LCDR Kristian Carlson, offers hope from Psalm 46 on Remembrance, Lament, and Refuge. These words were shared September 10th, 2026 at University of the Incarnate Word, San Antonio, TX.

 

Welcome and Recognition of Heroes

Good afternoon, everyone. It is really special to be here. It is somber because it’s 9/11 that gathers us, but it’s also very good to observe this hard day together. I really appreciate the vision from Sister Walter, from Bishop Alexander, & from the university leadership to hold this 25th Anniversary remembrance.

And to see in the audience our nursing team, first responders, police, men and firefighters with us means a lot. We consider you to be heroes. You’re putting a face to the courage that we all know represents America, but also the love and sacrifice of that dark day.

So it’s good to be back too, It was awesome how the Mission & Ministry team enfolded me as I finished active duty & served as a Department of War SkillBridge intern here.

Now I’m a reserve chaplain. So I still get to wear the cloth of this Nation and it feels good.

When Bishop Alexander invited me, he called & asked if I would share my personal intersection with 9/11, which is much less close than so many others, and perhaps from some of you seated in this room. But I want to share a little bit about how 9/11 affected me and changed my life, and then share some encouragement, as Bishop asked, about where we go from here as individuals, & as a community.

Scripture Reading: Psalm 46

Our college chaplain read this passage to us an hour and a half after the 9/11 attacks on D.C, & NYC’s Twin Towers. We all gathered at the chapel there at Trinity International University in Chicago area 25 years ago. And heard these words from Psalm 46.

Would you please stand with me in honor of the reading of God’s Word?

God is our refuge and strength. A very present help and trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, even though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea, though its waters roar and be troubled, though the mountain shake with its swelling, sailor. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High.

God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved. God shall help her just at the break of dawn. The nations raged, the kingdoms were moved. He uttered his voice, and the earth melted. The Lord of hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge, Selah.

Come, behold, the works of the Lord, who has made desolation in the earth. He makes war cease to the ends of the earth. He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two. He burns the chariot in the fire. Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth. The Lord of hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge.

Dear Lord, may words of my mouth, & the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in your sight. O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

The Loss of Innocence and Growing Modern Anxiety

As we consider today, I know there’s individual pain for those of us who lived through that day, and I for those who were not or don’t remember, I’m so glad for the younger generation who took time today to come.

But as I begin to describe the day words come to mind like horror, shock, being humbling when we think of the courage, it was traumatic, there remains unresolved loss and pain, it was a collective experience, there was rage, heartbreak, our lives were instantly changed, & the geopolitical outcomes are still ongoing, there are so many other aspects to describe.

As we look back, for so many of us, 9/11 represents a true loss of innocence for our nation, which in many ways is still young.

The day prefigured what we see now whenever we go to our friends at TSA in the airport and step into long security lines & remove our shoes. Many of you remember the barricades rolling out. On 9/11, my dad was a Colonel, serving at the Aviation Center at Fort Rucker, Alabama. Barricade went up overnight. He had just left Crystal City where he’d worked at the Army Chief of Chaplain’s Office. General Van Antwerp, one of his heroes, and his closest mentors just missed being in the office that day, right where the plane struck and killed 125 of our Americans at the Pentagon, not to mention it on that flight.

There was those terrible losses on the first day. But then there’s been a growing cadence of loss, whether from the Global War on Terror to the Mass Shootings where many of now feel at times a sense of dread and risk of simply going out to a public place. We may be there in the middle of the moment enjoying a concert from our favorite rock star, & begin to wonder, “is it going to be okay? might we be attacked here today?” Much of these sentiments began around 9/11. While there were other attacks like what happened in in 1995 with the Oklahoma City Bombing, & other terror attacks, this was a seminal moment for our Nation.

And I think as an inverse, while many goods have come from media & social media, many of us would say we feel a certain fragmentation and isolation that has crept in besieging us as a nation.

Almost like our own personal passions are met with the algorithms of AI and the internet pushing us material; and so we stovepipe; and we don’t feel quite as One as we once were.

Ground Zero, reflections on the day of Tragedy, and the beautiful Solidarity which it brought

And if you can recall those days, and I want to tell those of you that weren’t there, that you must know there was a profound surge of unity, of brother and of sister and of neighbor.

Bishop Trevor Alexander didn’t tell you in his introduction, but he himself spent a lot of his important growing up years in New York City. And when I went to New York City in February of 2002–We were on a concert choir trip with my college—we went to Ground Zero and you could smell the burning. You could still smell the flesh.

When we rode the subways of Manhattan, New Yorkers were not like, you know, the characteristic tough Bronx type, demanding “which borough are you from?” They were talking, they were sharing. There was a friendliness that was invigorating.

When I went to a park that summer—I spent 2 two weeks in Manhattan in July 2002, this little girl opened up, she quoted from heart to us poem she wrote for her loved one who died in the tower. It was so precious that she would share her heart with us.

My friend *Stan sat with me over the restaurant table in NYC and wept over his buddy Tom, who died in one of Towers. He felt so much regret. Why didn’t I tell Tom about the love of God before the tower fell? There’s been a lot of inscrutable questions since 9/11 for all of us. Stu was not alone in the painful wondering.

You could see if you were there, the orange scrawl. We saw it in person. It was over the Burger King. It was a hastily formed medial triage.

Close by in Greenwich Village, at St. Vincent’s Hospital, they lined up gurneys and wheelchairs for all of the victims that would be helped, but they were never used.

The tragedy and the devastation of the Towers’ collapse was so total that although some 30,000 pints of blood were donated, only about 250 were used to treat the wounded. That’s how much when the Towers fell, all those hopes and dreams of those that were agonized praying that some would survive would make it, fell along with those buildings.

So national trauma, both with Shanksville, PA, the Pentagon, the hijacked passenger airplanes, but then the unfolding moments and days.

I had a girlfriend in college, and we went that same morning on the subway. We took the L down to Chicago to the Sears Tower. This choice probably would not have been approved by my Army Dad in terms of the security situation, but I went to the steps of the Sears Tower.

I felt compelled to go, to talk about Jesus on the subway to fellow Chicagoans. Our emotions were such that we felt, we’re going to pray for our nation right here by this Skyscraper Tower & if they want to hit us, they can come to Chicago too.

And it wasn’t trying to be arrogant, it was a collective response so many of us had. We were Americans expressing, this unbelievable attack hurts all of us. And then we also knew we had to look up, look to God.

In the year shortly after, I went to Devon Street in Chicago to an Anti-War rally.

I know here today in a Navy uniform, but that day, and today still, I wanted to show solidarity with my Muslim and Arab brothers on the north side of Chicago that this 9/11 tragedy did not speak of who they were.

And yet, as you know, division sometimes seems to be part of the fallen nature of humanity, as the Bible clearly tells.

“Now brother will deliver up brother to death, and a father his child; and children will rise up against parents…” Jesus, Matthew‬ ‭10‬:‭21‬ ‭

9/11’s Historical Distance to 100 million Americans Born Since, Relevance & Relatability

Yesterday when I drove my son, a 3rd grader, home from school, he saw some flags in our neighborhood, and he asked, “Daddy, what are the flags all about?” I said, “9/11, buddy.” And he said, “what’s that?”

“What’s that…” it is painful to even talk about what we lived through with children. It’s still so horrible & shatters the heart.

And also as I prepared to come today, I tried to contextualize myself to some of the Freahmen here at UIW.

The truth is, when I was 19, if somebody talked to me about the fall of Saigon that had happened 25 years before, representing the end of the Vietnam War & calling to mind the 50,000

Troops we lost, & the painful aftermath experienced by the South Vietnamese people, I would have thought “that’s important” but it would have remained distant to me, perhaps an event for a history book timeline, but not a moment pregnant with emotion, meaning and gravity.

And so I think for this younger generation, that our professors here, the University staff that are sharing today with their students about what happened, I believe something deep is being transacted and so important z For in 9/11’s tremendous loss, there’s also a whole lot of seeds of hope from God’s hand to be sown.

And so, After I told my son Isaac about what 911 was about for 60 or 90 seconds, he quickly pivoted to talking about PE and what happened at his school day and he said, Daddy, lots of stuff seems to happen in New York.

But on another note, 2 years ago, I told my sister’s kids about 911. We were in Missouri in Morgenstun, the room where my mom and dad had a little wood, kind of woodsy kind of sunroom, and we told them what happened, and my eight-year-old niece, tears started rolling down her cheeks. Her daddy’s a retired Marine. And I don’t think that you had to have been there to feel the pain and the suffering and the heartbrokenness of what humans can do to humans and what can happen on planet Earth.

Counting the Loss

Key statistics regarding casualty counts on September 11, the toll on first responders and Cantor Fitzgerald, and ongoing sacrifices throughout the Global War on Terror, honoring fallen comrades.

And so, as I kind of, pivot here in a moment to just a couple thoughts to encourage you with as we go, here a few statistics, 2,996 died that day, 343 firefighters and paramedics, 23 police officers of NYPD, 37 port authority. Canton Fitzgerald, one of the financial services firms on the 101st, 105th floor of the North Tower lost 658 employees, two thirds of their employees.

We think about G-Walk, the Global War on Terror, we’re at about 7,093 and counting. My buddy Christian is among those, my battle buddy, safe. Cope from Iraq are among those. Penelope and Colts don’t have a daddy to look after them on a ranch in Colorado. That’s what 911 also means to me. And I know it means so much to each of you.

It was three men for every one woman that died that day, and the most frequent number of those who died were age 35 to 39. There were 1717 families that did not get any remains. And only 291 were found with bodies intact. This was such a horrendous loss for people. 300, 3,051 kids without parents, 1600 of those without a spouse or partner. Mayor Giuliani went to 200 funerals, and the fires burned to almost Christmas of 2001.

7. Selah, Honest Lament, and Confronting Human Evil

Defining ‘Selah’ as a deliberate pause, the speaker explains biblical lament as honoring grief, contrasting totalitarian exhaustion with God’s gift of Sabbath rest and mourning with those who weep.

So in the text I read, there was 2 times we said Selah, which means think about it. In fact, one of my son’s vocab words this week was pause. And a sailor is a pause. And I listened to some of the 1st responders this morning on a recording. And they talked about how it’s helping them talk about what happened. A lot of them have some terrible respiratory issues. A lot of things that still afflict them. But they said it helps to talk about it. So I hope that in this intersection today of 911, your story where you were loved ones, you lost, you’re going to be able to think about both your own loss, but also of God’s very heart.

And lament is a biblical thing. I don’t know if you all know that word well. I’m sure many of you do, but lament has to do with sorrow sorrowing over what’s lost. It’s what the Hebrews did through the weeping crop of Jeremiah. It’s what happened in Psalm 88. It’s what Jesus said on the cross. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? It’s like saying, this is terrible. This is awful. And there’s no There’s just ellipses. There’s no words to say it’s going to be okay. One 1st responder wept as he shared and he said, I told the lady next to me, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to make it out, and he started to cry, and he said, if it weren’t for her, I would have curled up in a fetal position and waited to die that day. But loving his neighbor helped him survive. But he was lamenting. And I think it’s a godly thing.

I’ve been able to go to Yad Vishem in Israel, which is the Holocaust Museum. After dancing with Germans in Munich at Oktoberfest, when I was on a deployment and stopped in Germany before going overseas, the next day went to Dakau, a terrible contrast of Oktoberfest and Doc Howe, which was a concentration camp with ovens, and where 2000 people, mainly Jews and others that were persecuted, would fill a barracks that should have 200. And their guards would look at them and make them polish the floors of Dakau, the wood. I saw the sentinel towers when people would run and just get shot, so they could die soon. And I’m not trying to shock us today. But does the world have evil and horror from the past and the present? Tremendously so. And if we don’t pause to grieve it, I don’t think we’ll really understand also the love that God has given us to our family, our children, our spouses, our battle buddies and sisters, our fellow staff, will miss something really precious if we don’t Selah and pause in the lament.

You know what, the Germans, and I’m not trying to diss on the Germans. There’s lots of great Germans. One of my heroes featured Bonhopper, but the Nazis wrote something, and it’s 3 words, but I only remember two, Machen phrase. And what it said is they walk into that concentration camp was work will make you free. You know, the Bible I read in the God I serve says that the Lord never slumbers or sleeps. And Jesus said, my father’s always working, but for me and you, he called us to a Shabbat, a Sabbath, where we rest, we lament. And the spirit of God touches us. The word of God says, weep with those who weep, and blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

8. Where Is Your Shelter? Pausing on Campus

Challenging listeners to consider where their ultimate refuge lies and inviting them into reflective walks across campus to acknowledge personal grief, open to renewed joy and companionship.

And so I ask you today from Psalm 46, I read the words again. The God of Jacob is our refuge. He’s our refuge and our strength. As we look to 911 tomorrow. Who is your shelter? I know for this chaplain, my shelter is the one who’s the suffering servant, who’s the son of man, the lion of the tribe of Judah, who’s coming back to bring eternal peace. But who is your shelter? And where do you find safety and what do you place your confidence? Some trust in horses, some trust in chariots, but we remember the name of our God.

Lament, shelter, and then pausing. I wonder, and thankfully I’ve been able to enjoy this campus, go to a baseball game, do a little baseball chapel with Bishop, check out some of the beautiful scenes, sit by that cardinal, and have my eight-year-old think that cardinal’s so cool on the bench. Wonder if we’d ever get popcorn from that cool little old Coca-Cola thing truck. But as we pause, I wonder if you might take a solitary walk this week on campus by yourself, or maybe with a trusted friend, walk down the river, go past the grotto. Think about the promise inherent in a new semester. But wonder, do I have a shelter? Have I grieved over things in my life that are worth breathing? Do you know that sorrow and grief and pensiveness can be quickly met by joy, hope, and friendship? So I pray that we look on the lookout for that in God’s gift. His good gifts.

9. Sympathetic Tears and the Gardener of Life

Concluding with an invitation to commingle our tears in shared empathy, pointing to the risen Christ who met Mary Magdalene in humility as a gardener to heal brokenness and bring peace.

And I close with this. What if our national collective sorrow, and the trauma that today we remember, and tomorrow, of the 2996 lives that were lost, and thousands and thousand cents, what if that can spark in us a right kind of sadness for others, for our fellow staff, and students? But what if we can then touch the deepest places in our own lives or the shadow of death and of evil has touched us? And so we might mix our tears, commingling them. They become sympathetic tears for those around us who grieve maybe even a deeper or different laws. from 9/11 or other thunderstrikes of evil.

And I wonder if as we grieve and lift this high, it becomes a holy thing to God who says, blessed are those who mourn, who enters in with us because it says, the God of Emmanuel, it says, God is with us. That’s the Hebrew translation. Be still and know that I’m God. I will be exalted among the nations. The Lord of hosts is with us. And he, Emmanuel, can comfort us.

Jesus, in the Christian scriptures we learn, goes to a woman, and he says, woman, why are you crying? She did not yet recognize the resurrected savior. He could have looked like Hercules if he wanted. But instead, the resurrected king in her midst was victorious and yet humble, and he seemed to be but a gardener, bringing new life and tending, simple, living things. I’m a simple, living thing. And I thank God for superintending me. I thank God for sheep dogs like these folks, those people at Fort Sam, some of your loved ones who are fighting a fight to protect us, and then public servants who are saying, what is the right thing to do to look for peace and shalom on this earth?

And so he was humble in the garden. Even after the rending violence of Golgotha and the cross. But I believe he’s also the one who, in our weakness, we turn to, in our tears, he heals us, and he’s that promised refuge that we so need for all who come. In his name. Amen.