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El-Emunah
God of Faithfulness
Highlights of the trip!
Well, as you have probably already guessed, I am home now.
Well, I think I am at least.
Right now I am actually in Greenville back at school again.
But, still not feeling at home.
When in Chatham, my home, I still feel kind of like it’s not my home. Obviously, it is my home because my heart is with all the friends and family and ones that I hold dearest there. I mean, it is where I grew up, went to school, and played sports. It is where I found out I love music. It is where I gave my life to Jesus in the church that I have been in for nineteen years. But it is also not my home because I know that good ole Chatham is sadly not where I will end up. I am not meant to stay put, to stay comfortable, with all the same people and surroundings that I hold so dear and that my heart will ache for when I am no longer there.
When in America, I feel the same way. Yes, this is my country. I am an American through and through. But, I don’t fit in here. I don’t belong here, in America. I have wacky ideas that ruffle feathers and go against the status quo. I don’t want a lot of money. I want to give away all of the money that I do have. I want to eat, sleep, and breath God and nothing else. I am perfectly content with not having a boyfriend. I want to spend my summer serving the homeless community instead of myself. I am not interested in getting a fancy job, in promoting myself, in wearing makeup, or in buying new clothes. I just don’t fit in here.
Where do I fit in then? Israel? It felt a little more like home with its less than perfect living conditions. I certainly did love it there. But still, it is not my home. They say that “home is where the heart is”, but I feel like my heart is a thousand places at once. I love my family. My friends. My mission. My experience in Israel. My familiarity. My “norm”. Above all these things, however, there is one that I love more. My God, My Yahweh, My El-Emanah. And that is the answer to where my home is- it is wherever He wants it to be. As long as I am serving God and pursuing Him rather than worldly comforts, I’ll be home. Maybe not always happy or comfortable, but joyful and content.
I just want to serve.
I just want to be.
I just want God.
That is the biggest lesson I have learned from my time in Israel. That no matter what crazy thing God calls me to do next, I am there, one hundred and ten percent. With joy in my heart no matter the circumstance. With a fire in my belly despite setbacks. With compassion and grace and love and service and passion for a God who deserves all this and more. This life is God’s, given to Him for His purpose and His glory. And this life is lived out knowing that no matter what crazy circumstance I am thrown into or living situation I end up in, my home is made possible through the life and love of Christ. I have a home with Him. And that is enough for me.
Before going to Israel I had heard depictions of the Dead Sea. Here are some phrases people used to describe it.
Relaxing.
Sunbathing.
Floating.
Grab a book and just read.
I have some alternate descriptions about the Dead Sea that I would like to suggest. How about
Churning.
Crashing waves.
Terrifying.
Don’t get smashed against the rocks.
Salty.
Blinding.
I find these to be way more accurate descriptions of my time in the Dead Sea. Alright, maybe I’m being a tad unfair. I mean, hey, we did go in the Dead Sea during a middle of a storm. But, we are in Israel! We have to go in the Dead Sea! So, we did.
Crazy Americans.
Probably wasn’t the best idea. Ok, definitely NOT the best idea. It seemed like the best idea at the time though. It wasn’t until I plopped myself into the churning water that I remember thinking, “uh-oh, this ain’t good.” The Dead Sea is shrinking in size, about a meter a year actually. This evaporation without replacement of water has led to large embankments of shale and crystalized salt to appear instead of sandy beaches of the Dead Sea. So, in the midst of crashing waves due to the storm, we were being trapped and pushed into these embankments. When I realized that all this could not end well, I started trying to usher people out. The only problem is that so much salt had gotten in peoples eyes from the waves that they couldn’t see. They couldn’t even open their eyes. Amazingly, I was one of the only people that could see. So, I did my best to get everyone out. I would go and fish somebody out of the Sea, swim them to the shale, prop myself between some shale, wait for the waves to pull back, and then lift them out. I tried my best to get everyone out safely, and the people I got out were doing good. The group as a whole, though, walked away with some pretty serious injuries and deep cuts. Blood pooled in the girls bathroom. My mom (who got out unscathed too, thanks to Kiso) and I turned the girls changing area into a make-shift clinic, treating everyone’s wounds. Pressing on them to stop the blood. Bandaging them to keep out infection. Gently caressing to take away the pain. Trying to make them whole again.
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for guiding us through the storms. When we are lost in a foreign sea with the waves crashing against us, threatening to break us against the shale, thank you for being there. For being sturdy. For grasping our hands with all of your might, with white knuckles, and not letting go. We may get scratched up or cut. We may even bleed. But you see us through. You even use our time in the sea to strengthen us and to give us a renewed sense of dependance on you.Thank you for being the only one who can make us whole again, who can bandaged up our shredded, wounded souls. You are beautiful, my dear Jesus. Thank you for your white knuckles that will see us through.
Tomorrow we go to Galilee for some glorious Jesus time! Keep us in your prayers my friends!
I look out at the Judean Wilderness.
Silence.
Nothing is heard but the wind in my ears and the faintest trickle of a stream that is valleys away.
Silence.
I hold this silence in my heart. It’s peaceful. It’s comforting. It makes me feel as if nothing can come between God and me, between this beautiful connection we have right here, right now in this barren wasteland. The Judean Wilderness is a crazy place. Biblically, they all hated it. Being sent into the ragged hills of senonian rock meant living without a stable water, food, or shelter source. Israel had to wander through this for 40 years. Crazy, right? But I’m not sure I view the Wilderness like that. God can do amazing things through the WIlderness, through the drought, through the trials. When the Israelites are being beaten down by the Wilderness who do they call on?? Yahweh. They are so dependent on Him for their needs and they trust that He will be faithful. And He is, my El-Emanuah. Withdrawing to the Wilderness makes you know, love, cherish, cry out to, trust, and be aware of God and the way He is moving in our lives. I love the Wilderness because I know it is a place of strengthening and of courage and of provision on God’s part- not my own. It is a place of seeking and meditation and fulfillment of God’s promises.
Silence.
Man, is it a place of strengthening. Our group hiked the Ascent of Adumim, the ridge route going from Jerusalem to Jericho. We were walking on the already trodden paths on the edges of cliff looking down at the plummeting valley below. It was one of the best hikes I have ever been on. I loved every second of it! There was one point where I just had to get away from everyone; I needed to have my own little “holy moment”. I sat on this rock that jutted out into the valley and just sat there with my eyes closed singing praise to God in my heart.
Silence.
After this hike we made our way to the remains of New Testament Jericho where we sat in one of Herod’s many palaces and learned. I was soaking up the information, and the sun, when all of a sudden some local Bedouin children made their way over. They weren’t there to disrupt or hassle us, just to learn. They just wanted to be with us, to show us their baby goats, to listen to us speak, and to reward us with shy smiles. They are God’s beautiful children with their ragged clothes and dusty feet. And, boy, did they capture me. I couldn’t focus the rest of the lecture. I went up and sat by them afterwards and we played together; I with their goats, and they with my phone (a fair trade I would say). They captured me and are stuck in my mind. God loves them so much and He will provide for them, I trust in His goodness and pray for them to one day know Jesus, their Savior. Until then, I will trust in God’s promises and meditate His Word.
Silence.
I am trying so hard to keep a silent heart throughout this marvelous journey. I want to soak up everything and be in the action and not miss a moment here, but I also want to reflect, to read, to sit, to be. I want a little silence. I want some holy moments where I sit and I am. I am in the Holy Land. I am experiencing life altering events. I am with God. This is my resolve: To sneak away from the crowd and gather some holy moments where I praise, sit, sing, feel, and belong to my Father completely.
In silence.
Strong legs. You need to have strong legs to walk around in Jerusalem. It’s crazy. You constantly trek hills and mountains while navigating through a sardine-packed street. You have to try and stand firm amidst the pushy street sellers and the crazy cab drivers and the jam-packed crowds. You sometimes have to climb 64 stairs just to reach your dorm room. You need strong legs.
You need strong legs to take you everywhere you need to go. My days are filled with walking and climbing to some of the most amazing sites in the world. Sites like The Church of the Holy Sepulcher. This is the supposed place that my Jesus was crucified, died, and resurrected. Woah. It was hard to stand in that place that was filled with holiness and sanctity. I stood filled with wonder, anguish, sorrow, and joy thinking about the pain my Savior had to endure so that ultimately we could all be reconciled to him. In a place that holy, contemplating things so beyond what I can even express, God showed me His “strong legs”. That he was able to put a plan in order that I would one day be His. That Jesus would die and then defeat death. So faithful, so beautiful. Sites like the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane. Where Jesus stood and wept for Jerusalem. Where Jesus went for solace. Where Jesus cried out in anguish to his Father while tears fell like drops of blood. He could have left, you know. While praying in the Garden of Gethsemane he could have easily walked up a path that crossed over the Mount of Olives and led to the safety of the Wilderness. To little villages where he would have been protected. But, he didn’t. He was filled with obedience to God and love for His creation. So faithful, so beautiful. Sites like a holy church that when you sing together the acoustics sound as if angels are joining in your worship. Sites like the temple steps where Jesus taught. I had to have strong legs to trek through Hezekiah’s tunnel, to walk through the City of David, to climb really big rocks in archaeological digs, to see the pools of Bethesda, to journey into the old city, to hike up 64 stairs to my dorm room on the top of Mount Zion. I don’t really have that strong of legs, but God does. My Provider, my Sustainer, my All-in-All. So faithful, so beautiful.
Dusty feet. I have Jerusalem dust caked on my feet. Constantly. It is so great. I never want my feet, my tennies, or my toms to be clean again. I love the feel of the land here, the hills, the valleys. It is so beautiful. I am seriously constantly blown away. I don’t want my feet to be cleaned of this dust, or my mind to be dulled of these memories. I want to take pictures, to share my dusty feet, to live every day to the fullest that I can while I am here. God is so perfectly displayed in this land. The glory and the splendor of it all is absolutely, breath-takingly, heart-stoppingly, legs-numbingly overwhelming. Much like God, I bet. The dependancy that the people here must rely on God with completely captures what I want my own life to look like. The lack of rain and resources in the areas around Jerusalem have the people crying out to God to be their provision, their supplier. I want to reflect that in my life. I want to be so dependent on God that if He doesn’t show up, I’m screwed. I love that so much. I love everything about this place. From the busy streets to the solitude of the mountains, from the hills to the valleys, from the old city to the new, from the tunnels underneath to the rooftops above, from the Kidron valley to the Hinnom valley, from the Watershed Ridge to the Mount of Olives, from the Zion Gate to the Damascus Gate, I love this city. God is good. God is tov.
So faithful, so beautiful.
So, here’s the deal. I am going on this beautiful, life changing journey to the Holy Land, to Israel. Since God blessed me so much to allow me to go on this amazing adventure, I thought that to be a good steward of the experience I should do a blog! Now, I am not too good at blogging ( I tend to ramble, shocking right? ), but I think that this experience is something that should be shared. Right? Right. Well, a group of 13 college students and 3 professors are headed on a flight from St. Louis to JFK at 10:00 tomorrow morning, and then from JFK to Tel-Aviv at 9:00 tomorrow night.
12 hour flights+ 13 hyped college kids= party all the way.
Oh, and my mom is coming too! (It’s ok, she is cool.)
Your prayers and thoughts would be excellent. This is an amazing opportunity and I just pray that our group will pursue God to the fullest, from now till our final breaths. Thank you for joining me in prayer and please feel free to follow this blog! Like I said, I ramble, but I think it will be worth it :) God bless and I will write you from Israel next!
