I’m borrowing and adjusting the title of an old hymn I grew
up singing – most often in my little country church in Russellville, South
Carolina, before communion – ‘Tis
Midnight and on Olive’s Brow. In some odd way, that seems to connect my
life story of faith with this moment in what likely is the place where Jesus
prayed with such desperation on the night of His betrayal.
The olive trees surrounding this spot aren’t the ones that
witnessed His struggle, but some look like they could have been! I’m sitting
under one that is old, twisted, and gnarled. If trees could talk it looks like
it would have quite a story to tell. Some of them actually look like nature’s
response to the awful news that God’s Son would die in order to redeem His
creation.
When I look down at the ground, the cracks in the dried,
clay-like soil speak of the broken world Jesus came to heal. Two thousand years
of wind, rain, hot sun, and human traffic mean that even if I am sitting in the
exact space when He wept as though bleeding, this isn’t the same soil. But . .
. it speaks the same message. Brokenness
needs healing.
It’s noisier than I wish in this spot, but the noise also
has me thinking. Some of the noise is manmade – busses, cars, motorcycles in
need of a better muffler. I hear some heavy construction equipment and what
sounds like a heavy chain being moved. Horns occasionally blow and a loud siren
passed by just a moment ago. Paul spoke of “clanging symbols” and this spot has
its share.
But I also hear a variety of song birds. One in particular
is making a sound I’ve never heard before. The psalmist was right – “the
heavens declare the glory of God.” (Psalm 19) That one little bird’s song can
be heard above all the noise surrounding me.
In the midst of a noisy, broken world – there is this
distinctive sound that rises above it all. How I wish our proclamation of the
gospel Jesus came to reveal would be so distinctive and easy to hear.
It’s a breezy day and gusts of wind frequently rustle the
olive tree leaves to make them sing a tune of peace, comfort, and presence. It
was probably on one of these ancient streets just beyond the ancient wall in
front of me that Jesus told a very religious Nicodemus that God’s Spirit – like
the wind – blows where He wills – and makes His presence known – born of Spirit
not flesh; entering the kingdom of Jesus, not of this world.
From where I am sitting at the moment, I can see the
“southern steps” near the Huldah Gate, the likely place the Spirit would make
His presence known on the Day of Pentecost as described in Acts 2. The sound of
the Spirit’s coming would be described, in part, by Luke as “a mighty rushing
wind.” But – before that great moment in the mighty acts of God, this moment
must first happen.
What is in my heart and mind at this moment is a prayer that
God would continue to use me to tell the story of Jesus to a world deeply
broken and cracked, in need of the peace that Jesus brings. I am probably more
aware of the struggle He faced to walk away from what was before Him than ever
before. Even though this spot is 2000 years after He was here, I can’t not
think deeply of what it must have been like for Him.
Steve spoke earlier of Christ’s Church in the Valley’s core
value of integrity – doing the right
thing at the right time in the right way.
In this very spot, Jesus showed integrity to His mission
from God – despite the incredible temptation to do otherwise.
How could I not do the same?
“’Tis Mid-Day and on
Olive’s Brow.” May I walk from this place with courage like His.
