There’s no place like home

October 26, 2011

It’s been nearly a week since i, along with the gang of intrepid pilgrims, left the Holy Land to return to our homes in America. In fact, if I recall correctly, after resting a bit, I rolled out of bed at 10:30 on a Wednesday night, showered and packed, and we headed to the Tel Aviv airport. our flight left sometime around 4:50 Am, and we landed in Amsterdam about 9:30.

The flight from Amsterdam was around 10 hours, and while not an unpleasant flight, it did have it’s issues. First, the controls to my TV screen would not work; when I finally managed to select a movie to watch, it did not give me what I wanted, and I ended up watching “Bad Teacher” instead. Not what I would have chosen, obviously, but I turned my brain off and watched it.

The real kicker was the obscene and offensive guy (from Wiggins, MS) who sat across the aisle from me, drank somewhere in the neighborhood of 9-12 beers on the flight, made multiple inappropriate comments about flight attendants, wanted everyone on the plane to hear him belch (I think they did), and was unquestionably the epitome of the ugly American. I asked a flight attendant to slip one of my ambiens in his beer, but she refused.

But after a solid 24 hours of travel, we were back home, and let me tell you, there is nothing like your own bed, your own pillow, and your own shower, after you have been away from home for 2 weeks. Most of my fellow travellers have allowed that their sleep cycles are still a bit messed up (“they say” that it takes a day for every hour of time difference, so I should be normal tonight or tomorrow); many of us came back with respiratory bugs, and mine is slowly easing off and going away.

What got me was preaching twice on Sunday about 60 hours after getting off the plane, and having two families dealing with deaths ask for me to help them through the process and lead the services. And speak at IRONMEN. All while I was feeling like death on a cracker, myself.

But God is good. I’ve gotten through most of the demands that were dropped in my lap, I’m feeling better physically, and I slept until the alarm woke me up today. There’s light at the end of the tunnel.

What I hope, however, is to discover that the light is actually the Light of the world, Jesus the Christ. I do not wish to lose sight of the fact that I have been in that part of the world where the Savior was born, impacted people’s lives, and died for my sins (and the sins of the world)–but also rose to offer the promise of everlasting life.

No one–no other religious leader–ever made the claims that Jesus made, nor said or did the things that He said and did. My life is eternally changed because of Him, and the memories of this trip will linger with me forever, I think.

Still, I like my own bed and pillow. It’s good to be home.


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