Can I Trust God This Time?

"Our fathers, when they were in Egypt,
    did not consider your wondrous works;
they did not remember the abundance of your steadfast love,
    but rebelled by the sea, at the Red Sea" (Psalm 106:7).

It's easy to read through the Book of Exodus and get so annoyed at the Israelites for constantly forgetting what the Lord had done for them.

For example, after God unleashed 10 plagues on Egypt, which finally convinced Pharaoh to release the Hebrew people from hundreds of years of slavery, He led His people to the Red Sea. You'd think that after the impressive display of the plagues, the Israelites wouldn't doubt God's power or His good plan for them. But they did. "Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness?" (Exodus 14:11).

But God hadn't freed them to kill them. So He parted the waters, they crossed, and their enemies were swallowed up.

After witnessing something as glorious as the parting of the Red Sea, you'd think the Israelites wouldn't have had a problem trusting God again. But, 3 days later, after not having any water to drink, they arrived in Marah to discover that the water there was bitter. Once again, they started to complain to Moses, "What are we going to drink?" (Exodus 15:24). And once again, the Lord did something amazing. When Moses threw wood from a tree into the water, the water became sweet. Over and over again, God showed them that He could be trusted, but their pattern of unbelief continued.

I can get annoyed at the Israelites, but it's only because I'm just like them. God has come through for me in unbelievable ways in the past, but each time I face a new obstacle, I think, Can I trust God this time? Maybe He's done delivering me. That little tinge of unbelief becomes fertile ground for the enemy to start planting seeds of doubt in my heart and my mind about the goodness of God, about the good plans He has for my life, and about His unconditional love for me. When those seeds grow roots, I get in the grumbling mode. Are you just trying to torment me, Lord!? Did You deliver me before only to lead me into this wilderness to rot and die?!

This is a dangerous pattern.

One thing the Lord has been showing me is that He commands His people to remember His past deeds (in our lives and in Scripture), not because He wants to tease us with what He did before but isn't planning on doing again, but because He wants us to know that He is the same God. Remembering will encourage us to believe that He will come through for us in the present just like He has in the past.

A couple of years ago, when the Lord came through for me against all odds, I wrote the following note to myself as a memorial stone of sorts, and I've gone back to it several times in this season when I've been tempted to believe that His coming through for me was the exception, and that I shouldn't expect it again:

“Emily,

If you’re reading this right now it’s likely because you find yourself in a difficult spot. Do you feel like God has forgotten you? Do you feel like he’s withholding what’s good? That He’s dangling what your heart desires in front of you like a carrot, just outside of your reach?

If so, remember this: you felt the same way for years about your job, and look what He did! He did so far exceedingly abundantly for you. I promise you He’ll do the same in your current situation! Hold on to hope and remember that God is SO faithful and trustworthy and good. He will bring you out of this season in His perfect timing and in His perfect way.

He’s the God who makes a way where there is no way. Nothing is impossible for Him! He is good!”

God is faithful, and God is good. And when I'm tempted to think anything contrary to these two truths, I can know that thought is a lie that needs to be taken captive and brought under the submission of lordship of Christ. Then, I can to turn my thoughts to God's faithfulness, which the psalmist boasted "reaches beyond the clouds" (Psalm 36:5), and trust that He is exactly who He says He is, and that I can take Him at His Word.

So, yes, I can trust Him this time, and every time.

"I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old" (Psalm 77:11).

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Worrying About the Future on an Empty Stomach

I'm reading The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom with some women from my small group this summer, and the Lord has used so many things in this book to teach me important truths about Himself. But one in particular stands out.

In the book, Corrie is telling a story of when she was a little girl and her family went to visit a young mother whose baby had just died. When she saw the baby's lifeless body, it impacted her greatly, and she became terrified of her family members dying. How could she survive without them?

That night, when Corrie's father came to tuck her in bed, she was visibly upset, and she cried out, "I need you! Don't leave me!"

“Corrie,” her father said, “when you and I go to Amsterdam — when do I give you your ticket?”

“Why, just before we get on the train.”

“Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we’re going to need things, too. Don’t run out ahead of Him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need — just in time.”

This is great wisdom for how we should face the trials of life.

Before Moses died, he blessed each of the leaders of the 12 tribes of Israel. To Asher, he said, "Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be (Deuteronomy 33:25, emphasis added). Hebrews 4:16 says, "Therefore let us approach with boldness the throne of grace that we might receive mercy and find grace for a well-timed help" (emphasis added). In other words, God gives us exactly what we need when we need it.

He gives us our ticket when it's time to get on the train, and not a moment before.

Jesus called this perfectly apportioned strength, this well-timed help, our daily bread. I usually forget that my daily bread is provided daily and not in bulk weekly, monthly, or even yearly. So when I let my worrying mind wander into the future, catastrophizing and agonizing about all the possible "what if" scenarios the year could bring, I'm doing so on an empty stomach. I don't have a year's worth of bread today; I have the bread—and therefore the strength—I need for today today. The future, as scary and unknown (and tempting to worry about) as it is, is not my business—it's the Lord's. So I must leave it in His capable hands.

The Israelites had daily bread, too, although they called it manna. Every morning, they had to gather enough manna for one day and no more. But a lot of them gathered more manna than they needed with the intention of hoarding it overnight so they could be absolutely sure they'd have some for tomorrow. Fear of the future reigned in their hearts. In order to teach them how to trust, God caused the manna to rot overnight so they'd have to go out the next morning and collect new bread (Exodus 16:20). He gave them no choice but to trust Him, and they never went a day without bread. We won't either.

Although everything we have is manna in some sense, since it's all a gift from God, there are certain seasons when we're more keenly aware of our daily need to trust God for provision. Those seasons are hard, because most of us would probably prefer that God just deposit $10 million into our bank account, so we'd know we'd have enough money to last us until we die, and then give us the written story of our lives, from beginning to end, so we could see how and when every problem we'd ever face would eventually resolve itself. We'd rather skip the trusting God part, because trust implies uncertainty about a future we have no control over. And we want to know what's coming.

But life is unpredictable and out of our control, which is how God has designed it, because through the trials and uncertainties of life, God wants to teach us to trust Him, to know Him, and to hunger for Him above all else. He's the point of this life, not our comfort.

"Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God," Corrie wrote. We can find comfort in the fact that even though we don't know what's coming, we know the One who knows. And He has it all under His sovereign control.

Today, let's feast on our daily bread, and leave the rest to Him.

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The Heaviness of the Cross

“As [Jesus] stepped ashore, He saw a huge crowd and had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. ”

— Mark 6:34

As word spread about Jesus and all of the miracles He was performing, crowds began to seek Him out and follow Him. Everyone was anxious to receive something from Him - a good word, healing, food. The Gospel of Mark records that, at one point, Jesus “went home, and the crowd gathered again so that they were not even able to eat” (3:20). Fast forward a few chapters and we see Jesus miraculously feeding a crowd of 5,000 (6:30-44) and then later a crowd of 4,000 (8:1-10).

The wonders of Jesus were so well known that, “wherever He would go, into villages, towns, or the country, they laid the sick in marketplaces and begged him that they might touch the tassel of His robe. And everyone who touched it was made well” (6:56). This gives us such insight into the compassionate and giving nature of our Savior. But it’s worth noting who was with Jesus when things got tough, when He was arrested in the garden of Gethsemane and marched to His death: “They all deserted Him and ran away” (14:50).

There were no more crowds.

In seasons of abundance, when we're getting everything our hearts desire, it's easy to pick up our cross and follow Jesus because our cross feels as light as a feather. But what about the seasons of loss, when it seems like God has forgotten about us, when the spigot of abundance has been turned off and we're called to follow Jesus even though our cross feels like it weighs a thousand pounds? Will we desert Him and run away, or will we follow Him to our death?

Walking through this season of job loss with Matt has been hard. My cross feels impossibly heavy at times, and so does Matt's. Perhaps some couples cruise through job loss, so my saying how heavy our crosses are might sound melodramatic. But one thing I know is this: our Father is the Gardner, and He knows just how to prune us where we need it most. And those places are going to hurt the most. For Matt and I, his job loss cut to the core of some pretty prominent idols in each of our lives. And we're feeling it. 

Instinctively, I want to rebel against the pruning, to run away from its Source. But then I remember Jesus' conversation with Peter in John 6. When some of His followers started to desert Him, Jesus asked, "Are you also going to leave?" And Peter so honestly responded, "Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life" (John 6:68). In other words, "Where else can we go, Lord? You're our only hope!"

Submission to those pruning shears is the only answer. He is our only answer.

One thing I've prayed over the past several months is that God would sustain me. I don't want to be a fair-weather follower. I don't want to be like the crowds of people in Jesus' day who followed Him when He was giving them what they wanted, and then disappeared when sacrifice and death were called for. I want to pick up my cross daily and “rejoice as I share in the sufferings of the Messiah, so that I may also rejoice with great joy at the revelation of His glory” (1 Peter 4:13). I want to follow Jesus in the good times and the painful times, because I love Him. And I want to show Him I love Him.

I want to say with Paul, "For me, living is Christ and dying is gain" (Philippians 1:21),

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Jesus Slept on a Pillow

There's a small detail in the story of Jesus calming the storm in Mark 4 that is so interesting. Scripture says that when Jesus and His disciples were traveling on a boat, a fierce storm hit. The disciples were terrified, scurrying around in a panic, but Jesus was sleeping soundly in the back of the boat "with his head on a cushion" (v. 38).

The small detail of the cushion, which God Himself inspired Mark to include in his narrative, teaches me two things: First, Jesus was tired because He was human. Honestly, I sometimes forget His humanness. When I picture Him, it's easy for me to see a god-like man who only looks human gliding across the earth, not having to eat, sleep, bathe, or go to the bathroom. It almost seems disrespectful to think of Jesus having to do some of these very human things. Degrading, even. But the fact that Jesus was fully human, and "stripped himself of all privilege by consenting to be a slave by nature and being born as mortal man" (Philippians 2:7, JBP) is what makes the incarnation so amazing. What a testament to God's love for us, that He would stoop so low to save us!

It's also interesting to note that, as any human would, Jesus enjoyed the comforts available to Him. His enjoying comfort also means that He felt the "dis-comfort" of the cross - He fully experienced the pain and fear and shame and humiliation when He was stripped, beaten, and nailed to those wooden beams like a common criminal. The fact that He was the Son of God didn't make His death, or all the events leading up to it, any easier. He didn't exempt Himself the negative emotions that came with it. He felt them all, as any human would.

And because Jesus suffered as a human, we can be encouraged in our own suffering: "Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help" (Hebrews 4:14-16, JBP).

The second thing Jesus sleeping on a pillow teaches me is that He wasn't one bit afraid of the storm. He trusted His Father so fully that He was able to rest in the midst of the howling winds and crashing waves. Rest flows from a heart that trusts in a good Father. Ultimately, if we don't trust that God is good, and that He'll bring good out of our trial, then we'll never be able to rest in Him. Instead, we'll worry and fret and try to control situations that we have zero control over, which will only increase our anxiety.

One verse I've gone back to dozens of times since Matt's job loss in November is Psalm 119:68: "You are good, and You do what is good" (HCSB). This certainly doesn't mean that everything that happens to us in this life is good, but it does mean that our good Father has promised to fit everything into a pattern for good. And, ultimately, since any suffering that reaches us has first passed through His sovereign hands, we can trust that if He has seen fit to allow it, then He has a good purpose in it.

God is good, and He does what is good. I have to pray this verse often, especially when the Devil tries to tell me that God isn't good, and that He's withholding something good from me and Matt. My human nature is so tempted to believe the enemy's lies, especially when my circumstances seem to confirm them. But then I go back to the Word, and I see that God is good, that He does what is good, and that "He does not withhold the good from those who live with integrity" (Psalm 84:11). End of story. The truth silences the enemy.

If we trust in God's good heart toward us, we'll find rest, knowing that the One who holds the whole world in His hands also holds us. And that He loves us with an everlasting love.

"Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him" (Psalm 37:7, KJV).

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Trying to Make Sense of Suffering

It's tempting during times of intense trial to believe that we're suffering because we made a mistake or did something to anger God. I'm not talking about blatant disobedience. Disobedience always leads to suffering, but suffering isn't always a result of disobedience (Peter makes the distinction between suffering justly and unjustly in 1 Peter 3). I'm talking about that sinking feeling you get when tragedy strikes and you think, God must be out to get me.

While we may feel like God is angry at us in seasons of suffering, it's not true. In Philippians 1:29, Paul says, "For you have been given not only the privilege of trusting in Christ but also the privilege of suffering for him." According to Paul, suffering for Christ isn't a form of punishment doled out by an angry God; rather, suffering is a gift and a privilege.

David was a man who knew great suffering. If anyone were tempted to feel like a pawn in a cruel cosmic game, it was him. In 1 Samuel 23, David was on the run from Saul, the maniacal king who sought to kill him, and he was hiding in Philistine territory. Saul found out his location, so David immediately went to God in prayer and asked Him two questions:

1) Will Saul really try to capture me?
2) If he does, will the citizens of the town hand me over to him?

God answered yes to both questions, so David and his army of delinquent men had to flee once again.

By this point, Samuel had already anointed David as king - how then did David end up as a desert fugitive? It’s easy to assume that David's hardship was the result of God's abandoning him or punishing him - Did David do something wrong? Did God forget about Him? Did God change His mind about making David king? But verse 14 lets the reader know that God Himself was the reason David was in the desert in the first place, and He had a good purpose in it. "David stayed in the wilderness strongholds and in the hills of the Desert of Ziph. Day after day Saul searched for him, but God did not give David into his hands" (NIV, author's emphasis). God didn't protect David from suffering, but He guided him through it. And nothing happened to David that wasn't part of God's good plan.

We don't know all of the reasons why God had David in the desert for over a decade before he finally became king. But we do know what the Bible says about why we suffer. The primary reason is our holiness - to transform us into the image of Jesus. A secondary reason is to prepare us for what God has next. David's days in the desert made Him one of the most humble, God-fearing kings Israel ever knew. He wasn't perfect, but he was a man who knew the Lord intimately and trusted Him. David's time in the desert prepared him for kingship.

If we look back over our lives, we can likely see how God used our suffering as part of our story of redemption, too. As the saying goes, God turns our misery into our ministry. Our job is not to understand the why of our misery; our job is to trust the Who behind it. God's understanding is so much greater than our own, and as we learn to lean on His goodness and sovereignty in our suffering, we'll rest in the fact that He will bring beauty out of the ashes of our lives, just as He promises. God doesn't make mistakes. And if He captures every tear we shed and places them in His bottle (Psalm 56:8), we can be certain that none of our pain is wasted. Every bit of it has purpose, even if we can't always see it.

"The Lord is near the brokenhearted; He saves those crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18).

I love what Tim Keller says: "If we knew what God knows, we would ask exactly for what he gives," including the suffering He metes out. This statement is absolutely true, but it's hard to see it's truth when something happens that seems like a mistake or a cruel act of God. For me and Matt, that was Matt's job loss back in November and the heartbreaking ripple effects that have ensued. Nothing about it made sense or seemed to have any good purpose. It just seemed cruel. The Devil tried to convince us that this time was different - God wasn't going to come through for us like He had in the past. It was a battle to fight the enemy's lies, and it still is to some extent since we're not completely out of the weeds yet.

In a particularly dark time for us a couple months ago, a pastor's wife said to me, "It might be hard to believe that God has ordained this season of suffering in His kindness, but He has."

God's kindness has brought about this suffering.

That truth has brought me through some really hard days. Suffering seems so cruel, so unkind, but we only see a tiny piece of the whole picture. As Elisabeth Elliot says,

“Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering. The love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy. It never denies reality. It stands in the very teeth of suffering. The love of God did not protect His own Son. The cross was the proof of His love – that He gave that Son, that He let Him go to Calvary’s cross, though ‘legions of angels’ might have rescued Him. He will not necessarily protect us - not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.”

How about if we viewed the suffering we're experiencing as a gift, straight from the hands of a loving and kind Father? How might that change the way we walk through this season?

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Getting to Know Jesus

You know how when you're reading a novel you grow attached to the characters because you feel like you really get to know them? The same can probably be said of a TV show. There are certain nuances you recognize in a character's personality, and the more time you spend with that character, the more you feel like you know him, like you can almost predict how he'll respond in a certain situation.

For some reason, I've never viewed the Gospels as a way to get to know Jesus. I can recite His character traits in two minutes - He's good, loving, faithful, etc. - but His personality? Not so much. How did He interact with others? Was He funny, serious? Did He laugh, cry? What made Him human?

In order to discover more about Jesus, I decided to read through the Gospels slowly, trying to pick up on details I'd missed probably a hundred times before. It didn't take long for me to discover some really awesome things. Here's one from Luke 4: "Then, as the sun was setting, all those who had friends suffering from every kind of disease brought them to Jesus and he laid his hands on each one of them separately and healed them" (v. 40, emphasis added). 

Late in the day, at sunset, when most people were headed home after a long day's work to eat, rest, and enjoy their families, Jesus took the time to lay His hands on each sick person that was brought to Him, and scholars believe there were a lot of sick people.

Being human, Jesus was probably tired from His long day - He had already taught in the synagogue, cast out a demon, and visited Simon's house to heal his mother-in-law. He could have just done a group healing session that evening to make it quick so He could get home to rest, but He didn't. He spent time with each and every person that was brought to Him, laid His hands on them individually, and healed them. What a testament to the personal and compassionate nature of our Lord!

It's so easy to forget in the midst of my suffering that God is a personal God, that He sees me, loves me, and personally ministers to me. He doesn't do group healing sessions, lumping me in with a million other people so He can wave a magic wand over a sea of bodies to expedite the process. No, the healing and comfort He gives me are deeply personal, because He knows me intimately - my thoughts, my dreams, even the number of hairs on my head - and He has a specific purpose for my life that He wrote in His book before I was even born (Psalm 139:16).

One experience I've had with the personal comfort the Lord provides came in the form of a red bird.

Matt and I hike a great trail outside of Nashville, called Radnor Lake, several times a week, and we get to see lots of wildlife there - deer, turkeys, turtles, geese, and owls.  But one of our favorite things to see are red birds. During some seasons, there aren't a whole lot there, so it's a real treat to spot one. Well, one day Matt and I had gone on a hike after receiving some disappointing news about a job we thought he might get but didn't. This particular job seemed like an ideal fit. But for reasons outside of our control, the job fell through. We talked about our disappointment as we walked, reminding each other that God sees us and hears us, and that we have to trust in Him even when it seems like He’s forgotten about us. But we just felt deflated.

Toward the end of our hike, we realized we hadn’t seen a red bird yet. We only had about 5 minutes left on the trail, and Matt had mentioned several times that he’d really like to see a red bird. So I started praying we’d see one.

I know it might sound silly, but that night I needed confirmation from the Lord that He did in fact see me and Matt in the midst of our disappointment. So for the last few minutes, I silently prayed: “Lord, we really want to see a red bird because we need to know that You haven’t forgotten about us. Please, Lord, if you hear me, command a red bird to fly out in front of us so we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Your eyes are on us.”

We were about 10 paces from finishing the trail when, out of nowhere, a beautiful red bird flew straight in front us. It was so close we could have touched it! Tears welled up in my eyes at the goodness of God. When we got in the car, I told Matt what I had prayed and encouraged him again that God hears even our smallest, silliest requests. We are never forgotten. We are always heard. Just like in Luke 4, Jesus ministered to us personally that night, and it happened to be in the form of a red bird.

Today, open your eyes to see the ways God is personally ministering to you. And let what you see encourage your heart that He knows exactly where You are, and He's right there with you.

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The Fear of Being Ordinary

I love this quote from shame and vulnerability researcher, Brene Brown:

“The overwhelming message in our culture today is that an ordinary life is a meaningless life unless you are grabbing a lot of attention and you have lots of Twitter followers and Facebook fans who know everything you know. I use the shame-based fear of being ordinary as my definition for narcissism. I definitely see it in younger generations, where people fear they are not big enough. No matter how happy and fulfilling their small, quiet life is, they feel it must not mean very much, because it’s not the way people are measuring success. Which is just terrifying.”

— Brene Brown

The fear of being ordinary is real. I see it a lot working in Christian publishing - in others and especially in myself. For most writers, their book is only "successful" and "valuable" if a ton of people have read it. Otherwise, it's a complete failure. So a lot of people make it their goal to get noticed, to get famous, to create some kind of worldwide ministry, but God says, "Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands" (1 Thess. 4:11, NLT).

The definition given for the Greek word translated as "quiet" is: "to lead a quiet life, said of those who are not running hither and thither, but stay at home and mind their business." Part of me really wants a quiet life. But the other part of me fears that if my life is too quiet, I'll go unnoticed. My contribution will no longer be seen as valuable at work. My relationships will grow stale. I'll get left behind in the rat race and be seen as irrelevant. I'll be too ordinary.

But then I look at Jesus' life.

We don't know much at all about the first 30 years of Jesus' life, presumably because they were ordinary. We do get one short report in Luke 2 about 12-year-old Jesus talking with the teachers of the law in the temple complex and asking them questions. "And all those who heard Him were astounded at His understanding and His answers" (Luke 2:47). Besides that, we know Jesus worked as a carpenter, and He did what other humans do: He ate, He slept, He spent time with family and friends. His life was so ordinary that, when He eventually started His ministry and taught in the synagogue in Nazareth, the people who had known Him since He was a child said, “Where did this man get these things? ... What is this wisdom given to Him, and how are these miracles performed by His hands? Isn’t this the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James, Joses, Judas, and Simon?” (Mark 6:2-3). They just couldn't believe that Jesus was capable of such extraordinary things.

The ordinariness of the first 30 years of Jesus' life affirms the goodness of our ordinary lives. We're not called to seek celebrity status (if the Lord chooses to give it, that's up to Him); we're called to daily obedience. We're called to show the love of Christ in whatever context He's placed us. We're called to be messengers of the gospel to the community God has providentially placed us in. We're called to do whatever it is the Father has put us on the earth to do. Nothing more and nothing less.

A verse I've been thinking on for the past couple of weeks is John 6:38, when Jesus said, "For I have come down from heaven to do the will of God who sent me, not to do my own will" (John 6:38).

His will, not my will. That's what I'm here for.

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Side note: One of my top ten favorite books is Our Town, which really celebrates the ordinariness of life as being extraordinary. And my favorite quote in it is this one: "Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it - every, every minute?"

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The Dead Sea - Holy Land Lessons

The Dead Sea, also known as the Salt Sea, is the lowest place on earth. It’s 10 times as salty as the ocean, which makes it impossible for anything to live in it, but very possible for one to float in it!

My family and friends floating in the Dead Sea.

I remember floating in the Dead Sea, marveling at the fact that, besides tourists, there were no other living creatures in its waters. As someone who is deathly afraid of sharks and other sea creatures, this was a reassuring thought!

But did you know that when Jesus comes back, a life-giving river is going to flow from the temple all the way down to the Dead Sea and turn its salty water into living water? The Book of Ezekiel says that once the Dead Sea becomes fresh, it will be teeming with life. In fact, the prophet notes that it will be a regular destination for fishermen because of the abundant supply of fish.

“Then he brought me back to the entrance of the temple and there was water flowing from under the threshold of the temple toward the east… When it enters the sea, the sea of foul water, the water of the sea becomes fresh… Since the water will become fresh, there will be life everywhere the river goes” (Ezekiel 47:1, 8-9).

God promises life where there was once only death.

Is there a part of your heart or an area of your life that feels dead with no hope of being resurrected? Does it seem impossible for God to breathe life into that struggle or situation? Take heart! We serve the God who brings life to the lifeless. Just as His healing waters will transform the Dead Sea and make it abound with life, His healing waters can transform your heart and your circumstances and give you abundant life here and now. Invite Jesus in. Let His living water bring hope and life to those dark places in your heart.

"Jesus replied, 'Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life'" (John 4:13-14).

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Because the Dead Sea is so rich in minerals, the mud is is said to be great for your skin. There are several Israeli skin care lines that use the Dead Sea minerals and mud, including Ahava (which means "love" in Hebrew). In this picture is me, my sister, and my good friend getting our mud scrub on at the Dead Sea!

Masada - Holy Land Lessons

Overlooking the Dead Sea is an ancient fortification called Masada. In the 1st century B.C., Herod the Great built palaces on this mountain. He used it as a place of refuge. But the Jewish people remember Masada for something else.

This is me on top of Masada.

During the Roman conquest in the first century A.D., nearly 1,000 Jewish rebels fled to Masada and hid there for several years. When the Romans learned that the Jews were hiding there, the Romans went after them. Since there was only one narrow path up the high mountain, and the rebels threw stones at the soldiers who were attempting to reach them, the Romans had to come up with another point of entry. So they had Jewish slaves, whom they captured during their conquest of Jerusalem, build a ramp to the top of Masada because they knew the rebels wouldn’t throw stones at their own people.

Three months later, when the Romans finally reached the top of Masada in A.D. 73, they were shocked at what they saw. The Jewish rebels had committed mass suicide. For them, death was better than enslavement.

Even though the story of Masada sounds like a tragedy, it’s actually a tale of redemption. Almost 2,000 years later, the Jewish people returned to their homeland, the state of Israel, and reclaimed their inheritance. The year was 1948.

What a great reminder that no matter how long it takes, God always fulfills His promises. As the psalmist noted, “Indeed, he who watches over Israel never slumbers or sleeps” (Psalm 121:4, NLT). Indeed, He who watches over you and me never slumbers or sleeps. He’s always working, weaving, creating the tapestry of the plan He has for our lives one thread at a time. Our job is to trust Him and to wait well, confident that our lives rest securely in the hands of our good Father.

This is me hiking down Masada. It was hot!

On a side note, Masada is a popular tourist destination now. It’s about 1,300 feet high, and there’s a trail called the “snake path” for people who want to hike to the top. I’ve successfully hiked down Masada once, but when I attempted to hike up on another occasion, I got sick! I had only had a pear for breakfast that morning because I was still suffering from jet lag. Plus, we decided to hike Masada at noon, which is not a good idea in Israel in the middle of the summer.  But hey, how many people can say they got sick hiking up Masada!?