Where there is water in Israel, there is life. And where there isn’t water? The rule in antiquity was simple. Pray for rain and dig a cistern.
God used a simple, physical resource like rain water to teach the spiritual truth that He alone is the true source of life. This truth hasn’t changed for us.
I recently had a man in his 60s tell me, “I have to spend daily time in the Scriptures. I mean every single day. I need it.” His words simply affirmed what the Bible makes clear for all of us.
The need for water illustrates the need for truth—both essential for life.
If you’re feeling dry in your spiritual life, there’s only one way to slake your thirst.
Whenever I visit the Jerusalem Archaeological Park, I’m eager to walk to the southwest corner of the Temple Mount.
I’ve never been to this corner on Rosh Hashanah or during the Feast of Trumpets, but I’d love to go there then. Archaeologists have uncovered a large portion of the first-century street that stretched north along the original Western Wall.
One hundred meters north of the corner is the part of the Western Wall where locals and tourists pray. But beneath the ground, Jerusalem’s Central Valley has been filled in with the rubble of the Second Temple’s destruction in A.D. 70. As a result, the beautiful modern plaza stands about 30 feet above the first-century street uncovered at the southwestern corner.
There at the corner lies a reminder of something Jesus predicted 37 years before the temple’s destruction.
And of a promise He made that could be fulfilled at any moment.
At ten o’clock on a morning each April, sirens ring loud in Israel.
People stop—wherever they are, whatever they are doing—and stand at attention for 120 seconds of complete silence.
Imagine that for a moment. Two minutes. Silence. Everywhere.
Then the sirens rang again, and life resumed—full-speed. This annual pause allows the nation to remember the six million Jews who were murdered simply because they were Jews.
Today’s date marks Yom Hashoah, known as Holocaust Martyrs’ and Heroes’ Remembrance Day, the Jewish holiday that remembers those who perished in the Holocaust.
Many times I have visited Jerusalem’s Holocaust Museum, Yad Vashem.
It changes you.
In my previous post, I offered some suggestions for how to prepare for a Holy Land Tour.
After all, you’re investing a lot of money and significant time for this journey. It makes sense to prepare yourself beforehand so that you get the most from your experience in Israel.
But after you arrive in Israel, there are a number of ways you can ensure you get the most from your Holy Land tour.
The following 8 tips include both practical and spiritual ways to maximize your experience every single day you’re there.
Local schoolchildren ate their lunches across the olive grove from my wife and me.
Like the kids, we came on a field trip to explore ancient Shiloh. Although our lunch was hardly a feast, it reminded me of the reasons the young nation of Israel initially came to this site. They came to worship at the annual feasts before the Tabernacle at Shiloh.
Ask most Americans where Shiloh is, and you’ll likely get a blank stare.
- Historians may point to a Civil War battle in Hardin County, Tennessee.
- Music buffs may start singing the chorus to a Neil Diamond song.
But question someone who knows his or her Bible, and Shiloh means something far more significant.
Where there is water in Israel, there is life.
And where there isn’t water? The rule in antiquity was simple. Dig a cistern.
While excavating a first-century drainage channel and street that led from the City of David to the Temple Mount, archaeologists recently found a massive water reservoir dating from the First Temple period. The discovery of the reservoir, just west of the Temple Mount, gives silent testimony to the importance of water in the spiritual lives of God’s people.
The Jewish holidays, Shemini Atzeret—and Simchat Torah—offer a fascinating connection to this ancient cistern.
More importantly, they reveal a truth we live by every day of our lives.
Tucked away among the steep sandstone formations in Israel’s Arabah Valley sits a place most visitors never see.
Timna Park’s best-known attraction is called “Solomon’s Pillars”—beautiful Nubian sandstone formations that have nothing to do with King Solomon. But they’re fun to climb. The park also features relics from Egyptian idol worship as well as interpretive signs about ancient copper mining.
But the best part of Timna Park is its least-known exhibit. Or perhaps, it’s the least-mentioned.
A full-scale replica of the Tabernacle stands in the very wilderness where Moses and the children of Israel wandered for forty years.
It is like entering a doorway to history—and viewing a picture of your salvation.
Everybody uses a calendar.
Some hang it on the wall with pictures of puppies, landscapes, or old cars. Others use Google Calendar or carry their schedules on their smartphones. Some do all of these. But everybody uses a calendar. We have to.
Without this simple tool, our lives would be chaotic. A calendar organizes our days for religious, business, or personal reasons. In fact, most of us operate with several calendar systems at the same time. My calendar year begins in January, but I also march to a fiscal year, a school year, and occasionally, a leap year.
But as God’s people—just like the Hebrews of old—a calendar does much more than keep us on schedule.
It reminds us of things we’d better not forget.
I’ve heard it said, “If you want to understand the history of Israel, then learn the history of Jerusalem.”
Many books depict the expansion and contraction of the walls of Jerusalem, but I thought a timeline might illustrate it well.
Sometimes it’s tough to dissect our motives. Take prayer for example.
We bow our heads to pray, and yet—that’s nowhere in the Bible. We men remove our hats, but again—there’s no verse on that. We end prayers “in Jesus’ name”—but is that really what John 16:24 means?
It’s not that there’s anything wrong, per se, with these self-imposed rituals. It’s the motive behind them that can trip us up.
I can’t help but think about motives when I visit the Burnt House in Jerusalem. Destroyed along with the Second Temple in AD 70, the Burnt House reminds me of a question the Prophet Zechariah recorded about the First Temple’s destruction.
God’s answer to the Jews of that day still rings in my mind. I can’t shake it.