Looking for Jesus in the Holy Land

Dear Jesus,

 

I’ve been hanging around the places you hung out in this month. I prayed at the Garden of Gethsemane the other day and tried to picture you there. It was hard.

 

I couldn’t picture you because there were so many people. They were taking pictures and the church that was built there was full. There was a guy outside the gate  that tried to sell me a branch from an olive tree. I said no thanks.

 

 

I prayed that the people who were visiting that place could truly know you. I prayed that I could truly know you.

 

After that we went to the place where people say you were buried. There were a lot of people inside of police barricades waiting to get a glimpse of a small room where we knelt and prayed until the guy who was in charge yelled at us and told us to get out — there were a lot of people waiting, after all. While we were waiting in line I got really irritated at this guy who was pushing to cut in front of me.

 

There I stood in front of the symbol of my faith — an empty tomb — and I couldn’t give the guy a smidgen of grace. Sorry about that.

 

 

I looked around and wondered if all of the people flocking to these places with their cameras made you sad because they’re taking pics as if its Graceland (Elvis’, not yours) or if it made you happy because they’re searching for you.

 

We also decided to take a boat out onto the Sea of Galilee one night. A group of us loaded up and were excited to be on a boat, just like you were, out on the same body of water. When we climbed into the boat the lights went down, the strobe lights came on and we enjoyed a junior high dance party for a while. That was pretty different from calming the storm or walking on water, but it was still pretty cool. Just not what we expected, and again hard to picture you there in that moment.

 

 

A lot of the holy places have been enshrined and huge churches surround what is believed to be the places you were. Candles are everywhere, stained glass windows fill the walls and huge images of you, Mary and others also are everywhere. I don’t think it was like that back in your day.

 

I mean, it’s been cool to walk around the places you did and to think you were here, in the flesh, and I’m happy you even gave me the opportunity to do it, but I think you wanted me to learn something more than knowing where certain places are and what they look like.

 

I was looking forward to visiting the Holy Land because there was some sort of expectation that you are here in a different way than you are in any other place. I loved being here and the people I’ve met have been great, but it was hard to picture what life was like for you here because of course there are modern day conveniences and, well, I’m pretty sure you didn’t grab a can of Pringles at the concession stand when you’d hang out at the Jordan River. I did.

 

 

I guess I came to Israel expecting to see you in some sort of holier, clearer way.

 

Instead, I realized that the Holy Land isn’t just here, but it’s actually where your Spirit is. The Holy Land is in my heart.

 

Love, Marissa