This is our last day of touring, and whoa what a doozy! We went to another place pastor had never been before. First thing in the morning we went to the place I wanted to go to the second most. The place I wanted to go to the most was Jacob’s well, but that is currently in the middle of a Palestinian refugee camp, and is not particularly the safest place to be, so we didn’t get to go there. But because of the rain, we were able to go to Mt Tabor, the Mount of Transfiguration! Whoa cool. We had been seeing it from all sides while we were there, and I was hoping and wishing to see it. We also went to the top of Mt Gilboa, the valley of which is where Saul and David met the Philistines and Goliath. Then lastly, we went to Bet She’an. Remember when we went to Kursi and I talked about that? Today is the day we got to see it.
We were finished touring around 2pm after eating lunch at Bet She’an, and yes, there was a kitty there and Evan loved it. I didn’t get a picture. It was rainy but a pleasant enough day. Afterwards we went back to our rooms at the kibbutz. We packed and weighed our bags to make sure they would fly without extra weight charges. After a little jockeying, we got everyone’s bags under the right weight. I then went directly to bed, at like 4:30pm, not a problem for me to sleep because I still wasn’t feeling 100%. I decided to sleep through our last supper there, and ultimately I’m glad I did. I would have suffered even more with our 28 hours of straight travel starting at 11:30pm. So I got some good rest. Evan played cards with the crew and went to supper, I slept.
I found out later that pastor had asked everyone at supper that last night to share their highs, lows, and aha’s or haha’s moments with the group, which of course I missed. He asked me on the plane to share mine with him for his journal. For highs, I chose the Southern steps of the Temple and Magdala, although there are so many more. Really, how do I pick? For my low, I said walking up any hill when I was sick. That really was a bummer because I couldn’t breathe. In fact, as I type this like 4-5 days later, I am still coughing and not able to breathe all the way right. I’m sure a visit to the doctor is in my near future. Good news is that I feel pretty good, just the cough yet.
For my aha or haha, I told him that I would have to tell him later. I knew that if I told him right there on the plane that I would start crying, and that is not a good idea to cry and be congested when you’re about to climb to 40.000 feet for 10 hours, if you get my drift. I gave him a hint though, because I had already told him a few days before that and started crying, and he remembered it, so I didn’t have to say it again.
Since I’m not about to fly and I have kleenexes on hand, I’ll tell you what it was. My big “aha moment” of the trip was more like a series of aha’s repeated over and over again. I’ve mentioned it already in my blogs. It was an over-arching feeling of not being alone. To see all the people in this region who love God and believe in Him, to see the importance they have placed on knowing Him and remembering what He did. To know that there are so many people I will never know personally who believe what I do…I am not alone. At Shepherd’s Field with the man who recognized the song we were singing, but not the language. He’s my brother. The woman praying at the Western Wall. She’s my sister. The culture, the language, the location…none of it mattered. These are my people and I love them all. Juxtapose that global kind of agape and phileo love for my brothers and sisters in Christ with the very personal and intimate love I felt between just me and Jesus at Magdala. Or the Mount of Beatitudes. The awe kind of love I felt at the Jordan River where Jesus was baptized and His people enter the Promised Land. The sorrow-filled love at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher I felt when I saw the Stone of Flagellation or the Stone of Anointment or powerful love to see the crack in the mountain under the site of the crucifixion. Then there is the other side of it with horror stories of human sacrifice and Herod’s genocide, the gates of hell and the current oppression of Christians in Bethlehem and Palestine. All the rainbows we saw, what, like 5 or 6? A reminder of God’s promises. Pastor said I would not return the same person as I left. He was right. Something deep healed in me.
For me, all of it hinges on the humility to receive His grace, and not deny it or turn it away. It is where my peace comes from. Hence the tattoo, which has been a long time coming. It’s healing nicely by the way.
A little red yet, but coming along nicely. And I never showed you the ring I got, either. It also says grace, in Hebrew.
Well, let me tell you my stories about Mt Tabor, Mt Gilboa, and Bet She’an before I wrap up my Holy Land trip story with a big bow on top. Thanks for joining me!