Today was a miracle! My second Sabbath in the Holy Land. I love taking the sacrament here. I love singing the sacrament song actually. It’s my favorite part, looking out over the Kidron valley at the city, trying to find Golgotha, trying to picture what it was like for Jesus Christ to die for me. It’s so crazy how real it seems here. 

     After church we put on our walking shoes and headed to the Garden Tomb. When I see a famous site I’ve only heard about or only seen pictures of for the very first time, it is a moment I always treasure. As we walked onto the site, I knew it was holy because of the silence that was in such contrast to the city. It’s more than just a sound silence, it’s reverent silence. Again, even if this wasn’t the “exact” spot, it’s sacred to me because of how many people consider it sacred. It’s sacred to me because it brings me closer to Christ. You actually have to walk through a little gift shop doorway to enter the garden. As you walk through the small shop, there is a rock wall that suddenly is gone and you see below you a few flights of stairs and to the left, the famous door-shaped hole cut into the mountain side. I never thought you would look down into the site, and I loved seeing it from that perspective. There weren’t too many people crowding the front when we got there so I got a pretty breath-taking view. I couldn’t help smiling. I am here! Is this actually me? In this place!? Seeing this with my own eyes?! It often still doesn’t seem real. The set up in the garden is so nice. There are little spaces for people to have devotionals all over. It’s almost like the way a campground is set up. It kind of seems like the Garden of Eden in the temple video. All these exotic flowers, bushes, and trees with a few main pathways connecting everything. 

     We had a tour that started in the place where Christ was believed to be crucified. Our tour guide told us that although we think of a “green hill far away” when we think of the crucifixion, Christ was more likely crucified on ground level rather than on a hill. The scriptures talk about passers-by listening and speaking to him. They heard him give up the ghost. He was probably crucified right off the side of the road as was common in those days. The crosses were set up close to the road leading to the busiest gates of the city so many people could pass by and learn by harsh example what happens to those who are punished. Our guide then pointed to the busy, noisy, crowded bus station located just to the right of a small skull shaped hill and said, that, in fact is where Christ was most likely crucified. He talked about how he was okay with there being a bus terminal there and drew connections such as Christ’s death making possible the journey back to the Father. I loved that idea too - very Christian to take something the world has seemingly desecrated and also be able to find Christ in it. 

     Our guide was a Christian Jew. He was soft spoken with a wiry body and big dark eyes. His stance was awkward at times as he would push his bangs out of his eyes. I found him handsome. From just a few minutes of him talking to us, I knew he was a powerful disciple of Jesus Christ. He concluded his description of Golgotha with these three lines. I wrote them down word-for-word because of how strong the Spirit was as he said them. God is king, so Ceaser is not. God is king, so the evil one is not. God is king, so death is not.   We moved back to where the tomb was located to conclude our tour. It was so fun to walk by all the little “campgrounds” of peoples from all over the world singing their own Christian songs, having their own versions of a sacrament, and smiling at us as we passed by. 

     Sitting there by the tomb, I heard the faint sounds of a hymn coming from one of the nearby devotional areas. It wasn’t familiar at first, then suddenly I recognized a word. Could it be? I turned my head, almost violently, as I recognized another word - Indonesian! The dark haired, dark skinned faces confirmed my leaping hope. I couldn’t believe it. God is so good! There they were, a group of about 15 Indonesian families having their sacrament service right next to the garden tomb. I was so excited and paying so much attention to them that I forgot to actually go inside the tomb! I couldn’t concentrate on anything else except the happiness in my heart at the thought of being able to talk and connect with them. I teared up as I realized again and again what a tender mercy the Lord had given me. What were the chances? And here of all places! 

     With my eyes still glued on that group, my feet carried my body along as our group moved to our own devotional area. I purposely sat on the end closest to the Indonesians to watch their every move so I could get up quickly to say “Hi” if they finished before we did. I wouldn’t give up that chance for anything. I was torn because I also couldn’t wait for our own devotional to start. Needless to say, it was memorable, but for other reasons than you are expecting. Our program director said we couldn’t sing any “songs of the Restoration” so they picked some random one that did not fit with the setting at all, sigh. And then, “I stand all Amazed,” which was a good one at least. A student was picked to lead the music, and you could tell she really had no idea what she was doing. Music is SO powerful when done right! I WISH we made more of an emphasis on it in the church. That’ll be my calling one day! Can’t wait. :) 

    So off we went with the first song. After a line, I looked up as I realized something was terribly wrong. Our group was so big that somehow we had started on two different notes. I happened to be right on the dividing line between the two “parts” and shuddered in horror. It sounded awful. I’m a music major and a little bit more sensitive to these kinds of things, but as I started stirring, people around me started to notice too and would exchange painful glances with me. Of all places... The garden tomb?! The music rang throughout, and I turned my eyes to the sky sharing a moment with Heavenly Father as I sighed softly in exasperation, humor, and embarrassment! As the first verse ended, I tuned my ears in better to figure out what exactly was going on and who I should talk to to see if I could do anything to at least help if not fix the problem. I honed in on a group and turned to them with a look of amusement as I whispered urgently, “Hey! We’re singing in two different keys!” They stopped and the music got quieter for a minute as they realized what was happening. They finally joined in again, this time... on the right note. Ah, music major status saves the day! 

     The next song was back to the regular Mormon congregational level, and we attracted some thankful glances from passers-by as they appreciated the lyrics, and harmonies... :) Our devotional finished before the Indonesians. I stayed back while the group went to take more pictures at the tomb. I was creepin'' I know, but I HAD to talk to them! Finally they finished. I walked over, semi-awkwardly, (because you just can’t help feeling awkward when you’ve been creepin’) and said softly in my most polite Javanese form, “Excuse me... Sorry, I just wanted to tell you I used to live in Indonesia... Thank you... I was touched by your service.” I was on cloud nine for the next 5 minutes as they oohed and ahhed over my bahasa. One couple was from Jogjakarta so that was fun to recognize street names and explain I was a missionary there. Of course we took pictures, and every time I ran into them again in the garden we exchanged huge smiles. What a miracle. So grateful.