Jordan Heights

Pursuit of the Proverbs 31 woman has been the hardest journey I have ever embarked on.  It is not for the weak willed.  Perseverance has been the key to forward progress, with a whole-hearted devotion to our Savior Jesus Christ as the only driving force.

Before setting out on this road, or even being aware of it’s existence, I set out to give my life in a foreign land.  Jordan is a Muslim nation, a desert region, far from the comforts and commonalities of our Christian land.  And if culture shock was not hard enough, getting along with near anti-Semitic fellow missionaries was.  With muslim calls to worship blasting from multiple minarets across our town of approx. 200,000, and men balking at us with vulgarities not even suitable for prostitutes, as well as secret police reportedly following our every move, I felt as if there was slime in the air.  It was like I couldn’t even lift my arms.  But we could sing.  And sing we did! (Jamie and I)

That summer we visited Petra.  That day, like all others, ordained for me before the beginning of time, still speaks truth to me now.  You see, Petra is so big, and we had only one day there.  So we had the choice to either climb to the heights (the place of sacrifice), or to travel to the far end of the city to behold the monastery.  Naturally, I chose the place of sacrifice, for in my youth, I embraced Christ’s call to suffer with Him, and to have a faith sanctified pure as gold.  Among our group of about 30, only 4 of us made this choice, I the only girl.  And up we went -up, up, up, up for what seemed would be never ending.  Every time it looked as if we would be at the top just over that rock, a whole new earthen challenge appeared.  Finally, after topping one such rock, my companions (or should I say counterparts?), said “forget this!”, and started back down the mountain.  For me, the thought of turning back at that point was absolutely out of the question.  I continued on, and wouldn’t you know it, it wasn’t that much further.  On top lied the altar, from where the blood of the sacrifice would run down to cover the sins of the inhabitants.  Though this was a pagan culture, the symbolism certainly causes me to think of Christ.  And here I was, following hard after Jesus, Psalm 45 my motive.  To love Christ and follow Him to the cross, this was all I wanted.  Then as I sat with legs dangling over the side of the enormously high cliff, in need of a healthy fear of heights, with my back pack loaded with Bible, Strong’s, and Bible Dictionary the only thing keeping me from plunging off, I hear the crow of a cock in the valley.  Instantly, my thoughts are turned to Peter, who seemed to think he could push forward with his bolden faith.  Or was it pride?  Hmm……………..  A gust of wind provides the fear needed to back up to safety, as I was joined by two foreign visitors.  I soon decided to descend, a little shaken by my encounter on the heights.  But my youth swiftly returned me to the valley floor, where I reasoned I could make it to the monastery too!  Setting out with a stride that I imagined could match that of my 6 foot 4 Daddy, I was confident I would see it.  Then a Bedouin man, who I had given a speech about just months prior in public speaking class, asked me if I wanted a ride on his camel for 7 denari.  I said, “la shukran (no thanks)” and kept the pace.  On his camel he led the riderless camel to jog ahead where he made her sit down.  I could hear her water starved joints creaking.  As I approached he said, “for you, tis free.”  So I jumped on board.  What was this farm girl from a small west TX town doing riding a camel with a Bedouin in a scene out of Indiana Jones and the Search for the Holy Grail (one of my favorite movies by the way)?  Just before the monastery was a small “convenience” store (or shed) where I ran in and bought us both a coke.  Then with a smile I stood at the foot of the monastery looking up at the remainder of our group descending this awesome structure carved out of rock.

The end of that summer brought tremendous trial, bringing me home bewildered and confused, none of which I prefer to write about now.  But I will say this, going to Jordan with a mindset of offering my life to God for this country was as climbing those heights.  And in the midst of accomplishing His will I was faced with my pride, followed by a stark humility.

And still, I love You Lord, I love You Lord, I love You.

In pursuing the Proverbs 31 woman, I have not even come close to the “heights”.  But turning back is absolutely out of the question.  Maybe now, older and weaker, I will find His strength to move forward, and a more mature love.

Listen, O daughter, give attention and incline your ear;  forget your people and your father’s house;  then the King will desire your beauty;  because He is your Lord, bow down to Him.   Psalm 45:10+11

 

houses carved in the rock at Petra

view from the heights

me & Jamie @ Um Qais

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