Tuesday, February 22—9:45 p.m. Awaiting take-off aboard El Al flight LY106 in Toronto, I pray for travelling mercies. I am one of four Canadian journalists soon to experience the sights and sounds of Israel as guests of Israel’s Ministry of Tourism.
The distance to Tel Aviv is 9,302 kilometres. I’m feeling too much anticipation to expect much sleep. But I am at peace. God has opened this door, and there is no safer place to be than in His will.
Wednesday, February 23—5:30 p.m. My hotel room has a breath-taking view of the Mediterranean Sea. I select a glossy orange persimmon from a gift plate of locally grown fruits and relish its sweetness as I watch the sun sink below the line where sea meets sky. Jonah and Paul come to mind. Both men sailed these waters; one fleeing his destiny, the other pursuing it. I am eager to pursue all that God has in store for me in the week ahead.
I pray, and surprise myself by addressing Him, “God of Israel.” I don’t ever recall using the term in my prayers before. But being here—in the miracle of all that this land represents—has given me a fresh awareness of the appropriateness of that phrase.
Thursday, February 24—7:45 a.m. A quick flip through today’s Jerusalem Post reminds me that this ancient land also contends with the modern world. A 10-day international gay pride parade is scheduled to happen in the streets of Jerusalem mid-August.
11:35 a.m. We’re in Caesarea; established in the first century by Herod the Great, and the place where Peter led the first gentile to Christ.
Sitting in the ruins of a 4,000-seat Roman theatre, then watching a computer-animated 3D presentation in the visitor’s centre, I learn the history of Caesarea. The reminder that men pass away and the works of their hands crumble has a humbling effect.
But the land remains. The vegetation grows. The waves continue to roll. And the Word of God endures.
1:50 p.m. I have stepped into the world that Jesus knew! Nazareth Village is an accurate, full-scale recreation of first century Nazareth, located on 20 acres of the last remaining farmland from the time of Christ.
Executive director Michael Hostetler calls the site a “living laboratory,” explaining, “as we study the world that Jesus knew, we get a better understanding of what He was trying to say.”
I learn about terraced farming, handle carpenter’s tools, stroke a donkey’s shaggy fur and eat a typical, first century lunch. The Judean sun warms my face and the Judean breezes ruffle my hair. I feel a previously unknown level of understanding of the life and experiences of Jesus, as I imagine Him delighting in many of the things that brought such delight to me today.
5:40 p.m. I’ve just had my first glimpse of the Sea of Galilee as we drive through the hills toward Tiberius. It is hazy and the sun is setting, but my heart jumps, and tears fill my eyes, catching me by surprise. It is, after all, only a lake, and we have bigger ones back home. Yet, this lake is special. This lake was calmed by Christ. It bore His footsteps. It absorbed the very sound waves of His words. I find it hard to look away, even as I scribble notes.
Friday, February 25—7:10 a.m. Tiberias is waking up and so am I. I sit in shirt-sleeves on a wooden bench outside my hotel and alternately read from the Gospels, and watch as the sun climbs higher over the Sea of Galilee. The sea is calm. Birds fly low in clusters of hundreds over the water.
Hotel worker Ronen Evro, 33, comes to pick up my luggage. He asks where we’re headed next. I tell him Jerusalem. “Jerusalem is nice. Jerusalem is special,” he says. “You breath in the air here, and then you breath in the air there and it’s different. Special. You’ll see.”
9:15 a.m. We’re at Kibbutz Ginosar visiting the Man in the Galilee Museum. Here rests a 2,000-year-old boat discovered in the sands of the Sea of Galilee during a drought in 1986. Our guide, Chaim Binstock, helped in the excavation and preservation of the ancient vessel. He tells us the boat has been carbon dated between 40 BC to 68 AD. Scholars believe it was used as a ferry. I’ve often wondered how Jesus had such ready access to boats. I wonder if this boat ever held my Saviour.
I ask Binstock what it has meant to him personally to participate in this project. “Ah!” he replies, and pauses as his 84-year-old eyes redden. His pause and his eyes tell me more than his words. “It was a very, very important thing for me.”
9:40 a.m. I’m standing at the prow of a boat, sailing on the Sea of Galilee! The breeze touches my face. I inhale deeply. The air is fresh. The water, which looked so blue from a distance, is actually green with algae, but sparkles like a million diamonds.
I separate myself from my colleagues for a few minutes feeling overwhelmed at this experience. I watch the boat’s operators. They are working-men; their straight faces deeply tanned, their weathered hands steering the boat, holding newspapers or thrust in jacket pockets.
It strikes me that Peter, Andrew, James and John were such men who made their living from this lake. What was it about Christ’s call that compelled them to leave their lives and livelihoods to follow Him?
12 noon. Church bells announce the mid-day as we arrive at Capernaum, the home of Peter and, according to Matthew 4:13, also of Jesus. Beneath the ruins of a Byzantine-era church, archaeologists found the ruins of a first century Christian home. They know it was a Christian home, because it had a windowless inner room where they found early Christian symbols. It was persecution that caused the forefathers of our faith to meet in secret. Looking into the ruins of this, one of the earliest house churches, I feel enormous gratitude to the people who met there and worshipped and passed on their faith.
3:30 p.m. We are driving “up” to Jerusalem. Literally. My ears pop continually, as they adjust to the change in air pressure due to the increasing altitude.
7:00 p.m. We celebrate the Sabbath in our hotel restaurant with our Ministry of Tourism host and his 18-year-old daughter who is studying at a Jewish seminary for girls in the old city. Our host says the Sabbath blessing before the meal. He breaks the sweet bread and dips it in salt; a reminder of the bitterness of persecution. It is a privilege to observe and participate in a ritual that would have been a part of Jesus’ own weekly experience. As I do so, I am reminded of the Eucharist.
Saturday, February 26—8:15 a.m. This morning, I learned from CNN of the suicide bombing in Tel Aviv last night. My heart sank.
Was it my imagination, or did my host seem downcast at breakfast? I pray for peace in Israel. I pray for those who love this place.
5:00 p.m. We’ve spent the day touring Jerusalem. The Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, the Upper Room, the Via Dolorosa, the Museum of David, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Garden Tomb. These names and places will never be mere names again.
Now I’m standing in The Pavilion; the brand new meeting place of what is the largest congregation of Messianic believers in Israel. King of Kings Assembly is the spiritual home of hundreds of believers, led by a Canadian couple; Ann and Wayne Hilsden. Ann tells us of miracle after miracle that enabled their congregation to buy and renovate this beautiful, modern pavilion in Jerusalem, financed by donations from Christians around the world.
She has raised four sons in this country. I ask her why. “I find it rather painful that there’s a political agenda that wants the state of Israel to cease to exist,” she reflects. “I believe God still has Israel on His heart,” she adds, saying she often senses they are living in one of the most pivotal times in history. “Our heart is to see Israel redeemed, not just restored.”
Wednesday, March 2, 12:30 a.m. Sitting aboard El Al flight LY105 awaiting take-off. I am exhausted from my week and look forward to seeing my family once again. I have so much to tell them! But I leave this country a different person than I arrived.
I have a gained a new understanding of the life and times of Jesus. I have gained a new hunger for the words of Scripture, and a new delight in savouring them.
I have also gained a love for this land, so rich in the history of my faith, and a fresh awareness that God has a plan for His creation and that He is working out that plan in magnificent ways. I feel a sense of belonging here.
I depart, leaving a piece of my heart behind.
