JOY and an olive cross at the Temple Mount

We had gotten up early that morning to walk the ramparts of the wall that surrounds Jerusalem. The views from the top of the wall rampart were spectacular as Jerusalem is built on the highest part of Mount Moriah where Abraham had gone to sacrifice Isaac. You can’t walk the whole route on top of the wall because the section at the temple mount is closed. The wall section from Jaffa gate to Dung gate (including passage over the Zion gate) is plenty to hike though as the multiple staircases makes it a pretty tough mile. If you are afraid of heights, this is NOT the experience for you as the average height of the wall is 40 feet. It’s a LONG WAY DOWN.

But the experience of it may call to you anyway because it is perhaps the closest any of us will ever get to being at the very top of Mount Moriah since access the Temple Mount itself is unlikely.

Let me clarify, unlikely but obviously not impossible.

“I think I’m going to the Temple Mount today.” Mom replied to my question of what she was going to do while I was at the conference.

“Oh really?” I said in surprise, “How are you going to do that, little North Dakota Lady?” I teased her gently because we had read plenty of testimonials about how people couldn’t get in due to the scrutiny of the Israeli soliders who were guarding the entrance. As the words were leaving my mouth I just knew she could—and would—do it.

Turns out she had read some suggestions on how to get through Israeli security to access the Temple Mount which is open to non-Muslims through the Mughrabi Gate only for 2 hours each day (Muslims have access at all times and have 10 gates to enter from). The key points were to basically have no skin showing, wear a scarf to cover your hair, and have no religious items on or with you at all. Non-Muslim prayer or religious items at the Temple Mount aggravates the Muslims there to worship and has resulted in several outbreaks of violence since the Israeli occupation of 1967.

It is strange to think that Israeli soldiers are there to prevent their own people from worship on the Temple Mount and thereby protect Muslim religious freedom. The Chief Rabbinate of Israel prefers to think of it a different way, stating that the presence of Muslims and their worship of Allah at the Temple Mount makes the area unclean and thus unfit for Jewish worship of Yahweh. There’s actually a sign outside of the non-Muslim security gate that says Jews are strictly forbidden to worship on the Temple Mount as decreed by the Chief Rabbinate of Israel. With all of this in mind, Mom took a book with her, anticipating that the security scrutiny by the Israeli soldiers would last a long time before she could get in, even if she met all the requirements.

I found her hanging out in our hotel room after the day’s conference was over.

“Well, did you get in?” I asked.

“Yes.” She replied.

“Get OUT!” I said excitedly.

“No, I got IN.” she replied, her eyes twinkling at her own joke. “But boy, I almost didn’t get in, actually.”

The security checkpoint to enter the temple mount is quite intimidating. There are Israeli soldiers in tactical gear carrying their big rifles everywhere, and the bridge leading into the temple mount is suspended in the air and is more like a narrow tunnel made out of dark lumber. Mom had been careful to wear modest clothing with a head scarf and left her Bible and cross necklace at the hotel room.

“NO GOOD, NO GOOD!!” The Israeli soldier who had been inspecting her bag stepped back from it violently and pointed at her bag while shouting at her. Other soldiers immediately tensed and Mom found herself at the scrutiny now of a handful of well-armed Israeli soldiers.

She slowly and carefully picked up her bag to see what they were all so angry about. Oh, yes. There was the offensive thing that had upset them. A beautiful olive wooden cross that she had bought on her way to the Temple Mount. Despite all of her careful research on how to manage it, she saw that cross and bought it, completely forgetting that her next stop was The Mughrabi gate and Israeli security to access the temple mount.

They ordered her to remove it and as there was no other place to put it, she just set it on the ground around the corner. They ignored her for about an hour after that, but she just stood there calmly and quietly reading her book until they finally let her in.

“Mom. You could’ve been KILLED or at least ARRESTED. Or even started a new revolt.” I was sitting on the bed now in disbelief and shock at what had happened. How in the world could she forget she was heading to temple mount security populated by a bunch of soldiers when she bought that cross and stuck it in her hand bag? Well, she was safely here now in our room with an awesome story to tell of her adventure. Then I gave her a sly smile.

“Did you get your cross back?”

“You bet. It was still lying on the ground after I left. I’m sure no self-respecting Muslim or Jew would touch it.” There were those twinkling eyes of hers again, and I swear I fell in love with my mom all over.

She let that nugget settle in for a minute, and then we were laughing so hard, I thought I would fall off the bed! My little North Dakota mom on her second trip out of the USA had been challenged by Israeli soldiers, and lived to tell the tale.

I was not surprised though that the rest of her visit to the temple mount was somewhat boring, as it would have been pretty hard to beat those tense moments with the Israeli soldiers. Even the heavy Jordanian (Muslim) guards patrolling the temple mount grounds were quite peaceful that day despite a reputation for being rude and cranky with non-Muslims. But the real reason I think the remainder of her visit to the temple mount was not a more moving experience is because Mom didn’t need to go there to meet God as the Jews long to do. She has met with God frequently in the quiet of her heart where He dwells forever. She doesn’t need to be at a particular place to have relationship with God.

I think shepherds in the time of Jesus’ birth understood that. They could never enter the Temple Mount because they work with sheep and are thus considered unclean. Instead, their relationship with Yahweh grew under clear starry skies as they watched over sheep. But the angels who came to proclaim The Good News of Jesus’ birth did not go to the temple in Jerusalem where all of the clean Jews worshiped. No, they came first to proclaim The Good News to the most unclean among the people—the shepherds. And wow, those shepherds got front row seats to the most spectacular worshiping choir the earth has ever seen! Because the JOY of The Good News of Christ Jesus is not to be contained in one place among the clean. He came to save us all.

HE IS COMING. HALLELUJAH!!

PEACE AND SEMI-TRUCKS AT THE SEA OF GALILEE

 I had been invited to Jerusalem to present a discovery my team had made to a group of scientists. As there were many other scientists presenting that I wanted to hear, Mom was on her own during the day.

“I’m not sure what you are going to do all day, all of the TV channels are in Hebrew.” I said to her as I got ready to leave.

“Oh, don’t worry. I will probably stay in the room and catch up on some sleep, journal, and read this book.” Well, it didn’t sound very exciting to me, and in truth I felt a bit guilty leaving her there. But science called.

I got back to the room at dinner time, and there was no Barb in the room. Figuring she went to supper, I went down to the hotel lounge. No Barb eating supper. I went back to the room wondering what to do as our cell phones were not working well there, and I couldn’t get hold of her. Had she gotten lost? Had someone hurt her? Did she know where the embassy was?

Just as I was about to trigger Defcon 5 on my panic button, here comes Barb breezing through the hotel room door her hands full of shopping bags.

“Where have you been?” I asked, feeling relief settle over me like a warm blanket just knowing she was safely in the room.

“Oh, I went to Bethlehem today.”

“You did WHAT?” I sat down on the edge of the bed in disbelief. You see, I had to get special permission from my university to come to Jerusalem because it is on a list of high risk areas and I was particularly instructed not to go to Bethlehem because that’s where most of the violent gang activity was. The irony of knowing Bethlehem as the City of Peace, the town of David did not escape me.

“Well, you may not be able to go to Bethlehem, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go.” Her beautiful brown eyes were twinkling with excitement, and I shook my head, chuckling.

“Wow, Mom. I am so not surprised. You know you didn’t even leave me a note.”

“Didn’t I?” she said absently, and then proceeded to tell me about her day’s adventures at the birthplace of Jesus.

Afterwards, I got on the computer and booked us a day trip to Nazareth and the Sea of Galilee for the day after the conference ended.

“There now.” I said to her, “Perhaps that will satiate your desire to leave the city while I am at the conference.” We both giggled over that, because in truth we knew I was so proud of her adventurous spirit.

The day trip to Nazareth and the Sea of Galilee touched my heart in so many ways. Jesus spent more time in this region of Israel than He did in Jerusalem (Matthew 4:23), and some of our favorite stories of His life took place at the Sea of Galilee. There was the feeding of the five thousand (Matthew 14:13-21), the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:1-12), and the calming of the storm (Matthew 8:23-27). If you are looking for all the stories, the Sea of Galilee was also referred to in the Bible as the Sea of Chinnereth, Lake of Gennesaret, and Sea of Tiberias. Nazareth, where Jesus grew up, is at the southwest end of the Galilee region.

Turns out the Sea of Galilee is a popular place for camping. When we got off the tour bus, there were tents packed in among the olive trees, you could smell campfire grills, and see people playing in the water and on the beach. The bowl-shaped Sea of Galilee is a fresh water lake that lies 700 feet below sea level 70 miles north of Jerusalem. It is quite shallow for a lake and is surrounded by mountains which makes it the ideal environment for fish to thrive. No wonder that Peter and his brother Andrew made a living there as fishermen.

I wanted to touch it. Had this irresistible desire to touch that water below us fed by the Jordan river where Jesus had been baptized by his cousin John. This must’ve been what my youngest son, Isaac felt when we had the floors tiled when he was 2 years old. We had to stay off the tile while it cured, and Isaac would go right up to the edge of the tile and stare at it longingly then look at me with such great despair because he knew he couldn’t touch the tile. But I sure could touch that water at the Sea of Galilee, and so while Mom stayed on the overlook, I climbed down the slope of volcanic basalt rock to the shore and sat down on the rocks with my fingers gently skimming the surface of that lake.

I can’t explain why I was so gentle about touching the water. Even writing these words a month later, my eyes well up with tears at the memory. Just touching the surface of that water made me feel like I had been washed over in peace. My Jesus had been here. He had loved this place. He had walked these shores. He had spoken of love and shown great compassion to thousands from here.

He had also slept in a fishing boat during the night while a “mega lalaipsi “ or cyclone sized storm raged on the lake. His disciples were with him—4 of whom were experienced seamen—and were quite certain they would die because of the strength of the storm which raged out of the mountains surrounding the lake. The sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior comes to mind.

With one word, Jesus stopped the storm. At first, it really doesn’t sound like that mighty of a miracle compared to say, healing a blind man (John 9:1-12) which would have required eye nerve repair that modern science can’t manage to this day. But if you consider the storm they experienced that night had an equivalent of about one million horsepower…! OK, you are still not really impressed right? Well, neither was I because I really have no idea what horsepower is. So with some really rough estimates, how about this? You are standing in a parking lot with 1,785 semi-trucks barreling towards you at 110 mph. You will die. Jesus steps in front of you, says “Peace, be still” and those semi-trucks stop in their tracks. All 1,785 of them. Can’t you just smell the putrid burning rubber of the tires? That was the force of the wind storm that Jesus instantly stopped.

Can you do that?

Many claim that it was just a coincidence that Jesus spoke and the storm quit because storms on the Sea of Galilee can ramp up and disappear quite suddenly. But in case you missed it, this was a mega lalaipsi storm. A wind storm of cyclone ferocity. Not some ordinary Mount Hermon derived low pressure thing. Even though this was not an ordinary storm, there was one other thing: THE SEA BECAME LIKE GLASS after Jesus stopped the cyclone winds.

Now the Sea of Galilee is only 200 feet deep, so it’s quite shallow for a lake. It wouldn’t take much for the waves to get really enormous—one famous storm in modern times created waves 10 feet high that did significant damage to the city of Tiberias on its western shore. Google “Jesus calms the storm” to see some of the beautiful paintings depicting that night out on the water (Rembrandt comes to mind). But any experienced seaman knows that after such a storm, the waters stay turbulent for hours and sometimes days before they return to steady state.

But when Jesus spoke, the sea became like glass. It instantly returned to steady state. It instantly experienced peace. It didn’t need any time to recover from the storm. It was as if the storm had never happened. No evidence of it whatsoever. Except for the changed hearts of 12 men who were in that boat with Jesus—the Master of the Wind and Waves (Matthew 8:27).

I don’t know about you, but I want that kind of peace. My soul aches for that. My heart cries for that. My mind works hard to achieve that. But it is not to be had by anything that I can do. No, it can only become mine when I cling to THE ONE who is the source of perfect peace. Jesus. And sometimes, my sweet friends, He allows you to experience some awfully mighty storms so that you will remember He is the source of perfect peace.

I skimmed the water with my fingers for another minute, soaking up the moment as I gazed out over the lake at the Golan Heights in the distance to the east. Syria, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan lies beyond those mountains, with Jordan and Egypt to the south and Lebanon, Turkey, and Russia to the north. Israel is surrounded on 3 sides by semi-trucks barreling towards them. Yet here I was experiencing that perfect peace that only Jesus can provide. We are ALL in some sort of boat with storms raging about us. But it is my prayer we all remember that the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6) is in the boat with us and will provide peace so perfect that there will be no evidence that there was ever a storm. Except that our hearts will be changed forever.

HE IS COMING. HALLELUJAH!!

HOPE and some science at The Mount of Olives

I knew we had arrived in Jerusalem because there were soldiers EVERYWHERE. I found it quite peculiar how they so casually carried their guns. Once in a while, a soldier’s gun would swing over to their front, and they would just flip it back into place on their shoulder, without missing a beat in their stride or conversation. Occasionally, they would scan the crowd clearly checking for trouble, but we also heard them talking to each other about things like what their major had been in college, and what they were doing for the upcoming weekend. There was also plenty of talk about their personal preferences on weaponry and the upgrades they had done to their rifles and they sounded to me as excited as young girls talking about what they were planning to wear for the prom.

My mom, Barb, had come with me to Jerusalem because visiting there was on her bucket list, and she was determined to see all she could. With or without me. We were staying at the Crowne Plaza Jerusalem which was just across the street from the Central Bus/Train station. We walked over there to figure out how to get to the Old City, and after asking half a dozen people how to buy a bus ticket we decided that Israeli’s are very unfriendly and disliked speaking in English. Turns out the hotel has a courtesy shuttle to the Old City and our driver would drop us off at the Jaffa Gate. Nice.

Jaffa Gate opens up onto the main plaza of the Old City. David’s Museum is on the right, and the visitor center (which isn’t much more than a shack) is on the left. We grabbed a map there, and headed towards David Street with the idea we were just going to orientate ourselves today and walk down to the Lion’s Gate. We stood there in the plaza, looking at the map, and looking ahead of us. Surely this couldn’t be right. David’s street, which is supposed to be a main drag through the Old City looked more like a cobble-stoned alley to us crowded with street vendors.  And of course, it angled down. I reminded Mom that Lion’s Gate was just less than a mile away, and perhaps it is all down-hill. But we both knew that also meant we were going to have to come back UP that hill eventually. But the Old City called our names and off we went picking our way down the narrow David Street, left onto Beit HaBad Street and right onto The Via Dolorosa.

“Is that the Mount of Olives?” We were at the Lion’s Gate now, it’s beautiful stone contrasting sharply with the green of the scraggly ancient olive trees on the other side. The road had opened up into an actual street where cars could drive, but it angled steeply down to the main 2-lane road below and across from that was this huge hill that loomed even higher than where we were currently standing. There were groves of olive trees on the slope and the lower portion of the mount was peppered with beautiful church-like buildings and the Garden of Gathsemane where Jesus often prayed—and where He was arrested. To the right, a cemetery covered the entire slope of the mount with the graves of those who want to be as close as possible to the place where the Messiah is prophesied to come and conquer the world once and for all.

Just to see the Mount of Olives was a thrill. Jesus had hopped on a colt/donkey at the Mount of Olives on Palm Sunday. He rode down that steep slope and back up the other side while people placed palm branches and their coats on that one mile plus some stretch from the Mount of Olives to the temple. Not one person there on Palm Sunday would have failed to understand that Jesus was declaring Himself to be the prophesied messiah who had come to save the world.

I wonder though if Jesus found any humor in passing through the gate leading to the temple? You see, centuries later, a ruling sultan would seal up that gate—called the Golden Gate--to try and prevent the prophesied messiah from entering the city.  He would also build a cemetery in front of it, thinking that no respectable Jew would ever defile themselves by walking through a graveyard.  It strikes me as funny that they did all of that work to prevent something that had already happened. Sheesh.  Ok, I am laughing at the moronic lunacy of it, but I am sure it breaks Jesus’ heart that they didn’t realize He had already come.

As Christians, we know that the next time Jesus is on the Mount of Olives, it will not be to hop on a colt/donkey and ride through the Golden Gate into the temple of the Old City. No, the next time His toes touch dirt at the Mount of Olives, it will be the beginning of the final battle to wipe out evil. According to Zechariah 14:4, when Jesus plants his feet on the Mount of Olives at the end of days, an earthquake will split the earth east to west.  Everything to the north—including all of Jerusalem—will then be at his right hand.

I love it when science backs up scripture, and this is one of those cases. Scientists have studied the features of the earth there at the Mount of Olives, and discovered a major fault line running east to west right through it. In fact, the original site of the Seven Arches hotel on the Mount of Olives was moved to avoid being directly on the fault line. Scientists predict that an earthquake at the Mount of Olives would split the mountain in half right along that east-to-west fault line.

“Mom. I’m standing on the Mount of Olives! Mom. YOU are standing on the Mount of Olives! Mom. WE are standing on the Mount of Olives!” I was grinning ear to ear and practically jumping up and down. Because knowing that GOD created the Mount of Olives complete with a fault line in preparation for that great day described in the Bible excites me and lights a fire of hope in me. He is coming! Hallelujah!

Battle of the Big C

We were having family dinner last night when I asked the question.

"Anybody know what tomorrow is?" Four pairs of eyes looked at me with complete blankness.

"Tomorrow is my 4th anniversary." The kids immediately panicked and turned their attention to Vern, who shook his head and reminded them that my birthday wasn't until the 29th.

"I'm cancer free tomorrow for 4 years." They all sat back in relief. Oh. THAT. And without taking a moment to pause or consider, they all dug back into their suppers while Grace took her turn in reading from Keys for Kids and Little House on the Prairie.

I sat back, soaking in the moment. In 2012, we fought and won a battle against breast cancer. We witnessed with our own eyes The Lord's sovereign  hand upon our family.  We felt first-hand the support of those who love us and who pitched in to help take care of us during that journey. And here at the dinner table 4 years later, I realized that my guys--rather than turn that memory into one that brought fear and anxiety--had only turned that memory into one of victory and peace and security about the way The Lord Jesus feels about them. Oh, be still my joyous heart and praise be to GOD. 

But I was still jealous of them. Yes, I am a 4 year cancer survivor. But if I am going to be transparent with you, I have got to tell you that I still get anxious and insecure with every mammogram and doctor's visit. The memory of 2012 does not always leave me feeling victorious and admittedly, sometimes I can't wait for October the National Breast Cancer Awareness month to be over with because I don't want to be reminded that I battled the Big C.

Or do I?

The night of October 12, 2012 after kids had gone to bed, Vern began to gently pull the tape off my skin that had protected the marks to help line up the equipment that had drilled radiation into my body for 7 weeks. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Yes, those pieces of tape had been on my skin for 2 months and it hurt to pull them off. But with every one of those that came off my body, I could feel myself getting one more step closer to freedom. One step closer to redemption. One more step closer to understanding how deep, how wide, how long, how GREAT is the Father's love for me.

I had been in a really bad situation. And He rescued me. Not because I deserved it. But just because He loved me and wanted to show me that love. He knew it would bring me courage and hope despite these moments of fear. Moments of anxiety. Moments of defeat.

And I need to remember that I had cancer and I survived. That I was once dead and now I am alive. That once I lived in fear of what might happen, and now I am courageous.

And that He has always loved me even though I may never become all that He made me to be.

So this morning, I bought 400 pieces of candy so that everyone I meet today can share in the sweet memory of my cancer journey with me. Because He did for me these great and awesome works my eyes have seen (Deuteronomy 10:21). I don't want to forget how it changed me. I pray that you don't forget those times when He has changed you.

Soaked with a rain coat

Morning traffic in Dallas is bad anyway, and then you add pouring rain. But I was busy with my thoughts about how I was going to journal my recent trip to Jerusalem, and so the time was going by quick enough though my truck tires were spinning slowly.

Then this random car cut right in front of me in the right hand lane and turned on his hazards and I went crazy mad for a moment because I could no longer move forward--he was blocking my way. He got out of his car, and hurried around the back. All the while my jaw is on the floor of my truck in disbelief at this turn of events. I couldn't get around his car if I tried, he had cut me off so hard there was only about 12 inches between my front bumper and his trunk. I could feel myself getting madder and madder. Then he was opening up the passenger door and pulling a little girl out of the car.

She immediately doubled over and got sick on the road. In the pouring rain, her dad patting her back and trying to shield her body from the rain with his back.

Nancy.

I could hear The Lord's voice as clear as day in that moment and I was already reaching for my giant rain coat and opening my door to step out into the pouring rain.

The man looked up for a moment when he felt the rain coat over his shoulders and around his little girl. He could not see me, but he said "gracias" and continued to pat his little girl's back as she cried and continued to get sick. But at least now they were dry, and I knew that made a difference.

I had been running late that morning to work anyway. Matt had to get dropped off early to a cross country race, which meant I would go in late to work. I had also stopped for a coffee, blaming jet lag from the Jerusalem trip for my lazy mind. But in that moment when The Lord spoke to me, I knew I had been in that exact place at exactly the right time according to His will.

And as I stood there getting soaked to the bone protecting that dad and his daughter from the onslaught of the pouring rain, I wondered how often does God put us in exactly the right place at the right time and we don't even know it. I'm guessing a lot. I'm guessing more than a lot. I'm guessing its a huge number. I'm guessing we have no clue how often that occurs.

Psalm 121 says that The Lord does not let your foot be moved without His knowing or say-so. That He watches over us by day and by night without ceasing. And even though there are times I can point to and understand that I have experienced exactly that, I just have to be transparent here and confess that there are many more times that I do not recognize He has watched over me with such precision.

But this morning, in the pouring rain, his precision was so exact that there was only 12 inches of space between my front bumper and that guys' trunk.  I wasn't going anywhere. I was meant to be in that moment. My "Hallelujah" could not be loud enough. He had placed my feet firmly into a situation where I could be of help, and the privilege of having that assignment had washed peace over me.

The sick girl's little brother opened the back window and waved at me, grinning ear to ear--he had probably never seen a grown woman get intentionally drenched with rain on the side of a road. I waved back at him smiling--no, I wasn't saving lives this morning. But I was in the presence of my creator doing what He had created me to do. Serve.

Finally, little girl was better, and dad was putting her back in her seat for the long road to wherever they were going. I walked slowly back to my truck, soaking in the peace that had come over me. You see, when our actions are in line with God's will, there is only one outcome. Total peace.

So put your rain coat down today and get soaked in the Peace of God. The feeling passes all understanding, I guarantee it.