For out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
We are on day 204 of 15 days to slow the spread.
Actually, two times in Jerusalem.
Some days I get emails and wonder why I’m still on a certain list. I’m not talking about spam, but lists that I’ve been on for years, decades even.
Like the email I got yesterday reminding me of El Al’s frequent flyer club. I haven’t had any points since…roughly 1984, which was the last time I flew their airline and the last time I went to Israel.
All of this was before email.
My trip in March of 1984 was my second in four months. Don’t ask why. That will be in the book. One of them.
I would love to visit Israel again, but this time not with a tour. I mean, it was great and we saw some amazing places. But we were also on a very tight schedule, expected to be in certain places, certain gatherings, at certain times.
Yes, I’m certain about that.
I’d like to go back and be a little freer to enjoy the country. Some day.
While we were cleaning out the garage the other day, I found some of my treasures from Israel. I added them to the incredibly shrinking office space. I’m pretty sure I’ll find a few more things if we ever get to the attic.
There’s not much time to travel right now, even if we could. And, as much as I’d love to go back to Israel there are many other places I’d like to see first.
I may never get the chance to do that traveling.
I mean, Publishers Clearing House promises me that they have my address. But they never call, they never write.
Well, that’s not true. They write all the time and tell me not to ignore this entry.
I’m not sure I’d say that our current pandemic and our 47 years of house arrest are exactly at Biblical proportions.
Then again, I never understood the Biblical measurements in the Old Testament anyway.
Still, there are some parallels. The Children of Israel wandered in the desert for forty years before they were able to go on to the Promise Land. Much of the original generation, including Moses, never made it across the Jordan River.
This is how the book of Joshua records that crossing:
When all the nation had finished passing over the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua, “Take twelve men from the people, from each tribe a man, and command them, saying, ‘Take twelve stones from here out of the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests’ feet stood firmly, and bring them over with you and lay them down in the place where you lodge tonight.’” Then Joshua called the twelve men from the people of Israel, whom he had appointed, a man from each tribe. And Joshua said to them, “Pass on before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the people of Israel, that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever.”
The stones were there as a reminder of what God had done for them, what God had brought them through.
I’m not sure I’d call my last forty years since college or the last 47 years of our house arrest wandering in the wilderness. But I’m surrounded by a lot of memories.
Everything that’s crowding my space here in the home office is a reminder of where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and what God has brought me through.
Sort of like the Game Boy games that we found in the garage. The original Tetris and Golf that came with my first Game Boy.
That’s right, I had the first Game Boy in the family. My Mother bought it for me as an early Christmas present when I had my cancer surgery, nearly 30 years ago.
Come to think of it, that experience was sort of wilderness-y.
I’m not lugging any stones up to my home office, but I’ve got plenty of things to remind me of the good things in my life.
As much of a pain in the ass that this pandemic is, I’m still pretty blessed.