Dear Lord,

We're still hoping we'll wake up. We're still hoping we'll open a sleepy
eye and think, What a horrible dream.

But we won't, will we, Father? What we saw was not a dream. Planes did
gouge towers. Flames did consume our fortress. People did perish. It was
no dream and, dear Father, we are sad.

There is a ballet dancer who will no longer dance and a doctor who will
no longer heal. A church has lost her priest, a classroom is minus a
teacher. Cora ran a food pantry. Paige was a counselor and Dana, dearest
Father, Dana was only three years old. (Who held her in those final
moments?)

We are sad, Father. For as the innocent are buried, our innocence is
buried as well. We thought we were safe. Perhaps we should have known
better. But we didn't.

And so we come to you. We don't ask you for help; we beg you for it. We
don't request it; we implore it. We know what you can do. We've read the
accounts. We've pondered the stories and now we plead, Do it again,
Lord. Do it again.

Remember Joseph? You rescued him from the pit. You can do the same for
us. Do it again, Lord.

Remember the Hebrews in Egypt? You protected their children from the
angel of death. We have children, too, Lord. Do it again.

And Sarah? Remember her prayers? You heard them. Joshua? Remember his
fears? You inspired him. The women at the tomb? You resurrected their
hope. The doubts of Thomas? You took them away. Do it again, Lord. Do it
again.

You changed Daniel from a captive into a king's counselor. You took
Peter the fisherman and made him Peter an apostle. Because of you, David
went from leading sheep to leading armies. Do it again, Lord, for we
need counselors today, Lord. We need apostles. We need leaders. Do it
again, dear Lord.

Most of all, do again what you did at Calvary. What we saw here last
Tuesday, you saw there that Friday. Innocence slaughtered. Goodness
murdered. Mothers weeping. Evil dancing. Just as the ash fell on our
children, the darkness fell on your Son. Just as our towers were
shattered, the very Tower of Eternity was pierced.

And by dusk, heaven's sweetest song was silent, buried behind a rock.

But you did not waver, O Lord. You did not waver. After three days in a
dark hole, you rolled the rock and rumbled the earth and turned the
darkest Friday into the brightest Sunday. Do it again, Lord. Grant us a
September Easter.

We thank you, dear Father, for these hours of unity. Christians are
praying with Jews. Republicans are standing with Democrats. Skin colors
have been covered by the ash of burning buildings. We thank you for
these hours of unity.

And we thank you for these hours of prayer. The Enemy sought to bring us
 to our knees and succeeded. He had no idea, however, that we would kneel
before you. And he h! as no idea what you can do.

Let your mercy be upon our President, Vice President, and their
families. Grant to those who lead us wisdom beyond their years and
experience. Have mercy upon the souls who have departed and the wounded
who remain. Give us grace that we might forgive and faith that we might
believe.

And look kindly upon your church. For two thousand years you've used her
to heal a hurting world.

Do it again, Lord. Do it again.
Through Christ, Amen.

As written by Max Lucado for America Prays, a national prayer vigil held
Saturday, September 14, 2001. Permission to copy not only granted but
encouraged.