“You are the Messiah, the Christ, the Son of God.” Eighteen of us, pilgrims on a Palestine of Jesus course, are on a bus headed to Caesarea Philippi,/Banias in northern Israel. Caearea Philippi, one of the three places of the springs of the Jordan River, is the site of Peter’s Confession. There he acknowledges Jesus as the Messiah, the Christ.
When I read the news this morning of the slaughtering of the children and adults in Uvalde, my first prayer was “Oh Jesus, you are the Messiah, the Christ. Help us, heal us, equip us.” And then I cried. Until I came here, I rarely cried. But Jerusalem, this Holy Land, this Land of the Holy One have cracked me open, bypassed my head, gone straight to my heart, and given me tears—-both joyful and sorrowful tears. This morning, the tears are ones of despair, helplessness, and deep sorrow. And so I continue to repeat those words: “Oh Jesus, you are the Messiah, the Christ. Help us, heal us, equip us.”
A prayer on the bus.
Thanks for moving me through, (but maybe not past), my anger, frustration and fear.
Thanks, Sherry. I get the “not past.”