Three days later, the ominous black smoke still billowed from the destruction and fire, easily visible on the horizon as you approached New York City by road.
It was Friday, September 14, 2001. The world had changed.
I was a university student. My school drove three vans full of students and teachers to New York City in our humble and feeble efforts to assist in any way possible.
The air was thick with sorrow, with shock, with horror. Every surface in the city was plastered with thousands of hastily prepared posters for “missing” persons.
“MISSING… Have you seen her? Please call…”
“Last seen on Floor 59 of Tower 2. Have you seen him? Please call…”
Picture after picture, poster after poster, each proclaiming the grief of a family. We gazed at their images, knowing that, most likely, these missing were no longer among the living. We listened to New Yorkers tell their stories to complete strangers, still in shock and disbelief, and we cried with them. We watched people scream and duck for cover at any loud noise in the street.
We walked as close as we were allowed to be to Ground Zero where the mighty World Trade Center towers had fallen and we smelled the thick, acrid smoke that burned your eyes and throat. The smell so metallic and potent, you could taste it. We saw the piles of ash and debris that blanketed the streets. Thick, heavy ash covered lampposts and street signs and everything else. This ash was not just ash, but the last earthly remnants of buildings, planes, and to our everlasting horror, people.
But a sliver of hope emerged from the ash as men and women united to do what was right. For a short season, it did not matter your background, your political views, or your opinions. For a short season, all that mattered was that people came together to bind the wounds of those who were hurting, to try to put back the pieces of broken cities, broken buildings, and broken lives.
Twenty-five years have passed since that terrible day. 2,977 people were murdered on September 11, 2001, all because hatred twisted the hearts and minds of people who disagreed with our faith, our freedom, and our American values. It is our solemn duty to remember.
Yesterday, September 10, 2026, marked one year since a young man, husband, and father was publicly assassinated, all because hatred twisted the heart and mind of a young man who disagreed with Charlie’s faith and values. When Charlie Kirk was murdered, there were Adventist conferences that flirted with applauding his murder, denouncing Kirk as a hateful bigot (which is a ludicrous lie and reveals they never listened to Kirk for themselves). It seems the ability to respect differences of opinion is lost and many feel justified in using destructive and violent methods to silence those with whom they disagree.
It is frightening to hear and read some of the hatred that comes from within our church, from our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Because the Village Seventh-day Adventist Church stood tall and firm on Biblical truth during the pandemic/vaccine crisis, the church members as a whole and our former church leadership in particular were called every manner of unjust foul name (for example anti-vaxxers, conspiracy-peddlers, Trump-worshipers, right-wing lunatics, blood-on-their-hands grandma-killers, greedy money-lovers, and on and on…). The same hatred and character assassination occurred over other events hosted by the VSDA church such as the “Jesus and Wholistic Sexuality” seminars, which earned us the badge of “homophobic haters” among other things. It seems we are losing basic human decency. It seems hypocritical to hurl insults at church members because you find Biblical values to be "hateful."
No, insults are definitely not the same as murder, but they travel on the same path. Hatred is an infectious disease that should worry us much more than Covid ever did.
Hatred has caused terrible damage to our church, but as with September 11, light has emerged from the darkness. Several pastors who were fired, disciplined, and whose characters were maligned by certain factions are, by God’s grace, growing powerful new ministries that are unshackled by endless committees and layers of bureaucracy. The Covid years were a test for our church, and perhaps these new ministries have been established for such a time as this: To be separate from the church bureaucracy so they will be able to withstand government interference and the lure of government funding.
Evil may win for a day, but we know the war has already been won by The One True God. While the great deceiver may seek to infect us all with hatred for our fellow man, it is our solemn duty to obey Jesus’ command to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.
© 2026 Michelle Proctor Stembridge
