Sunrise in the Fathers Land

We woke to our first morning in the Holy Land after arriving last night in
Tiberius. As I have done in the past I set my alarm for 4:30 am in order to
make my way in the dark down a rocky path to the shore of the Sea of
Galilee. Settling down on a rock just feet from the gentle ripples of the
lake I waited, waited on the sunrise and waited on the Lord. Two years ago
at this very same spot, just as that very first dim light becomes
noticeable, I glanced down between my knees and saw a jagged object set
against the small smooth pebbles of the beach. I reached down to discover a
broken pot sherd. A handle and part of a pot that carried the finger marks
of a potter from somewhere in the past. Old certainly, maybe old enough to
have been in a fisherman's home. Maybe a fisherman that knew the Rabbi named
Jesus. Maybe a disciple, a "Teladim" of the Rabbi who taught him to be a
fisher of men. It's easy to dream this way when you are in a land that is so
steeped in history. Everywhere we turn we see the evidence of ancient
civilizations that have left their mark on the Land. That morning two years
ago while waiting on the Lord, He gave me a new understanding of what it
means to be a disciple. This morning as I waited I simply grew in
excitement, excitement to share this place with others, to watch the wonder
on their faces as they walk in the footsteps of Jesus.




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