Six months have passed since we made the decision to live
and teach in the Middle East. What a journey this has been with more to come as
each day unfolds. As that ever-constant sun rises over the rolling deserts of
Jordan each morning and then descends over the hills beyond the Dead Sea at
dusk, we realize how very far away we are from home and from our loved ones. It
is at these times when the voices of Muslim chanters echo through the olive
orchards that our own prayers go up in gratitude for one more day to breathe in
the bounties we enjoy.
Perhaps in living more simply here, we treasure that which
we left behind even more. As we watch families gather together (and Jordanians
use any excuse to gather with family and friends), we miss our own family gatherings
and question why we decided to come to such a foreign place. We don’t have an answer yet.
Although we won’t visit Israel until spring, we know that
the Savior and his apostles walked along the dusty paths up and down this vast
desert. The Jordan Valley must have been a welcome oasis for the weary
prophets. As we ride along in the comfort of our car, it is hard to imagine
walking over this barren land. The ancient ritual of washing one’s feet becomes
more than a gift of hospitality and humility; the sounds of centuries of
sandaled feet greet our ears and fill our consciousness. Why Christ would be
born here in the cradle of civilization isn’t so great a mystery. Ancient place
names recorded in the Bible assemble themselves into the reality of ruins—once
city walls and temples, marketplaces and amphitheaters where people worked and
played, lived and died. What are their voices saying to us?
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| Mosque at the entrance to Madaba--with major winter storm approaching
Perhaps He stopped and sat on the smooth limb of an olive tree whose sturdy divided trunks bend and twist making natural seats for the weary traveler. Outside our kitchen window grows such a tree. The almost constant winds toss the feather-like leaves, turning them over to reveal lighter undersides of silvery-green. It is winter and there is no fruit, but the branches retain their leaves that catch the current of unseen air and wave greetings to the pristine sky. Did His hand caress the cool bark as He rested, did His brow bend to touch it and did He feel the lifeblood of the House of Israel course within?
As we celebrate His birth and praise His name in music and prayer tomorrow, we are experiencing quite a different Christmas than we have known before. We will exchange gifts and share a feast and mingle with new friends as in the past. However, this Christmas finds us changed and we ponder our purpose and examine the life we have built together. Is our fruit good in His sight? Because, at the close of this year, that is all that really matters. |
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