Gò0dNews for Everyone
Journey
B
by Virginia Piper
ustling Tel Aviv and the contrasting quiet shores of the Sea of Galilee; my baptism in the Jordan River where Jesus himself experienced the same newness of life;
the picturesque view of the Mediterranean Sea, and the walls of Old Jerusalem; the City of David, old ruins of The Roman Empire and the town of Bethlehem. The journey I had made to the Holy Land provided countless opportunities to walk where Jesus walked, imaginings of him playing as a little boy. Visions of Him speaking and mentoring His disciples came into focus just as his long walk down the Via Dolorosa did. Jesus’s life, though short, was full of living. Of all the memories made during my travels there was one brief period of time that encapsulated an extreme array of emotions extending from silent tears to songs of gratitude and praise. Descending the steep stairway to the dungeon in the excavated palace once belonging to Caiphas, the High Priest, I could feel the air getting warmer and more humid the further I went down. At the bottom the stone walls were cold offering a bit of relief from the pall of the moist, motionless air. It was here that Jesus was imprisoned for a short time after being scourged and beaten. Blood, perspiration, and dirt mixed with the dank air dripped down His face into His eyes. His sight obscured though His vision and objective clear. He was voluntarily there as the blood sacrifice of a spotless lamb. His life’s purpose almost complete. Glancing around the small dimly lit space the only light came from above our heads from the hole in the ceiling where Jesus might possibly have been thrown to the floor 20 feet below where I now stood. The silence screamed the emotions felt by all of us lining the walls. Pressed by the stones surrounding us, breathing in the oppressive stale air, tears silently rolled from our eyes as we stood listening to the agonal words of Jesus from Psalm 88. Sitting on the floor of this room He had felt alone, forgotten and forsaken, heavy with the burden of His purpose, crying out to His Father. His despair was almost still palpable in this dungeon. At the completion of the scripture reading, softly at first, then increasing in volume as we raised our voices in song, came
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the familiar words of the old hymn- “What Can Wash Away My Sins, nothing but the blood of Jesus.” Those words became even more real and personal for me that day. I was in a place where that atoning blood had splattered and landed on the very stones under my feet. My own sobs erupted in physical and emotional response to the feeling of being overcome and overwhelmed by the length Jesus had gone to restore a relationship with me and the depth of suffering He endured to accomplish that. I have struggled for years recognizing my own value. That day it became more apparent, I was being reminded of the tremendous price that had been paid for me. Believing myself to be less than His intent for me and my life diminishes the work of Jesus and the sacrifice He had so willingly made. Leaving that place after prayer that afternoon, slowly, silently, and solemnly making the trek back up the steep stairs, I felt I was walking out into the fresh air as a new follower of Christ. One with a deeper more personal commitment and connection; one with enhanced understanding, enriched passion, and identifiable purpose. The unprecedented times we are in now call for stronger faith, deeper commitment, and a more solid and focused connection. Little did I know then how I would need to rely on that journey's memory to help me stay focused on the goodness of God, His sovereignty and unparalleled sacrifice.
