The Morning They Sang in the Rubble

On September 13, 2001, two days after the towers fell, rescue workers at Ground Zero paused their digging. Someone — no one remembers who — began humming "Amazing Grace." Within seconds, firefighters caked in ash, ironworkers with bleeding hands, and paramedics who hadn't slept in forty hours joined in. The singing spread across that smoldering pit like water finding cracks in stone. Construction cranes stood still. Search dogs sat down. For three raw minutes, a song rose from the place where death had done its worst.

They weren't singing because the danger had passed. They weren't singing because they had answers. They sang because something deeper than grief demanded expression — a defiant insistence that destruction would not have the final word.

This is the heartbeat of Psalm 98. The psalmist doesn't call us to sing after God has explained everything. He calls us to sing a new song because the Lord "has done marvelous things." His right hand and holy arm have already "worked salvation." The victory is won before the chorus begins.

Notice the psalm doesn't whisper its invitation. It shouts: "Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises!" This is not polite applause. This is the full-throated praise of people who have seen the Almighty move — and cannot keep silent, even standing in the dust.