climbing

I thought about the difference a year makes on Tuesday when I climbed the thirty or so stairs to my now weekly doctor's appointment. Each week I approach those stairs with vigor, determined not to take the elevator until I have to. As I got to the top, huffing and puffing, I thought about the stairs I was running last year at this time.

Spring always seems to do this to me; to stop me in my tracks and make me reflect on the happenings of the past year. Maybe it is the fact that I am stuck between the slowness of winter and the anticipation of cookouts and flip flops that summer brings. Or maybe it really boils down to the fact that most of the major shaping that has taken place in my life over the past few years has been in April and May. (More thoughts on May here).

A year ago, Stacie & I were running stairs a couple mornings a week in preparation for the mountains I would climb in Israel. The year before that, we were doing the same, only in preparation for the Riverbank 25k Run. During each of those stair climbing seasons, I found sacredness in quiet mornings of driving to the beach and running in the early morning hours along trails, climbing until our legs and lungs burned.

I know I am only climbing stairs once a week now, which is exactly as often as I would prefer as this baby continues to take shape and take up what feels like every inch of me. However, I still have that same sense of quiet preparation taking place this month for the climb to come. In a physical sense, for the delivery of this little life and the joyful moments of meeting him or her and in a deeper sense as our life is shifting from "we" to "three". In my experience, sometimes the climb is really tough, excruciating in fact but the view from the top always makes it worth while.

A few of my favorite post-climb views:

desert song

This song is on my heart tonight, for those who are in deserts, for those who are feeling like they are in green pastures. This feels like a green pasture time for me right now, like God is blessing us left and right with His presence and peace as we walk in ways that sometimes leave me a bit uncomfortable. i.e. potentially selling our house 4 weeks before our baby is born. We had some interest yesterday and someone else walking through on Tuesday and I am learning to trust the process and not get ahead of myself.

That being said, baby stuff is about to come out of the woodwork and start taking over the house. This is the week that we had set to do that and I am SO excited about it, no matter what the outcome is with our pending move. Can't wait to see those little onesies and perfectly stacked diapers, hoodie towels and books lined up.

Back to my thoughts on the desert song; tonight at youth group, Ryan taught the 6th of a 7 week series on Abraham. I was reminded AGAIN of how God wants us to partner with Him. I have always thought of Abraham as full of faith, always trusting the bigger plan and have been learning that He, just like us, made plenty of mistakes along the way. Encouraged and hopeful that over time, we would follow closer to the path that He has set out for us.

living in today

I find myself really thankful tonight- for friends whose homes I can enter without knocking or by just walking through the back door. It seems like the more I get back into the swing of working full time and gearing up for Ryan's last semester, the more I appreciate the friendships we have in this season. And I need them because one of the emotions I felt in the quiet part of my day (before the backdoor reflections) was "stuck".

As in, knowing that each day of our lives is transition between where we are and where we are going perhaps and yet knowing that the fullness of life exists in today. If I don't give it my all today, whose to say tomorrow will be any fuller? You know what I mean? I think we can spend so much time wondering and wishing that we miss today. Preaching to the choir here.

So for today, I am committing myself (AGAIN) to the now and asking God to illuminate the next little steps. I started my "praises and prayers" notebook again because I wanted to see those little things in the days that are so easily missed. I carry it in my purse because unfortunately, life moves so quickly that if we don't catch glimpses of things and commit them to memory, sometimes we are just on to the next.

With my efforts to find life in the now, here is what this week includes so far:

--seeing our friends Jon & Joy dedicate their beautiful little girl Ella Joy. another Ippel to love!
--10 minute dates in the morning and afternoon with Ryan as we are down to one car for a little bit, counting those as an opportunity to connect rather than a scheduling pain makes it a lot easier.
--the mini Israel reunion we had last night at Brad & Shallon's reconnecting, eating hummus and hanging out with these friends:

Ryan & Brad, Mt. Arbel

Ryan & Jeremy, Sea of Galilee

Ryan & Aaron, Mt. Carmel

Laura, Kristi, Bekah, Jerusalem


What are you thankful for this week?

searching for some quiet

*picture taken at Khirbet Qeiyafa- an archelogical dig dated to King David where the oldest piece of Hebrew literature was recently discovered speaking of righteousness & justice.


I have always loved moving fast, busy days and packed weekends. But since we have been home from Israel, something inside of me is longing for more quiet in my life. I think part of it is a maturing process taking place and all that stands between me and quiet is discipline of myself.

I can run miles and train for races, I can organize events and execute whatever plans are laid out. But can I rest and wait, sit and write and stop long enough to smell the roses?

I always think, "this week will be the week, I will get up earlier and spend a few quiet minutes." But then the reality of needing to make a lunch, making the mistake of checking my email in the morning and debating whether to scrunch or blow dry my hair eat away at those precious moments. I lose the chance to dig in deep.

The thing I am realizing, which may sound obvious but is an easily overlooked truth in my life, is that life and discipline are all about making little steps in the direction that we want to go. And to live a good story, those little steps count just as much as the big ones. The summer internship we are running with these high school students is reminding me that my charachter and integrity build endurance through the small choices and decisions, just like training for anything else.

For me, I am realizing how easily I can confuse a good path with the best path. I keep thinking of this image..."wide is the road but narrow is the gate":

*picture taken at Scythopolis on the main road (also known as the cardo)

I'm not trying to get all zealous and exclusive but I am finding that in my own life doing good things is not adding up to a better walk with Christ. It just doesn't cut it. It looks great on the outside but doesn't motivate the heart change I know I need when I find myself struggling with the same issues or lacking wisdom to make decisions. I am convicted that one of the things in my life that deafens my ability to hear the small whispers of "this is my way, walk in it" is my busyness. So I am making a concerted effort to guard time and seek quiet.

a shining city: Jerusalem

I have hope for Jerusalem. That is a radical statement based on the political tension at hand in the Middle East and I may not see that city reconciled in my lifetime. That is a reality I can face square on in fact. But I do believe that all things will be reconciled back to God's hand in the end in whatever way, shape or fashion that He determines best.

I have to be honest, I was anxious to enter Jerusalem in the beginning, to step into the tension that exists. But the city wooed me with its' story both past and present. I felt so much peace and quiet while we were in the desert places and walking in Galilee that I imagined the contrast between those and the city gates would leave me with a quickened heart beat and sideways glances for the 2 days spent in the city. And it was intense but it was also beautiful and sad and curious to me. I imagined our friends Ben and Stacie who lived there for 2 years and Brad and his family, one year. That made it feel more personal to me, to look for daily life around me.

It felt like the continuum of the story that I have been writing about, beginning in the Old Testament with the patriarchs, the wanderings & giving of the law, the promise of a Messiah, and then fulfillment of scripture through Jesus coming. We walked through the last week of Jesus' life, beginning our first morning on the Mt. of Olives. I read the passages with new eyes in Luke 19 when the triumphal entry into the city takes place, with Jesus' response to rounding the mountaintop on the donkey as the scripture said he would do and weeps as he sees the city. And as we sat in the Garden in Gethsemane and pondered how Jesus shared a Passover meal with the disciples and how he would be betrayed I felt devastation for him as a man, that he was leaving his relationships, his family, his home here. There are so many cultural and fulfilment pieces in this part of the story that blew my mind.




And as we stood in David's city early on our second morning in the city which sits low I felt his confidence as we read Psalm 121 and he writes that he "lifts his eyes up to the hills" for help in a vulnerable place where he was so exposed and that God "watches over you and is your shade at your right hand". Just like the desert, this place requires full dependence. And on the Temple Mount & the southern steps where Pentecost took place and we were reminded of the value of community as living stones. How on our own we are not impressive or compelling but together, we are the new temple of God, through the Holy Spirit dwelling in us.



I cannot express my gratitude for this opportunity to those who prayed, supported, gave, and encouraged Ryan and I in this venture. This is my last official post about our trip but I assure you, the things I am learning will continue to thread themselves through my thoughts, ponderings and writings. Until then, Shalom.

on being sheep

We have been home for almost a month now from our journey and I can't help but be amazed at the recall of information that takes place daily in my mind and in my heart of the things we learned. I truly believe that it is because we walked and learned with our feet that we are remembering.

This morning I was so blessed by Pastor Tom's message on being sheep. (it will be posted here this week) I think sometimes I feel like life is so divided between spiritual stuff and daily stuff and I have a hard time reconciling those worlds. I know they aren't divided but I am just trying to learn how to live in normal life with eyes that see deeper. Lately I have been battling with myself to just let it happen, to not always crave so much depth; not because I think it is wrong but because I have the gift of joy and don't want to suffocate it. I hope that makes sense, that I can say what I think is true without sounding like I am puffing myself up.

All that to say, I think TK has a way of just bringing it. Plain and simple, says what is true and I need that. So today, I sought out the connections in the songs we sang to things I am learning and thought about the picture of sheep. I love that we have such visual pictures to connect with the text and think about how we are following. The thing about sheep is that they are not smart but have the wisdom to follow. All they know how to do is follow the shepherds voice, to be herded together and move into the places they are directed. I love the tenderness of the shepherd, that if one sheep is lost he will go to find him.

Ezekial 34:11 "For this is what the Sovereign Lord says: I myself will search for my sheep and look after them."

It amazes me the depth of God's love in this passage as it goes on to talk about bringing the sheep to good pastures and shepherding with justice. My heart response this morning to the question of how am I following is that I think I have been hanging in the back of the herd for the past two weeks, wandering around within the pack but not as in tune to his voice as I could be.
This is a picture of a Shepard boy that we saw in the desert area and the flock of sheep in the picture above shows it best that sheep are community beings. They don't exist alone (that life is for the goats who are independent). To be good sheep, we have to be following the Shepard's voice together. To hear it for each other when one of us is struggling, wondering which way to go, what to believe and how to live. So we can't go alone. My natural response when I realize I am not walking as tight to the pack as I could be is to try and "get better" but I think that for all of us the only way to move forward is with another, sharing openly and asking for help where we need it. And we all need it. What a beautiful picture of community, simple sheep following the voice of the Good Shepherd together.

Galilee: a few little fishing boys (days 7-9)

My heart was sad the night we left the desert because I felt so much of God's tenderness in that dry place and yet it was hungry know the next part of the story. And what I found in Galilee was human and refreshing, humbling and calm. How a few young boys were called into following a rabbi and followed listening to stories and walking the paths. I realized how much of the story I really cheapen if my view of Jesus was simply that He came to die on the cross. Which is wholeheartedly true but if that was all He came to do, He wouldn't have had to walk and engage in relationships and tell stories and mold young men into catalysts of the story.

The night we arrived, here is some of what we saw:

our first view of the sea:


I loved the connections to the Torah & Old Testament, that the Word (God) became flesh (Jesus) and dwelt among us, fulfilling all prophesies. So many times Brad pointed us back to things that happened "because the text said so", meaning that Jesus was to fulfill the text and that directed everything about his life on Earth. Light bulbs started going off, illuminating all of the confusion I have carried about the God of wrath vs. the Jesus of love and how they could ever be united.

As we walked, uniquely a group of 12, moments like the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount became personal & covered in flesh. Not that I saw Brad as Jesus but I began to feel the human element of what it was like to walk with someone for 3 years, to fight against your own paradigm to understand the mission He was bringing of peace through blessedness of those who hunger & thirst for righteousness. To being salt & light and storing up treasures in heaven. I think we can identify so much with the disciples in that walking may lead us to places we didn't want to go, to love in hard ways and to make exchanges for things in our lives for better things and prayerful ways. "Ancient paths" like Jeremiah 6:16 says, bringing rest to our souls. Not comfort and ease but rest for our souls.

This is Tabgha where 7 springs come together making it good for fishing and where our journey began.



From there we journeyed to the 3 triangle cities: Korazin, Capernaum & Bethsaida, where Jesus spent much of his time living and teaching in and around synagogues during his ministry. Here is a picture of a 1st century synagogue so it was after Jesus' time but it is in this region that it is believed the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) was given. We spent some time talking about how the rabbinical process worked and the fact that when Jesus chose the young boys to follow as disciples, they were a rag tag bunch in a sense, those who didn't make the cut and were already in a trade. But they had had all of the schooling & training that disciples of other rabbis had, they just didn't make it to the next level. I love the way even the selection of the gospel is inclusive and not about all we can bring to the table.

From there we went to Capernaum which was breathtaking and easy to understand why Jesus spent so much of his time here. It is situated right on the Intercoastal Hwy, the major trade route, place of influence and really the academic place to be, the Harvard of Galilee. Matthew joins the bunch somewhere around here, throwing a tax collector into a bunch of religious fisherman who probably didn't like taxes too much. Community takes on form. 13 major stories take place here.


And lastly, Bethsaida, which is truly no more than a little village that housed 800 and home to Phillip, Peter & Andrew, potentially James & John too. The simplicity and profoundness is that "we are here because some little boys from Bethsaida obeyed Jesus and changed the world."

Ending our days in the triangle cities by a boat ride across the Sea to our home for the next few days. Reflections on the nets being thrown, the waters being calmed and Peter being told to "take courage" as he got out of the boat to walk on water. Which is translated as "I AM", God's name used in Exodus 3, another connection that resounded deeply.

ezer kenegdo: existing in the tension

I always knew I wanted to marry Ryan when he challenged me. I still remember reading the engagement card Bethany gave me and how she noted the way we challenged one another. It always made me feel loved to know that someone cared enough to tell me the truth and Allison told me that is how she knew Ryan was the one for me.

That tension exists still today in our marriage and something we learned in Israel has really stuck with me. We talked about how deep and healthy relationships have ezer kenegdo. Imagine 2 people walking face to face with their palms pressed up against one another and leaning into one another with their full weight. It's like walking a tight rope as a pair, there has to be tension moving you forward. Ezer (the deep love and commitment part) and kenegdo (pushing one another forward)--otherwise translated as "helper", explains this tension.

Our marriage will always have this hard pull in it. We are so different from one another in almost every possible way but it is the commitment we have to one another and the tension that it creates which forces us to discuss, debate, and ultimately move forward. So bless God for ezer kenegdo because it is forcing me to love and to change.

hospitality & hope: blessed to be a blessing

One of the things that has really been convicting and challenging me since being back in my home for a few weeks now is the experience we had visiting a Bedouin village. It was on this day (#4), that I started to sense the value of halaking as a community in a physical and tangible sense. Throughout footsteps and dust, we became the 12 on those paths and shared real and valuable perspectives that blessed me.



Visiting a Bedouin village gave sight into the life of the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac & Jacob). They are nomadic people but make no mistake, they make home wherever they go. When God calls Abraham (Genesis 12) to leave his land & his people, trusting the promise that God is going to provide those 2 things for him, it is equivalent to asking him to give up his identity and his future. And I LOVE that he goes, trusting that those things will happen in circumstances unforeseen. Maybe that is why the Bedouin people's deep and immovable understanding of hospitality is so beautiful to me, because it is not based on having the perfect tea cups or the cleanest floor but they long to serve in a way that I don't understand, in a way that honors them.

As we sat under the shade of their tent and were invited to drink the sweetest tea and rest, we talked about how it is such a picture of how God wants us to care for others. He gives us a picture in Isaiah 40:22 when he says "He stretches the heavens out like a canopy, and spreads them out like a tent to live in." He gives us the most honorable invitation to rest in his hospitality and servant hood. And as we enjoyed full cups of tea, reflecting on Psalm 23 "my cup overflows"; even in the midst of chaos and trouble.

It was on this day that I was also challenged with the depth of the namesake my parents gave me. I have always loved that my name was spelled as the biblical spelling, Rebekah, but I never knew and longed to live up to the name as much as I did when reading Genesis 24 through the eyes of hospitality. Rebekah understood how to serve and honor others, going above and beyond- which was so attractive that she was blessed and married Isaac. All for giving water to the camels.

So here I sat, at my tall kitchen table in my Western Michigan home with recipe books and pretty cloth napkins, realizing how little hospitality has to do with me and how much hospitality has to do with serving others under whatever canopy I have to share. Praying that we show hospitality daily:


"do justly, love mercy & walk humbly with thy God"-- Micah 6:8

a fortress and an oasis: Masada & Engedi: days 5 & 6

It feels so good to spread the wings of my fingers over these keys. I feel like I have a bit of emotional jet-lag this week that comes in waves as I try to let my process flow. The things I am want to share today are especially meaningful as last night our pastor and friend, Larry Doornbos was hit by a car while riding his bike. He has some major injuries but is expected to have a full recovery which in my mind is nothing short of a full blown miracle and I stand amazed.

The more we walk with people and have relationships, the messier I realize life is with pain and joy flowing together and walking hand-in-hand. It seems that you can't have one without the other and I think the 2 places I want to write about today capture the battle and the beauty.

One of the things that shocked me the most about our time in Israel was learning that when it says in the text that "Jesus was born in the time of King Herod", it wasn't just communicating the political situation but the embodiment of an entire world view, of Hellenism (believing man is the center of everything). It was "go Herod, or go home" from literally moving mountains to building fortresses to demanding freshwater in his pools in the desert, no cost was too high for Herod the Great.

So when we came to this fortress in the desert, Masada, where Herod spent only 2% of his time, I couldn't get my mind around how massive & indestructible this place is. And the view, with the Dead Sea sprawled out and the mountains in the distance, that left nothing to be desired. But even more than that, it made me think of the Christy Nockels song that I love: "A mighty fortress is our God". And David, when fleeing to the desert and hiding out in strongholds (which translates as Masada) had the highly intimate times with God where he wrote these words:

Psalm 18:2 "I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer, my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge."

So take comfort from the pain, fear, destruction, whatever is going on around you because if you could feel the enormity of the Masada, the fortress and rock God is your life and mine, we would rest. And if you are like me, you struggle to rest there, but there ain't no way anyone is going to mess with a fortress like that.

Ryan & I at the entryway into one part of Masada:


this is a view of one of the tiers of Herod's palace, if you look at the picture at the top of the post you can see the tiers off the left cliff:



this was my first view of Engedi, looking up into the shady cover of date trees...the land flowing with milk & honey because the land is rich enough for goats (milk) and farming (honey). --Deuteronomy 11:9

After only 3 days, ok 3 hours in the desert, you begin to get a picture of what the Israelites endured, the heat, the dryness, the longing. Isn't life this way sometimes, where we just can't imagine walking much longer without a drink of water? And we don't know where or how it will come but just pray that we are able to be refreshed even for a moment. And I think that goes back to what I was saying about joy & sorrow being married, that when we live in community we share those pieces with each other and give one another drinks and also walk through desert places together. You can't go alone.
Our entire group @ Engedi:


Engedi was a beautiful reminder of not only the dire need for community but God's promise and desire for it. It was truly out in the middle of nowhere along the Dead Sea that we happened upon Engedi and you can't replace the sheer joy and excitement of finding something like this. There is something God is trying to say here too about His greater purposes, of justice and righteousness, of compelling others with and through love.

Isaiah 41:17-18 the poor & needy search for water but there is none...But I the Lord will answer them; I the God of Israel will not forsake them...I will turn the desert into pools of water.

God Loves the Desert: Days 3 & 4

Hosea 9:10 "When I found Israel, it was like finding grapes in the desert"

We have been home a week now and it feels like pieces of my heart are still locked up in Israel, in the secret places that God gave me to experience Him. Yet I still stand on the fact that He is just as present here as He is there and so I write and process and digest. It has been difficult to know where to go with these treasures and how to invite people in. It is entirely different than the emotions I have had following a missions trip experience (ie. disenchantment with the Western World), it is on the opposite end of the spectrum in wanting to engage the world but in the right way and with wisdom.

The days that we spent in the desert of Israel were, to me, the most significant, moving, beautiful and tender days of my experience. My most prominent hope for the trip was that God would reveal Himself and give me an understanding of his character, both within the Trinity and in relationship with His people. And He was faithful to answer my prayer to a depth that I did not anticipate through showing me His tenderness, His love for his people.

This is the Mitzpe Ramon which is found in the Negev desert of Southern Israel, the same wilderness land that the Israelites found themselves wandering for 40 years while God shaped and reshaped them. Vast and desolate, only providing moments of rest, this land forces ones full reliance and attention to be on God. And this is where my heart turned, to heart God's words towards his people, to the way He wanted to use their culture in a way they understood to free them and liberate them. It just looks different than they might have chosen. Can't we all identify there.

What was so meaningful to me about the wilderness was learning about the two types of desert, the yeshimon & the midbar. The yeshimon is the most dry and desolate place you can imagine-- nothing is green, there is no life. The midbar is a little bit more viable becuase there are green patches & some sparse water. The amazing thing is that even though the Israelites were in the yeshimon, they used the word midbar to describe their surroundings becuase He provided what they needed and sustained them. So even in our driest times, God will give us the life we need.


One of the most important lessons I learned in the desert is that you can't go alone. The essence of community and caring for one another, whether we are in a personal desert or willing to walk with someone is essential for staying alive. Here is a pic of all of the girls' in our group:

halaking:

this my friends is a locust. yes. like as those things from the plagues that covered the land. You can't even imagine the buzzing noise that these creatures make and I can hardly look at the one in the picture without being creeped out. Brad had to throw his hat at this one and stun it to grab it by the wings.

The food was a staple of the trip and this is just a snippet of the fresh baked pita bread we enjoyed daily with hummus and lots of fillings. I decided to try and like olives while we were there and ate one at almost every meal (including breakfast) with not a lot of success. Still don't love them. I did however love the breakfast and dinner buffets along with lunches of pita, falafel, schwarma & schnitzel. Yum.

Many things about the desert made me sad as well, like seeing the Egyptian camps that the Israelites were enslaved at and feeling the heat of the stones that they worked to extract copper from by heating them to unthinkable degrees of heat. Once all of the life was sucked from the stones, they were discarded as slag because they had no value. My feet are standing on a pile of slag and I wanted a physical reminder of the areas of our life that suck us dry, only looking for the value we can add and then tossing us to the side. Is our slag relational, habitual, even our own selves sometimes?


Here are a few views from our arrival at the Isrotel Hotel. The sunsets and sunrises over the Dead Sea and the view of the Jordan mountains were breathtaking and worth waking up early for.