, apparently a God who didn't want you asking questions. The only good thing that came out of this was that I purchased my first Bible. I had to see for myself whether these ideas were true or not because if Evangelicals were good at anything, it was quoting the Bible. But that purchase didn't come until after a "chance" encounter with a phlebotomist who was wearing a three-bar cross.
