Jerusalem's Hope by Brock Thoene Page B

approached the eastern bank of the river.
    The waters of the Jordan were swollen with heavy Spring rains. The ford beyond Jericho was usually no higher than mid-calf. Today the current was swift and waist deep, making the crossing difficult.
    On this eastern bank Jacob had wrestled with the Angel of Adonai ’s Presence. At the end of the struggle Jacob was renamed Isra’el, meaning “Prince of God.”
    It was also near this place that the Lord had parted the waters of the river for Jacob’s descendants. Led by the Ark of the Covenant and carrying the bones of Jacob’s son Joseph, the Israelites had returned from Egypt’s slavery to the land promised to their fathers.
    Evidence of the Lord’s power had not been visible in Israel for centuries, Nakdimon mused, as he took his place in the line waiting to cross. No parting of waters. No pillar of fire. No Shekinah glory suffusing the sanctuary. What was the Temple if the Shekinah was not within? Glorious stones rising like a mountain on Zion. Songs of praise. Endless prayers for forgiveness. The collecting of tithes. The bleating of tens of thousands of sheep. The blood of sacrifices.
    But no miracles.
    Nakdimon considered again that this crowd of farmers and peasants, a microcosm of the nation, was thickly larded with thieves, tax collectors, and rebels. Saint and sinners, they were the children of Israel. They crossed over Jordan into the land as one nation.
    In recent days the cry of Yochanan the Baptizer could be heard on this riverbank: “Teshuvah! Return! Turn your heart to the Lord! The Kingdom of God is near! Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
    Until Yeshua of Nazareth arrived on the scene, miracles over the centuries had been few and far between.
    Hope among the am ha aretz, the people of the land, had grown cold over generations.
    Until now.
    Perhaps the waters of the Jordan did not magically part today. Yet the tangible sense of expectation passed from one person to another. The throng inched forward to cross over Jordan in memory of the first Exodus, the first coming home to the land of Israel.
    Yeshua of Nazareth! Worker of miracles! Prophet! Deliverer! Messiah? Lamb of God? Surely he will come to claim David’s throne in Yerushalayim and free us from tyranny!
    A rope stretched from shore to shore across the expanse to steady those who waded into the water. A long unbroken line of pilgrims, children on shoulders, belongings on heads, passed beneath the outstretched arms of a priest.
    He and they sang in antiphonal chorus as they stepped into the stream: “I will lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from?”
    And from the waters the people responded with the chorus, “My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”
    From the west bank a second priest blessed them yet again as they entered Eretz-Israel, The Land! “He will not let your foot slip—He who watches over you will not slumber; indeed He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.”
    And so continued the songs of ascent throughout the thousands who crossed.
    â€œThe Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and for evermore . . .”
    Ancient words took on fresh meaning as the river washed away dust from outside the land. Was this to be a new day for Israel?
    Nakdimon, donkey and boys in tow, approached the water’s edge. Of all those generations that had crossed this river to find the promise, was he finally living in the age that would see God’s promises fulfilled on earth?
    The priests and people sang the words of Psalm 132:
    â€œFor the sake of David your servant,
do not reject your anointed one.
The Lord swore an oath to David,
a sure oath that he will not revoke:
One of your descendants
I will place on your throne.”
    Was the name of that son of David Yeshua? God Saves? Immanu’el? God-with-us?
    A sense of awe and hope