No, This is Not the End

the end of the Days

June 5, Wednesday

travelling home…

So, this is the end…we have just shared our last meal together and have been told when to have our bags ready for pickup in the morning, when to be down for breakfast and when to head for the bus.

I have loved this Country, the very smell of the land, the color of the deserts, it's heights and it's lowlands; I have loved the waterways; the seas and rivers and lakes...the swimming in them and I have loved the bright sun, the heat of the day and the breezes of the night. I have loved the people, watching them in their diversity and steadfastness.  Israel, taking in the whole of it, loving it and now... leaving it. 

Yes, we are heading home, suitcases packed, keepsakes and souvenirs carefully wrapped in the already over stuffed corners.  Last looks at the countryside and the views around us.  And memories tucked safely inside our hearts and minds; in our very souls. Memories of new friendships made, made from the common desire to know more…more of our faith.  Memories of places seen, places where regular people and Kings have made their homes, where they walked...where we walked too.  And we have been made aware of time; time forever changed because now we see it in a whole new light, we have seen history in its time through the perspective of Gods land, God’s word…His unchanging word.

I think this is one of the most amazing things I have learned, God’s unchanging word, His word proved true through tradition, through discovery in excavations, through the findings of inscriptions, proven by way of found boats, unearthed coins and seals, proven by the finding of His written word in places so hidden that only He could have arranged it…His unmoving word.

His Word proven true by fulfilled prophecy; in those days; in past days and even in these days. 

How amazing to have seen these things in the context of the land where they have happened; artifacts and places that have been protected for centuries by the Orthodox, the Catholic and even the Muslim…amazing…and there is more being discovered fresh and new every day, things old and of historic importance protected by God for such a day as this.  God acts in mysterious ways, what an honor and privilege to know some of this mystery and to have been here, to His House.

As we are travelling along this highway back to Tel Aviv, leaving Jerusalem, we are silent, watching the scenery pass us by, feeling blessed that we have been part of this land and the story it tells.  As we go, David entreats us to spread the word as we head into the places we know, our own cities and towns and homes to spread the word of the good news of Israel…of that we have no choice, I feel I will never stop talking about it!

“But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. 

You have come to thousands of angels gathered together with joy.  

You have come to the meeting of Gods firstborn children whose names are written in heaven.  

You have come to God, the judge of all people, and to the spirits of good people who have been made perfect.  

You have come to Jesus, the One who brought the new agreement from God to His people, 

and you have come to the sprinkled blood that has a better message than the blood of Abel.”

Hebrews 12:22-24 

Though this is the end of our days together, this is not the end.  Yes, we are leaving here, yes, we are going home; but what we have learned here, we will be taking with us, we will not stop talking about it, or leaning in to hear something more about it, or taking in every word we come across that is speaking to it.  No, this is not the end, we have heard a better message, we have been part of it... following the dots of bloody dirt.

I love that.

Prolonging the Moments

Day 11

June 4, Tuesday {the ending}

Our tour is coming to an end, we can feel it, the very air is changing around us…we want to prolong the moments, to make them last, but resolve to know that all good things come to an end.

We are at The Israel Museum; the Knesset sits proudly in view, flag flying, waving in the breeze, marking the Israeli Parliament building, built from the red stones of Jerusalem. We are at the museum to visit the Shrine of the Book; the home for one of the greatest finds of God’s word. We stand on the grand patio flanked on one side by the White Dome representing the ‘sons of light’ and on the other, by the Black Wall depicting the ‘sons of darkness’; these two designs, enticing thought and emotion, are a testament to the way God preserves His Word. On the outside, the White Dome mirrors the lids of the jars that held the scrolls; copies of the Old Testament that remained hidden for over two thousand years; writings of the Essenes. Inside, in a circular room, looking up to the contours of the white dome; under low lighting; in cold temperatures, unrolled and behind glass, are the Dead Sea Scrolls…Holy.

We move slowly; yes, prolonging the moments; taking in the weight of these unrolled scrolls…the unchanging word of God…Holy.

“The making of many books is without limits…

In particular those which make for the welfare of soul and body”

Josephus Flaveous

We wind our way down to the model of Second Temple Period Jerusalem; an amazing ‘lego’ like structure built to scale, a representation of the city of Jerusalem.  These two weeks we have been touring the walled city and here it all comes together, seen in the scan of the eye.  And we have been able to put all of Jesus’ travels into the perspective of His time, out of our imagination and into His real world.  We have discovered that every place where Jesus goes in Jerusalem is but the scan of an eye.  Here, standing on the hill; look there and there and over there…some places touching one another or connected by a narrow cobbled roadway or a tiered stairway or an open gate; an arched doorway; a roof top.

From this fabulous model, David takes us on a tour, where we can see every move and every place; he maps out the route from the Mount of Olives looking out to the Kidron Valley to Mount Moriah; to the City of David and into the Old City; the Muslim quarter, the Jewish quarter, into the Christian quarter and the Armenian quarter; all the gates we entered in, Herods Gate, the Zion Gate, the Jaffa Gate and the Dung Gate; every building, every home, house and roof top…the hidden waterways;  to the Garden of Gethsemane and over there to Golgotha.  Up to the Western Wall,  the Temple Mount, the common steps where Jesus entered in...and where we stood too.

“I rejoice with those who said to me; let us go to the house of the LORD.

Our feet are standing in your gates, O Jerusalem.”

Psalm 122:1-2

Our eyes scan the breadth of it, around the walls, inside the gates; we take it in, all of this filling our hearts souls and minds ...prolonging the moments.

I love that.

Difficult But Necessary

Day 11

June 4, Tuesday {the beginning}

We are here in Yad Vashem, Israel’s official memorial to the Holocaust; the last will and testament of Six million lives…we are on holy ground once again.  The gate, as we drive in, bears the inscription…

“I will put my breath into you and you shall live again and I will set you upon your own soil”

Ezekial 37:14

Inside we witness the stories of some of those affected by the atrocities that took place during the unbelievable leadership of Adolph Hitler.  We see remnants of the people whose lives were lost, children, women and men, young and old, weak and strong; but not strong for long, they were worn down, hoping for an end to these horrific events. It seemed to these souls that all was lost, no help, no safety, and no comfort from the governments of the day. 

The people in the midst of the anguish thought, surely, it can’t get worse than this, but things did get worse and then again and again until the six million were broken, lost…gone.

Exhibit after exhibit is filled with stories; personal items, clothing, toys, books; evidence of leaving homes; suit cases, shoes, diaries…each item crying out with someone’s name; the emotion of their cries felt in every turn, every look, every touch.  Listen, you can hear the cacophony of the cries of the people, all of those who belong to the remnants of the possessions and papers and stories; the cries ringing in your ears, rising up, up…echoes telling the pain, the loss and death; crying out to God…God, God, look down, voices crying out, Here I am…remember my name.

The memorial to one and a half million children who were killed; pictures, Names recorded, and being called out; in my heart I hear the names of my own grandchildren; Riley, Gracie, Kenzie, Hadley, Presley, Brynlee, Ivan, Ben, Anna, Sara…and I think my heart is breaking.

I am looking up and around and up again, at images rising up on a cone sphere; large and round and white narrowing to a point that opens to the sky…reaching to the heavens…to God; photos of those lost; their names, their age… their number.  And there, on shelf after shelf, lining the walls behind, are the books; book upon book, one after the other, more and more; books filled with names…and I cried.

Yet, even here, in the midst, are the memorials to people who stepped up to help and save, to be hiding places, protectors.  The Pillar of Heroism, for those that fought back; the trees planted along the promenade, for those that fought to save; the sculptures for those that gave up their own lives for others. 

And I agree with the words of Anne Frank, “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are good at heart.” I do. 

Silently, we head back to the bus,  passing by soldiers, who are on their way to pass through Yad Vashem...and we, on our way to 'Remat Rachel', a modern Kibbutz, it means 'the heights of Rachel' and it is nearby that Rachel lies buried at Hebron, on the way to Bethlehem. As we sit here for lunch, with Bethlehem laid out to the back, we chat about what we have witnessed this day; a sweet place to rest and reflect.

We travel on to the Garden Tomb, an alternate site thought to be the site of Jesus’ burial, not unanimous but possible and it is beautiful, a garden of peace and tranquility, a place that surely would seem true. We see the place of the skull, the water cistern, the wine press, the tomb... bearing the cross like an anchor, engraved in the stone. Here we share in communion; bread and wine and worship; Michael preaching, sharing hope...hope, an anchor for the soul, firm and secure…beauty.

I love that.

Like a Hundred Witnesses

Day 10

June 3, Monday

We are on the roof of the home of Caiaphas, the High priest; his home being the place where Jesus was imprisoned, waiting for the judgement of Pontius Pilate.  This roof, called Galicanto, marks the place where three times Peter is asked, do you know Him? It is the place where Peter three times denies knowing his Lord and it is the place the rooster crows times three… right then, Christ knows; His heart breaking one piece more.  From Galicanto we look out to the Kidron Valley and beyond to the Garden of Gethsemane, the garden where Jesus begged His friends to stay awake; asking them for prayer…weeping and sweating drops of blood.

Entering in by the Zion Gate, we are in the Armenian quarter of Jerusalem, these large stone walls of the gate are pockmarked with bullet holes; it is here where we find King David’s Tomb, marking the place of his burial.  Holy, blue, tasseled fabrics lain over the cabinets, one marking the burial place and the other marking the place of the Scrolls of Moses; the word of God with us. Filing in, one at a time, men on one side, women on the other, we witness this place of prayer…Holy.

Nearby is the Upper Room where the disciples shared the last supper with Jesus, the same room where Jesus appears to his disciples after His resurrection, twice.  This is the room where the disciples and the Nazarene Jews hung out, as if in a Kibbutz, a commune; sharing the bread, worshipping, praising, waiting; the wind of the Holy Spirit, Pentecost, the beginning of Universal faith…this all in the Upper Room.  In silence, we look over the room; taking it in, letting the empty weight of it fill our senses, Timothy leads out in song and we melt in the moment, feeling the wind of the spirit falling fresh…Holy.

 

David takes us into the Jewish quarter, beautiful, clean as if freshly swept…windows and walkways lined with flowers; purple, white Bougainvillea.  We see the mosaicked Modava map; a home burnt by the Zealots, in order to incite their people to fight back; the remnants of the broad wall built during the time of Hezekiah 586 years before Christ and we see the discovery underneath; eight mansions belonging to the priestly line, the opulence of wealth evident; bathtubs, frescoed walls, imported stone and pottery. We watch the short movie telling the story of the views of the day…of the Zealots, who want to fight the Romans; of the Priests, who want to stand fast, saying surely the Temple will not fall; and of the women, who want safety for their families.  And we hear the words from the scripture that has been fulfilled in our time. 

“This is what the LORD Almighty says

‘Once again men and women of ripe old age will sit in the streets of Jerusalem each with cane in hand because of his age.  The city streets will be filled with boys and girls playing there."
Zechariah 8:5

Yes, today we see the streets here in the Jewish quarter overflowing with people shopping, buying, selling, talking, sharing; families, fathers and mothers, children playing, working too; pushing food carts and helping their parents in the shops. Old men and women nearby always watching; we see children in school uniforms following along behind the teachers who are leading them on to their next adventure…as are we, and we are amazed with what we see; what we have seen and what is yet surely to come; knowing there is more.

On our way to the Western Wall, our guide, David, tells us; this is the Holiest place on earth, the place of Abraham binding Isaac, the place of Solomon’s Temple, the place of the rebuilding by Ezra and Nehemiah, the place of King Herod’s Temple Mount and the place where Jesus will come again…the Holiest place on earth!  We must be covered, our shoulders and our knees; David gives us instruction to approach the wall, he says,  “Approach the wall with confidence, this is no time for manners,”  and he says other words like this, that sound firm…walk right up, find your place, reach out to touch it; firmly touch it.  Tuck your prayers into the crevasses; leave your prayers there, spill them from your heart…look up, look up.  David’s instructions end,  “and when you are done, out of respect, do not turn your back on the wall, but back up as many steps as you can.”

I covered my head and shoulders with my shawl and walked the steps; one, two, three, more and more through the throng, up to the wall, firmly finding my place, and then…the most beautiful touch on the Holiest place.  I could hear the prayers of the saints, those all around me spilling from their hearts and those that were tucked into these walls, these large blocks of stone chiselled thousands of years ago; one upon the other, row after row; crevices and cracks filled with the prayers and cries of God’s people, words in print of a hundred languages asking Him for lavishly more and me, looking up…and there holding my gaze, under the wild bushes growing in the places between the chiselled rock, tucked safely in…a white dove.  God’s promise nestled there in the stone of Jerusalem’s wall...Holy.

“The Jerusalem stone, so resilient and supple…bearing testimony

like a hundred witnesses and yet remains silent.”

Cham Be’er

The Western Wall, silent, yet screaming out, God, God look down and His response echoing back loud and clear…I Am here.

I love that.

The Way of Sorrows

Day 9
The Via Dolorosa 

June 2, Sunday

On entering the gate to the City of David, we overlook the Kidron Valley and up to the Mount of Olives.  We are standing on Mount Moriah next to Solomon’s Temple, looking out to the small city, the rooftops all one above and next to the other.  Look, there, could that be the rooftop where Bathsheba sunbathed; David standing here looking down, seeing her beauty…right here, King David, falling in love with a woman who would become the mother of Solomon…the King who builds the Holy Temple.

In this place we explore the ruins of a ‘four room house’, we see the clean divisions of the rooms and we see the remains indicating wealth…the first toilet carved out of rock, a piece of a chair made from wood imported from Lebanon, we see the seals with names inscribed that were found here…believed to be from the Royal archives.  Just above we see the ophel, the land fill, Solomon used to join the Temple to David’s Palace.  

Remains, royalty and ruin here, in this place, the City of David.

Entering Hezekiah's Tunnel, an amazing underground water system, we wind down the circular stairway, spiralling down, following the dark, rock walled tunnel.  Down and down again, a massive tunnel, chiselled, hammered, and dug away by hand; started at each end, nearly a half mile long, the diggers meeting in the middle.  An amazing feat of the perseverance of man, what he can attain in his mind to build and how it can be accomplished…an ongoing excavation of discovery.

 “David said, ‘We will have to use the water shaft”

2 Samuel 5:11

and they went down, down, down...

We walk through the waters of the Gihon spring, running clear, flowing through the tunnel, the whole of its length deeper here than there, clear cool and moving, always moving.  At times the walls of the tunnel come tight around us, close on all sides.  In areas it widens out, taller and deeper following the lay of the land, the rock itself dictating the tunnel size.  Here at the end of the tunnel lies the small pool of water from the Gihon spring, fortified with walls…

“It was Hezekiah who blocked the upper outlet of the Gihon Spring and channeled the water down to the west side of the City of David”

2 Chronicles 32:30

Hezekiah’s tunnel, the same water system used by David’s forces to capture the city from the Jebusites; the same pool where Jesus performs His miracle with the blind man…

"Go" He told him "and wash in the pool of Siloam"…so the man went and washed

and came home seeing.”

We step out of the tunnel into daylight, up and out, on to the square and we sit on the stone stairs that wait, as if standing guard for the pool of Siloam; the pool that lies hidden under ground and growth and gate; waiting to be excavated…there still.

Leaving the City of David we make our way to begin the walk of the fourteen Stations of the Cross, the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrows; the pathway that Jesus followed from Pontius Pilate’s judgement hall to Calvary.  The first seven stations are on the streets and the last five are found within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

“So they took Jesus and He went out, bearing His own cross to the place of the skull,

which is called in Hebrew Golgotha.”

John 19: 17

As we walk the streets with the throng we are in the midst of what Jesus saw and felt on that day, people everywhere jostling their way through the cobbled streets, bumping into Him, pushing, talking, doing business and laughing, possibly at Him.  We stop at the Chapel of the Condemnation where Jesus is condemned to death; the Chapel of the Flagellation where He receives the cross.  We see the place where Jesus falls for the first time; where He meets His mother Mary; the place where Simon of Cyrene takes the cross and station six, the place where Veronica wipes the sweat from Jesus’ face.  We look in at the place where Jesus falls for the second time and at Station eight, where He consoles the women of Jerusalem.  We touch the place where He falls for the third time. Near station ten, inside the Holy Sepulchre, we see the game etched in the stone floor, the game the soldiers played to win the clothing Jesus wore, the ones He was stripped of as they nailed Him to the cross, mocking Him, the Church of Anastases marking station eleven.  We stand in line to kneel and pray at the place of Golgotha where Jesus dies on the cross, moving quietly to the place where Jesus is taken down from the cross and to station fourteen, down to the tomb belonging to Joseph Arimathea, where Jesus is laid, the Holy Sepulchre.

Under arcs and inside doors, in and out of the streets, climbing sacred steps up and down, turning into alleyways following the cobblestones leading into churches, taking in the ornate décor, opulent chandeliers and orthodox candle sticks. We sat in the church pews built from olive wood and touched the places carved in stone. We saw the stained glass, the arched windows, the domes and crosses…the sacred places; all marking the footfalls of our Christ as He went this way, the way of sorrow, the Via Dolorosa.

I scarce can take it in...
.

The Holiest Place of the World

Jerusalem

Day 8

June 1, Saturday, The Sabbath

We are on the Mount of Olives looking down on to the Kidron Valley and out over Mount Moriah...the Holiest place on earth!  Here it begins, we are at the beginning.  Laid out before us a thousand handbreadths of God…more; these places steeped in His word, the people of His heart, the tombs of the saints, all of it; everyone, everything looking up to God…Jerusalem, His Holy City on a hill.

Before us the Old Jewish cemetery ever stretching down and down spanning far left and to the far right where it reaches to touch the Garden of Gethsemane.  We see the old city walls and the pools of Bethesda.  We see the Golden Dome that marks the place of Abraham binding Isaac, of Solomon’s Temple, the rebuilt walls of Ezra and Nehemiah, the place of Herod’s Temple Mount and marking too the place where Jesus made His way up the southern steps, it all happened here in this same place, spread out before us…saying, welcome to God’s house!

From here, on the Mount of Olives, we see the city of David, His palace, the ophel where King Solomon joined the temple to his father’s palace; we look out to the home of Caiaphas where Jesus is judged, we see the double domes that mark the place of His crucifixion, the church of the Holy Sepulchre; pointing up we see the tower of Mount Zion and the grey roof marking the place of the last supper; We see the closed up gates where Jesus entered in to the temple and we see the grey dome that marks the place where Jesus turns the tables.  We see the western wall, remnants of the places that were destroyed by the Romans, changed by the Muslims and protected by the Catholics, left bare by the wars, the ‘hell’ where children were murdered in the Gedron Valley.  We see it all; we see too much…we want to see more.

We will soon be  up close, seeing these Holy places, touching their walls and gates. We begin our decent down, walking where Jesus walked, down the cobbled stones of the narrow road; walled on both sides, winding, turning, until we reach the Basilica of the Agony, in the Garden of Gethsemane, and the bedrock where Jesus sat and wept and prayed.  We make our way along to the pools of Bethesda, a public mikveh, a spiritual washing place.  A place where Jesus knew He would have an audience and here on the Sabbath He performs a miracle…

“Sometime later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals,

near the sheepgate, a pool which is called Bethesda.  He saw a man lying there and asked

‘Do you want to get well?’  ‘Sir’ the man replied ‘I have no one to help me get in to the pool’ then Jesus said to him ‘get up, pick up your mat and walk.” At once the man was cured.”

John 5:1-13

Jesus heals on the Sabbath and so it starts; the start of His mystery, the beginning of His controversy.

We enter the beautiful acoustic Church of St Anne, marking the birth place of Mary, the mother of Jesus; we take a turn to sing in this amazing place that rings out sound as if from heaven itself...beautiful.

Taking a rest, we stop at a nearby Palestinian café for lunch; lamb kabobs, pita bread, fragrant dips and beer, before heading out to the Shepherds field, a side trip to Bethlehem and the Church of the Nativity.

 

Walking along the entry path, we notice a familiar scent…pine trees, the air filled with the scent of them and the trees loaded with pine cones; bringing a familiarity to how we celebrate this event at home with this same tree and the scent of it. I did not imagine this landscape in the fields where the shepherds watched their sheep, I did not imagine the small cave like huts where the shepherds lived and I did not know that these simple Jewish shepherds would be memorialised in such a beautiful way; this place where the birth of Jesus was announced by a star and heralded by the voice of angels singing…

Glori in Excelcus Deo.

Bethlehem is not under Israeli rule but under Palestinian authority, this seems strange to us, but true.

Bethlehem, mentioned the first time when Rachel gives birth to Benjamin, is the home of Naomi, Ruth and Boaz; and it is the fulfilment of Micah 5:1-5…

“But you Bethlehem, though you are small among the clans of Judah

Out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel whose origins are of old

from ancient times…He will stand and shepherd His flock in the strength of the LORD

For then His greatness will reach to the ends of the earth

And He will be our peace."

From here we make our way back to the hotel, dine together, talking of everything we have seen and  what is yet to be seen...sipping tea infused with fresh mint leaves and flavored with lemon slices...here in Jerusalem.

I love that.

It was Evening and Then it was Morning

Day 7

Shabbat, May 31, Friday

The day begins in the evening…this is why the Sabbath begins at sundown.

On this morning of Shabbat, we are heading to our fist stop, by the evening, when the Sabbath begins we will be in the Holy city, Jerusalem. 

But now, we travel up by gondola up, up, to the top of a fortress and walk the ruins; ruins of an amazing, enormous, colossal palace; a place where the remnants left behind paint a picture of lives lived so magnificently that we can only imagine; a life fantastic! 

Do you know the story of Masada…the amazing palace that Herod built in 40 AD on an impossibly high mountain face in the middle of the desert? The size of it is massive, one half mile long, cut out of the mountain rock, 38 towers, and each 75 feet high. Inside there are store houses, barracks and cisterns to collect rain water.  Built lavishly and lived lavishly where royalty of all kinds including Anthony and Cleopatra were entertained.

Here lies the story of Herod the Great, a megalomaniac, schizophrenic, egocentric who built himself a palace unparalleled to anything in this world as we know it.  A structure of engineering importance for all of humanity to behold…amazing!

Do you know the story of Masada…an amazing abandoned palace that is taken over in 70 AD by Zealot Jews, a sect that believe they should fight back against the Romans.  When they see that they are losing the battle and Jerusalem lies beaten into the dust, these Zealots retreat to the heights of Masada.  Here they make their last stand against the Romans; 960 men, women and children, a remnant of the scattered Jews.  In order to avoid capture; enslavement, rape and murder by the Roman soldiers, ten men are chosen and lots are drawn; and they proceed to murder their own families ending in the final death, suicide.  When the Romans storm the fortress instead of finding a battle to be fought, they find silence…the sound of death.

Two amazing events of history, different times in the same place…in one we find the evidence of lavish living…extravagance beyond compare; Turkish baths, mosaic floors, and frescoed walls…life defying death.  In the other we find the writings of a lost sect; the scriptures of Ezekiel, evidence of a simple life overlapping wealth...and the pot chards with names written on them, evidence of lots cast…death that hoped for life.

Coming down from this place we drive out to Ein Gedi, an oasis of lush wilderness, out of the desert and into a refuge for the wild goats and small Koni’s…a place where the acacia tree grows wild and the jujube plants thrive; one supplies wood for the tabernacle and the other a crown of thorns.  It is a hiding place.  David hides here from King Saul, up in a cave on the mountain edges overlooking the oasis, watching out, hoping for his freedom, lamenting for God to look down…worshipping, praising and waiting…it is a waiting place.

“David is in the desert of Ein Gedi.” So Saul took 3000 able young men from all Israel and set out to look for David and his men near the crags of the wild goats…”

1 Samuel 24:1-22

Driving from here to Jericho, the oldest city in the world, we see the remnants of the walls; the walls that tumbled down from the blasts of the horns, we see the embattled neighborhoods, depraved and war torn. And we see the villages of the Bedouin Arabs, their shanty towns along the edges of the mountains, squatters in this land. 

In the blink of an eye we see the landscape change, we are ascending to the Holy City of Jerusalem, out of the desert into a green and fertile land, we see the change, we can feel it, coming in to God’s Holy city and the air itself begins to be filled with the Holy words of God.

“But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God.”

Hebrews 12:22

I love that.

Baptized in the Jordan, Baptized in Friendship

Day 6

May 30, Thursday

Well done good and faithful servant…even with this small bit.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me…he didn’t deserve it but God gave it; he didn’t have the chance to do it…so I did it in his place.

When it came time to be baptised in the Jordan, I said yes to the opportunity but then I thought no, after all I had already been baptised, so I said no; until God whispered in my ear “Do it for John” and I was reminded of John in his last days, how he reconciled with God and how I wished I could have been baptised in his place during a church service just a few weeks after he died.

This day, God reminded me of that day and I said yes; baptism, in the holiest place to do it... the Jordan River.  This day, I was baptised, a dedication to God symbolising baptism for John.

So, I said yes, and I am sure I saw the heavens open up; I heard the words well done good and faithful servant, with you I am well pleased… and then I swam there, in that amazing river, where Jesus was baptised by John; amazing grace, how sweet the sound…grace from God, love from me.

From this holy place we head out towards the desert, along the highway following the river past groves of mango trees and the rolling hills of the Jordan valley, we are following the route of the Patriarchs, past Samaria to the edges of the Judean desert; passing fields of sunflowers, palm trees and freshly plowed dirt, fertile and red.  We pass by the area patrolled by the Israeli army day and night and on further still into the Judean desert, we look up to the mountain where Jesus was tempted for forty days and then further, into desolation, to the lowest point on earth, the Dead Sea heading on to the Qumran.

Qumran, the ruins of the Essenes, a Jewish sect, that believed their faith had been corrupted, they come to this place and become obsessed with building pools, spiritual washing and the writing of God’s word. It is believed that John the Baptist spent time here with these people, being influenced by their washing and their teaching; to this day seminaries teach the ways of the Essenes.  It is here in the Qumran where a Bedouin shepherd boy discovers the Dead Sea scrolls, contained in jars in the depths of a cave, the writings of the Essenes, the oldest scriptures of the Bible ever found…in a cave, in the mountains of the desert, high above the Dead Sea.

Back on the bus we drive on through the mountains of chiseled rock, surely chiseled by the hand of God, His handiwork; bars of hard, hard, desert sand, cut and wedged and dry and hot; so hot that the air is hazy, the heat rising up and filling the air itself. Below you can see the canal, the waterway ribboning its way to the aquamarine blue of the Dead Sea; beautiful, sparkling, and trimmed in white…salt.

Overlooking the Dead Sea is the Hotel where we stay for this night…the night of the hottest day!  We trek down to the sea and float there in the mineral water basking in the joy of it, feeling the weight of it and taking in the wonder of it; water so heavy we float away as if in a lounge chair floating on air.

Taking the shuttle back, we make our way to the beautiful pool of our hotel and we find ourselves swimming and chatting about the wonders of our day, sights and ideas shared, discussion and thoughts talked out amongst us, friends coming together by the way of this trip, a shared faith…and in this water; baptised in friendship.

I love that.

The Echoes of His Heart Beating

Day 5

May 29, Wednesday

Today we are travelling around the Sea of Galilee, past banana fields and Lebanon cedars.  The rolling hills are dotted with brush and yellow grasses waving in the wind.  The winding roads are bordered with wild flowers: magenta, yellow, orange, white, interspersed with red roses and large purple thistles.  And it seems that we can see the shadow of Jesus climbing the way of the mountain that rolls down to the sea.

When we reach this place, we hear Jeff’s words and we sit in silence; we hear the calls of the birds, the breeze in the trees, the grasses rustling and our people breathing.  We feel the hearts of those sitting near us beating, beating…and we hear the echoes of Jesus speaking…

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted,

Blessed are the meek; the merciful, the pure in heart and the peacemakers;

blessings…the echoes of His heart beating.

As we stand to leave, we see the imprints of His footfalls left in the grass and hear his voice still in the air, here on the Sermon Mount.  Now we are leaving the imprints of our own feet as we walk down the mountain side, walking where He walked; looking out to the sea, like the people did in those days…looking out across the Sea to the other side and to the shores close by that wrap around the sea of Galilee; the shores of Capernaum and the fishing villages that used to be there, one next to the other including Migdal, the place where Mary Magdalene lived, the place she ran from to join in with Jesus as He walked by.  We walked through the place where Jesus and the disciples fed the 5000 and we walk along the seaside where Jesus asks three times “Peter, do you love me?”

We dip our feet into the sea and scoop up the small stones to save in jars; small pieces of the sea, the sea where Jesus stepped into and called “throw your nets on the other side” The sea that touched the town He called home; the sea He sailed and lived and breathed, “come I will make you fishers of men.”

Not too far from here we enjoy a lunch of St. Peters fish before we go on to see one of the greatest finds…the proof of a life style from the time of Jesus; the finding of a 2000 year old fishing boat…to whom did this boat belong, to a fisherman of the Sea of Galilee, perhaps to Jesus and His disciples; a beautiful mystery, an amazing discovery and a moment that changed everything.

Amazingly enough there is yet more as we board our own sailing boat on the Sea of Galilee and set sail for the ‘other side’ singing the anthems of Canada, the US and of Israel along with songs of worship and praise…How Great Thou Art, Amazing Grace, It is Well with my Soul and more…an amazingly emotional, heartfelt voyage, overflowing with joy, music, singing, laughter and dancing…sailing on the Sea of Galilee. Tears.

Arriving on the other side we head for home, Emilis, where we make a quick change to come back for a swim in the sea, diving off rocks into the depths of it, coming up for a breath and then swimming out, taking it in…swimming in the Sea of Galilee.

I love that.

Defence, Prayer, Tears and Silence

Day 4

May 28, Tuesday

We start the morning with a drive through the valley to Tel Dan, the farthest North point of Israel.  The hills low and rolling, are dotted with wild olive trees scattered and orchards of them along with fruit groves, grapes in rows; all in patchwork along the way. We pass the settlements called Kibbutz, planned villages placed along the borders.  The people who live here have a purpose, they are to keep watch, the first line, always on guard for their homeland, lookouts, protectors from attacks, from the Syrians and the Lebanese, as if an armed camp; families, children, guns…the first line of defence.

As we pass by the Kibbutz we enter Dan, mentioned in the bible, belonging to the tribe of Dan…from Dan to Beersheba; with Syria to one side and Lebanon to the other.  We arrive at Tel Dan Nature Hike and immediately enter into the amazingly lush wooded park; inside it is surprisingly cool considering the heat of the day.  Rushing alongside is the beautiful, beautiful river, the water flow being pushed by the melting snow of Mount Hermon.  We pass through Paradise…Ancient Dan and the ancient remains of a long ago sacrificial altar built by King Jeroboam.

 

“Then Jeroboam went out into the hill country of Ephraim and lived there…he said to the people ‘you have gone up to Jerusalem long enough’ and…he made temples on high places, he set one in Bethel and the other he put in Dan…”

1 Kings 12:25-33

From here we look out, far out, over the land and we see Lebanon, the small villages of the Hezbollah and the long and winding road marking the border…we hear the cries of those lost at war and those that have suffered because of it, all around we hear the echoes of this war torn land and we stop to pray for Israel…tears.

Just a few steps more, deeper down the path we come across the remains of a  large mud home dating back to the time of Abraham; covered with a curved canvas roof to protect it from the weather; who lived here inside these earthen walls?  On ahead, down and around a winding path, a few steps more and then just a few more, the site where an inscription was found, engraved in stone, the name of King David…a King, a man after God's own heart; proven true…amazing.

Moving on we travel to Caesarea Philippi, the place where Jesus brings his disciples, He has taken them out of Tiberius to this most northern point; for us, about an hour’s drive, for them it would have been hours of walking, to a place as far as they can get from the Jewish people. Did they question Jesus about this route, did they wonder why; what were they talking about as they went this far way? I wonder, why this far?  But here, in this place, this oasis of fig trees and cedars beside a beautiful water fall Jesus asks, “who do the people say I am?" and then He asks “who do you say I am?”  Here in this far, far place, they rest and discuss and listen…and in this place we listen too, hearing the echoes of Jesus asking us the same question…"who do you say I am?"

Before making our way back to Tiberius we see in the distance Mount Hermon, the high mountain, the one that provides the snow to the waterways, and possibly the high mountain of the transfiguration; we cannot take our eyes from it.  

Driving into the Golan Heights we pass by soldiers as we look out to the lands they are prepared to fight and as we go, we see the remnants left from another war, signage, barbed wire, and barren fields…land mines.  And we see Syria in the far distance; silence…we are remembering the video clip we saw earlier telling of the Valley of tears, we saw the soldiers who shared their experience, Syrian tanks 500, Iraeli tanks 44, darkness, telling the emotional words that spoke of their stamina, strength and spirit; baptism by fire…personal sacrifice, loss, death… the silent cry, unanimous…’we will not go back to extermination camps!’ One last push to move forward, the hand of God and the battle won…yes, baptism by fire…the valley of tears.

Silence.

Go Out and Stand on the Mountain

Day 3

May 27, Monday

We are driving up to Megiddo this morning, the most famous Tel, one city built on top the ruins of another, here we climbed up and up, the stairs and the winding roadways leading us through the remains, so impressive and the view spanning across, out as far as the eye can see; the plain of Armageddon. Many battles have been fought here, battles with the Kings of Egypt, with Joshua, with Ahaziah the king of Judah and the good King, Josiah, was killed here; this place the symbol of war…Christians believe that it is here the last battle of the world will be fought…Armageddon. 

“On that day, the weeping in Jerusalem will be as great as the weeping 

of Hadad Rimmon in the plain of Megiddo.”

Zechariah 12:10-14

Solomon fortified it, remnants of his stables and chariots were found here along with foundations of houses, gates and grain silos, large; capable to hold and feed 450 horses, massive amazing remains of a world long gone. Here too was the discovery of a water system that supplied this city with fresh spring water…shafts large enough for a man to walk through, dug deep and down into the rock, reaching long to the outside of the city to the hidden place where the stream rushes in, providing needed water...amazing.

Leaving Megiddo, we drive to Mount Carmel, the mountain where God responds to Elijah’s prayer with fire; the fire of the LORD fell and consumed the burnt offering, proclaiming He is the one and only God. And it is the place too, where God responds for a second time in the way of a still small whisper. He is not in the strong wind, nor is He in the earthquake and He is not in the fire…where is God?  Be still; He is in a gentle whisper; A still small voice…ahhh,yes... my favorite place.

From here we drive out to Galilee, over 600 feet below sea level, a fertile lush valley where the road is lined with banana fields and olive orchards, row upon row, field after field, leading us on to enter Nazareth, a city more than 1200 feet above sea level.  This city, more like a village has always been called city, a place where homes are upon homes, shops upon shops, populated, yet strangely silent, sitting holy; the childhood home of Jesus.  We enter in to an unassuming building and find hiding inside itself, a village reflecting the life of Jesus’ time; an oasis of sweet reminders that Jesus lived this simple life.  Here we watched the shepherd tend his sheep, the carpenter work at his craft and we watched the woman spin wool into long soft threads, we saw the olive press and how it worked, we peeked into a tomb and we sat quietly in the small synagogue. We walked the donkey path, climbing the hill to enjoy a simple lunch, one that Jesus would have shared with his family and friends. Young people dressed in the attire of the day served us our meal; lentil soup, unleavened bread, hummus and olive oil seasoned lightly with spices, rosemary and sesame seeds; small bowls of olives, water, always water and watermelon sliced.  We all delighted in the feel of it, melted in the aroma of it and rested in the sights of it. After lunch we made our way up the narrow stairs and a slight turn to enter the upper room; the walls were open for the breeze to enter in, leaving the curtains rustling; lined with long low tables and seating the length of them covered with pillows in a myriad of colors; inviting us to recline and rest, wishing we could.

Now with just one more stop, the last sight of the day, the Basilica of the Annunciation, marking the place where the Angel Gabriel announced to Mary that she would give birth to the savior. We stop for a moment to cover our shoulders with shawls and long skirts or pants to cover our knees, showing reverence and respect. This place protected by the Catholic Church, it's dome stands over 170 feet tall reaching high into the sky, it stretches nearly as long; cement and stone, engraved inside and out on the walls and the doors; ornate, opulent all white tile and stained glass; marking the site of an exchange between a simple girl and a heavenly host…holy.

“Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”

Luke 1:28

I love that.

Boker Tov

Day 2

May 26, Sunday

Boker Tov, good morning…we board the bus and head out early, leaving Netanya, the city along the sea, going back to Tel Aviv.  As we go, we travel through the 'Beverly Hills' of Israel, the road is lined with homes of the wealthy, homes surrounded by gardens of flowers, olive trees and palm trees.  As we enter the city David points out the place where the Prime Minister, Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated, we are now in the center of the political Tel Aviv near Rabin square.

Tel – an ancient land and Aviv – a spring, something new.  And yes, it is, the place where Israel is made new, proclaimed a state. A man named Theodore Hurtzil had a dream, a dream to bring the people home, the remnants of the Jews  from the four corners of the earth; a people that had been scattered from their promised land by the way of wars, persecution and suffering…but were now being called back.The people came, and in 1948 a new Israel was established, signed and sealed here in this place, The Independence Hall of Tel Aviv.

“Behold, I will take the People of Israel from the Nations among which they have gone and will gather them from the four corners of the earth and bring them to their own land.”

Ezekiel 37:21

On to lunch at Gil Gal, a roof top experience, taking in the view and tasting the fragrant food of Israel.  In this small hotel, in a lower room we hear about the work of a Messianic Jew, a man whom along with his wife are part of a group of Jews who believe that Jesus is indeed the Christ, the promised Messiah.  From this place these simple people proclaim the truth to the people of the streets here in Tel Aviv, holding classes, discussions and passing out pamphlets…a simple couple with an amazing story, missionaries in this political part of Israel.

Once again we board the bus, heading out to Tiberius, where we will spend four nights at Emilis Hotel. A hotel nestled above the Sea of Galilee, an unassuming, yet modern Hotel on the edge of an ancient city. 

We travel along roads lined with fields of sunflowers and Eucalyptus trees, trees brought here from Australia with the idea that the roots of these trees would absorb the swampy lands, this in an attempt to make the land usable, yes, but also with the hopes of putting a stop to the malaria that was spreading among the people.

We travel through the fertile Jezreel valley past the hills of Samaria and on to Megiddo along the ribboning road called Dar Heim…the Way of the Sea.  On to Caesarea, the place where Herod the Great built his massive Harbour and entertainment center, a place where people lived lavishly splendid lives, a place that bragged amphitheaters and hippodromes, stage productions and chariot races.  The harbour where massive stones were lowered into the sea to form a place for great ships to safely lie at anchor, a striking Port city built by the best architects and engineers of the time…inspiring, awesome beyond imagination…a harbour, that now lies under the sea. A silent harbour where we can hear the ghosts of the ships who sailed here, the  bustling activity of the port, the people, we hear them in the sprays of the sea that reach us by the breeze, the breath of the wind, speaking for the people who once lived here.

Years later this great Port comes under Roman rule and the palace becomes the home of Pontius Pilate, the proof found, his name discovered engraved in stone proclaiming him the Procurator of the time, it is a place where Paul was imprisoned for two years and it is the place where Peter came to preach to Cornelius.

“At Caesarea, there was a man named Cornelius, a centurion in what was known as the Italian regiment. He and his family were devout and God-fearing. An angel of God came to him and said “Cornelius, your prayers and gifts to the poor have come up as a remembrance before God.  Now send men to Joppa to bring back a man named Simon who is called Peter.  He is staying with Simon the tanner, whose house is by the sea.”

Acts 10

This is the beginning of the gospel being spread to the gentiles, starting with Cornelius, the whole of his family, his servants…to you and to me.

For now, home again to Emilis for dinner and then a stroll down to the market place at Tiberius, where we find a hub of carnival activity, people overflowing the streets, families together holding the small hands of their children, grandmothers following behind, old men gathered at the tables, young people dancing to the music that fills the air, vendors in their outdoor shops, shops filled with skirts and shawls all cotton and lace, cashmere fringed, toys and candy, dangling beads of a thousand colors, jewelry of silver and gold and servers calling you into their cafés to enjoy garlic bread, french fries and beer…all of this lining  the promenade that leads down to the sea…the Sea of Galilee.

I love that.  

This is Just the Beginning

Day 1

May 25, Saturday

These were some of the first words our tour guide used, David said, “Life is full of second chances.”  The last three years I have become used to hearing these words, I know them. Second chances, living life again, new…seeing the world, and for me, this is just the beginning.

We have arrived in the Ben Gurion Airport at Tel Aviv on Shabbat, the Sabbath day, the day of rest.  For us though, there will be no rest, we immediately begin our tour and head out to Joppa, the city of Dorcas, the home of Peter the tanner, the place of St Peters Church and the Port where Jonah catches the ship to flee from God.

“So, he went down to Joppa, found a ship which was going down to Tarshish,

paid the fare and went down into it to go with them to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord.”

Jonah 1:3

The city is so beautiful and quaint, at every turn there is a dip and a curve; cobblestones and balconies; colored doors and wrought iron gates; patios and rooftops; domes and towers; this, one of the oldest inhabited cities of the world.

We visit the Art District, an application is needed just to live here, explaining what you do,your talent and the tools of your craft.  The city is alive with art in the windows, the grassy areas, the parks and along the walkways; at every turn, sculptures, paintings, jewellery and sketches.  Artists…we walk their streets, peeking in the open windows and doorways, looking up the stairways and down the alley ways. We look down into the newest archeological find, fascinated at the excavation, knowing that as we go on from here there will be more.

The air is filled with a spicy aroma, bitter, sweet, heavy…I can’t say…olive oil? Spices?  The scent is everywhere, I noticed it at the airport, on the streets here and in the shops, the café’s and in the food, yes, heavy, bitter and sweet at the same time.  In one of these café’s, up on the roof top, we eat our first meal, surrounded by the sights and smells of this quaint city.

From this height, as we make our way out, we can see ahead to the amazing Mediterranean Sea, foam capped waves breaking on to the white sandy shore; the shore that is filled with people, holidaying and enjoying the blessings of the Sabbath. The hang gliders are flying, turning and dipping above the shore and just beyond all of this the towering high rises reaching to the sky…all beautiful, amazing.

Driving on to Netanya, a city where our home will be for one night, halfway between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, a city along the Mediterranean Sea. The road that brings us here is lined with rolling hills dotted with bushes and rocks chiselled and shaped through years of weather.  Always the Sea on one side, and art still, even here, dotting the median; sculpted rock, hammered metal, painted, bronzed, and some formed from roots of trees…all beautiful, art.

Once we are settled in our Hotel, we walk out to the beach to see for ourselves, to touch the artworks and feel the splashing of the sea, tasting the air around us, taking in the very feel of this new place.  We walk the boardwalk to the sea enjoying the sun, beautiful sun.  Taking off our shoes, stepping onto the sand, we dig our toes in deep, feeling the coolness of the ground underneath.  The sands here are white, each step soft and warm; sparkling, shimmering with the reflection of the sun and the rolling waves of the sea, in and out, in and out.

We make our way to the water’s edge and walk along into the sea - I take in the joy of it, one step further, in…and more and more until deep enough to swim out, ahhh, yes, swimming in the beautiful Mediterranean Sea.

‘And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” 

And it was so.  God called the dry land ‘ground’ and the gathered waters He called ‘seas’. 

And God saw that it was good.”

Genesis 1:10

…and this is just the beginning.

I love that.