What is it that has changed? This question has revolved over and over in my mind since the evening I left Israel. There isn’t a defining moment that I can remember, not a word or a look, no tremble of realisation, nor revelation of understanding. I’m just...different.
A great deal of time has passed since my last posting, primarily due to a busy schedule, but also because I felt the need to wait. My three and half months in Israel were so special to me that I didn’t want to simply relate a story which you would read, smile over, and then brush away as you move on to the next email in your inbox. The desire to somehow communicate to you the things God has shown me runs very deep. In my previous attempts to sit down and write, I have left my computer frustrated with the inadequacy of my words. I am not finding it much easier now, but I feel it has been too long already and I pray that God will give me the words I need to share with you.
In brief, this is what happened during that last month in Israel: I travelled to Jerusalem with friends in early January and spent that weekend in fellowship with believers and exploring the Old City. The prayer conference began the Monday following on a kibbutz outside the city. Over 230 delegates attended the conference, plus the many locals who joined us for the evening sessions. It was an interesting mix of nationalities, languages, and personalities. Aside from stuffing envelopes, answering questions, and handing out lunch coupons, I was still able to attend all the prayer sessions in the morning and the teaching sessions in the evening. My eyes were opened wide. The attendees backgrounds were so diverse, and communication among the delegates was sometimes difficult; but, united by a love for God, His Son, and His People, they prayed with a fervor I’ve never witnessed before. Intercession is a pouring out of oneself to stand in the gap for another, and that is what these people did. I felt like I was in way over my head, but God ministered to me that week through others, who saw my heart and encouraged me. They did not look down on me because I was young, but commended what they saw being rooted within me and said, “Patience - seek Him, and it shall grow.”
After the conference ended, I spent a few more days in Jerusalem visiting family friends and getting some much needed rest. Then, it snowed! What a singular blessing, for now I can say that I have been in Jerusalem in the snow. =) I was also able to have lunch with a couple that have since become very dear to me - they gave me much to think about in regards to future plans and were a great blessing in allowing me to process all these swirling thoughts out loud. I soon left Jerusalem for Arad, a town in the Negev Desert. My time there was too short, but I had the opportunity to celebrate Shabbat with newly-made friends and attend their congregation the following morning. This particular congregation has undergone much persecution from the Orthodox Jews in the town, but God has given these believers grace immeasurable and hearing their stories challenged me and strengthened my faith.
My last two weeks in Israel were a whirlwind of activity. I was racing around collecting gifts for everyone, saying goodbyes to all my new friends, and fulfilling my commitments at work. Before I knew it, I was on the plane home. The journey had a twilight-zone quality about it. My parting in Tel Aviv was painful, but sweet in the hopes of meeting again. In Manchester, my reception was very different. Tender, eager, and brimming with determination to not waste a single moment I was embraced multiple times by each family member. They came bearing “Welcome Home Bek!” placards and a single pink rose - Dad photographed every moment. It seemed like years, and yet a single breath, had passed since seeing each other. I was struck with how very precious they are to me, and now am determined to the make the most of every day with them as I will be leaving for university very soon.
There is so much to say that it wells up within me, but I do not have the words to bring it forth. Along with His Word, my devotional by Oswald Chambers (My Utmost for His Highest) was a constant companion on all my travels. I realised that I had come to the point in my life where I start making decisions for myself, theologically, without riding on the coattails of my parents. My belief system, the teachings I choose to accept or reject, all must be evaluated in my own heart and mind. Do I believe this or not? Do I accept what that preacher says? What does God’s Word say about this? It’s rather frightening really, because these things will lay a foundation from which I will speak into the lives of others, not the least of which will be my children, someday.
“To him who is given much, much will be required.” (Excerpt of Luke 12:48) Our responsibility as believers is so great, and it seems that too often we minimise it. The funny thing is that God could do it all without us, and sometimes I think we’re more trouble to Him than we’re really worth. But that isn’t the way He looks at it. He loves us, and He wants to work through us. He’s not asking to fit into our lives; He’s asking us to forsake our lives, that every breath we breathe is His Spirit in us. We are here to give Him glory, and He will require much sacrifice from some of us. Think on a larger scale. Not only is He asking of us our time, each day set aside to fellowship with Him; He wants to know if you are willing to say, “Father, everything I have, my family, my possessions, my very existence is Yours alone. Do with them what you will. I am Yours.”
In light of the tragedies that seem to be ever-present in our world today, think about this statement: “My attitude as a saint to sorrow and difficulty is not to ask that they may be prevented, but to ask that I may preserve the self God created me to be through every fire of sorrow.” (Oswald Chambers) Many of us will never personally experience such anguish in our lives. However, His Spirit within us can enable us to identify with those around us who are hurting, through prayer, but more specifically through intercession for them. Why? Because He weeps for them. As His earthly representatives, will you dare to ask God to break your heart for the things that break His?
This walk was never meant to be easy. And the rewards on earth will be scant in comparison to what awaits us in Heaven. But all that aside, we should desire to glorify Him regardless. For look at what He has done for us! All honour, praise, glory, and majesty be to Him, Christ the Lord. He is the Lion of the Tribe of Judah and the God of Abraham! And it is for Him we live, and for Him we will die, should He ask it of us. "The apostles left the high council rejoicing that God had counted them worthy to suffer dishonour for the name of Jesus." (Acts 5:41)
Thank you for reading. I hope at least some part of my experience has given you joy, or provoked you to thought. I am so glad to be able to share the things He has begun to show me. That which He has in store for each of us in His Son will be wonderful, as it will glorify His Name in our world. Peace has been given to us, thus may blessings be measured to you in abundance. And thank you, Lord.
In Yeshua and with much love,
Rivka
Friday, 4 April 2008
Tuesday, 1 January 2008
This Land
Merry Belated Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone! These holidays have been a little surreal for me. Neither are celebrated nationally in this country, so it seems anticlimactic for me to be writing 2008. I had my first (and hopefully the last) Skype Christmas. I have a webcam on my laptop, so everyone at home could watch me open my gifts. Yes, my mother... and my grandmother... and my Aunt all sent me packages. I was doing just fine, not emotional or anything, and then I opened the box and saw my brother's handwriting on the gift he'd bought me saying, "Love and miss you Bek!" I burst into tears. I'm realising more and more each day that I couldn't have ever imagined a better family. Mom is still counting the days - a little under six weeks remain. It's gone fairly quickly on my end, but Mom says she ready for me to come home. I know they miss me, but they're also so excited that God made a way for this trip to happen.
I have reconnected with more friends, specifically my kindergarten teacher and her family. We spent last Shabbat together and it was a precious time of fellowship and laughter. They are pastors of a small congregation here in Tiberias, made up of East Europeans, some East Asians, local Israelis, and a handful of Americans and British. And my teacher and her husband are French! I love this aspect of living overseas. The mix of people is so much fun! Languages are intermingled with various styles of dress, music preferences, cuisine, and measures of personal space. The typical Israeli doesn't need more than a couple inches of personal space, and nobody is a stranger. They're confrontational and very blunt. It's so refreshing to hear to exactly what someone thinks instead of doing the "politically correct" waltz around everyone's conversational sensitivities.
On a more serious note, please do keep these congregations in your prayers. They have undergone persecution in the past, and by grace are going through a time of peace right now; however, further south, there are many groups of believers experiencing great persecution. The children are especially a concern because they are threatened at school not only by their peers, but by adults as well.
I've had complaints from a reader who says I haven't been writing in enough detail. Thus it should follow that I make an apology for this oversight and cast my mind back over these most recent weeks in search of material to satisfy the demand.
A friend of mine, Abby, recently celebrated her 17th birthday, and invited me to come along for a day at a recreation center with herself, her parents and another friend. The first order of the day was to pick up burekas from a local bakery and then to make the drive out to Mt. Hermon in search of snow, followed by the rec center. The drive to Mt. Hermon took us through land that used to be part of Syria but was reclaimed by Israel during the 1973 Yom Kippur War. As you drive along the road, barren rocky ground gives way to earthen mounds atop which settlements have been made to stake their claim in the land. Remains of bunkers and army posts are a frequent reminder of the real cost of those hills; however, I must confess that nothing made as great an impression on my mind as did the fenced off areas bearing yellow signs with red triangles: "Warning: Mines!" The Israelis have cleared whatever land they needed for crops and development, but the general view seems to be that if there is another war, why not use the enemy's own mines as a barrier against them? As the road weaves and narrows to a single car's breadth, we come upon what appears to be an impassable barrier constructed from boulders. It is only an illusion, for as we approach an opening becomes visible and the road makes a 90 degree turning through the passage. In response to my questions, I was told they were barriers built across the road at multiple points in an attempt to slow the passage of tanks.
Israel would be a frightening place to many of us from the west who have never known the sound of rockets whistling over our heads or the wail of the sirens urging us into our bomb shelters. Everywhere you go, it seems, there are reminders of this land's war-torn history. Israel bears the marks of fallen rockets and many locals still jump when they hear any sound resembling a "boom" or the rumble of a fighter jet passing overhead. I ride the bus and grocery shop with young Israeli soldiers who are never without their weapons and, in the girls' case, their Gucci-like sunglasses and painted nails gracing hands casually draped across their Uzi machine guns.
I don't mean to paint a picture of a terrifying land with cowering, desperate people. This is simply not the case. Life goes on just as it does in our communities. Children go to school, mothers hang laundry and go shopping, the men work and loudly discuss the news over botz (Turkish coffee) and a cigarette. The religious Israelis stand at the bus stops in the morning silently mouthing the text from their open prayer book on the way to their studies and workplaces. By Friday afternoon at about 3pm, the shops close and the Sabbath (Shabbat) is observed until sundown the next day. This is time for family and friends, for prayer, and is a time to simply stop and appreciate the life you have. The Israelis are open, friendly people. I can't put into words the incredible differences between their culture and that of our Western world. All I can do is encourage you to come. This truly is God's land. Jesus is coming back to Israel, specifically Jerusalem, not Europe or the US. His name is forever stamped in Israel. I feel as if experiencing or at least learning about Israel is a necessary step towards an understanding of God's heart and of His Word.
I hope I have quenched the thirst for detail, indeed it is encouraging because it means someone is enjoying my writings about this journey. I promise to follow this posting with more stories, of the lighter variety, I hope. My plans for these next two weeks involve audio checking at work, but late January will find me in Jerusalem for the prayer conference, followed by a trip to Arad to visit a friend. Please keep me, and the other conference delegates and staff in your prayers; pray we would have open ears and ready hearts to hear from the Lord during the conference and the weeks preceding. Also that travel will be smooth (visas, etc) and safe.
Thank you again and again for all of your support. I marvel each day at the people God has placed in my life. You are demonstrating Christ's love to me and illustrating your faith in Him. We serve a mighty God, worthy of all honour, glory, power and praise!
In Yeshua
I have reconnected with more friends, specifically my kindergarten teacher and her family. We spent last Shabbat together and it was a precious time of fellowship and laughter. They are pastors of a small congregation here in Tiberias, made up of East Europeans, some East Asians, local Israelis, and a handful of Americans and British. And my teacher and her husband are French! I love this aspect of living overseas. The mix of people is so much fun! Languages are intermingled with various styles of dress, music preferences, cuisine, and measures of personal space. The typical Israeli doesn't need more than a couple inches of personal space, and nobody is a stranger. They're confrontational and very blunt. It's so refreshing to hear to exactly what someone thinks instead of doing the "politically correct" waltz around everyone's conversational sensitivities.
On a more serious note, please do keep these congregations in your prayers. They have undergone persecution in the past, and by grace are going through a time of peace right now; however, further south, there are many groups of believers experiencing great persecution. The children are especially a concern because they are threatened at school not only by their peers, but by adults as well.
I've had complaints from a reader who says I haven't been writing in enough detail. Thus it should follow that I make an apology for this oversight and cast my mind back over these most recent weeks in search of material to satisfy the demand.
A friend of mine, Abby, recently celebrated her 17th birthday, and invited me to come along for a day at a recreation center with herself, her parents and another friend. The first order of the day was to pick up burekas from a local bakery and then to make the drive out to Mt. Hermon in search of snow, followed by the rec center. The drive to Mt. Hermon took us through land that used to be part of Syria but was reclaimed by Israel during the 1973 Yom Kippur War. As you drive along the road, barren rocky ground gives way to earthen mounds atop which settlements have been made to stake their claim in the land. Remains of bunkers and army posts are a frequent reminder of the real cost of those hills; however, I must confess that nothing made as great an impression on my mind as did the fenced off areas bearing yellow signs with red triangles: "Warning: Mines!" The Israelis have cleared whatever land they needed for crops and development, but the general view seems to be that if there is another war, why not use the enemy's own mines as a barrier against them? As the road weaves and narrows to a single car's breadth, we come upon what appears to be an impassable barrier constructed from boulders. It is only an illusion, for as we approach an opening becomes visible and the road makes a 90 degree turning through the passage. In response to my questions, I was told they were barriers built across the road at multiple points in an attempt to slow the passage of tanks.
Israel would be a frightening place to many of us from the west who have never known the sound of rockets whistling over our heads or the wail of the sirens urging us into our bomb shelters. Everywhere you go, it seems, there are reminders of this land's war-torn history. Israel bears the marks of fallen rockets and many locals still jump when they hear any sound resembling a "boom" or the rumble of a fighter jet passing overhead. I ride the bus and grocery shop with young Israeli soldiers who are never without their weapons and, in the girls' case, their Gucci-like sunglasses and painted nails gracing hands casually draped across their Uzi machine guns.
I don't mean to paint a picture of a terrifying land with cowering, desperate people. This is simply not the case. Life goes on just as it does in our communities. Children go to school, mothers hang laundry and go shopping, the men work and loudly discuss the news over botz (Turkish coffee) and a cigarette. The religious Israelis stand at the bus stops in the morning silently mouthing the text from their open prayer book on the way to their studies and workplaces. By Friday afternoon at about 3pm, the shops close and the Sabbath (Shabbat) is observed until sundown the next day. This is time for family and friends, for prayer, and is a time to simply stop and appreciate the life you have. The Israelis are open, friendly people. I can't put into words the incredible differences between their culture and that of our Western world. All I can do is encourage you to come. This truly is God's land. Jesus is coming back to Israel, specifically Jerusalem, not Europe or the US. His name is forever stamped in Israel. I feel as if experiencing or at least learning about Israel is a necessary step towards an understanding of God's heart and of His Word.
I hope I have quenched the thirst for detail, indeed it is encouraging because it means someone is enjoying my writings about this journey. I promise to follow this posting with more stories, of the lighter variety, I hope. My plans for these next two weeks involve audio checking at work, but late January will find me in Jerusalem for the prayer conference, followed by a trip to Arad to visit a friend. Please keep me, and the other conference delegates and staff in your prayers; pray we would have open ears and ready hearts to hear from the Lord during the conference and the weeks preceding. Also that travel will be smooth (visas, etc) and safe.
Thank you again and again for all of your support. I marvel each day at the people God has placed in my life. You are demonstrating Christ's love to me and illustrating your faith in Him. We serve a mighty God, worthy of all honour, glory, power and praise!
In Yeshua
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