Psalm 91, the Holy Land & Broken Bones – Peri Zahnd
I’ve been in the Holy Land the last two weeks, in Israel and in Palestine, co-leading a women’s pilgrimage with my friend Mercy Aiken. On Monday we walked the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem, retracing the steps of Jesus as he approached his crucifixion, culminating in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Just that morning I thanked God that no one had fallen as we had traversed uneven steps and paths everywhere. So it was a surprise when I did, missing a step right in front of the tomb of Jesus, landing with a thud on the hard stones, first with my knees and then with my hand. It is amazing how many thoughts can fly through your head as something like that happens, seeming to take forever.
I heard a collective gasp from those around me, cringing with embarrassment even as I fell through the air in slow motion. Immediately two men, one on either side of me, tried to pull me up. I was grateful for their help, but it hurt so badly I really needed to sit there a minute, and pleaded with them to give me time. I then took a breath and with their help was lifted to my feet. I heard voices asking me what I needed and I said I just needed to sit for another minute. A space was made for me on a nearby bench, and I was led there by my helpers as I fought a feeling of fainting, my vision fading to black in and out.
Next to me was a nun sitting as straight as could be, clothed from head to toe in black, with only a pretty profile exposed. There was something very regal about her. She very quietly began to speak kind words, offering to go find ice as I supported my left hand with the other, exhorting me that I needed to see a doctor. Her voice and words were calming, and I sensed the peace of God emanating from her.
I had a strong hunch that my wrist was broken. A huge bump had appeared on the outside, and a weird little one on the inside. My knees still hurt plenty but the pain in my wrist quickly began to emerge as the most serious issue. The man on my left also uttered a few quiet kind words in the semi-dark church. Those words felt like prayers.
read more…Selah Reflections: Just Breathe: John Kiemele
I have always had a precarious relationship with breathing. My very first breaths were problematic, or so I have been told. My childhood and school years were punctuated by asthmatic episodes; I toted quick response meds as regularly as pencils and...
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George Takei: “They interned my family. Don’t let them do it to Muslims.”
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The God who speaks all things into being, makes himself speechless. Kenneth Tanner
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White, Conservative, Christian Friend: I wish you really were pro-life – John Pavlovitz h/t/ Wayne Northey
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Hugh Hewitt Questions Ben Carson – preface by Wayne Northey
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