Where Had Jesus Grown Up?

In May of 2014, I went to Egypt, Jordan, and Israel with a Christian tour group. 

While touring through Israel, our guide Ruthie had us on the lookout for small fuzzy creatures that were native to Africa and the Middle East. She had a name for them, but I can’t remember it. She told us that it was rare to catch a glimpse of them, but we all hoped we would.

We visited a vast grove of date trees south of Jerusalem. The bus driver made a couple of loops around the area in hopes of seeing some of the animals, but we didn’t even see one.

A few days later we were in the more northern parts of Israel around Nazareth and Mount Hermon. Traffic was heavy in the city of Nazareth. It was crowded and full of modern-day buildings, cars, and ornate churches. A couple thousand years of history was built on top of what once was a remote village nestled into the hills above the large fertile Jezreel Valley. I wanted to visualize what life would have been like in this place where Christ grew up. Some archaeologists believe Nazareth was very small back in the first century with something like 400 people.

I really wanted to get a feel for the home where Jesus had grown up, but it wasn’t happening. Yet I kept praying for it and holding out hope. 

We continued moving north in the following days and visited Caesarea Philippi, the place in the New Testament where Jesus asked his disciples, “Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?” (Matthew 16:13-20)

After we visited the grotto area and talked about this event in Jesus’ life, the tour guide allowed us to explore the area on our own. Normally when we explored, we stayed together, but this was a place with short hikes and trails. So, this time I felt safe enough to go on my own.

I turned my mind to the Lord’s like usual and he immediately pointed me to a pathway that led up into a little forested area. I just followed him. After crossing over the creek on a wooden bridge (see the image at the top of the blog), I hiked up the side of the bluff. I was the only one who had gone this way. The pathway didn’t seem to be “well-travelled”. 

When I got to the top, I saw them – more than a half dozen of the elusive fuzzy creatures we had been searching for! They were nested in the trees and the crevices of a rocky outcropping. There were a couple of mamas with babies. It was delightful! 

I later found them online. They are called Hyraxes. They live in parts of Africa and the Middle East in forested areas, vegetation zones, and areas with large rock outcrops. They eat mostly leaves, twigs, fruit, bark, and grass. Their feet are equipped with rubbery pads, which allow them to climb trees very quickly and jump great distances (Treehouses).

I walked quietly and cautiously through the trees so I wouldn’t scare them. A couple of mamas hissed at me. I took some pictures so I could show the rest of the group when I got back, but I was thankful that I could experience this peaceful sacred place alone with Him. I wondered if this less trodden place, away from the ornate churches, was more like the place where he grew up. I wondered if these animals were around when he lived in the area. Whatever the case, I knew he was answering my prayer. He had brought me to a quiet place in nature to catch a glimpse of him.

It Was a Year of Shadow

In 1983 when I was 13 years old and in 8th grade, I stopped going to church. My mom said I could make my own decision about going, and so I chose not to go. It was a year of shadow. At least that’s what the memories look like now. At the time, I didn’t notice the shifting shades of gray as I walked along this pathway. And I wasn’t yet able to associate many of the consequences that occurred that year as a result of my choice. It’s only in hindsight that I see the link. 

It wasn’t so much that I should have been at church and wasn’t. It was that in not going I stepped away from the steady source of light and truth that is especially valuable to children who are just developing their sense of who they are. I became unconscious of my value, my worth, my accountability to God.

During this year of overcast skies, I had some friends that smoked. I was curious when they handed me a cigarette. I wondered how it would make me feel. So, I tried it. I didn’t feel bad about it. One night, they got a hold of some marijuana and invited me to try it. Again, I was curious about how it would make me feel. I tried it. The effect was that it took away some of my ability to choose. I remember I didn’t have a lot of control over what I said. It was like my boundaries were down. Thankfully, I didn’t do anything more than hang out with my friends that night. When I got home, I lay down on my bed and saw myself almost from a third-person perspective. A voice in my head spoke:

“Do you like how you feel?”

“No,” I responded.

“Then we don’t have to do this again.”

“Okay.”

I never did.