Marlin & Sally in Jerusalem

Time for Silence

Dear Friends:

The preacher of Ecclesiastes says a lot when he says there is "a time for silence ..."  That time has come for me.  In fact that time came a while ago, but I've been slow to listen.  I need to listen for a while.  And that's what I'm going to do -- I'm going to be silent and listen.  I'm going to spend more time reading my Bible for one thing.  I've been neglecting that, and that is not good. I'm going to spend more time praying as well.  I'm runniing on empty, you see, and I need to be filled.  So -- time for silence.  There will come again a time for speaking, but for now -- time for silence.

Thanks for being faithful to this little place of story, reflection and Friday prayer.  We hope you were given a glimpse into the lives of the people who live here, and were able to see them as real people who are no different than any other, except that, like so many others, they live in a difficult time and in a difficult place.
 
I'm grateful to the many of you who took time to respond to my writings.  It was a pleasure to hear from you no matter whether you were pleased with me or not.  I enjoyed the dialogue and grew from it.  Please do not stop caring and praying about this place and her people.  There are good people on all sides of this conflict. Most people here want peace almost as badly, I think, as God wants peace for them.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem, and listen for the voice of God.

Marlin and Sally

If you want to be on our email list, let us know -- mpmfvis@yahoo.com.

Hope Comes With the Morning

Sometimes I feel so hopeful about life, and for me, these times are mostly morning times.  These are also the times when I most keenly feel God with me – with us actually, to be more on biblical point.  Feeling is not reality, however, and I know that even when I don’t feel God, God is still with us.  However, feeling God in the midst of living is a gift, I think, and this morning I give God thanks for it.  This morning I am hopeful, and grateful as well, because without these hope filled morning times, I don’t know what I’d do.  Honestly, I don’t.  I can’t imagine being without hope, therefore I can’t imagine what it is like to be Palestinian.  I can try to imagine, but I can’t get there, because you see, I have a future, a life to imagine, dreams to dream that I can actually hope will be more than mere dream.  Palestinians have dreams as well, but many that I talk with have no hope that their dreams are anything more than fits of fancy.

Yesterday I spent time on the street, the street on which we live.  I visited again with many of my shopkeeper neighbors and as I looked into their eyes I saw again the despair, and yes, the hopelessness that they cannot shield from even the most casual of friend, and what is worst, that they cannot hide from their children as well.  Therein lies the pain, and this pain -- real, gut deep, and embedded within the hearts and souls of these good men -- is the reason I’m here, I think.  The sons of these shopkeepers share the eyes of their fathers and that is what pains me most of all.  It’s so very sad.  I went to bed in a melancholy mood, and I did not sleep well.

But this morning is a new day.  Around 6:00 the sun fulfilled the promise that it made at 5:15 with just a peek of light in the east.  The sun came up and filled the day with light.  I stood on the terrace and watched it rise, and I felt hopeful, and I felt the presence of God.

“You are alive,” I said.

“Yes,” God replied, “and so are you.”  And in that little reminder lies hope for the world.

There could be peace here.  It is possible.  The Palestinians could have a place to call “their place,” and given that opportunity would show themselves and the rest of us that they could prosper too.  I have no doubt of that, and this morning I even have hope in this dream coming true some day – maybe today will be the day a break-through breaks through.  I watch how hard Palestinians work when given work to do.  I marvel at how resilient Palestinians are in the face of daily oppression.  These Palestinian dads would jump at the chance to help their sons and daughters realize the dreams that they dream for them and with them – the same dreams other dads dream, I imagine.

So this morning I have hope.  This morning I am reminded that God is not dead, but alive and well and working to make God’s redemption dream a dream come true for all of his beloved people.  And if God is alive and well and working, then I too have work to do.  And so do you.