An Extract from Guidelines - The Holy Land

by Peter Walker

Included in the following extract from Guidelines are two week’s worth of readings. Click on the links below to go to a particular day’s reading


Introduction

Travelling can be a great adventure. Over the summer, many of us may have visited new places. We live in a beautiful, God-created world and seeing new sights often refreshes us in exciting ways.

Over the next two weeks we will be going on a tour of a slightly different kind—a spiritual tour around some of the key places in the Bible. It’s an opportunity for you to engage your imagination, to ‘see new sites’, to remember that God’s story has been enacted in the real world, and to move forward in your own spiritual journey.


Week 1 Day 1: Humble beginnings: Bethlehem read Matthew 2:1–12

After his introductory chapter, the first physical location to be mentioned by Matthew in connection with Jesus’ life is Bethlehem, the place of Jesus’ birth and the visit of the Magi. Bethlehem (or ‘house of bread’) was at that time just a small village some seven miles to the south of Jerusalem, but it had been associated with some key events in Israel’s history: this was where Jacob’s wife, Rachel, had died in giving birth to Benjamin (Genesis 35:16–20); where Ruth the Moabitess had met and married Boaz; and above all, where that young shepherd boy, David, had been anointed by Samuel when called in from the fields (1 Samuel 16:1–13). Now, appropriately, it becomes the birthplace of ‘great David’s greater Son’—Jesus, the one destined to be the true ruler and ‘shepherd of Israel’ (v. 6).

Matthew highlights how this small village had been the subject of a key prophecy (Micah 5:2–4), which, in the face of increased pagan domination, had no doubt fuelled hopes for an anointed ‘Messiah’ similar to David. So when the Magi ask where the Messiah is to be born (v. 5), they are given an unambiguous answer—Bethlehem. When God finally comes to ‘save his people’ (1:21), his point of arrival is not a wealthy palace, nor Jerusalem (v. 3), but this backwater that is ‘small amongst the clans of Judah’. It is a humble beginning, a place where God overturns our proud expectations but fulfils his own promises.

Bethlehem, then, speaks to us of divine reversal—God’s choosing the lowly and weak things to shame the wise and the strong (cf. 1 Cor-inthians 1:27). A thousand years earlier God had chosen the young boy David rather than his more impressive older brothers because although we look ‘at the outward appearance’, the Lord looks at ‘the heart’
(1 Samuel 16:7). In what ways are we being blind to what the God of surprises wants to do, perhaps in some unlikely places and people?

Bethlehem is also a place where God brings about good in the midst of pain. After Rachel’s death, Benjamin brought great joy to Jacob; when her sons had died, Naomi had wished to be renamed ‘Mara’ (‘bitter’) but through Ruth her grief was turned to rejoicing (Ruth 1:20; 4:15); and Jesus’ infancy too is surrounded by tragedy and weeping (v. 18). Yet this child, born in humble surroundings, will bring joy and riches to many: ‘though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich’ (2 Corinthians 8:9).


Week 1 Day 2: Entrance and initiation: the River Jordan read Matthew 3:1–17

Jesus’ adult ministry is effectively launched in the tiny River Jordan, when he is baptized by his older cousin, John. The baptism’s exact location cannot now be defined: at some point John was baptizing at ‘Aenon’ (John 4:23), but the traditional site is a little further to the south, due east from Jericho. In any event, this section of the Jordan, so close to the Dead Sea, is the lowest place on the planet. It was in this deep place, often barren and lifeless, that God launched his initiative to bring new life to his world.

The Jordan had also played a key role within Old Testament history. Moses looked across it from Mount Nebo as he surveyed the land (Deuteronomy 34:1–3); and it was one of Joshua’s first tasks, on assuming leadership of God’s people, to take them through its waters en route to Jericho (Joshua 3:1–17). This was then remembered as a ‘rite of passage’ parallel to that of the Red Sea (see, for example, Psalm 114). With hindsight, this was where Joshua and the Israelites were ‘baptized’ as they entered into the promised land (cf. 1 Corinthians 10:2). Now another ‘Joshua’ (Jesus) goes down into the waters at the launch of his own ministry (a ministry that will bring God’s rule not just to a small land but to the whole world), and also sets the pattern by which his new people will be forged and known.

The River Jordan had also featured in the story of Naaman the Syrian (2 Kings 5); Elisha commanded this foreign leper to wash himself ‘seven times in the Jordan’, which provoked Naaman’s contemptuous response, ‘Are not… the rivers of Damascus better than any of the waters of Israel?’ (vv. 10–12). But he was persuaded to obey, and was healed. He learnt that Israel, though apparently so insignificant, was the place where the living God was active. So the Jordan witnesses to our need to abandon our pretensions, to humble ourselves before him who alone can bring new life.

This was, then, precisely what John’s hearers needed to learn: they must prepare a way for Israel’s God, the Lord himself, to come among his people. They cannot rely on their previous status as Abraham’s children (v. 9), but must repent; they must be enrolled afresh in God’s company. We too need the same repentant humility and dependence on the living God, for those of us marked by baptism, if we are God’s new people, must also live out our baptismal life—our ‘Jordan-marked’ life—day by day.


Week 1 Day 3: Wandering and waiting: the desert read Matthew 4:1–11

Brown rocks; pure blue skies. By day, an unrelenting sun; at night, an awesome chill. And through it all an impenetrable silence—almost deafening. Few of us in our noisy, cluttered lives have an opportunity to experience the awesome power of the desert, but it played a formative role in the biblical story.

For the ancient Israelites leaving Egypt, the Sinai desert was where they met with God. Here they were tested; here they were forged into a new people before entering the promised land. It was to the desert that David and then Elijah fled for their lives (1 Samuel 23:14ff.; 1 Kings 19:4–8). The psalmist was thirsty for God and spiritually dry ‘as in a dry and weary land where there is no water’ (Psalm 63:1); Isaiah used the desert’s blossoming as a picture of what God would do for his people (Isaiah 41:17–20). In the New Testament the wandering in the desert is a picture of the Christian’s pilgrimage towards our goal (1 Corinthians 10:1–13; Hebrews 3—4): those baptized into Christ are in the desert, being led by God towards the fulfilment of his promises.

So Jesus, after his own baptism and before he set out on ministry and ultimately his own lonely road to Jerusalem, also went into the desert. In this time of solitude and silence, Jesus prayed through his priorities: he looked temptation and self-doubt in the face; he established abiding contact with his Father God; he strengthened his will for the journey ahead and confirmed within his sense of call, destiny and identity. In many ways his later victories were won here first—in prayer.

God’s Spirit may lead us too through what seem like spiritual deserts. Will we grumble or will we be found to be faithful? And many, seeking to grow in God’s ways, take themselves deliberately to places of retreat and silence, facing the fear of loneliness and turning it into godly solitude. Maybe God would have you seek a deserted place, where you can do business with God, and hear his ‘still small voice’. The desert may seem a barren place, but it is often where, at a deeper level, new life begins, for it is ‘in dying that we are born to eternal life’.


Week 1 Day 4: Revelation: the mountain read Matthew 5:1–10; 17:1–9

In Matthew’s portrait, the opening years of Jesus’ ministry follow an intriguing route. His journey recaps that of ancient Israel—from Egypt (ch. 2) via the Jordan (ch. 3) into a new promised land. Matthew wants us to know that Jesus is gathering up into himself all the hopes and destiny of Israel and that, unlike ancient Israel, this new Israel will not fail.

Now we come, not surprisingly, to a ‘mountain’ (ch. 5). This English word may conjure up a vast, majestic peak (such as snow-peaked Mount Hermon, 50 miles north of Galilee) but the original would easily have also included the gentle hills looking down over the lake. Yet Matthew uses the word to make a clear theological link with Mount Sinai. At Sinai Moses had received the law; and Israel, witnessing God’s holiness, had been betrothed to him as a ‘holy nation’ (Exodus 19:5–6). Now Jesus, as a new Moses, sits down authoritatively to teach his disciples (5:1), offering a new law with greater authority even than Moses (‘but I say to you…’) and calling into existence a new people around himself. God had revealed at Sinai the Ten Commandments; now he reveals the eight beatitudes. God’s people are those who respond to his revelation—they are those who tremble at his word (Isaiah 66:5).

Matthew will continue his ‘mountain theme’ at the transfiguration (17:1–9), for his lengthy apocalyptic discourse (24:3—25:46) and for his Gospel’s final climax (28:16–20). Mountains are places of disclosure and encounter with God; they are also places of commissioning. Jesus’ disciples cannot stay for ever on the mountain but must return to ‘valleys’ of life: when Peter tried to hold on to the mountain-top vision of Jesus (17:4), it evaporated.

God may give us too some mountain-top experiences—times when the fog lifts and we see things with lucid clarity, times when we hear God speaking to us in ways that are crystal clear, times when we are wrapped secure in his love. We are not wrong to seek these times (and many Christian gatherings and acts of worship can provide them for us), but we must remember their nature and purpose. They are not given that the ‘experience’ may last for ever, but rather that we may be indelibly changed and released into our daily lives with a fresh but enduring vision. In the Bible, mountains are places where God’s people hear his word in fresh ways, see Jesus glorified, are given glimpses of the future, and are moved to ‘obey everything’ he has commanded us’ (28:19).


Week 1 Day 5: Conflict: the city of Jerusalem read Matthew 21:1–11

Jesus comes over the crest of the Mount of Olives and his disciples break into shouts of praise (v. 9). It is the culmination of a long journey on foot, and there spread out before them is the panorama of their mother city, Jerusalem.

It is one of the most powerful moments in the Gospels. Here is Jesus the prophet (v. 11) about to challenge the city’s religious leaders with the word of the Lord—but will they listen? Here is the city’s true king (v. 5) entering humbly on a donkey into his capital city—but what kind of throne will he receive? This is the man who has challenged the temple—what will he do when he enters it? This is the moment when the city of God faces its ultimate test: how it will respond to him whom many will call the ‘Lord’ (v. 3) and the ‘Son of God’?

This is the same city that fills our TV screens most weeks of the year. The ‘city of peace’ is seldom that. Instead it is a place of religious and political tension—the object of conflicting aspirations between Israelis and Palestinians. Judaism and Islam contend for this, their ‘holy city’.

What would Jesus have made of Jerusalem today? In Luke’s account (Luke 19:41–44) Jesus weeps over the city. He sees prophetically how this same panorama will look within a generation, once the Roman armies have done their worst (in ad70); and he solemnly pinpoints a chief reason for this calamity—the city did not know the ‘hour of its visitation’. Jerusalem was missing its moment of destiny, the arrival of its divine king; the bride would spurn her bridegroom on their wedding day.

Jerusalem may still be missing out on what God has in store for her, through Jesus. If we claim to follow this Jesus, we would do well, as we ‘pray for the peace of Jerusalem’ (Psalm 122:6), to pray that the city will find its peace through a revelation of him who is the prince of peace. We will not idealize this city, nor indeed idolize it, but hear the New Testament’s strong critique of Jerusalem (Galatians 4:25–26; Hebrews 13:11–14; Revelation 11:8). We will take comfort from God’s future purposes focused on a ‘new’ Jerusalem coming from heaven (Hebrews 12:22; Revelation 21:2), but will not then be unconcerned about the present troubles of the physical city. And, heeding Jesus’ warning, we will ensure that we too know the ‘hour of our visitation’ and truly continue to welcome into our lives him who is our true king. For the crowd’s welcome soon evaporated.


Week 1 Day 6: Worship: Zion and the temple read Matthew 21:12–16

As expected, Jesus goes directly into Jerusalem’s temple—not into its inner sanctuary, but into its outer courts (almost certainly the so-called ‘court of the Gentiles’). And what happens next? A powerful prophetic action in which Jesus, if only for a short while, brings the temple’s sacrificial system to a halt. Moved by a desire for the holiness of God’s ‘house’ (which, quoting Isaiah, he intriguingly calls ‘my house’, v. 13) and desiring that ‘all nations’ (Gentiles) might be given a space to pray to the true God of Israel, he overturns the tables of the money changers (v. 12).

Almost certainly this radical action triggered the events leading to his death. So why did Jesus risk it? Jesus wanted people to begin asking some questions both about him and about the temple. First, given the strong link that, ever since the days of Solomon, had existed between kingship and the temple, Jesus’ action was all part of his messianic claim. He, not Herod, was its true ruler and king: no wonder they started quizzing him about his ‘authority’ (21:23).

Yet, secondly, Jesus was also pointing symbolically to the forth-coming demise of the temple—his action was a portent of its destruction. This was part of the reason why he also cursed the fig tree (21:19)—another mysterious sign, this time indicating that God was judging the temple because of its lack of fruit. Jesus confirms this interpretation by predicting that ‘not one stone’ from the temple’s buildings would be ‘left upon another’ (24:2). The temple’s rightful owner was bringing its operation to an end.

We easily miss the shock of this. The temple had been established at God’s command (1 Samuel 7; 1 Kings 8) and had lasted for almost exactly a thousand years (since 970bc). Yes, it had been destroyed by the Babylonians back in 587bc, but it had been restored (albeit on a much smaller scale) by those returning from exile (see Haggai 2; Ezra 1—6) and, at the time when Jesus spoke, Herod’s builders had been at work for 46 years in a phenomenal project of expansion (see John 2:20).

With the coming of Jesus, however, all this would end. The temple had been the place of divine presence and appointed sacrifice, but now, in the days of the new covenant, Jesus himself would be God’s presence among his people and his cross would deal with sins ‘once and for all’ (Hebrews 9:26). We must ensure that we come to this Jesus, receiving his forgiveness, and that we are open to his Spirit, that he may truly ‘dwell’ within us. Then a miracle occurs: we ourselves become the temple of the living God (1 Corinthians 3:16; 6:19). Let’s ensure that if Jesus were to come to this temple today, he would be pleased with what he finds there.


Week 1 Day 7: Guidelines

This week, as we have travelled with Jesus through some of the main sites associated with his ministry, we have seen how these places had already played a key part within God’s story in the centuries before Jesus. God had already been at work, meeting his people; and now Jesus comes to fill out those places with even more significance, gathering together the strands of the biblical story. John’s Gospel would take this further, showing how, through his incarnation, Jesus becomes for us the true ‘holy place’ where we can meet with God ‘in spirit and in truth’ (John 4:21–24; see 1:14, 51; 2:19). So it’s worth asking ourselves:

  • Have we got a vision of the biblical God who is the God of real history, who has been at work in his world and in these places? In what ways may he be working in his world today and in our own lives?
  • Do we sense how Jesus is the centre of God’s story? In all our comings and goings, are we rooted in him, the true vine (see John 15)?
  • As we prepare for our second week of the tour, let’s not forget that these biblical places of the Bible are still there in modern Israel/Palestine—often the storm-centres of conflict and pain. What might God be wanting to do in these places today and how might we best pray ‘for the peace of Jerusalem’ (Psalm 122:6)?


Week 2 Day 1: The neighbouring enemy: Samaria read Luke 9:51–56; 10:25–37

It’s hard to imagine, but right in the middle of Palestine in Jesus’ day there was a ‘no-go area’. Galileans, often fiercely loyal to their mother city Jerusalem, 90 miles to the south, tended to skirt round it, travelling instead along the Jordan valley rather than risk travelling the more direct road through the hill country of the Samaritans. After being at loggerheads for over 400 years, Jewish people, as John 4:9 bluntly records, did not ‘associate with Samaritans’. How would Jesus respond to this ‘enemy within the gates’?

These two passages in Luke give a powerful reply. Though rebuffed by the Samaritans on this occasion, Jesus rebukes his disciples for wanting to call down hell-fire upon them, and he shocks the legal expert by telling a story where the hero is a Samaritan. You can almost hear the audience gasp: was there any such thing as a ‘good Samaritan’?! Jesus clearly thought so. Although most of his ministry was focused on Israel, its blessing was to include others too—yes, including Samaritans.

Luke notes later that the only leper grateful to Jesus for his healing was a Samaritan (Luke 17:16). For Luke, himself a Gentile, this concern of Jesus for ‘outsiders’ was vital. The whole of Luke–Acts was an explanation of how God’s grace in Jesus had appeared within Israel but had broken out to include those outside. Jesus, the Jewish Messiah, must set his face to go to Jerusalem (9:51)—that was the place where God must work his salvation for the world (cf. 13:33)—but thereafter the news of this Messiah’s rule must go from Jerusalem, to Samaria and ‘to the ends of the earth’ (Acts 1:8). So the Samaritans first receive the gospel in Acts 8 and the Gentiles in Acts 9. Luke’s plot line is ‘up to Jerusalem’ (Luke); ‘out to the world’ (Acts).

We too must acknowledge the importance of Jesus’ going up to Jerusalem (and not, as it were, get in his way—as did the Samaritans, v. 53) and receive the good news from Jerusalem. And we must ensure that this good news is then made available to all, whatever their background—yes, even our enemies. The next time we are tempted to call down God’s judgment on people, let us remember the example of Jesus, who had a different way of bringing them to know his Father, and let’s be careful too to see the ‘good’ in those we think of as ‘others’.


Week 2 Day 2: Conflict: Gethsemane and Golgotha Luke 22:39–46; 23:44–46

Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem, coming over the crest of the Mount of Olives and receiving a tumultuous welcome (19:37ff.), but within a week the atmosphere has changed and the disciples find themselves after midnight at the foot of the Mount of Olives, making their way into the olive grove of Gethsemane. It has gone midnight, the full Passover moon is overhead and the massive walls of the temple loom across the small Kidron valley. Some yards away, Jesus is praying on his own to his Father, but his disciples, before they fall asleep, are puzzled and anxious. What is going through Jesus’ mind? Why are we waiting here?

Jesus’ waiting in Gethsemane is one of the most poignant moments in the Gospel drama. It reveals his raw humanity, yet also perhaps the nature of true divinity. It shows the horror that he felt as he approached the climax of his stated mission—‘to give his life as a ransom for many’. That was easy to say, far more difficult to do.

Above all, it shows the necessity of his death, for there was no need for him to wait there: in just thirty minutes he could have had a bed for the night in Bethany. When we see him the next day, seemingly at the mercy of his accusers and being crucified by Roman soldiers, we must remember that he is there because of his active choice. His Father’s ‘will’ has become his will (22:42). Jesus’ agenda was so different from that of his contemporaries: other messiahs might have retreated to the desert to the east (to pray); others might have stormed the city to the west (to conquer). But Jesus’ way is neither escapism nor aggression. Instead he waits in the ‘middle’, the most difficult and demanding place, to do what he alone can do.

So he goes from Gethsemane to Golgotha, the ‘place of the skull’ (23:33), from the hillside east of the temple to a small hillock in a disused quarry west of the temple. Here he offers his life as a sacrifice, thereby rendering redundant the sacrifices of that temple. Its curtain barring the way into the holiest place is torn in two (23:45)—the way into God’s holy presence has been opened up—and Jesus, having fulfilled the will of his Father, now offers up his spirit into his Father’s hands (23:46). The battle, enjoined in prayer in Gethsemane, has now been won—in practice.


Week 2 Day 3: New life and victory: the empty tomb read Luke 24:1–12

A Christian tour of the Gospel sites, such as this, could never miss out on the tomb of that first Easter morning, for this is where the story of Jesus reaches its climax and the Bible’s whole storyline finds its pivotal centre. The horrors of Golgotha are dispelled in the bright new day that dawns from this nearby tomb. Jesus is raised by God and vindicated, after all, as the true Messiah.

The Gospel writers know just as well as we do that this is a sur-prising, abnormal event. Yet they intend us to take their accounts seriously, not as a wishful story concocted to give their Gospel a happier ending but as the essential jigsaw piece in the drama, without which we might never have heard of Jesus. A messiah crucified by the Romans is a failed messiah, so if the story had ended there, no one would have proclaimed Jesus as the ‘Christ’. Put bluntly: no resurrection, no Christianity.

The precise location of this tomb, though quite rightly a matter of interest, is ultimately not important. Two alternative sites are suggested for Golgotha and the tomb—either within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (the traditional site from at least the early fourth century, now located within the Old City) or the ‘Garden Tomb’ with its neighbouring ‘Skull Hill’ (a centre of interest since the mid-19th century, just north of the Damascus Gate). The whole thrust of Luke’s account, however, is to emphasize that ‘he is not here’ (v. 5). The tomb points away from itself to the risen Lord; what matters is not the place so much as the person. The risen Christ can now be encountered anywhere.

So this place of death becomes a place of new life. Intriguingly, this ‘garden area’ (cf. John 19:41) becomes the place of a new creation, where Eden’s curses are overturned; and it is also the ‘first day’ of a new week (v. 1): ‘morning has broken, like the first morning’. Moreover, this site just outside Jerusalem’s walls will pave the way for God’s purposes now to move forward to the new Jerusalem, at the centre of which will be the risen Lord (Revelation 21—22). In the resurrection not only is Jesus vindicated as the true Lord of the world; not only do we see the firmest evidence of God’s power and love; but we also see God’s master plan for where he is taking the destiny of the world. And those who have faith in this Jesus are given the sure hope that they will share one day in his Easter victory.


Week 2 Day 4: Encounter: Emmaus read Luke 24:13–35

Luke takes us immediately away from the bustle and intrigue of Jerusalem to a deserted path, going north-westwards away from the city. This will be the place where his readers get a first glimpse of an encounter with the risen Lord, the place where puzzled believers are first given a lesson in how the jigsaw really holds together.

To find that there are four suggested sites for this Emmaus can initially be disconcerting. In part, this confusion has arisen because some manuscripts of Luke give the distance from Jerusalem (v. 13) as 160 stadia (20 miles) instead of 60 stadia (7.5 miles). The most likely site is a place now called Moza, but, again, the village’s precise location is hardly the main point. The risen Jesus meets and talks with some of his followers and he does so as they are travelling ‘on the road’ (v. 32). So he can meet us too, Luke implies, on the journeys of our own lives—wherever we are headed.

It would, of course, have been great to be there, to witness this ‘Bible class’ from the master, this introduction to scripture from him who is both its central actor and also (so many would affirm) even its ultimate author. ‘He explained to them what was said in all the scriptures concerning himself’ (v. 27). No wonder their ‘hearts burned’ (v. 32)!

We sense here why scripture means so much to those who seek to follow Jesus, for if the risen Lord himself took this as his base text, then how much more should we! We see here why Christians can never dismiss the Old Testament but try to read it in the light of Christ, believing that he is the key ingredient that makes sense of its jigsaw puzzle. We see here a model of how the scriptures can come alive when read in the presence of him who is the Lord of the scriptures. Our love for scriptures must always flow out of a deeper love and reverence for the Lord himself.

So are we letting this Jesus teach us from the scriptures? Do we place ourselves where he can meet with us each day? Many have found that, as they do so, they too have an ‘Emmaus encounter’ with Jesus. They may start out on the road baffled and ‘downcast’ (v. 17), but the end result is that they return to the place from which they started with renewed excitement and inexpressible joy (vv. 33–35).


Week 2 Day 5: Commission: the mount of ascension read Acts 1:1–12

It is hard to imagine what those ‘forty days’ after Easter will have felt like for Jesus’ followers—this unique period in which he gave them ‘many convincing proofs that he was alive’ (v. 3). As Luke picks up the story in his second volume, we sense not only their joy (see Luke 24:41) but also their desire to ask Jesus some vital questions (v. 6). There would never again be an opportunity like this—for them or for Jesus. How much, we might ask, of the later New Testament writings is indebted to this post-resurrection period? The Lord of the Church here instructs his apostles about the true meaning of the ‘kingdom of God’ (v. 3).

Clearly the issues relating to Israel and its longed-for ‘restoration’ were top priority for the disciples. How did Jesus’ resurrection fit into the popular hope that God was going to do a new thing for his people in fulfilment of his promises? Would this now be coming soon (v. 6)?

Almost certainly Jesus wants to give them a whole new way of seeing things. Just as he had reassured the Emmaus disciples that he had indeed ‘redeemed Israel’ (Luke 24:21), so now he must explain how his resurrection was already the restoration of Israel. The promise of an end to Israel’s exile had come about as her Messiah had gone down into the exile of death, only to be restored to new life. So what would happen next was not some political upheaval (the end of Roman rule) but their going out to ‘the ends of the earth’ with the good news that Israel’s Messiah was truly king of the world (v. 8). This would be the way in which Israel and her God would be publicly vindicated before the nations. The apostles found that they had the task of implementing the restoration of Israel as they proclaimed the ‘kingdom of God’ now seen in Jesus.

It was a daunting task, an awesome commission. Their initial joy might now be offset by profound anxiety. How could their small company get this message out to all the world? So Jesus promises them, as he promises us, the gift of his Holy Spirit. He is the one who will make Jesus real to people who have never seen him.

Then Jesus leaves them, for the final time—fittingly from the Mount of Olives, his frequent haunt, overlooking the city that had rejected him. His disciples must return to the city to preach her Messiah, but they must also be ready to put the city behind them as they go out with news of her Messiah to the unsuspecting world.


Week 2 Day 6: Departure: Caesarea on the coast read Acts 26:19—27:2

We have moved from Jerusalem to Caesarea Maritima on the Mediterranean coast, and also jumped forward 25 years. At first, we feel we have entered a different world: Caesarea, a modern port built from scratch by Herod the Great 60 years before, is the capital of Palestine, the seat of the Roman governor and a secular city famous for its trade. Yet here we find someone, like Jesus before Pilate, standing trial before the authorities; here we find the message of this Jewish Jesus being retold. Although the location is quite different, the message is the same—the call to repentance, focused on Jesus the Messiah-King who had died and risen (26:20, 23; see Luke 24:46–47).

Paul’s trial illustrates how the good news concerning King Jesus is making its way from Jerusalem ‘to the ends of the earth’ (see Acts 1:8). In one sense, Jesus’ ministry had, necessarily, been confined to one ‘corner’ of the empire (v. 26); but in another, there had been nothing intentionally secret about it—so now it was time for the message to be ‘shouted from the rooftops’ (see Luke 12:3). Paul takes his opportunity to let King Herod Agrippa know that there is another king (see Acts 17:7), and braces himself to take this alarming message to Caesar himself (v. 32). Our passage concludes with Paul, Luke and his other Gentile companions making their departure from the land of Jesus en route to Rome (27:1–2).

Luke and Paul are convinced that Jesus’ resurrection should turn the world upside down. It is the long-awaited fulfilment of prophecy and all people must hear of it—both ‘small and great’ (v. 22), both Jew and Gentile (v. 20). It is both ‘true and reasonable’ (v. 25)—not to be dismissed even by those, like Paul, with ‘great learning’ (v. 24). Within three centuries the Roman emperor would bow before this king, and some of the greatest minds would submit to his truth. Caesarea itself would become the seat of Palestine’s archbishop.

So we too take our departure from this holy land ‘tour’ in this surprising place—not in Galilee or Jerusalem but in a pagan city, for the message of the risen Jesus is no ‘local option’, but goes out to the world—even those in apparently secular cities. Are we those who go out today, ruled by this king? And do we share anything of Paul’s desire (vv. 28–29) that others should become ‘Christians’—the ‘people of the king’?


Guidelines

Our guided tour of biblical sites is over. This week we have travelled towards the cross at Calvary and then out the other side with the news of Jesus’ resurrection, being challenged to be his witnesses ‘to the ends of the earth’. This pattern of death and resurrection lies at the heart of the whole Bible: we must die, so that we may truly live (the pattern of our baptism); we must go up to Jerusalem and then out again; we must go into God and out to the world.

So our spiritual tour leaves us with some points to ponder:

  • Is this ‘baptismal’ pattern one that you can be building regularly into your own devotional life? In what ways are we coming to the cross each day and then being remade and recommissioned for Christ’s work?
  • To what new places might God be sending you, that you may there bring something of Christ’s light and love?
  • Like the Emmaus disciples, are you able to sense Christ with you ‘on the way’? Are you open to learning from him as he teaches you the scriptures, and will you return to your own Jerusalem (wherever that may be) with a joyful tale of what he has done for you?

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