Day 2- Jerusalem
Today I woke up at 3:30am and could not fall back to sleep for the life of me. I twisted and turned and all the while trying not to wake Jackie up. I finally just got out of bed and started to read John and get some familiarity of the accounts in the Bible of the places where we were going to be visiting today.
We had an early start and by 8am I was feeling it but had to push on. We had a long day of walking and I was too excited. We were dropped off at the top of the Mount of Olives and made our way down the Villa Dolorosa (Road of Sorrows). I was excited but quite in the somber mood as I was reflecting (or trying to reflect) on all that Jesus could have been feeling, thinking, smelling, seeing, on his way down to death sentence. There was a man hunched over walking up the hill. You couldn’t see his face b/c he was so hunched over, his dark brown weak and weathered hands clug onto a cup. All he said was “Hello. Good morning. Thank you.” Over and over. At first I wasn’t sure if iit was a recorder he carried with him and let play over and over. His voice seemed foreign and almost pitch perfect. Yet, that was his voice. I was reminded of the lady who was hunched over for years that Jesus healed and my heart broke for the man. My heart surged: could I just lay hands on him.. really.. all I really wanted to do was just hug the man.. just hold him in my arms and share in his pain and tell him I care.. that I see him.. sometimes I think the easy thing is just to give money and keep on our way. you might be moved but with a few coins or a dollar you can move on your way, but what about a hug.. what about taking the man back to the hotel and giving him food.. I was so torn inside myself.. I walked on like everyone else but that man on the Road of Sorrows has been ingrained in my mind .. He reminds me of all that Jesus died for.. Jesus’ compassion. Did Jesus see ppl like him on the way to the cross? Did his compassion at this time urge him to go forward? Did his broken heart and love for a ppl, who did not know who he was or what he had to offer but who were so needy, move him to finally suffer for them and finally die for them? Who did he see on the way to the cross, what did he smell, what did he feel (physical and emotional pain) and what was he thinking the whole time? Did he make eye contact with anyone? What did his eyes communicate to that person?..few questions to meditate.
As we moved on to continue to the Garden of Gethsemane, through the Lions Gate and Arab Quarters of the Old Jerusalem, through the market, I kept thinking about Jesus’ journey to his final judgment. We then moved unto the Western Wall where my heart broke even further. The Western Wall is under Jewish control: men, women, young men, young women alike come right up to the wall and pray and literally cry for their ppl, their families, their country. The men and the women are separated by a makeshift divider. I went on the women’s side (duh! Lol) and as I began to walk down the small slope towards the wall my heart began to get heavy.. As I walked with my eyes on the wall along the sides were ladies and young girls praying from their Hebrew Scriptures rocking back and forth crying out and proclaiming and pleading. As I got to the wall it was crowded with women (mostly dressed in black). I just stood inches from the wall praying with the rest of those women. The crescendo of prayer in that place was just overwhelming. My lil’ heart just fell in with their prayers and my heart was just so moved by their passion. These people have been coming to this wall for decades to cry out to God and I looked up from the wall into the sky all I could think about was how their prayers for generations have been going up to God. God would you take these prayers as a pleasing aroma? .. and as I began to just feel for them .. how they have not understood, realized, or have rejected that their messiah has already come and is coming again my heart was moved with prayers for the nation of Israel. One woman left and I moved in right up to the wall laid my hands on the wailing wall looking at all the prayers tucked into the tiny cracks that can hardly contain them and continue to pray for Israel’s protection, deliverance, and that they would come to the knowledge of their loving Messiah who came for them first and then for the Gentile. All of the sudden I began to weep.. and very heavily (there goes the masacara!). I still don’t understand it all. How a ppl who are seeking for God and have had such a legacy with God could not know him even when he did show up.. that instead of feeling loved they felt threatened just because he didn’t fit their view.. and as I began to think of this I just thought about my own family who do not know God.. who many times feel threatened by Him not knowing what a loving and forgiving and protective God.. that he is a God who is for us and not against us. I was there weeping. And though the words that came out of my mouth were not Hebrew like the rest I just felt one with them crying out for them and for my own family. It felt like I was there for an eternity… I feel so limited in my words. I feel there are no mere words to explain what my lil’ heart went through up at that wailing wall.. all I know is that I am changed for eternity
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