It’s an odd experience to walk in a place you have talked about your entire adult life but have never visited. It’s surreal.
- To dip your hand into the cold and muddy waters of the Jordan River, where Joshua led Israel into the Promised Land and where the Son of God was baptized.
- To ascend Mt. Carmel where Elijah challenged Baal’s prophets and witnessed the fire of God falling on his sacrifice.
- To step onto Roman pavement that has lasted 2,000 years and hosted the sandled feet of Jesus himself.
- To sway on the back of a reluctant camel while teetering on the edge of a cliff in the Judean wilderness.
- To stand in the shadow of Masada’s mount and hear the history of Jewish revolt from Roman slavery until their last breath.
It is historic. It is educational. It is moving.
When our team of twenty-one traveled from the Mediterranean Coast to the hills of Galilee, from the mountains of Dan to the depths of the Dead Sea, and from Judean desert to the temple mount of Jerusalem, I couldn't help but see the Bible come alive. Suddenly, I envisioned the sandals of Abraham passing through a city gate in ancient Canaan (Genesis 14). Or David hiding from Saul in the cave clefts of En Gedi (1 Samuel 24). Or Paul standing before Festus in his court at Caesarea (Acts 25). It draws so many fuzzy stories into clearer focus - an ironic experience as our calendars flip to 2020.
But perhaps the most monumental discovery of this Israel Study Tour was simply this - Israel is small. It is 40 miles wide and about 330 miles long - about the size of New Jersey. With a short climb up a rolling hill on a cloudless day, you can see vast portions of it. And it reminds me anew of the massive God who stooped low to enter our world - a God born to a simple Jewish girl and her fiance in the 200 person town of Nazareth, a God who climbed the rugged Roman steps of Jerusalem with a cross on his back to die for the sins of that small place and for the sins of the entire world, a God who stared death in the face and defeated it in a simple stone grave in such a small place.
I was blessed to travel with some faithful Christians in a holy land, and I return to tell you what you already know but what I saw with my own eyes. The tomb of Jesus is empty. I’ve seen it for myself. It’s empty. And our hope is very much alive. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13).”
