His Cherry Blossom

     Imagine clouds of smoke billowing up from the hostile slopes of Mount Sinai. The brilliant light of the glory of God pierces through the clouds like lightning and the sound of His voice echoes like thunder. Imagine the fear gripping the hearts of millions of Israelites as they stood quaking at the base of this holy mountain. In Hebrews the writer describes the experience as “a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them.” Even Moses who later asked to see the glory of God, said “I am trembling with fear.”       Standing on this mountain not too many months ago, I imagined the darkness, the gloom and the storm described so clearly, and I shivered inside. Yet, in Hebrews, the author says, “You have come to Mount Zion… to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly… to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant…” What a glorious picture of hope and joy! We have come “to God, the Judge of all, to the ...

  Sitting in the spacious living room on plush, pink cushions with end tables covered in delicious sweets on golden platters, one would not have guessed my mom and I sat in the house of a desert dweller. Lydia sat elegantly on the edge of the couch ready to serve coffee or insist we eat more sweets. As guests of her house, we wouldn’t dream of shaming her by refusing her offers. I had experienced this ritual hospitality for ten plus years growing up in that part of the world but tonight was different. In between sips of cardamom-infused coffee and auburn-colored tea, we read the Word of life from a small book in her language. She began reading it aloud and then asking questions - genuine questions as though she really wanted to know. In all my 25-yrs of life, 12 of those in her part of the world, I had never met someone who knew the Truth from her country, and yet here she was seeking the Truth and desperate for an answer. Years of doubt in my heart began to melt as I sat in awe of...

“Eve’s Tomb” the sign read in Arabic script. I hadn’t even known that this place existed until that day, but my friends wanted to visit so I was curious what it would be like. Not that I was convinced that Eve, the Mother of all the living was buried there, but I hoped to find out why they thought this was true and how they revered this mother in such a male-dominated culture.  We walked up to the massive wooden gates opening the way through the towering walls surrounding the sacred area. Our group consisted of two men and three women. As we confidently strode through the entrance into the cool shade of the covered area inside, three security guards rushed up to us yelling at us to stop. They weren’t violent but they were very adamant that we could not come a step further. Turns out that our co-ed group had broken a law that exists across the land - no women (of any faith) are allowed in cemeteries or burial sites. The guards went on to tell us that the men were welcome to come...

  We sat laughing and talking over cups of saffron and cardamom infused coffee. Our local friend stated, “If my husband knew about my decision…” and she drew her finger across her neck. Though she smiled as if it was an exaggeration, we all knew that the possibility was all too real.   This woman so full of joy and eager to learn the Truth could lose absolutely everything including her life for the sake of this one choice.   I listened to another local friend explaining that her father, also a believer, had been deported and though he was currently safe, she didn’t know when or if they would ever be able to see him again. In a male-dominated society, she and her sisters and mom were on their own in the world’s eyes. Yet, the Truth they carried in their hearts radiated from their lives and this is what set them apart.  Her fiancé spoke in a dialect I was not familiar with, however, I was eager to ask questions because she had told me a little about his story. Keepi...

The three peaks of Mt. Sinai Of all the incredible sights we got to see on our two day tour of Mt. Sinai and the surrounding region - perhaps the most impactful reality that struck me was in fact none of these. It wasn’t standing in the split of the magnificent rock where God provided water for thousands of Israelites. It wasn’t in finding historic petroglyphs of calf worship or exploring the possible remnants of the 12 pillars and the site of Moses’ altar. It wasn’t even setting foot on the mountain itself. The thing that jumped out at me as we walked along the rocky paths, climbing over boulders, making our way around thorny bushes, reverently passing tombs and burial sites, was the barrenness of the land. This was the wilderness Moses had lived in for 40 years tending sheep and then came back to for another 40 years leading a “flock” of rebellious and irritated Israelites.                      A Jewish cemetery near Sinai ...

A song, a sound of freedom, a cry, a voice of triumph. What is this living, moving breath whispering through the land? I hear the melody of the lyre, the beat of ancient drums, the sound of a people who know their God and are not afraid to speak. Oh wilderness, deserted lands - Oh desolate wasteland - hear! There is one crying out your name and He is not afraid to speak. He is aching for you to come to know Him, to hear Him. He is near, right at hand. Can you taste Him? Can you see Him? He is with you.  I stood on the soil moistened by the tears of heaven, drinking in the scent of the sweet rain. Could it be that this rain had softened my heart too? Could it be that somewhere where the distant seeds had fallen there was hope that one day they too would sprout? Could it be that the God who created the magnificent rocky craigs surrounding me truly dwelt within me? Could it be?  Oh my soul, it is true. The Master of the Symphony of Heaven created a song just for you to sing. For ...

  Plodding along the narrow trail head bent against the cold mist and rain, hands buried deep in my hoodie pocket - I wondered if this was all worth it. I was the one who had suggested we go hiking in the mountains. My sister, Susanna, and Aunt Carmen had been excited to get out in the crisp mountain air to see the foliage. When we started out, the weather was a little chilly and damp but it seemed promising that the sun would break through the clouds. The drive up to the Cherohala Skyway whispered of autumn colors and harvest time.  As we pulled onto the historic mountain road, I began to notice the darkened pavement and mist on the windshield. Pretty soon, we were driving through swirling clouds round one bend after another. Where had the sun gone and the promising views of fall foliage? Where was the perfect hiking weather I had been picturing in the mountains of Tennessee?  The trailhead we were looking for was supposed to be between two lookouts. The only thing we sa...