Once again, it’s time to hear from our sister in Jerusalem about what she is witnessing there as a believer in Yeshua. Put your prayer shawls on and pray for Israel and Sister J. Now here she is —
Greetings dearest sisters and brothers,
In The Name of Yeshua h’meshiach, Jesus Christ, our Lord to Whom belongs ALL glory and praise and honor. May He be blessed and glorified and may you be blessed and encouraged.
O God the Lord, the strength of my salvation, You have covered my head in the day of battle. (Psalm 140:7)
The streets are again full of people who are breathing more easily and laughing and arguing. The cease fire proclaimed somewhere between 5:30- 6:30 am this morning had their last few (5 or 6) breaches but seems to be holding now. The crossing to bring goods into Gaza (Keren-Shalom crossing) has re-opened. Different commentators say different thing, different critics criticize different things, different prophets are proclaiming different things. I am privy to no “inside information” but my heart is asking for The Holy Spirit to open my ears to Him.
Most of my letters are written in the midst, and this one is no exception. As the rockets flew and my days crossed them flying like a weavers shuttle, I was asked to share with a group here on tour. It has been a while since I have spoken in public, and I was asked to share the testimony of my aliyah experience. I realized that I have never shared that in full before with anyone. The best that I can do in way of preparation is a combination of reading reading reading The Word, being on my knees before Him Who Alone has things of LIFE to share. While before Him, casting my thoughts back along the path that I have walked.
As I shared last night with this humble, hungry, loving, alive group, I realized that most of you know very little of the path that has brought my family and I here, to the center of Jerusalem where The Lord told me: “What you see – what you hear – write.”
As the fighting began I was about to tell you about our buses which I see daily. When I got on the 77 a few days ago, the ceiling was strung with Israeli flags. I noticed a flag in the front window, along with the usual array of flowers, chatchkas, and notes. I smiled and thanked the driver for the flags. No doubt they were to encourage us all in the midst of the political mud that has kept us from having a functioning government.
I thought back to the first time I got on an Israeli public city bus and was immediately assailed by the stark difference to any bus I that I had ever been on. First of all, the music was blaring. Each bus driver has his own taste and I can hear a full array of music as well as talk shows and news. It is up to the driver BECAUSE it is, hum, well SORT OF like a co-operative.
I think that things have changed somewhat, but when we came bus drivers took their buses home at night and parked them in the street. At times you would see a bus driver with his family on an outing instead of hauling passengers. Likewise each driver decorates his bus to express his individual opinions. More and more I do see undecorated buses, but nevertheless, it is part of our society. It’s color and taste.
We have moved to smart cards for tickets, but in the days of paper-punchy cards purchased from the driver, it never ceased to amaze me to watch people entering through the rear door of a crowded bus and pass up to strangers 100 shekel bills to make their purchase. Their ticket and complete change was returned via the same route. Hand over hand of strangers on the crowded bus.
So, how did we end up here? Where bus rides are filled with colorful people sharing deep and wonderful stories in assorted languages with anyone who is nearby. Such a tapestry of life displayed daily before my eyes in the hustle and bustle on pressures and responsibilities.
As I told the brothers and sisters last night, we may well be the most qualified people here to write a booklet on how NOT to make aliyah!
My husband is Native Aleut (Alaskan Native) and not Jewish: I am the Jewish partner. Although I was raised as a traditional Jew in a fully Jewish family in NY, USA, it had been many years since I had been part of a Jewish community. I identified with the life of Native Americans and had lost myself in their midst when The Lord found me.
So how can I share this story? And, should I? It will have to be in short chunks…piece by piece if it is to be done, for it is very long. 25 years here. 17 years from the “call” and “the promise.”
Let’s see what happens.
The word Aliyah means “to go up.” For a Jew to come home to Israel is considered “going up” spiritually. Every Jew by birth (the genetic testing popular today is not accepted) has the right of return, to make Aliyah, to come home and to become an Israeli citizen.
I had NO (as in minus zero) desire in myself to EVER make aliyah. Indeed, I had never set foot in Israel until the day that “I came home.”
Now, this is ONE thing that is NOT generally advised!
BUT, since we are just getting word that another rocket was just intercepted, I will leave this story to perhaps continue at a later date.
May you and I be filled with The Holy Spirit afresh for His glory. May He grant us discernment and keep us each from deception in these days…may He find our hearts humble, before Him, with one another.
your sis J