Things that are running through my head as we are crawling on our hands and knees through 2 by 3 ft tunnels in Israel:
I hope Al Queda isn't hiding around the next corner....
......Why don't we have a flashlight?..........Am strangely comforted that someone's butt is in my face..........Ow! Ow! OWWW!! What is that?!
Oh. a tick. In my arm.
That's when I started crying (a little bit) and panicking as it was pitch black, dank, and every claustrophobe's worst nightmare. But dangit, we were doing team bondinng, and nothing seals friendship like hanging on to eachother's ankle's for dear life and removing ticks from arms by light of a camera flash.
Maybe I'm not making myself clear here.
We were dropped off at these caves in the foothills of southern Israel and instructed to crawl into a jet black tunnel---watch out for that 10 foot drop off---sans flashlight, and thanks to David and Abbie not being afraid of ANYTHING, we somehow made it out of the tiny tiny tiny tunnels (by way of a traumatically difficult and small hole to crawl out of. I believe that this must be what childbirth is like for the baby: what is that bright light? I'm being squashed. HELP! HELP!... no wonder we've repressed that memory).
And aside from the probable lyme disease that I caught from ol' ticky-poo, wriggling through the caves was the craziest most fun thing I've ever done. Don't worry, I'm not an adrenaline junkee now, but it was cool to be completely surrounded and enclosed and in a place where a million bad things could really happen (walls collapsing, water flooding in, terrorists, bats, someone in front of you farting) and to really have to take my thoughts captive.
I know that I am not the only one who struggles daily to control my thoughts on topics varying from relationships to body image, fear of death and doubts of faith, but it is so important to be able to dwell on things that are true, lovely, edifying etc and in this specific instance, to remind myself that I belong to a God who put those danky little tunnels in the earth in the first place.
And if God can deliver us from the bowels of the earth, just like he did with the Messianic Jews who were hiding in those very tunnels from the Romans in the early second century, then he can most certainly deliver us from our paralyzing claustrophicizing (new word. dig it)thoughts.
I'm trying to think about a parallel I can draw with the tick and some other kind of spiritual epiphany, but I don't want to push it.
Thanks for praying. Life is good here.
rachel
ps. i'm really going to try to get a hold of some picture to put on here, but i didn't bring an adapter for my camera...silly me!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
broadsiding 101. no extra charge for the vomit.
Don't worry everyone. My vocabulary is improving immensely.
I know that the word, "mazeh?!" followed by rapid Hebrew and fist shaking from the Orthodox man pointing at my t-shirt means to turn around. Fast. Actually, mazeh (excuse my phonetics) means, "what is this/that?"...but that's the basic picture of what it looks like to be doing evangelism here. Fight or flight in a sense.
When we hit the streets and pass out tracts, we don't like to trick people into talking to us, so we're quite honest about who we are and what we believe: Elochim yehudim mishochim (we are Messianic Jews). So we wear t-shirts that say something catchy (or offensive to those who do not believe that Yeshua is the Messiah).. the shirts pretty much generate conversation and are also a good way of sending out the message, "We are different"
...and you thought being different in junior high was hard.
You know, a lot of my life I really wrestled with the idea of being Messianic. I attended a private Christian school for k-8; I spent most of my summers at an all-girls Christian summer camp; I was involved with YL for a bit in high school; I was really involved with Campus Christian Fellowship at Truman... all of these were all great opportunities for fostering spiritual growth and gaining understanding of what it means to be a follower of Jesus, but aside from my home-life and being sort of involved at my home-congregation, there wasn't a whole lot of opportunity to see what it looked like to be Messianic- to be embracing my Jewish identity while following hard after the Lord.
I think it's just been really incredible to be here, even though we get spit at (yum) vommited on (I don't think they did that on command.. it was just unfortunate) sworn at (I don't know the curses for that yet, so I'm fairly oblivious) and one of my friends was even pushed into the street. It can be ruthless.
But the joy.
Seriously, the joy in getting to sit with an old man named Jacob and share with him that he can have life anew in Yeshua; the joy in waking up and having a quiet time on a roof of a building that over looks the mediterranean sea; the joy in running down the streets of Tel Aviv at night with friends, Israeli air in our lungs; the joy and satisfaction in being able to say confidently, "ani lo kapit" (I am not a spoon)...basically it makes the hard stuff worth it.
Am so thankful to be in community with other Jewish believers. We're all really really different. Pretty much can only think that the Lord has something incredible in mind when he threw all of us together for the summer.
Am looking forward to seeing the Lord do good work here.
Jerusalem tomorrow. Yessssssssss.
Rachel
I know that the word, "mazeh?!" followed by rapid Hebrew and fist shaking from the Orthodox man pointing at my t-shirt means to turn around. Fast. Actually, mazeh (excuse my phonetics) means, "what is this/that?"...but that's the basic picture of what it looks like to be doing evangelism here. Fight or flight in a sense.
When we hit the streets and pass out tracts, we don't like to trick people into talking to us, so we're quite honest about who we are and what we believe: Elochim yehudim mishochim (we are Messianic Jews). So we wear t-shirts that say something catchy (or offensive to those who do not believe that Yeshua is the Messiah).. the shirts pretty much generate conversation and are also a good way of sending out the message, "We are different"
...and you thought being different in junior high was hard.
You know, a lot of my life I really wrestled with the idea of being Messianic. I attended a private Christian school for k-8; I spent most of my summers at an all-girls Christian summer camp; I was involved with YL for a bit in high school; I was really involved with Campus Christian Fellowship at Truman... all of these were all great opportunities for fostering spiritual growth and gaining understanding of what it means to be a follower of Jesus, but aside from my home-life and being sort of involved at my home-congregation, there wasn't a whole lot of opportunity to see what it looked like to be Messianic- to be embracing my Jewish identity while following hard after the Lord.
I think it's just been really incredible to be here, even though we get spit at (yum) vommited on (I don't think they did that on command.. it was just unfortunate) sworn at (I don't know the curses for that yet, so I'm fairly oblivious) and one of my friends was even pushed into the street. It can be ruthless.
But the joy.
Seriously, the joy in getting to sit with an old man named Jacob and share with him that he can have life anew in Yeshua; the joy in waking up and having a quiet time on a roof of a building that over looks the mediterranean sea; the joy in running down the streets of Tel Aviv at night with friends, Israeli air in our lungs; the joy and satisfaction in being able to say confidently, "ani lo kapit" (I am not a spoon)...basically it makes the hard stuff worth it.
Am so thankful to be in community with other Jewish believers. We're all really really different. Pretty much can only think that the Lord has something incredible in mind when he threw all of us together for the summer.
Am looking forward to seeing the Lord do good work here.
Jerusalem tomorrow. Yessssssssss.
Rachel
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Jesus wuz here.
First of all, thanks for praying. We arrived safe and sound. And no luggage was lost!
Our first night together was typical: awkward. But now, after 24 hours of traveling and a day and half in the Holy Land we are practically family. So great. So so great. I would launch into great details about everyone here, but I've only got this computer for a couple of minutes, and need to share what's important enough for you to read.
I am tempted to give you a play-by-play of what we've eaten since I'm pretty much in hummus heaven, but the general consensus on blogs about food is either that they are 1) julie (of Julie and Julia) 2) boring 3) mean, since the food that's being written about is probably going to make you hungry...so, I'll skip that.
Here's the good stuff for now:
Less than 20 hours in Israel and I was almost arrested.
Liz and I decided to go for a run (try not to laugh too hard, ok?) and as we're crossing the street to turn toward the Sea (as in the mediteranean...nbd) Running where Jesus probably walked) a police officer waves over at us and another lady runnner coming from a different direction (I mean, she was like hard core. Full Nike ensemble etc.) and starts scolding in Hebrew.
To which I respond, "Lo Ivrit...?" I seriously couldn't even remember the only full sentence of Hebrew I had come to Israel with. When he found out we were tourists, after we continued to stare blankly at him, and then started yelling at the other woman runner.
What we gathered from the one sentence of Anglit (English), "Israelis, we never cross at the light!", we believed that we had possibly (ok, probably) crossed the street when the little man was red and not green (so handy that those color codes are mostly universal) and were being scolded...which really could have been a ticket or some jail time because the Nike Lady Runner was being escorted to the cop car and Liz and I took the opportunity to run for it.
Literally.
So, two points for running. And seven points for not getting arrested.
I like it here.
More info to come. E-mail me!
Lehitraot,
Rachel
Our first night together was typical: awkward. But now, after 24 hours of traveling and a day and half in the Holy Land we are practically family. So great. So so great. I would launch into great details about everyone here, but I've only got this computer for a couple of minutes, and need to share what's important enough for you to read.
I am tempted to give you a play-by-play of what we've eaten since I'm pretty much in hummus heaven, but the general consensus on blogs about food is either that they are 1) julie (of Julie and Julia) 2) boring 3) mean, since the food that's being written about is probably going to make you hungry...so, I'll skip that.
Here's the good stuff for now:
Less than 20 hours in Israel and I was almost arrested.
Liz and I decided to go for a run (try not to laugh too hard, ok?) and as we're crossing the street to turn toward the Sea (as in the mediteranean...nbd) Running where Jesus probably walked) a police officer waves over at us and another lady runnner coming from a different direction (I mean, she was like hard core. Full Nike ensemble etc.) and starts scolding in Hebrew.
To which I respond, "Lo Ivrit...?" I seriously couldn't even remember the only full sentence of Hebrew I had come to Israel with. When he found out we were tourists, after we continued to stare blankly at him, and then started yelling at the other woman runner.
What we gathered from the one sentence of Anglit (English), "Israelis, we never cross at the light!", we believed that we had possibly (ok, probably) crossed the street when the little man was red and not green (so handy that those color codes are mostly universal) and were being scolded...which really could have been a ticket or some jail time because the Nike Lady Runner was being escorted to the cop car and Liz and I took the opportunity to run for it.
Literally.
So, two points for running. And seven points for not getting arrested.
I like it here.
More info to come. E-mail me!
Lehitraot,
Rachel
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