Between a Rock and a Hard Place

It's hard to believe the Feast is already over. Everyone says it, I know, but it's true. The feast was on my mind every day for at least three months. Now what? Well now I have memories from the feast to take it's place.

But before I begin with my account of the feast, I must tell you of the very important lesson we learned prior to--which I'm sure could have been learned no other way than through this trial.

Perhaps many of you know that Sam's first name is not "Sam." It's Nahum. Samuel is his middle name--per his birth certificate. And since passports have to match the BC, his passport reads the same. However, when booking the flights for Jerusalem, I failed to give any attention to this and booked the tickets under "Samuel Nahum."
A week prior to the feast, this was brought to my attention. It's not a problem, says I. Who goes by "Nahum?" But the more I pondered the situation, the more I worried, is it a problem? I panicked for a couple of days, and then decided to "be safe" and call Priceline (who we booked with). The agent told me, "Don't worry, for a small fee ($30), we'll change the name on the ticket. Let me call the airlines to get things worked out for you." Great! I was at ease. She was to call me back to assure me of the new changes--and then charge me for the service.

Two days later (Friday), I get the call. For reasons that would take too long to explain here, they couldn't change the name on the ticket. I was advised to call TSA and airport customs--which I did. Customs had no problem with it, while TSA suggested bringing some extra identification. When I asked about international security policies, I was steered in a different direction. So as advised, I called the French and Israeli embassies in the states, but they were dead ends. Being a Friday afternoon with only a couple hours till sundown, I decided I had pulled enough of my hair out, and should probably relax for the Sabbath. But I suddenly had an idea--Google! I googled my problem to see what I could find. Every scenario I read about with tickets that didn't match passports, ended in tears and disappointment. I decided not to tell Sam about my google finds--negativity only breeds more negativity. So I worried in silence.

The Sabbath was just what we needed. I hadn't planned on telling anyone about the events, but it was so ever present on my mind that it just came spewing out! And I'm so glad it did because God provided us comfort through the brethren and in our fellowship.We slept good that night having been encouraged to trust God to part our Red Sea.

Two days later, the day before Atonement, I suddenly had a brilliant idea. As if to say, "God, thanks for your offer, but I think I can handle it from here," I called Priceline back, explained the situation to a different agent and said, "so how about you just cancel our tickets, and then reissue them under the new name?" Genius plan, yes? No. Our tickets were not refundable and for other small-print reasons, the plan wouldn't work. Just then, I realized what had happened--my faith had wavered. And just then, the agent asked me, "Well, what are you going to do." I was a little surprised, because normally, they rush to get off the phone to answer another call. After realizing my weakness, I quickly asked God to supply the faith I didn't have and I answered the man: "I'm going to show up at the airport and hope that they let Sam board."

"They won't," he said.

There it was, the big test. The man dogmatically told me that they would not let Sam board the plane. My heart sank. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I had squirmed and struggled, trying to find a way around, under, and over. Nothing.

"What are you going to do?" he repeated.

We could have taken his suggestion and been "safe." He reminded me of our "better" option: "Get credit with us, and get new tickets--only having to pay the difference, and a cancellation and rebooking fee." I only repeated myself, and added "but thanks for your help." Again, I thought it best not to tell Sam about what this agent said. My faith had been shaken, and I didn't want to cause him any more stress than what I'd already caused. 

As Sam and I continued to encourage each other, we realized that as much as we wanted to go to Jerusalem, that wasn't the issue. It was a matter of keeping the Feast. And so we planned that if they wouldn't let us board in Nashville, we'd go back home, and leave for Ohio on Sunday. If they didn't let us board in Chicago (our next stop), we'd rent a car and drive down to Ohio. If they didn't let us board in Paris (another stop), we'd cross the Channel and keep the feast in Folkstone. No matter what, we were going to be somewhere God placed His name. The fact that we weren't going to miss the feast, no matter which way the path turned, was a comfort.

We concluded that if God didn't want us in Jerusalem, we wouldn't have been accepted to go there in the first place. We can't grow without trials--what a wonderful way to keep us focused and humbled. So the next few times I went to God in prayer, I specifically asked God that every security department we had to pass through might look on us favorably.

The morning we left, the sun was just coming over the hills. It was a beautiful morning, and my eyes rested on the sky. I happened upon 3 shapes in the clouds in this order, as one dissipated, another appeared: 1) an eye. It made me feel that God was watching us and was aware of the situation. 2) The mount of Olives. It made me more sure that we'd be keeping the feast in Jerusalem. And 3) two arms in a cradled embrace. It made me feel God would keep us in His protection all the way to the feast and back. I know this sounds cheesy--it almost feels cheesy writing it. And I'm not saying these were signs. But whatever they were--if even just my imagination--they were comforting.

The entire trip to Jerusalem was more than smooth--it was actually pleasant. We arrived to Tel Aviv with not a single problem. That night in the hotel, I realized God answered my specific prayer. Not only did they stamp the passport or just say, "Next!" but every official who had to look at our passports made some kind of friendly banter with us. Talk about looking on us favorably! Coincidence? I think not!

There were so many lessons to soak up from this trial that made our feast a smash from the beginning, but one of the most important that I took from it is that of ultimate control. You can exercise as much as you want, eat as healthy as you can--does that mean you won't get sick? You can take all the precautions riding your bicycle, wearing as much protective gear as possible--does that mean you won't get hurt?
No matter what you do, no matter how well you do it, GOD is in control of what actually happens.  He lends us things, and gives us certain abilites--so we must assume responsibility--but the ultimate control lies with Him.Trusting God to continue to make the earth rotate is not something I worry about because it's obvious that I have no control over that. But what about those things that God entrusts me with--do I still see the need for God in them? 

It was a great way to begin the feast. Stay tuned; the rest of the story is yet to come!