Israel Trip - Day 7

We are back home in the US now, but I am going to try to pull my thoughts together from the various learning opportunities we had on the rest of our trip.

Day 7 was our first full day in Galilee, where Jesus conducted most of His ministry.

We began the day at the foot of Mt. Arbel, reviewing the context for Jesus coming onto the scene. Why now? Why this era of history?

In John 1:5, we read, “The light shines in the darkness . . .” This passage helps us understand that God’s timing is intentional. This was, up to this point, the heaviest time of persecution for Jews in history, but it was also the time of the deepest level of knowledge and commitment to God’s word. That knowledge is also part of the light shining in the darkness and sets up the stark contrast between Jesus’ mission and the prevailing sentiments of the time.

Mark 1:15 tells us, “The Kingdom of God is near . . .,” but this is not about timing. That word for near is about intimacy . . . as in drawing your wife near and making a son. So, people were seeking to live out Torah to a massive degree. It’s into this highly biblically literate time that Jesus bursts onto the scene to continue the story that is already going, not to rewrite it.

Yes, God acted in grace and power to bring Israel out of Egypt.

Yes, the Lord is reigning forever and ever over this whole world.

And now, Jesus wants to know: Am I Lord of your life? Will you dedicate every ounce of who you are to following me?

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Mt. Arbel made us respect the disciples' cardio!

Looking around and seeing which point was highest, we knew where we were headed for the morning, and we began our leg-burning ascent up Mt. Arbel. RVL remarked that these trips have changed his mental image of Jesus to a man with much larger thighs!

So, if Jesus was just continuing the same story that the Jews were already a part of, why did they have such a problem with him? We paused in a cave to answer that question. It started with stories to illustrate the level of persecution the Jews faced during this era—horrific instances of torture like flaying alive and boiling in oil. Thousands of Jews faced these fates for keeping their faith publically.

And it brought up a question for them.

When Israel was taken into captivity, their understanding was that it was a result of being unfaithful to God. When they returned, they dedicated themselves to righteous paths, which they were clearly following, as noted by the persecution they faced.

So why—now that they were living as God wanted—were they suffering more than before?

This line of thought is what led the Jews to believe in a final judgment time and a place for those who have acted against God—Hell. It was what gave them the courage they needed to withstand the inhuman treatment they received, and it was present in several recorded speeches of Jews at the hands of their persecutors. And under the brutal Roman rule, there couldn’t have been more desire for fiery justice to rain down on these oppressors.

Yet Jesus said to love your enemies.

And pray for those who persecute you.

This is where their problem with Jesus arose.

In the Jewish system, they had worked out the idea of who would get to sit in judgment of sinners, and it was the first person who had been sinned against—Abel when he was murdered by his brother Cain. Abel the son of Adam.

In Hebrew, the son of Man.

Now fast forward to the story of a lame man being lowered through a roof into the room where Jesus was teaching in order to be healed. Instead of healing his body, however, Jesus says, “Son, your sins are forgiven,” knowing, I’m sure that this would generate a reaction from the religious leaders.

When the teachers of the Torah questioned Jesus’ authority to do what he did, he said,

“So that you might know that the Son of Man has the power to . . . FORGIVE, I say to this man, take up your mat and walk.”

Forgiveness. Not judgment.

All the mental pictures of our captors finally being the ones to suffer . . . all the stories we’ve told our children and grandchildren: Don’t worry, Nadav. Someday God will sweep these Romans away and burn them for the dishonor they bring to His name . . .

Poof.

Jesus says they’re gone.

The Kingdom is about emptying ourselves, not preserving what’s ours.

Love, not hate.

Weakness, not strength.

This is why Jesus’ message clashed so much with the religious Jews of His day.

Our days in Galilee were about exploring the nuances of Jesus’ explanation of the Kingdom of God to the various cultural and religious groups of the area.

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The Synagogue at Capernaum

Exploring “The Triangle” of Jesus ministry took us past Eremos Topos (likely the site of the Sermon on the Mount), through Bethsaida and Chorazin, and finally to Capernaum—the Harvard of Torah teaching and learning. Over time, two competing schools of thought had developed among the Pharisees. The followers of Shammai stuck to a quite literal interpretation of the Torah, holding up the Shema as the greatest commandment: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might. They tended to emphasize the commands about holiness and purity. The zealots were buoyed by such teaching.

The followers of Hillel believed that another Levitical commandment fell just below the Shema: Love your neighbor as yourself (from Leviticus 19:18). This command was about preserving life or enhancing the existence of another human being. The Hillel school believed that call trumped other commandments preventing Sabbath work, for example. Their understanding of the importance of preserving or enhancing life is called Pikuach Nefesh.

In His own teachings, it’s clear that Jesus sided more with the teachers and followers of Hillel. In the town of Capernaum, the standards of what made someone clean or unclean would be well known. Agents of uncleanliness included bodily fluid, leprosy, and touching anything dead. Yet, in this very town, Jesus healed a perpetually bleeding woman, cured a leper, and raised Jairus’ dead daughter. Not only did He declare His belief in Pikuach Nefesh by doing so, but He also showed that in Him, we are made clean.

That is why, when he is questioned by the Pharisees, about the Greatest Commandment, Jesus answers,

“’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” He elevates the second commandment of loving our neighbor onto the same level as Loving God.

In his answer, Jesus affirms the important mission we bear of bringing Shalom to the Chaos of this world, and that is the enduring line of God’s story that we were tracing during our entire trip.

Israel Trip - Day 6

We had wifi issues at the hotel last night, so this post is a day late. My apologies!

Day 6 was an extremely challenging day that started in Qumran, home of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Essenes. I had always labeled the Essenes as religious separatists who were totally misguided in their thinking, but our time in Qumran also helped us appreciate the deep dedication they had to the word of God.

Caves 4 & 5 where key Dead Sea Scrolls were found

The Essenes were a priestly group who began as an alternative to what they believed were the corrupt Jewish priests of their day. They were of the line of Melchizedek (see Genesis 14)—the same line from which Christ himself would come. They believed strongly in God's covenant with Israel at Sinai in which He called them to be a Kingdom of Priests who extend God's reign by putting Him on display.

They shed the humanistic influences of Hellenism by giving away everything and sharing with those in need, all in their Qumran community way out in the Judean Wilderness of the West Bank. If would-be Essenes could make it for two years in that setting and prove their dedication, they would be accepted into the group. Their teachings significantly influenced both John the Baptist and Jesus. Everything they did, from their careful memorization and copying of scripture to the way they sought to love their neighbor, was to become the Word in Flesh.

Top of our hike

To get a sense of the Essenes' commitment, we took a long hike up to the mountain top over Qumran where we considered where they got their incredibly strong dedication. It was easy for us to see how Essenes had to be all in if they were going to dwell in this region, climb these hills, and study God's word relentlessly—all in 100+ degree heat! As happens so often on this trip, it was the words from the Bible that left the strongest impression on me from the top of that mountain.

RVL turned away from us, cupped his hands, and bellowed out one of my favorite passages from Isaiah 40:

"Comfort, comfort my people," says your God. "Speak kindly to Jerusalem; And call out to her, that her warfare has ended, That her iniquity has been removed, That she has received of the LORD'S hand Double for all her sins." A voice is calling, "Clear the way for the LORD in the wilderness; Make smooth in the desert a highway for our God." Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.

The Essenes believed that living as a Kingdom of Priests would bring the Kingdom of God that Isaiah describes. But do we mean it too? Every valley lifted up? Every mountain and hill made low? This will require total commitment! Not just on Sundays. Not just once in awhile. 

But in every fiber of our being and in every single thing we do.

As the echo of God's words dissipated from the air, we were asked if we were really all in.

I am.

It will be incredibly hard, as we are getting the tiniest inkling of with our trekking through the deserts. But it will expand God's territory and allow Him to fill up more and more of the world. Time and time again on our trip, we've seen how a small number of truly dedicated followers can change the course of the world, and I can't begin to imagine the power of a whole community like Holland Christian Schools going all in and the impact it would have.

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After making our way back down the mountain, we had lunch and began our journey north to Galilee. Along the way, we stopped at a collection of wheat fields and shepherding areas to explore some of the metaphors Jesus used and understandings people had for those aspects of life.

The wheat almost ready for harvest

Farm plots were serious business in Israel. After decades wandering in the desert, the people were presented with the opportunity to grow their own food, and each family got a portion of the ground to which they were to bring Shalom. In return, it would sustain them and the whole community. These inherited plots were called nachala, and we've all been given our own versions of a piece of the world to tend: our job, our family, our recreation, and creation itself . . . and it's our job to identify the chaos that exists in that plot and bring shalom to it.

When we do that well, we will say with the Psalmist, "My boundary lines have fallen in sweet places." (Psalm 16:6)—meaning that we feel the satisfaction of living in God's will.

We also talked about the practice of not harvesting the corners of the fields—instead, leaving those for the poor. This implies using what we produce directly for others. It's a first fruits idea.

Not some leftovers.

Something right off the top.

I'm mulling over many ways in which our school can dedicate a portion of what we do to help others. It would be a fascinating opportunity to expand the Kingdom of God!

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A similar "stable" to the one of Jesus' birth

Finally, we hiked up to a cave that would have served as a stable, and we got a real sense of the surroundings into which Jesus would have been born. 

No golden straw scattered about.

Piles of animal dung everywhere.

Spiders crawling on the walls.

A manger of stone with any number of animal bacteria infecting it.

It's a far different picture than the "prettified" version of Christmas we celebrate . . . because Jesus' birth was already a massive expression of Him stepping into chaos to deliver shalom. He left heaven for this? These are the lengths he's willing to go to bring the Kingdom?

I often wondered as a kid why the disciples, who had the Son of God sitting in their midst, had so much trouble understanding what he said to do. In that cave, it dawned on me that it probably wasn't that they didn't understand what to do.

It's just that it's so hard.

To be all in.

To continually put others first.

But when we do . . . the Kingdom of God will come exploding out over the whole world! The Hebrew word for that exploding is pratz. Let's burst forth eagerly in our own walks so that we can take the next step in making space for God.

Space that He will come and fill.

Israel Trip - Day 5

Today, we were at En Gedi.

En Gedi is an oasis in the desert, not far from the shore of the Dead Sea. It is the one place we've been in the wilderness that is bursting with life. As we walked, we saw marmots and ibexes, along with many birds and plants around the small river and pools that form at En Gedi.

The tallest fall we saw

This is mayim chaim, or living water, to the Hebrews because God made it. It comes naturally. When rain falls in the hills of Bethlehem/Hebron some 18 miles away, it will soak into the limestone. Over a long time, that water makes its way through the limestone layers, being absorbed over and over again . . . until it hits a chalk line which won't absorb it. Then it follows that line to its next available point of limestone. Eventually, at En Gedi, some of the chalk lines end in the walls of the canyon and the water simply drips out in the form of over 1,000 natural springs that create the river and the waterfalls we saw. This whole process takes somewhere between 1,500-2,000 years to unfold, so it's very likely that rain from when Jesus walked the earth provided the waters we played in today. How cool is that!

The first part of the morning was just about experiencing the joy of finding a stream, a pool, or a waterfall around every bend after so much time in the desert . . . understanding biblical metaphors in a new way. 

Another of the falls where we refreshed ourselves

We stopped at a particularly large waterfall to receive our meatiest teaching from RVL, and he said that like we are to be City Gates, Standing Stones, and Broom Trees for others in their desert times, we are to be En Gedis as well. We then did a powerful re-enactment from Jesus' day. As I mentioned yesterday, between the days of the ancient Israelites and Jesus' time, the various feasts and sacrifices became highly ritualized.

Succot, sometimes called the Feast of Tabernacles, happened in the fall and was one of the Feasts that would bring pilgrims to Jerusalem, swelling the size of the city to 2 million. On Succot, Jews remember God's provision and the harvest, and it was also when the temple was dedicated upon completion.

The people were to take a palm branch, a myrtle branch, a willow branch, and an ethrog (large green fruit) . . . bind them together and waive them, shouting "Hoshana!" (or God save us). It's where we get Hosanna. For six days this would happen once each day in the temple open court area. The priest would come to the altar and pour out an empty vessel into it, with the people shouting. He would then go down to the river outside the city walls, fill the vessel with living water and bring it back to the altar. With the people ever shouting, Hosanna! the priest would pour the now full vessel into the funnel of the altar that received drink offerings.

On the seventh day of Succot was the Hoshana Rabbah or the "great hosanna." On this day, the priest would march around the altar 7 times with the water, letting the screams and the palm-waiving build to a fever pitch. We did this together at the pool, yelling our hosannas as RVL walked to the water and then circled around in our midst. At the conclusion of the 7th circle, the crowd would fall silent, waiting for the priest to pour out the water reminding everyone that God is faithful, and He will provide.

It is in that precise moment of silence that Jesus asserted himself from within the crowd. We read in John 7:37-38:

Now on the last day, the great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink! He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, 'From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water!'"

From within us will flow living water. 

Not from a stream. 

Not from a waterfall. 

But from inside each of us because of the very presence of God! This is how we can be En Gedis to other people going through desert times in their lives.

It was just another powerful moment of seeing scripture come to life in a whole new way . . . in an experiential way, rather than just an intellectual one. I know that will be something all of us take home from this trip.

I was unable to go on the afternoon hike today that continued on another ridge overlooking a different stream because the desert got to me. I was feeling pretty woozy from the heat. But it gave me a chance to be thankful for small En Gedis like a picnic table to rest my head on and sleep, an air conditioned bus, electrolyte-infused jelly beans, and the care and help of others. I'll put away my feelings of guilt and instead give thanks for experiencing the kind of relief that David felt and that Jesus promised: the living water that flows from within each of us when we dedicate our lives to Christ.

Israel Trip - Day 4

Today, our 3rd full day in the desert, was a day of contrast.

In the morning, we drove into the Negev to Arad. This town was settled by Canaanites and in existence 800 years before Abraham, but we know that Abraham met these people, walked their streets, and interacted with them. It was powerful to know that we were walking those same paths.

In the bet av at Arad

We explored a few different points about the culture of that time, starting with their patriarchal, communal living framework. 50-60 people might live in one bet av, or "father's house" together. It's why Christ says, "In my Father's house are many rooms." The oldest male in the group was the Patriarch, and it was his duty to see that all his family's needs were met. When the Patriarch died, he passed that responsibility—along with all of his resources and possessions—to his oldest son to become the new patriarch. This was not about male-domination or oppression. This was about caring, protection, and supplying all that's needed. It had a very positive connotation for members of the bet av.

Next was the concept of ga'al. In the Christian tradition, we translate that word to "redeem," but it is actually not a religious word at all. If any member of the bet av was ever in trouble—say from kidnapping or racking up debt—it was the job of the patriarch to do use every possible resource in his possession to bring that member back. That might mean selling everything he had at a greatly reduced value for quick cash, but each member of his family was worth it. Once the troubled one was back safely in the bet av, the whole group would celebrate . . . not so much a welcome-back party, but a celebration of the providing and sustaining power of the patriarch. This is what the story of the Prodigal Son is about as well. When the father's house is made whole, it's good for the community.

Of course, God is our ultimate Patriarch, but there are three "first-born sons" of God referred to in the Bible. The first is the nation of Israel. The second is Jesus Christ. And the third is the church today. God has passed his resources to us to create bet av and practice ga'al, so that the whole world may be brought back into the family.

It strikes me that we need to do a better job celebrating redemptive moments when they happen—not to make ourselves feel good, but to build community and remember the sustaining power of our Father.

The culture of Abraham's day also placed an extremely high value on welcoming the stranger. Even today, it would not be uncommon for a bedouin to give away his lunch to someone he just met. Not to welcome someone or make a stranger more important than yourself is to bring shame to your entire family in this culture that is ultra-aware of shame and honor as driving forces.

Abraham was amazing at his efforts to welcome strangers. His actions were so well known in the surrounding areas, that when he went to inquire of a city's king about buying a burial cave for his family, the king told him that Abraham would get the cave for free "because he was a prince of God"—a God not even worshipped by that king. In welcoming strangers, Abraham put God's name on display and brought glory to it. This is what we are called to do as well!

The most famous account of Abraham's welcoming is the story of the three strangers who came to visit him. He ran out to greet them (something totally indecent for an old man to do). RVL said that our equivalent would be your grandmother walking into the room topless for Christmas dinner! Abraham also washed the strangers' feet—another shameful thing for an old man to do. Then he called for 65 lbs. of his finest flour to be used to make bread for them, again breaking tradition . . . and he let his guests eat first, which was always reserved for the patriarch of the house.

So, in this incredibly honor/shame-based culture, Abraham was willing to shame himself over and over for the value of welcoming the stranger. 

This is a picture of bringing shalom to chaos. 

Would we meet this standard? Are there ways we should use our own resources to welcome outsiders? To help the marginalized? To make the bet av whole again?

There are weighty implications for us in our personal lives and in Christian education as we consider these aspects of shalom-bringing.

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The morning session drew to a close in the temple of Arad, which was a miniature replica of the one in Jerusalem, and used until Hezekiah commanded that all temples outside Jerusalem be closed down. In this temple court, RVL delivered a powerful narrative.

RVL teaching us about the covenant with Abraham

It started  with an explanation of covenants: they aren't just promises. They are agreements that establish a permanent, unbreakable relationship. God came to Abraham in his tent to establish one such agreement. Since this wasn't a covenant between equal parties, the greater party got to set the terms. 

God's terms were simple:

1. I will give you land.
2. I will give you descendants as numerous as the sands of the sea shore.
3. Through one of your descendants, the whole world will be blessed.
4. And all you have to do is love me and follow me perfectly.

As the lesser party, it was Abraham's job to provide the animals for the sacrifice that would complete the ritual. God instructed him to bring a cow, a goat, a sheep, a pidgeon, and a dove (which became the 5 animals used for sacrifice by the Jews). Abraham did as he was told and began to process the animals as was appropriate for a covenant. He killed and cut each animal in half and then laid out the two halves of each animal facing each other in a line. As the blood drained into the area in between the animals, it would make a big puddle.

The practice of the covenant was to have the first party walk through the puddle barefoot, soaking their feet in blood, to say, "If I violate any of my part of this agreement, may I be killed and my blood spilled like these animals." God did that with Abraham.

Then it was Abraham's turn as the lesser party to do the same, but he knew . . . and we know . . . that his terms were impossible to keep. Love God and follow Him perfectly? There's no way. So right as Abraham would have raised his foot to step in the blood, God said, "Wait! I will do this for you."

God took on the death vow for both sides of the covenant . . . and at that very moment, he sentenced His son, Jesus, to die.

All of the worship sacrifices of the Jews are made to remember this covenant. At 9am and 3pm every day, they would sacrifice an animal and throw its blood against the altar to say, "God, we remember your promise to us! Don't forget us either!"

The sacrificial system was never about paying for something. It was about remembering the covenant of grace that God established at the very beginning.

In the centuries to come, sacrificial worship grew highly ritualized, and the priest's shofar (ram's horn instrument) would blow in a particular rhythm at 9am and 3pm each day, with the whole city falling silent as an animal was sacrificed in the temple. Silence to remember God's covenant of grace.

. . . One day in Jerusalem at 9am, three men were crucified outside the city walls. The middle one had been beaten so badly, he would have died from the wounds without the crucifixion. For six hours they hung, and the day grew particularly dark. At precisely 3pm, the priest in the temple blew the shofar to signal the afternoon sacrifice.

And in the moments of silence that followed, the man on the middle cross screamed out through the gurgling, choking lungs he had left:

"IT IS FINISHED!"

And it was.

Jesus had made good on God's terms in His covenant to Abraham. 

Of course we couldn't live perfectly for him. But God is a God of ga'al. He will pay any price to bring us back into His house.

Our group gathered in a tight circle in the temple at Arad, weeping together at the immensity of God's love for us and the lengths He is willing to go to bring us home. We sang hymns. We said the Shema. We dedicated ourselves to be people of ga'al and patriarchs of bet av.

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The afternoon brought us to Masada.

Masada from below, before we hiked up

The place is perhaps best known as a zealot stronghold against the Romans, made famous by the 70's movie and miniseries, but it was originally the favorite vacation palace of Herod—the Herod ruling at the time of Jesus' birth.

Herod was the richest man to ever walk the face of the earth. He owned every single spice-producing tree there was, and he controlled the spice trading routes. He himself was a man of the desert and an amazing athlete, an olympian in the javelin. His personal income was three times the gross national product of the country, and about 60% of all the workers in Israel worked for him.

Herod also set new standards for brutality. He killed thousands of people on multiple occasions. He tortured 75,000 of his subjects. He threw dinner parties at which he killed his favorite wife by tightening a garrote around her throat more and more with each course that was served as the guests watched in horror. He did the same to his son by placing him in an iron cage and lowering him into a fire periodically throughout the meal. It was said that everyone hated Herod. Even his own family.

Remains of the plastered walls with their intricate Herodian masonry

But on this rocky mountain overlooking the Dead Sea, he built an opulent 25-acre palace—complete with two massive outdoor swimming pools, seven indoor pools, 17 cisterns, massive storage rooms for food, intricate mosaics, and a staff of 5,000-10,000 people to keep it all running smoothly. The rock walls were covered in gleaming white plaster inside and out so that Masada would shine like a jewel in the sun from miles away.

Herod stockpiled enough water and food at Masada to supply 10,000 men for 10 years in case he ever fell under attack or siege. His throne room was built to make the King loom large, while the one entering would feel small.

But for all of this wealth,

and power,

and violence, 

Herod spent his time alone in his chamber while at Masada. He had no friends. He was suspicious of everyone. His own wives hated him. 

There's no flourishing in that.

There's no shalom in that.

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Today was a day of contrasts. 

On one hand, we had the picture of nomadic Abraham, giving up 65 lbs. of flour to welcome three strangers. We had the example of God giving up everything to bring us back to the bet av. These acts were ones of shalom.

On the other hand, we have a man of immense wealth and power—more successful and more strong than anyone else in history.

And he died alone, rotting from syphilis . . . and no one mourned.

God's Kingdom comes in ways totally antithetical to what our society traditionally values. It's about making ourselves low, welcoming others when it's uncomfortable to do so, and caring more about the family than we do ourselves.

That is love. That is grace. That is shalom.

Israel Trip - Day 3

How can the days keep getting better?

An example of the tough climbing route up Timna

Today was one of the more physically exhausting things I've ever done. We hiked and climbed up 3,000+ foot Mt. Timna in the Paran wilderness to get a sense of what it would have been like for Moses to listen to God's instructions and climb Mt. Sinai to meet with him. It was 100 degrees and treacherous terrain. But as we emptied ourselves physically, we understood more and more what God demands of His people when He says that He wants everything we've got.

"Moses! Come up here!"

RVL's shouts echoed off the mountains as we stood in the valley below, and we started off—in all our modern hiking gear, driving home how much more amazing it would have been for an 80-year old man to make this trek in sandals, not once, but four separate times! Oh, and Mt. Sinai is actually twice as high as Mt. Timna!

RVL delivered a powerful lesson at one of our stops on the way up about Moses meeting God at the burning bush and God telling Moses his name—I AM . . . I AM in charge . . . I AM all you need . . . I AM enough for this moment . . . I AM, and you are not. In ancient times, your name wasn't just something people called you. It was your whole reputation, identity, and character.

The lesson at the bush

That lesson gave a whole new perspective on God's command not to take His name in vain. It's not about swearing—although that may be a part of it—it's about anything that empties God's name of meaning, anything that doesn't put Him on display in all His glory for the world to see. As the Hebrews said chillul hashem. Instead, what we must do what Christ prayed in the Lord's prayer, kiddush hashem, we must "hallow" God's name. We must add great meaning to it by the way we live and by the way we treat others. I'm struck by how this is so much more powerful of a way to teach our children about this commandment.

When we reached the summit, we learned how God's covenant with Israel, given at Sinai replicates a marriage ceremony, and the 10 commandments are the wedding vows. The truth dawned on all of us that these were never meant to be a legalistic set of don'ts that God would use to determine who earns salvation and who doesn't. Instead, they are a beautiful expression of the kind of loving relationship a groom wants to have with his bride. The Bible was never about salvation by works! God didn't change his mind when He sent Jesus and say, "Now I'll save my people by grace!" 

It was always grace.

Always grace.

And we live out our loving relationship to God by keeping the vows we took on our wedding day. What a thought!

The Holland Christian Ebeneezer

We were challenged to make a decision on top of Timna—to follow God and make His name known to all the world as a Kingdom of Priests. That's our mission as believers. We set up an Ebeneezer to mark that decision, adding to the pile of stones that our students laid down on their trips two weeks ago. 

Then we were introduced to tzitzits, the ceremonial knots worn by Jews to remind them that they are called to be a Kingdom of Priests to the world. Accepting that call as well, we were each given our own tzitzit to mark us as God's Priests.

RVL readying us to receive our tzitzits

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In the afternoon, we toured a replica tabernacle and learned about how when it was done, the high priest prayed a 7-part prayer, echoing God's 7 days of creation. The tabernacle was about making space for God here on earth. That is our call too. 

How are we making space for God in our jobs? In our various subject areas? In our relationships?

That's what priests do. They make space for God, and He fills it up.

What an amazing day!

So powerful to do this trip with the people who we work with!

Israel Trip - Day 2

"Come."

And with that word from our rabbi, I began the most transformative day for my faith that I have ever known—our first day in the desert.

It's one thing to read about the desert during the time of the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob). It's another thing to walk on its loose stones and feel its searing heat yourself. This was a day of experiential learning.

On Day 1, we set up the overarching narrative of the Bible as bringing shalom to chaos. Today, we got an understanding of the chaos that the desert represents. It is uncomfortable. It's harsh. It's deadly. It's not the way things are supposed to be.

But at the same time, the desert is the place where God draws his people close to Him. It's where He shows them that He will always provide just enough for the difficulty they are facing . . . and where they learn what it means to be totally trusting of Him.

Before any real hiking, we had the chance to observe an old bedouin woman shepherding her flock of goats on a jagged hillside. We noted the way the goats respond to her voice and trust her to lead them to green pastures.

These are "green pastures"

Except that "green pastures" aren't at all what you're thinking. In the desert, where David composed his famous Psalm 23, green pastures are little tufts of dry grass that somehow make their way up through the rocks. It takes 40 square acres of land to provide each sheep with enough food for the day, so it takes a whole lot of wandering to eat.

We began our 6-mile hike up Wadi Zoar. A wadi is a canyon that looks like a dry river bed that cuts through the desert. Wadis can run for many miles and provided nomadic people with the "easiest" means of transportation from one spot to another. During the rainy season, faraway mountain rain water can rush into the wadi with a great roar giving those in the wadi 7-10 seconds of warning that flood waters 10-12 feet high are coming. That swirling, rushing water is another form of chaos, in the Hebrew mind.

Wadi Zoar

We walked through the wadi and talked about the parable of the wise and foolish builders. The one where, as the song goes, "The rains came down and the floods came up." It's about life in a wadi. We gathered up some coarse sand from the wadi floor and felt how it wouldn't bind together like beach sand when it gets wet. That would, of course, make anyone foolish who tried to build a house on it.

But then I thought: the parable doesn't say that the foolish man builds his house in a wadi. Both builders' houses experience the rain and the floods. They are both in the wadi. God calls us to enter into the chaos of this world so that we can bring shalom. He doesn't want us to isolate ourselves. He just wants to make sure we're grounded on the rock when we do!

Me in the shade of a broom tree

As the day got hotter, we learned about the blessing a brief breeze can provide, the relief a cloud can mean, and the short respite that the shade from a broom tree can give to a weary nomad. We were challenged to think of the desert times in our own lives and how God provided people to be our shade, our broom tree—to give us just enough strength for the steps ahead. This is another piece of what shalom-bringing is about for us as Christians. We are to be broom trees for others in times of trouble, and they will do the same for us.

Coming out of the wadi, we were hot. We were thirsty. We were tired. We were helping those in our midst who were struggling up the final hill. And it was a beautiful picture of learning to trust in the desert times and the realization that those very times are when God is bringing us close to himself, preparing us to trust him, and forming us into His people.

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The city of Avedat

After lunch, we drove to an ancient fortress city of Avedat in southern Israel built by the caravanning spice merchants who developed great wealth. It stood in stark contrast to the desert of the first part of the day because this place wasn't about relying on God for just enough; it was about gathering up all of your treasure, protecting it, and being your own source of security. This is just what God warned the Israelites about in Deuteronomy 6 & 8—that once they came to the promised land and got everything they wanted, it would be easy to forget that God was the one who brought them out of Egypt and sustained them as He led them through the wilderness . . . and instead they would start to think they were the ones who had been their own providers. That's incredibly convicting for us today, isn't it?

And then . . . I listened to the most powerful proclamation of Christ's Lordship that I have ever heard. Our rabbi took us through the story of the crucifixion, showing how Mark's gospel account of this story is an exact parallel to the Roman coronation ceremony for a new emperor. This perspective turns Christ's death, in a vivid way, into a triumph, not a defeat. The tears were pouring down my cheeks as RVL shouted this truth to us. "You think you have beaten Jesus? No! This was His ascension to the throne!" And with those words echoing off the walls of the praetorium in Avedat, I knew that they would be written on my heart in a different and more permanent way than ever before.

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Deserts are hard. 

They are chaos.

But they are also where God forms us.

I'll be much more aware of His provision to me during the hard times . . . and on the lookout for how I can enter into the deserts of other people and provide some shade.

Just enough to make it through today.

Israel Trip - Day 1

We're on a 15-day trip to Israel with some of the administrators, faculty, and staff of Holland Christian Schools, including multiple days of hiking and learning about the different parts of the Holy Land and enriching our understanding of the Bible and our faith as we encounter the stories and teachings of scripture as the Hebrews did. I'll try to encapsulate each day in this blog, but as I found out today, there is A LOT coming at us, and I won't try to summarize it all for you.

So, this morning we left our first hotel stop in Tel Aviv and set out for the Shephelah—the foothills that separate the land of God's people (mostly in the Judah Mountains) from the land of the pagans (the coastal plain). The Shephelah is where God's people encounter "the world," and we pursued the significance of that as a metaphor for our lives as Christians.

Our first stop was a Tel, or an ancient set of ruins with multiple layers of cities built right on top of each other. This was Tel Gezer, a former city of Solomon, and we checked out ancient pottery shards. It seemed like no big deal to our trip leader, Ray VanderLaan, when he threw me the handle of a jar that pre-dates Abraham! I kept that, of course!

At Tel Gezer we learned to be City Gates that impart Shalom into others' lives

At Tel Gezer, we learned about the construction of city gates and the function those places served in the ancient world. They were the locations where the vulnerable, the poor, the hungry, and the oppressed could come to seek justice, food, and Shalom from their kings and from the wealthier, higher ranking community members. In that sense, we are called to be City Gates, demonstrating God's love and bringing His Shalom (or flourishing). We also saw a row of standing stones, an Ancient Near East monument that was used to signify an event of major importance. 

The massive standing stones at Gezer

Tel Gezer is perched overlooking the busiest trade route in the world during Ancient times, and that led us to assert the we need to be City Gates and Standing Stones, using our lives to testify to the Glory of God at the Crossroads of the World. So be wildly influential for God in whatever chosen field, relationship, or passion that you make.

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Then came another spot in the Shephelah—the spot where Samson grew up and lived his life as a totally committed Nazarite, using his giftedness—in this case, great strength—to testify to the world about the greatness of God . . . but not without his own failures and poor choices. Here, the encouragement to all of us was to live passionate, committed lives that also put God on display for the people we encounter . . . and to do so without making choices that allow others to doubt our motives, tear us down, or come to believe that God has no real worth or power.

Samson's hometown hills overlooking the Valley of Sorek

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Finally, we moved to the Valley of Elah, where David fought Goliath, and we went through that story in great detail—noting that David stepped in to protect the people of Israel, even though King Saul should have been the one to do so according to custom. And David did so with his gift (stones and a sling), not the armor and weaponry of someone else. Our takeaway from this time was the call to throw our stones—to use our own authentic roles, passions, and talents—so that the world might know there is a God. On the way back down the hillside, we stopped to collect stones from the Brook of Elah, just like David, as a reminder of that call.

Looking down on the Valley of Elah where David and Goliath clashed

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Throughout the day, we explored our collective call to join God in bringing Shalom (peace, order, flourishing, or healing) to the Chaos (disorder, pain, hurt, and sorrow) of this world. That's a clear call and overarching narrative of God's big story. Our specific parts in that shalom-bringing are not prescribed, however. They are our opportunities to employ our gifts in whatever situation we find ourselves as we live into our roles as "Shephelah people"—those who take the ways of God into this world.

And then tonight, we drove to our hotel on the Dead Sea—the lowest spot on earth. 

Today was also my birthday.

And for a present I got to handle 3,000-year old pottery, walk where David walked, and consider God's call on my life and the specific role I have to play in His story—all before falling asleep at 1,388 feet below sea level.

Not a bad day at all . . . and this was just the beginning!

Better Cards

This school year, I've been participating in a cohort about creativity, innovation, and design thinking. It has been one of the most fun and relevant learning experiences I've ever had.

Steps in the design thinking process - via therightbraininitiative.org

It turns out that innovation can be a very process-driven activity, and it's not only reserved for people blessed with flashes of genius that hit them out of the blue. We can't all be Steve Jobs or Leonardo DaVinci, but the great news is that we don't have to be in order to bring about positive change.

All we really need is a willingness to be unaccepting of the status quo. We need to let that voice in our heads speak a little more loudly that the rules of the game aren't set in stone. 

We need to not fall into the trap of playing the hand we're dealt.

Instead, we need to get better cards.

If you're an educator like me, summer is a time to reflect, recharge, dream, and plan. As we're doing those things, let's commit to not just working within the systems that are in place, but instead bringing about better methodologies, programs, or practices. Even if the innovations are small, they can be the sparks that ignite other ideas and lead to great improvements.

So take some time to reshuffle the deck this summer and deal out some better cards!