Pilgrimage (23 page)

Months before, I had asked God if He was calling me to give this speech, and I had felt that He was. I had stepped out of the boat at His command. But now, like Peter, I had taken my eyes off Jesus to look around at my circumstances, and I was sinking fast. It would take a miracle just to be able to stand upright and draw a breath, let alone speak. And so, like Peter, I cried out, “Lord, save me!”

I always found it strange that when Peter began to sink he didn’t try to swim back to the boat. We know from Scripture that he could swim. After Jesus’ resurrection, Peter jumped out of a boat and swam to shore when he saw Jesus cooking breakfast on the beach. But instead of doing the dog paddle and trying to save himself, Peter cried out to Jesus. I love the next word in the story:
immediately.
“Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him” (Matthew 14:31).

And in the hushed room backstage that night, I cried out for help and
immediately
 . . . the sound of a shofar pierced the quiet. The trumpeting came from everywhere and nowhere, echoing throughout the auditorium.
A shofar!
God had chosen His response especially for me. Never mind that in real life the music came from a rabbi onstage who had been hired to play the opening trumpet call for the entire convention. Never mind that everyone, not just me, could hear it. God had chosen the perfect symbol to speak to me—and only me—in that moment.

My husband is a professional trumpet player, so I know the rich history of the shofar, fashioned from a ram’s horn. As Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac, foreshadowing Christ’s sacrifice, Isaac asked, “Father . . . where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” Abraham answered, “God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son” (Genesis 22:7–8). And God provided a ram that day, caught in a thicket by its horns—and He provided His own Son, Jesus Christ, to die in our place. When used in Jewish worship, the sound of a ram’s horn is a reminder that the Lord will provide salvation.

Backstage, I heard the shofar sounding on and on. I bowed my head, scarcely breathing as the call gripped me like no
other response from God could have. It was so loud, so penetrating and commanding, that the women stopped praying aloud. The sound shivered through me.
The Lord will provide
. In that holy moment, I felt a profound sense of peace. I knew that God would help me do what was impossible to do on my own.

The trumpet call finally ended and died away. My hands had stopped trembling. My breathing and heart rate had returned to normal. When I stood, my legs held me. I walked onto the stage—walking on water—and allowed God to use me to deliver that speech.

I’ve always believed that Peter became the leader of the disciples because of what he’d experienced during that midnight storm. From that night on, he knew that if he stepped out of his comfort zone at the Lord’s call, he could do the impossible. He could walk on water. It was a lesson that the other eleven disciples, remaining safely in the boat, hadn’t learned. And I had learned it, too, on the night of that speech. God is reminding me of that night as I look out at the stormy Sea of Galilee. Jesus will help me through all the changes and challenges I face. He’ll help me walk on water if I ask for His help and reach for His hand.

The storm over the Sea of Galilee has exhausted itself. We finally step outside our vehicle again as the rain stops. The wind dies down to a gentle breeze as if stilled by Jesus’ command. I see people pointing to the sky and I look up; in place of the black storm clouds, a rainbow now appears in the sky above the water. It seems laughable, a cliché, but we snap photographs of it just the same. It’s a stunning symbol of God’s promise: No matter how justified His wrath against mankind, His grace always shines brighter.

Before I came on this pilgrimage, the storm clouds had been building back home. My boat was rocking, my fear building. I’ve been hanging on to the gunwales, begging Jesus to calm the seas for me and take me back to the safety of the shore. But maybe Jesus is approaching in the storm and inviting me to walk on water in a new way, beckoning me to a deeper level of trust and faith. Am I willing to take that step, at my age, after I’ve reached a comfortable place in my ministry of writing and speaking? Is what I’m doing
for
Jesus something that I can easily do
without
His help? Do I dare to accept His invitation once again and step out onto the tossing waves?

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Ephesians 3:20–21

A N
EW
P
RAYER
FOR
THE
J
OURNEY

My gracious heavenly Father,

You created the wind and the waves, and You are sovereign over all of the storms in our lives. You shine the light of Your mercy on us, as brightly and as hope-filled as a rainbow after a storm. Forgive me for all the times I have failed to reflect Your light; for allowing busyness or selfishness or anything else to come before Your priority here on earth—the people You love. I confess that I have tried to blend in with the culture instead of standing out and standing up for You. I have allowed an outward standard of rules and commandments to convince me that I’m good enough instead of allowing Christ to transform me on the inside. Thank You for giving me a second chance when I fail—and a third and a fourth chance. Give me the faith and the courage to stand up in my rocking boat on this stormy sea, and to dare to walk on water at Your invitation.

Amen

10
The Far North

We have heard with our ears, O God; our fathers have told us what you did in their days, in days long ago. With your hand you drove out the nations and planted our fathers; you crushed the peoples and made our fathers flourish . . . for you loved them.

Psalm 44:1–3

A
s soon as we pull into the Dan Nature Preserve, twenty-five miles north of the Sea of Galilee, I jump off the bus, eager to begin hiking in these lush, green woods. What a contrast to the harsh, barren wilderness in the south where my journey began! This park bubbles and surges with cool, refreshing water, flowing down from the snowy slopes of nearby Mount Hermon. The water eventually joins other tributaries, like exuberant friends gathering for a party, and they become the headwaters of the Jordan River. The water continues south to the Sea of Galilee, flows down
through the Jordan Valley, and eventually reaches a dead end in the Dead Sea. But here in the nature preserve the water is like a living thing as it rushes over rocks and cascades over falls, gurgling and singing and roaring with joy. It is a glorious sound that I never grow tired of hearing. The life-giving water turns the park into a veritable Eden. In fact, one leafy glade in the forest is called “Paradise,” and we follow the trail markers that point the way to Paradise as we hike. To a forest-lover like me, this truly is paradise!

Long before I’ve had my fill of nature, we reach a stunning set of ruins that leave me speechless. Tucked away in the woods are the remains of the ancient Canaanite city of Dan, dating from the time of Abraham. The mud-brick gateway to the city is the earliest structure of its kind ever discovered, built two thousand years before Christ. I stand still, staring at the crumbling brick archway in front of me, unable to comprehend that this remnant of a man-made city is
four thousand
years old!

Genesis 14 tells the story of how Abraham’s nephew Lot, who had been living among the pagans in Sodom, was captured and carried off by four kings who invaded the region. “When Abram heard that his relative had been taken captive, he called out the 318 trained men born in his household and went in pursuit as far as Dan” (v. 14). Abraham came to this Canaanite city in front of me. After a daring nighttime raid, he defeated the four kings and rescued Lot, along with all of the other captives.

I stare at this ancient archway and picture the patriarch and his weary but jubilant men marching through the gate in victory. Abraham had relied on God, not on his own strength. With only a small band of men, he had fought against an
alliance of four kings, taking a daring risk to rescue a family member who should have known better than to live in the wicked city of Sodom in the first place.

We continue hiking up the hill, deeper into the woods, and arrive, breathless, at an entirely different set of ruins. Here at the top of the mountain above the ancient city of Dan are the remains of a “high place” used for idol worship. A few hundred years after Abraham, during the time of the Judges, the Israelites conquered the Canaanite city of Dan down the hill from me and set up an idol here on this high place (see Judges 17–18). The place to worship the God of Abraham was at the tabernacle in Shiloh. But this was an era when “another generation grew up, who knew neither the Lord nor what he had done for Israel” (Judges 2:10). Living among the people and cultures that they had failed to completely destroy, “they took [the pagans’] daughters in marriage and gave their own daughters to their sons, and served their gods” (Judges 3:6). The parents of these idolaters had witnessed God’s powerful miracles: kingdoms conquered, walls toppled, enemies routed. Yet by the time the next generation grew up, “Everyone did as he saw fit” in his own eyes (Judges 17:6). Their forefathers’ faith had slipped away like water into dry ground. It happens again and again, in Scripture and throughout the ages.

When David became king, he started a spiritual revival in Israel. His son Solomon built a magnificent Temple and designated Jerusalem as the place to worship God. But one generation after Solomon’s death, the nation fractured in two, and the king of the northern tribes made two golden calves for his people to worship. He set up one here on this high place in Dan where I’m standing (1 Kings 12: 29–30).
The people could worship this god of pleasure and sensuality without all the bother of God’s demanding laws or the inconvenience of a long trip to Jerusalem. These ruins bear witness to that generation’s idolatry.

Pomegranates

The Dan Nature Preserve is a place of contrasts. The lush park makes me long for Eden and restores something vital inside me, as hiking through forests and near streams always does. But to find the remains of pagan worship in this beautiful Israeli park sobers me. From paradise to idolatry is such a short, swift fall. Lot wandered away from Abraham and ended up in Sodom. A generation after the conquest of the Promised Land, Israel’s sons and daughters built this high place. A generation after King Solomon built a magnificent Temple in Jerusalem, Israelites were bowing down to a golden calf here in Dan.

How easy it is for a new generation to walk away from the God of their parents. How simple to follow a new path, never noticing how far it takes us from God, especially when it makes our lives more pleasurable and convenient. Why make the sacrifice of a long trip to Jerusalem when you can worship any way you want, close to home? Within my own lifetime, I’ve watched our culture drift far away from God, calling “good” evil and “evil” good. I can name beloved young people in my extended family for whom the convenience of easy morality and the lure of counterfeit gods speak louder than Scripture. Slowly, seductively, a new generation is drawn to the popular culture more than they are to God. And it seems more impossible with each passing year to fight such powerful forces.

But the ancient Canaanite gateway in the Dan Nature Preserve gives me hope. With faith in God and only a small band of men, Abraham defeated four powerful enemy kings and rescued his foolish young nephew. This idolatrous high place on the top of the hill now lies deserted, the golden calf long gone. The only reminders that a pagan culture ever flourished here are a few scattered remains of their worship area and a remnant of their mud-brick wall. In spite of the odds, evil does not win in the end. God does.

I can go to battle for my loved ones against enormous odds, knowing that God is on my side. “Through you we push back our enemies; through your name we trample our foes” (Psalm 44:5). With His help, I can rescue those who have been taken captive by our popular culture, but it does require that I love them enough to go to battle for them against powerful enemies. It might mean stepping out of my comfort zone and becoming involved in the lives of this younger generation in
more meaningful ways. It might mean drawing closer to God and eliminating the idolatry from my own life first, before I can become a godly influence. It might mean earning the right to be heard through acts of love and grace.