Some things are unclear. Certainly in history this is so, and completely understandable is such an assertion. However, more than once on this trip, I have been assured: Jesus walked here. I still can hardly take it in, and to remind myself I have snapped pictures of my own feet, and have had others take shots as I stood in a place where almost certainly Jesus once stood. Amazing. It is an amazing story. The country is so plain, arid, dusty, rocky. Little, if anything, is spectacular as far as physical beauty is concerned. But . . .the story, the back story. . .The valleys echo with the long-ago talk of That Man, the hillsides are alive with memories, and it was in this place that lame people leaped, and where blind beggars gasped at their new vision. The seas, the rivers, the lakes, the villages, their close proximity to each other, the dress that continues to this day. Astounding. Nothing short.
I waded in the Jordan–muddy Jordan–and just before Pastor Walls baptized a couple from our group, we stood on the shore and sang Blessed Be The Name, and people cheered, and across the way, they paused to listen, and took pictures . . .
In a place that is almost surely very near the original spot of the outpouring, we gathered in an upper room, and sang, and surely angels were near.in
One thing that has made this trip so special is that several of my family are here. We have laughed, prayed, worshipped and played together.
Three of my grandchildren are here with Jerry and I as are my son Stephen, his wife, Dearrah, and my brother David and his wife Shelley. We’re having a time!