What I Learned In The Holy Land

Three weeks ago today I was walking through the JFK airport in New York City, just a few short hours away from boarding my first international flight. But if I’m being honest, I looked a little out of place. Most people were in typical airport attire, either wearing comfy athleisure or some sort of classy suit and heels. (Have I mentioned how much I admire women who wear Stilettos to the airport?) 

Meanwhile, I was wearing Chacos for the first time in my life. I know that probably shocks some of you that I’m 25 and had never worn them before, bu that’s one bandwagon I have yet to jump on. However I will admit they were much more comfortable than I expected. But the reason why I was wearing modern day Jesus sandals in the middle of the New York airport wasn’t because I was experimenting with my fashion sense. It was because where I was headed, the walks would be long, the weather would be hot, and the terrain would be dusty. And in true Kristen fashion, I wanted to be prepared. But what I didn’t know is that I never could have prepared myself enough to see and experience the places where those shoes would accompany me to. 

For ten days, I had the opportunity to tour all throughout The Holy Land. I went to Jerusalem and Bethany and Capernaum and Galilee and Bethlehem. I traveled all over the area, seeing with my own eyes places I’d been reading about and hearing about since I was a little girl. I got to see where Jesus lived and slept and walked and healed and preached and died. My faith came alive more in those ten days than it ever had, because these places weren’t just settings of stories to me anymore. They were real. 

Like for instance, I went to what’s called the Shepherd’s Field. It’s the location where many believe the shepherds were when an angel appeared to them to tell them that Jesus had been born (Luke 2:8-20). This is also near the location of the  grain field where Ruth met Boaz (Ruth 2). 

The Shepherd’s Field

I went up the Mount of Temptation where Jesus was tempted by the enemy after fasting for 40 days and nights (Matthew 4:1-11). On a side note here, I have a brand new appreciation for the fact that He fasted for that long because the heat really takes it out of you in Jericho, even when you HAVE eaten. I can’t imagine what Jesus must have been feeling when He knew full well that He could have turned that stone into bread, but chose not to. 

Mount of Temptation

I stood just a few yards from the tree that Zacchaeus climbed whenever he was trying to see Jesus (Luke 19:1-10).

Zacchaeus’s Tree

I walked through the Jericho Gate, which honestly I had never heard of until the day I saw it. This was the gate that people would have to walk through when they traveled back and forth from Jericho to Jerusalem. 

The Jericho Gate

It might not look like much, but the Jericho Gate ended up being one of my favorite places. This was the first location I went to where we know for sure Jesus actually walked through it. From the time He was a little kid all the way into His adult years, He would walk back and forth through this gate as He traveled. This was my first chance to stand where He stood, to walk where He walked. It was a day I will never forget, one that still seems so surreal to me. I even took a picture of my feet standing in the middle of the gate to commemorate the moment (Chacos and all). 

These places were just the beginning of an amazing week. I got to put my feet in the Jordan River where Jesus was baptized (Matthew 3:13). I walked around the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus went to pray before He was arrested (Matthew 26:36-46). I saw where Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). I rode on a boat across the Sea of Galilee where Jesus walked on the water (Matthew 14:22-33) and where He appeared to the disciples after His resurrection (Luke 24:36-49). I looked over the hill where Jesus used five loaves of bread and two fish to feed the five thousand (Matthew 14:13-21). And the list of places just keeps going. Everywhere we went and everything we saw was like a jolt to my faith that I didn’t even realize I needed. 

My favorite moment of the trip came on the second last day we were there. It was our last stop on that super hot Friday afternoon when we walked into the Garden Tomb. I sat down on a bench toward the entrance of the garden as our tour guide, Bob, talked us through what we were about to see. After his introduction, we walked to one location where some people believe Jesus was crucified. (Apparently there are four different locations that could possibly be where Jesus died and was buried, but none of them have been confirmed as the official location.) Bob talked us through where the cross would have been placed, the details of how Jesus would have been crucified, and read through the account of Jesus’ death. All the while there I was, sitting on a cement bench, soaking in every word, and staring at a spot just a few yards away, a spot that could have very well been the place where the weight all of my sins, and all the sins of the world, fell on my Savior. 

After Bob finished talking to us about the crucifixion, he walked us over to another place in the garden. There were beautiful trees and flowers everywhere, and then there was a small stone staircase leading down to what looked like the entry to a cave. He then began to explain that this was the Garden Tomb, a place that some people believe could have been the burial place of Jesus. 

The Garden Tomb

I just sat there and stared at it for a minute, trying to take it all in. Bob took some time to tell us about the layout of the tomb and what to expect when we walked in. He told us where Jesus was believed to be laying, so we knew where to look when we got inside. Once he finished his explanation, we walked down the stairs toward the entryway. My knees all of a sudden felt very wobbly. 

When it was my turn, I stepped inside. I was probably only in there for a minute or two, knowing I couldn’t take too long because everyone wanted a turn and only a handful of people could fit inside at one time. But even though it was a quick look, I felt so many emotions. I felt sad thinking about how hard it must have been for Jesus’ family and friends to have to watch him be placed inside a tomb. I felt joy, knowing that death could not even conquer my God. I felt loved, understanding more than ever that my story would be very different if Jesus hadn’t died and then walked out of the tomb for me. And I felt grateful for the chance to see all of this up close and personal, something I know that a lot of Christians never get the chance to do. 

After everyone got to see inside the tomb, our group went up to a secluded space and prepared to take communion. We were encouraged to each go off on our own, find a quiet space in the garden, and take our communion separately. So I wandered off and found a spot right next to the staircase that led down to the tomb and I started praying. As many talks as God and I have had, this one was one of the most memorable, but not just because of where I was. 

The garden had very peaceful and quiet atmosphere, which was very refreshing compared to a lot of the other places we’d been. Because of the region of world we were in, there were a lot of tourists at most of the places we visited. Not only that, but the atmosphere felt very different. A lot of times you would see people doing the sign of the cross, bowing down before whatever site we were seeing, some would even kiss the ground. There would be people crying and reciting prayers in their native languages. It felt a lot more religious, rather than like a relationship, at least from my perspective.

I was thinking about this while I was sitting in my spot in the garden overlooking the tomb. I was thanking God that He loved me enough to die for me so that I could have a personal relationship with Him, and that I didn’t have to be perfectly religious for Him to love me. After I said that, I had one of those moments where God very clearly responded to me. It wasn’t audible, but it was just as straightforward. It was like He said, “Kristen, you may not be doing the things those people were doing, but you’re still living like you have to do everything right and be perfect for Me to love you.” 

Immediately the tears started falling. He was right. I mean, of course He was right. He’s God. But I had never seen my desire to achieve perfection, or the “good girl” image I wanted so badly to portray, more clearly than I did in that moment. This was something I’d been talking with one of my mentors about a lot in the weeks leading up to this trip. I know God loves me unconditionally. That’s something I’ve been taught since I was 5 years old. But for some reason, I still live like I need do all the right things so maybe He’ll love me more. I have this deep desire for Him to be proud of me. It’s like I feel the need to prove that I was worth dying for. 

But what God so clearly reminded me of on that hot afternoon in Jerusalem is that there’s absolutely nothing more I can do to prove that I was worth all of the horrible things Jesus went through. I can do everything right for the rest of my life, or I can make every mistake in the book, and He will love me no more and no less. This is not a merit based relationship. This is a relationship that God wanted so badly that He was willing to sacrifice what He loved most to get it. And I’m so grateful that He did. 

I walked out of the garden that day with a little mascara smudged under my eyes and a whole lot of peace and gratitude in my heart. That will be a day I will never forget for the rest of my life. If for nothing else, I had come on that trip to have that conversation with my Heavenly Father. Not only did He recharge my faith over my ten days in the Holy Land. He restored my belief in the power of His love in just ten minutes. And I am so grateful that His love is absolutely perfect, and therefore I don’t have to be.