America is awesome. But Jesus is better.

Today I write from the crammed middle seat of my favorite airline, Southwest. Then, I was 16 years old. I had skipped first period junior English and thought I was hot stuff pulling into my favorite local coffee shop, The Coffee Beanery, in my mom's blue Pontiac minivan with the windows rolled down and music blaring. Don't worry--it was Christian music so that makes my skipping class justifiable.

The news was on. A plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center. Then, as my espresso-heavy drink of choice was being made, the unthinkable happened--another plane collided into the second tower. I took a seat. Soon the news reporting turned from discussing a tragic accident to an intentional act of terrorism. I called my mom at work (who was, at the time, probably far more concerned with why her daughter wasn't at school than about airplanes crashing) and told her the news. I headed to school for my second period class. The news had already broke there, and classrooms had TVs tuned in and radios broadcasting the tragedy. Had I skipped the whole day of classes I'm sure I wouldn't have missed much academically. But I would have missed the camaraderie, the huddling around televisions, the asking of hard questions, the discussion about the freedoms we so often take for granted, and the sacrifices of great men and women who fight for those freedoms.

I remember sitting around the television much in the coming days and weeks. I remember the heroic stories, the devastating stories.

I think often of friends and perfect strangers giving their lives, living far from family and the comforts of home, to ensure the rest of us sleep safely. I recall the funeral of a friend and young soldier who was killed in the line of duty. What a sacrifice.

Today I paraded barefoot through airport security watching my fellow passengers empty baggies of liquid toiletries into bins with their laptops and tennis shoes. Much has changed in the past decade. There seemed to be an extra number of men in royal blue TSA uniforms...or maybe I was just more aware of them. I thanked them, redressed myself, and walked past the 9-11 memorial booth to my gate.

The airport is full but eerily quiet. I wonder if we are all thinking similar thoughts, remembering that day solemnly. I wonder if we realize what we really have.

One time I got arrested in China. I was 15. Communist guards with automatic weapons pulled me into a room at the train station to rebuke the error of my ways. What had I done? Attempted to smuggle Chinese Bibles into the country. Yes, smuggle. That's illegal. I left that day unharmed, a little terrified, and a lot changed. I felt ashamed by the number of barely touched Bibles filling my bookshelves at home in the States. And I knew, while I left the country with no more than a fine and quite a story, my Chinese brothers and sisters were losing their lives daily for their faith. I was determined to learn to treasure the Word of God, the freedom to attend the church of my choosing without fear for my life, and the liberty to say whatever I please without fear of imprisonment. I set in my heart to never again take for granted the opportunities afforded to me as an citizen of the United States of America.

I still don't understand why God would chose for some of us to live under such freedoms while others live in famine and oppression, knowing no other life. I agree with CS Lewis and his sentiments that events like war and 9-11 serve to show us the kind of world we have lived in all along--terribly broken and desperately in need of a redeemer.

While I don't understand pain and death and oppression and violence and disease, I do know that the deepest pain and suffering could never separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Now, that, my friends, is ultimate freedom. In much or little, in joy or heartbreak, we are deprived and lost without Jesus.

America is awesome. But Jesus is better. And He's true freedom, the only true freedom.