Bitter or better

Today was an intense day, and honestly it would be impossible to fully tell you all about the things that we learned and experienced, but I'll do my best. :)

We started off the day by going to Masada. Masada is also known as "the stronghold" that David took refuge on while fleeing from King Saul in 1 Samuel 22-24, and it was this imagery that David used to describe the Lord in some of the psalms, such as Psalm 18 "The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer; My God is my rock in whom I take refuge, my shield and the strength of my salvation, my stronghold." It is also the place where Herod decided to build an elaborate palace, literally in the middle of nowhere, all because he was told "it can't be done." 40 years after Jesus, 1,000 zealots sought refuge from Rome on Masada, eventually taking their own lives to avoid becoming slaves and being forced to bow down to Rome. Now that Israel is a free state, it has become a monument of the firery passion of the Jewish people.

Before we even began to climb Masada, Rod talked to us about the desert, and already I could see that it was God who had orchestrated that I would be writing the blog today. In Hebrew, words are built using a root of three letters, and the addition of different letters and the changing of vowels makes different words. The word for desert in Hebrew, midbar, comes from the Hebrew root dabar (DBR), and is also the root of the words "word" and "speak." It was in the desert that David wrote many of his psalms, it was in the desert that Abraham lived, it was in the desert that the Lord brought his people after freeing them from slavery, it was in the desert that Jesus went for 40 days, and it was in the desert that Paul went for three years after he encountered Jesus. The desert is a hot, dry, difficult place, but it is the place where God brings his people so that he can speak with them, and so that they can grow to know him more. At one point while we were climbing, Rod said something that I'll never forget. "When you are in the desert, don't look at the top. Pray to God to give you the strength to take one more step." For the past year, I have been struggling with depression, but for the majority of that time, I didn't even know what was wrong. All I knew was that I wasn't myself, and that the only thing that was keeping me from completely falling apart was Jesus. It took friends pointing out that what was wrong with me was probably depression, for me to even seek medical help. I know what it is like to be in the wilderness, and to not have any idea when I'm going to "get out." But I know that have two choices here. I can let it make me bitter, or I can allow Jesus to make me better. I chose to press into what it is he is teaching me, and the way that he is using this season to prepare me for whatever lies ahead. If any of you reading this are also going through a desert season, I would encourage you to read the rest of Psalm 18, "In my distress I called out to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice...He reached down from on high and took hold of me, he drew me out of deep waters. You, Lord, kept my feet burning; my God turns my darkness into light."

Another beautiful part of our climb was that we did it in community. There were some that were feeling physically strong, and had little to no trouble climbing, and there were others that were struggling more. But it wasn't every man for themselves. Some carried other people's packs, some carried extra water to hydrate those who needed more water, some cheered on those that were struggling, still others shared their snacks and electrolytes with those that needed more. The only way that we all got up that mountain was because we supported each other. We need community, probably more than ever, when we are in the desert season. At some point in our life, we WILL be in a desert season, and at other time, we will be carrying those that are, pointing them to Christ, who is the one that has sustained us through the wilderness and will sustain them as well.

At the top of Masada, we toured the ruins of Herod's palace, learning the story of its construction and the story of the zealots who took refuge in it from the Romans. After Masada, we went to the Negev, the land of Abraham, Issac, and Jacob. Here, we saw the ruins of a family home dating back thousands of years. We talked about how redemption is when the father does whatever is necessary, even if it means bringing disgrace on himself, to bring a family member that has been marginalized back into the family. Abraham redeemed Lot, Boaz redeemed Naomi and Ruth, Hosea redeemed Gomer, and Christ redeems us. He left everything, to become nothing, dying a disgraceful death, all so that we might be bought back into the family. It makes me ask the question, "do I see those around me who have been marginalized, and to what lengths am I willing to go to bring them back?" Sometimes that could be someone who simply doesn't know Christ and needs to hear about the love of the Father, and other times it could be someone that is a part of a marginalized societal group, Christ-follower or not. Yesterday I wept when we visited the city gates, because Rod told us that the city gates were where the poor came to seek help and justice, and how the city gates were a place of shalom. I thought about the way our neighboring families in Mexico are being treated at our border, and how our "city gate" is the opposite of shalom. These families are a part of a group that is marginalized in society. To what length am I willing to go to redeem these marginalized brothers and sisters? What other people around me need to see the redemptive love of Jesus displayed through me?

While in the Negev, we also walked around an old fortress from the spice route. Inside this fortress was a mini version of the temple, so that those passing by could worship. It was in great condition, because King Hezekiah had buried it, as it was not the actual temple in Jerusalem where God had instructed his house to be built. Rod taught us about the covenant that was made between God and Abraham, and how Jesus was the fulfillment of that covenant. When God entered that covenenant with Abraham, he didn't make Abraham walk through with him. Instead he walked twice. Whether God broke the covenant (which of course he wouldn't) or whether Abraham did, the responsibility would be on God. Then, some two thousand years later, Jesus took on the responsibility of that broken covenant, with his death on the cross. Then, as the earth shook and the temple curtain tore like a mourning father tearing his garments, the veil between God and mankind was gone, and we can now boldly approach the throne. We can lay before our Father our desert seasons, our trials, and our pain.