After several busy days of
co-hosting a tour of Israel, I looked forward to quiet time at the grounds of
the Garden Tomb. Away from the noise and hustle of the city, I would be able to
spend time alone with God and write.
From our hotel, my husband Alan and
I walked to the walls of the Garden. He wanted to roam the narrow streets of
the Old City so he left me and continued his journey. We decided he would stop
to pick me up on his way back.
The doors in the long wall were
closed so I waited for them to open. Finally, I a man approached and started to
enter. I explained I wanted to find a spot to sit and meditate.
Without speaking, he motioned for me
to follow him. After we were inside the grounds, he pointed to a bench under a
tree and left.
Even though I had been to the Garden
Tomb several times, nothing looked familiar. I didn’t see the winding walkways
through the garden, the extensive flowers and foliage or the tomb cut from the
rock.
A gravel drive went beside my bench.
Cars parked near a building I had never noticed on previous trips. A few people
went in and out, but I saw no tourists.
Walls surrounding the garden muffled
blaring city noises. In my quiet spot, I escaped the busyness of our tour and prayed.
Birds sang while I wrote. The serenity under a shady tree offered peace to a
tired pilgrim.
After a while, I decided to explore
the unfamiliar part of the Garden Tomb. Just off a dirt path a tall wall
surrounded a courtyard. I strolled inside and discovered a stone church.
When I saw nuns in the area, I realized
I had mistakenly entered the grounds of a Catholic church instead of the Garden
Tomb. However, my curiosity urged me to continue exploring.
Cautiously, I pushed open the huge,
wooden door and hoped I wouldn’t
interrupt a worship service. A
magnificent, marble sanctuary welcomed me. Towering pink and white striped
marble arches and columns created grandeur in the tranquil church.
Sunlight streamed through exquisite,
high stained glass windows which lined both sides of the empty chapel.
Beneath the windows, marble arches
formed small galleries. I studied the paintings of saints that hung in each enclosure.
Carrying a bucket of water in her
hand, a nun entered the church and began silently cleaning the pews, benches,
and shelves. She smiled at me but kept working. Her quiet service inspired me.
Three gigantic paintings hung near
the altar. In the center one, Jesus extended one hand in welcome to me and clutched
the Scriptures with the other. His eyes held mine.
What I thought was a stupid mistake in
going to the wrong place, wasn’t a mistake at all. Jesus welcomed me to the oasis
of peace and tranquility in the midst of the hectic city.
Neither the man, who kindly offered
me a place to retreat, nor the nun, who smiled at me, made me feel
uncomfortable at my mistake. Both displayed a servant’s heart and reminded me
to serve as though to Jesus.
My morning of refreshment gave me
strength, encouragement, and inspiration to continue serving. How thankful I
was for my mistake which was God’s plan.
“For I know the plans I have for you,”
declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you
hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I
will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your
heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NIV)
