At long last I went to Israel!
Seriously. For most of October, 2018, I traveled, as a follower of Jesus Christ, to the land of my beloved Savior. It has taken me nine months to put my pen to paper about how this trip changed my life. Given that it has been a dream of mine for my whole Christian life (37 years), I am not surprised. There was a lot to unpack!
Little did I know, however, (and it was true for the whole tour),that it didn't matter what condition I was in -- gimpy knee? Physically stretched? Emotionally overwhelmed? Mentally taxed with historical, cultural and spiritual layers of knowledge packed into ten-hour days for three solid weeks?
Many times I cried out, "Enough! Just give me a reprieve!"
But hey! God knew I was a gimp. That is why He sent me on a tour comprised totally of intercessors! A giant gift to have a roommate, friends, new and old, who prayed, prayed, prayed as we climbed, processed, toured with thousands of other travelers pouring into Israel, and endured, heat, long days, worn out bodies, and mental overload. And we danced with joy (most of the time) over what we experienced!
Little did I know when I said my good-byes to Israel and my friends,who flew to their destinations across the United States, that the Lord had one more experience for me!
As if I hadn't had enough!
It happened on my flight to Portland, from Los Angeles, CA. God knows, flying 15 hours from Tel Aviv afforded me enough time for an adventure, but it was surprisingly uneventful, other than being LONG. I wanted to get home!
Alas! Another lay-over in LAX before flying to Portland! I entered the plane to Portland, dead with fatigue, my bad knee howling, plopped down in my assigned seat, buckled up, laid my head back and shut my eyes. Ready to sleep.
A heavy hand shook my shoulder, "Miss, Miss, could you please change seats with me? I want to sit next to my wife please, I am sure you won't mind." I glanced across the aisle at his middle seat, briefly counted the extra bucks it took to garner my aisle seat because of my gimp knee, and crisply said, "Sorry, I've been 15 hours on an overnight flight from Israel, and my knee is hurting, so no, I won't trade."
He audibly gasped, but his wife, the one sitting next to me, said with a tinge of excitement in her voice, "Howard, sit down! This woman doesn't want to move, leave her alone!" Sadly, she did not take her own advice, looked into her carry-on bag, took out a stainless steel cup, poured hot, black coffee into it, and offered it to me with a gleam in her eye. "You have been to Israel?!!! Here, have a cup of coffee! Tell me about it!"
Let's be perfectly frank here. The last thing I wanted to do was recount my trip, great as it was. But she persevered, peppered me with questions, and poured a continual flow of caffeine into my cup.
"You have been to the Land! What did you see? Where did you go? What was your favorite? Did you go to Jordan? See Mea She'arim?" You may note that she knew more than the average Israeli tourist.
I acquiesced by giving her my brief version, gulping down caffeine. As I immediately suspected, she was more a veteran traveler than I, having been to Israel three times. And being a white knuckled flier, she clutched her Torah prayer book, which led me to suspect she was an orthodox Jew.
And when I told her, I didn't pray using a Torah prayer book, she surmised that I was a believer in Jesus Christ. She confirmed what I suspected from our conversation -- that she excitedly looks forward to Jesus' future coming for the first time, and is an orthodox Jew. And I excitedly shared that I look forward to Jesus coming for the second time, and happily enjoy the fruits of His already coming the first time.
For a few cups of coffee, all was well. Until she said to me, "We are just on the same path, you and I, we both believe in Jesus."
I have reflected upon that conversation many times as I look back on my trip. And I am glad that I responded the way I did.
I felt God's nudge. Again I knew it didn't matter how tired, or how anything I was -- it had been that way for the whole trip. Somehow, He gave me what I needed to complete the day.
So He did again.
I gently touched her arm, looked her in the eye, and said, "No, we really aren't on the same path. I have a relationship with Jesus today, right now, because I believe He has already come. You don't believe that. We aren't on the same path."
I heard the Lord whisper in my ear - "Let me take it from here."
So I did. The banter cooled visibly, turned from friendly to polite.
I have reflected upon that conversation many times as I write about my journey. I marvel about the complexity of the culture - Jews, orthodox and Messianic, and Muslims, both layered in the diversity within their own cultures, both claiming their spiritual rights to the real estate of Israel. I certainly am not the first one to ponder this, and ponder it I still do.
I think of my traveling companion in that plane, particularly as I think of Jerusalem where I saw the Temple Mount, the Garden of Gethsemane, the wailing wall, and Mea She'arim, the heart of where many orthodox Jews live. My heart fell in love with the orthodox Jews who lived in Mea She'arim, precious families who live to see the King, who they believe will come one day in the future.
What are their thoughts as they go to the Temple Mount? Or the Garden of Gethsemane? How do they reflect upon Jesus who prayed three times, sweating blood from his forehead, that the cup in front of Him would be taken away? The grueling torture of the events prior to the cross? The absolution of Jesus carrying our sins on the cross? The miracle of the resurrection at the Garden Tomb?
I pondered, and wondered, and prayed for those who don't know that Jesus has already come, that He is here, now. I fought the crowds at the Garden of Gethsemane, who came from all over the world to touch and see. Solitude, it was not. I watched from my perch on a stair step of the Church of St. Anne's, disappointed that I could not have time alone to think on these things. I wondered, "Do these tourists know Jesus? Or do they want history?"
As I left Jerusalem, and the enormity of the sights and sounds there, I yearned for some solitude to process. The question looming in my mind -- How do I reconcile all of what I see here with the relationship I have today with Jesus Christ? What do I take back home? What do I learn?
These were questions on my heart as we traveled northward to Capernaum, where in fact, Jesus performed most of his ministry
The Lord heard the yearning of my heart -- for answers, for solitude, for a special place for me just to be with Him!
He surprised me -- at a resort not far from the Golan Heights. At dusk, I needed to stretch my legs after an exhausting day of climbing Mt. Arbel. Though we were not in the intense heat of summer, that day was hot even for October, and the setting sun breathed some relief from the heat. I climbed over a small hill separating the resort from the beach, expecting to see more crowds, but my heart melted as my eyes saw first-hand--
the Sea of Galilee.
The breeze, the gentle ripple of the water, the expanse lay before me -- best of all, I was all alone. All alone on the Sea of Galilee!
I was overwhelmed, totally and completely overwhelmed.
And God knew it.
"Sit down!" He whispered.
A single fallen log lay in front of me.
I sat down and basked in silence for awhile, just my God and me. He spoke quietly to my heart, "I am giving you a new name." I rejoiced at this precious revelation, and sat in reflection looking out at the Sea, drinking in the solitude.
The awe of basking in a land God loves, in the midst of people He loves, some still waiting for Jesus -- Israel.
I questioned not His ways for they are not my own. I questioned not of His presence, nor of the enormity of His giving me a new name --
Nor of standing on a beach where possibly the disciples stood -- where Jesus might have stood! I questioned not -- experienced, Him!
I think of my orthodox Jewish friend on the plane home. I pray for her and for those precious Jews who still believe Jesus has not come. I am grateful for a deeper understanding of the complexity of this time, praising God for the insight He gave me as I responded to my friend on the plane, "I thank God for the Jewish culture who gave me my precious Messiah, Jesus Christ." And, on that beach, on that day, My Jesus seared the love for the Jewish people into my heart. In Israel.
