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.