20 Years On…
You may not be reading this on July 7, but this date is deeply ingrained in my history. I can hardly believe that what happened on this day in 2005 was 20 years ago. It had a profound impact not only on my life but also on the lives of many who were traveling in or around London or knew someone who was—perhaps a family member, friend, colleague, or member of the emergency services.
I am not inviting you to dwell on the past, but I do believe it is important not to forget how this particular day unfolded. At the time, I had recently recommitted my life to Jesus and was in the middle of reading Good Morning, Holy Spirit by Benny Hinn. I try not to throw the baby out with the bathwater, so even if you see his name and think, Aarrghhh, I don’t believe a word he says, please read on.
That morning, I arrived at my local train station in Hertfordshire just as a train to London was pulling in. The ticket master told me, “If you run, you’ll catch it.” I had my overnight bags with me, but in that moment, I had a revelation: Jesus never ran anywhere.
The Gospels describe him walking from place to place—whether through villages, across the countryside, or even on water. His deliberate pace suggests something deeper than mere transportation. Walking allowed him to be present, to engage with people, and to notice those in need. He moved with purpose, not urgency.
In a world obsessed with speed, efficiency, and instant results, Jesus’ unhurried movement stands in stark contrast. He wasn’t rushing to the next thing. He had time to stop for a blind man by the road, to heal a bleeding woman who touched his cloak, and to share meals with outcasts. Even when his friend Lazarus was dying, he didn’t sprint to Bethany—he waited and walked there only after Lazarus had died.
This isn’t laziness or inefficiency; it’s divine timing. Jesus operated on God’s schedule, not human urgency. He embodied peace, patience, and trust, showing that the most important moments in life aren’t found in the rush but in the pauses, the conversations, and the quiet acts of love.
Had I run for that train that morning, I might not have seen the closed sign on the London Underground, which suggested there had been a power surge. Had I ignored a call from a member of my team, choosing instead to run for the bus, perhaps I wouldn’t be here today to share my testimony with you.
Maybe that’s the lesson: life isn’t about racing from one thing to the next. It’s about moving with purpose, being present in each moment, and trusting that the journey will unfold in its own time.
Let’s take a moment to remember those whose lives were profoundly impacted by events beyond their control as they went about their daily lives.