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Spring up, oh well, within my soul!

March 17, 2011

Typically when you’re in a situation that is just too much to take in (sensory overload, if you will) the best thing to do is to take in as much as you can, and process it all at a later time.  This is what I did in India when I was seeing manipulated child laborers in devastating poverty, life-threatening surgeries performed inches from my face, and self-giving acts of love and compassion to complete strangers.  Thank goodness for pictures.  They allow me to go back and take the time to look at those facial expressions and remember the story.  They allow me to notice what was happening in the background that I missed while cheesing for the camera.  They allow me to relive those emotions once more, and even make sense of them from a different perspective.  So as I have had a chance to meditate on all we experienced in the Holy Land, let me now go back and catch up on my stories…if not for you dear reader, for myself, so I can hold onto these memories for as long as I can.

So back to that first Saturday morning…

It was immediately after stumbling down the final cliff on the Mt. of Beatitudes that Jimmy led us to a place that is not in the scriptures.  Bishop Watson exclaimed, “now I’ve never seen this before”, so we knew we were in for a treat.  As I said before, I have a thing for waterfalls, or any moving water really.  There’s something about the sound of the water rushing over the rocks and the powerful and unpredictable patterns it takes on as it splashes quickly down to some faraway destination.

So needless to say I was pretty excited when our group took a little break next to an unknown unnamed waterfall leading into the Sea of Galilee.  Well, perhaps natural spring is the more appropriate word, because there really was no seeing where the water came from, other than a hole out of the side of the Mt. of Beatitudes.  Regardless, it was beautiful.

The majority of our group took a break on the rocks surrounding the dry land.  The adventurous few rolled up our jeans and jumped into the cool water as we waded in the water to explore this rushing water more closely.  Thankful I was wearing my Chaco’s I could easily walk through the increasingly deep water and take pictures, enjoy the view, and cool off in the refreshing water.  Brent, who prides himself on running barefoot on pavement, easily joined us as his toughened feet barely felt the rocks below.

I know there was no biblical significance to this place.  There was no scripture reading here or souvenir shop to remember what happened.  But that’s probably what made it so amazing.  As I stood in the cool water, I looked up above the rushing spring and saw the flower-covered mountain we had just descended.  I turned around and saw the stream leading directly into the Sea of Galilee.  I sat on the rocks and let my hand rest in the gently flowing water.  I could imagine Jesus and his disciples coming here to cool off after a long day in the sun, to gather some fresh drinking water for their parched lips, or to wash their dry and dusty feet in the pool.  A little moment of peace in between the hustle and bustle of ministry with absolutely no pressure to perform or speak or heal.  Perhaps this was a place of joyful rest for the great teacher and his friends.  I know it certainly was for me.

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