Eric and I at the Roman Citadel on the top of one of Amman’s seven mountains.
Last week, I was in Jordan. The one across the ocean. The one that required an 11 hour nonstop flight from Chicago to reach. It was an amazing and surreal experience–surreal in the sense that it was my first time to the Middle East. Notice the use of the word first. It’s very intentional.
The ruins on one of the sites near the Dead Sea where some think Herod had a palace, and where John the Baptist was beheaded.
While there we explored the city, spent time sight-seeing, and had the opportunity to have many conversations with locals. It was incredible to experience Arab hospitality on the streets in the Baladi, or in homes of refugees. There was a special warmth that wrapped around us as these people welcomed strangers (me) into their circles.
At one time this Jordanian flag was the largest flag in the world. It’s something like 146 meters long. Seen through Roman ruins at the Citadel.
A very modern mall that opened in the last year or so, and is filled with stores that are common in the US.
Amman was an interesting blend of very modern and classically old. It blended ruins with modern construction. Water tanks dotting apartment buildings and cars zipping along the roads.
The church on the Jordanian side of the Jordan River commemorating the baptism site where John the Baptist may have baptized Jesus.
More ruins from Herod’s fortress.
I left Jordan with a heart to return to that county and others in the Middle East. What I didn’t expect was for my heart to be so affected by the people themselves. It was truly the best part of the experience.
Have you traveled to an unexpected place? Did you find your perspective changed in the process?
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Comments 4
I travel to France and Great Britain . It made me see history in a different light.
I never planned on visiting China, but in 2005, that’s where I went. The smog was so bad, we saw the sun only once, when we were in Shanghai, on the coast. And have you heard that China is crowded? The people like Americans, at least those old enough to remember WWII. I’m glad I went.
49 years ago at Christmas time when I was 7 years old, my family flew to the jungles of Limoncocha, Ecuador to visit my aunt and uncle who were missionaries there. One of the missionaries they worked with was Rachel Saint. We were able to hear Rachel speak at a conference, along with hearing the testimonies of some of the Auca Indians who were involved in the tragic killings of five missionaries. One of the missionaries killed was Rachel Saint’s brother, Nate. I had heard the story of this tragedy, but to see the transformed lives of these indians who were once savages and murderers, was a huge impact on my life. We stayed in Ecuador for a month, interacting with the natives, seeing some of their customs of how they celebrate Christmas, and learning much about the ministry my aunt and uncle had there. Even though it was so many years ago, I still remember it like it was yesterday. It makes me appreciate the many luxuries we have here in the U.S., an appreciation for all that missionaries abroad do to share the Gospel, and the transforming hope and forgiveness that our Saviour, Jesus, offers to all who seek Him.
While I’ve always known where I would be traveling, I have not always known the timing–like when someone unexpectedly died and I flew or drove to the funeral.