Worse than death

…. After a good night’s rest, the wakeup call comes. A call to accept the challenges that today will bring. A call to put yourself back in that place long ago when our identity was being formed, developed, crafted. Rolling out on the bus from our hotel at the Dead Sea, we don’t have to go far. We pull up to Masada. An imposing figure in the unlikeliest of places. As we hear the command “Packs Up”. We roll out, survey the land and prepare to take on this task. It seems daunting, but Scott reminds us that we have all beaten larger obstacles than this. All of us carrying different burdens we have let tell us what our identity is. We start the climb, warriors all. Some, the young ones rush to the battle, like the youthful zealots that tread here before, prepared to torment the mountain and laugh in its face like the young zealots would have done to the roman soldiers that are laying siege to this group. Some finding their pace and setting into a steady but calculated attack aimed at seeing the task through. Some warriors injured take on this feat determined not to allow it to win. We will win the day. It’s not even in question. As we pass a sign that says the trail is closed, we press on. They close the trail when they determine it is too hot for people to climb in this oppressive heat and salt air, forcing people to use the tram. We press on. As we round the first few sets of switch backs the lead pack stops to allow the group to close up a bit. Some are called to help the warriors at the back of the pack carry their banner high and proud. The lead group yells encouragement, “Chacak, Chacak” they yell to their comrades. We press on. Some in the lead group seem so far away. Some of us sharing tender moments on the side of a cliff in the middle of nowhere and the middle of everywhere. You can see everyone checking on each other, helping, encouraging, watching. We know that each of us will have a turn at being the one in need of watching. We just don’t know when. We press on. It becomes all too obvious; we will not be completing this task in our own strength, under our own power. A call cry goes up. God help us to take just that next step. We know that if you had only helped us previously with the problems in our marriages, it would have been enough. If you had only helped us when we struggled with our children, it would have been enough. If you had only helped us get through the death of one of our loved ones, it would have been enough. If you had just helped us overcome that addiction that had brought us to a dark place, it would have been enough. Dayenu. But the cry goes up; Lord help to just take this next step. And that one. And the next. Dayenu. We press on. As we near the top, you can feel the anticipation building up in you. Dayenu. Your knees are screaming with each step. You can feel the burn in your legs. Dayenu. You can feel a small voice brush against your ear in the gentle whisper of the wind, “I have you, I will not leave you. I have never left you. I never will. You are Mine.” We press on. As we reach the top and stop to catch our breath, those who conquered the mountain first are there with encouraging words, congratulations. You did it. We did it. We gather together for a discussion of what we have just done, where we are, who was here before us. Don’t ever discount those that came before. We recuperate for a few minutes, and then begin our exploration of the people of Masada, after all, it’s still early in the morning and we have so much to accomplish. It was an interesting time of exploring, but not as important as why we are here. Why would these people come here? Why did the horrible things that transpire here have to happen? To God’s chosen people? We learn what it means “there are some things worse than death”. We can feel it.

After a great time learning how a people take on their identity, we climb down the back side of Masada on to our next stop. A short trip and a hike to Arod. Another fortress. Abraham would have travelled right through the same place. A water stop as people move from place to place. We talk of the Covenant Abraham makes with God. God takes on the burden of both sides of the contract. Jesus’ fate is sealed in that moment. Without being told, everyone is standing for the teaching. This is powerful. This is God telling us what our identity is. This is our challenge, to live fully into that. We proceed to the fortress and explore there. A Temple? Here? What are these things that disturb us? A site just discovered a few years ago. Great teaching. We use the diversity of the group to hash out what went on there. Time to move on.

We hike down a road. We don’t know it, but we are being taken to a Bedouin community for a wonderful expression of warmth and greeting that others have experienced on previous trips. We lose a few of our warriors to the heat. They seek refuge on the bus. We press on. A little further down the trail we learn we lost 2 more to the desert. We press on. As we round a curve and pass a family watching us curiously from their home up the slight hill, we stop. Another warrior is succumbing to the desert. The group gathers around. We hydrate. We pray. What is this thing that is taking our warriors in the desert? Another warrior rushes to the side of the road and throws up. The oppression is palpable. We abandon the task at hand. A warning, a foreboding. Do not go this path today. We take our wounded and board the bus. Another warrior is down on the bus. We all rush to help each of them. We know our time is coming. We will need help and they will be called upon to come to our aid. We head to the hotel for the end of this day’s journey. We have a wonderful meal that has been prepared for us. Refreshed, safe in our encampment. We ponder the day’s events, but only for a short while. There are greater tasks ahead, larger battles to be fought. The end of the 2nd day.

Sincerely, Larry McNeil