I want to show you something

To kick off my blog, I am going to step back into the vault of both my writings and my heart to take you with me on a journey to a place called "Holy." We are remembering back to Bethlehem in the West Bank Palestinian Territories, a new friend named "Holy War," and an invitation I just couldn't refuse, no matter how hard I tried.

In the early days of 2012, with a mind, a marriage, and a sense of meaning that were all strained, I was asked by Lisa Bourland, a local pastor, missionary, and friend to "pray about my role in" an autumn trip to the place three world religions all vie for real estate and meaning. The Jewish Feast of the Tabernacles was happening in Jerusalem, and I was offered a front-row seat.

Like a good church leader and person I agreed to pray. Like the "I already know what's happening" person that I was, I had no intent of leaving room for an answer. Intent instead on offering a perfunctory, passionless prayer, I was both surprised and compelled with my own internal response.

"Dear God, thank you for today. Should I go to Israel with Lisa this fall? No? Thank you. Amen," was my anticipated one-way conversation. Instead, surprising this bull-headed program coordinator and driven career persson, it went something like this:

"Dear God, thank you for today. Should I go to Israel with Lisa this fall? No? Thank you. Amen,"

"Hold on. I want to talk here. Come away with Me, Rebecca. I want to show you something."

"What? Huh? What? No. Wait. I can't go. I am supporting a family. And, if I go anywhere, I go to Africa. Remember? The sweet little village and school I went to visit last summer--that's where I go. The Holy Land is a 'no-go,' Dear God. Thank you, Amen."

"Rebecca, come away with me. I want to show you something. I've raised up an army of Texans and Kentuckians who all want to take care of the village. I'm calling you to something different. It's okay if you don't understand. Trust me. Let me take you on a Honeymoon of the Heart."

Those words were true, as true as my bullheadedness. The group I'd traveled with to Uganda the previous summer had blossomed, and differering ministries and groups were all vying for loving sweetly on the same rural village. I wanted to be in the mix, but I was truly not needed. The conversation continued....

Huh? What? That's weird, God. I go to Africa. And I work at a college. And Lisa shouldn't have asked me because life is complicated right now.

But those words, "Honeymoon of the Heart" echoed in my mind and thoughts...perhaps in my heart...for weeks. In an effort to prove this plan as implausible, I checked vacation time (I had more than enough), travel dates (my calendar at the College was strangely all in the clear), and airline miles (I could piece together a trip and fly there for nearly free). Incapable of proving it impossible, I began pondering and planning what this invitation and trip would really mean.

Why me? Why there? Why now? I didn't know, but in faith I agreed to join the journey that fall, and in the winter of a wilting marriage I held hope in a Kinsman Redeemer whisking me away for I-don't-know-why. Thus started my call to sharing stories of travel, the journey into the heart of faith as well as into my own. The Divine wanted to show me something, and, skeptically open to just about anything, I had to find out what that was. That was the beginning of my 2012.

Now, over the next two weeks I invite you on the journey with me, Dear Friends. Together we'll revisit the "I want to show you something" and "just trust me" invitations I heard whispered that cold Kentucky winter day.

Put on some coffee. Curl up on the couch. We have a story to tell.