We pull our car behind a pickup with Texas license plates that is parked
just across the street from a gutted loan office; we can see the fallen
ceilings and dangling wires - evidence of the explosion that shook the
world. The proprietor of the building in front of which we park has just
about finished his business's face lift. No broken windows or cracked
walls. A workman is busily repairing the ceiling and electrical fixtures as
customers dodge him looking over stamps and seals.
Darrin, our oldest, and his wife, Kerrie, do not want to visit the gate and
sit down on their feet with the freshly patched walls of the Oklahoma
Stamp and Seal Company supporting their backs. I don't blame them. Ours
is the only license plate that reads Oklahoma. Two Kansas cars and a car
sporting a Missouri plate is already parked in front of us as we test the
traffic to jaywalk. 5th Street is no longer a through street, since the
bombing. Like millions of others around the world, we have been akin to
the terror for over two months. We've taken this opportunity to drop by the
bombed out area as we take our Naval Recruit to report for his first night
under our government's jurisdiction.
We did not make it to Oklahoma City to view the bombed out Murrah
Building before it had been reduced to rubble. April and May are school
teachers' busiest months as they try to check in all borrowed books, take
final field trips, and finish all of the other crushing duties at the end of
the year. The bomb had impacted my own son who was to display his
multimedia presentation at the state Future Business Leaders Conference
at the Myriad, which ultimately ended up being a TRIAGE area for the
victims. Our school only had time to send individual cards to the Rescue
Workers in the bomb area.
Holli, our oldest daughter, has been quiet as we drove the interstate. We
all anticipated seeing the area for the first time, and as many times as we
had seen it on television, we knew the physical presence of the War Zone
would be jolting. How can WACO have anything to do with this? My
thoughts return to the hours of uncut video and even Time magazine
pictures that explored the bombed out building that hauntingly reminded
me of an altar, albeit a sacrificial altar.
Sometimes I am ashamed of people who call themselves Christians, I
think, as we look through the loan office windows. Many of those who tune
in to the feelings of those who seem to have done this ghoulish act call
themselves, oxymoronically, Neo-Nazi Christians, White Supremest
Christians, and Freedom Fighter Christians. To them, WACO was simply a
governmental effort to take over a man who was home schooling his
children.
The gates are locked and a paper sign adjacent to the lock encourages the
visitors to leave their gifts and notes. The fence is dotted with artificial
flowers; we also notice other memorials attached to the fence. As we
move along the gate, quietness is God's unspoken rule. The out-of-state
visitors seem to be on a pilgrimage, as do we, as we share our space along
the fence. The sound of heavy equipment and air-jacks and even traffic are
drowned out by the deafening silence.
As we gaze, I can see the people running away from the Murrah Building.
The panoramic view of the gutted, smokey building that unfolded from
TIME looms in front of me, again, as I watch the machines move the rubble.
I remember praying for all of the youngsters at my elementary when I
learned of the bomb. The rubble is still here, though the final bodies have
been removed several weeks earlier, providing closure to families and
friends of those last three victims. I think of my second cousin who most
certainly would have perished if she had kept her appointment with the
Social Security Offices at 9:00 AM the morning of April 19. Then I begin to
think about how God's presence really began to be felt at the Murrah
Building, April 19, 1995.
At school that day, when I first heard about the bombing, I flipped on my
radio which was set on 94.7, KEBC, a Country Western Station to which I
have been listening for over 25 years. On Sunday mornings, Ken Langston
comes on with Gospel Music; the only Gospel I can successfully tune-in. I
was amazed to find out that Country Music was not playing, but the
company had opened the airwaves on all three of their Oklahoma City
stations for listeners calling in.
At first there was a lot of bitterness, anger, and speculation as people
called in. Soon the on-air personalities began to mention needs. First it
was blood, and within just a few hours they were saying they didn't need
any more donors. Then there were batteries and gloves. All needs were met
almost instantly. I drove in to the elders' meeting early that evening and
sat in the car listening to the callers, marveling at the display of
generosity.
Earlier that morning, I heard a lady call in and in a preachy, loud voice say,
"Remember, God is in control here; we can't forget God is in control." I find
myself easily critical of the "Give-God-All-The-Credit crowd." Certainly,
God's hand was not in the Murrah Building bomb or the 168 deaths because
of it, though there are those who profess to be Christians yet feel the
bombing was somewhat justified. The Murrah bombing wasn't God's doing;
it was someones evil scheme. But God's forces did reign supreme as
Oklahomans began to see and meet needs. The same principles at work in
the Murrah Terrorism can be applied to all Christians faced with
unforeseen calamities.
1. Look for immediate needs and be willing to meet those needs. As I
monitored the radio station that day, it was astounding how quickly
Oklahomans reached out and met the needs of the workers at the site and
all of the medical specialists. God, through the Holy Spirit, works through
people in difficult times.
2. Offer prayer and understanding and listen to the sufferers. Disk jockey's
listened. All churches made available their buildings for counseling,
meals, and listening. Don't offer Biblical reasonings or justifications; just
listen and be there.
3. Get beyond the tragedy and watch God work. Violence is not an
acceptable means of action to express ones anger. Getting beyond the
bitterness and anger of the situation allows God to work through us. And it
becomes contagious. Soon, the Murrah Building carnage was overshadowed,
and will always be overshadowed by Oklahoman's generosity faith that
stretched all across these United States and around the world.
As I think back over those events, my mind quickly comes back to the
fence as I see Holli scribble on the notebook paper that she has been
carrying. "The Hills love you and God loves you. All of Anadarko loves you,
workers, victims, and families." She quickly rolls the paper up and lodges
it with the many other items that have been left at the fence. A shrine of
types will be built to permanently hold all of the gifts and cards. I am
reminded of The Wall in Washington D.C. .
We walk back around the Loan Offices and gather at the Eastern Gate. I
notice the Methodist Church near the bomb area that has a sign hanging
from the roof announcing "God Reigns; We Will Still Remain." Yes, God does
reign supreme, even with the Murrah Building.
As we get back into our car and journey on to our son's appointment with
his government, I give thanks for a government that cares, that allows for
the freedoms in which each of us dip. I pray silently for those who are
guilty, to be judged fairly, realizing that, even they can share in God's
abundance.
Dale W. Hill
}