Posted on by lgandre

Day Five–Long Walk Through Time

Our feet hit the stone early as we headed down to the City of David.  There’s no way to describe out day without a little bit of a history review…If you are at all familiar with the Old Testament, you know that the little boy Hannah brought to the tabernacle at Shiloh would later anoint the first king of Israel, Saul, and the second king of Israel, David.

Roughly 1000 BC David conquered the Jebusite city on a finger of land sandwiched between the Kidron valley and the valley of Hinnom from the inside out by sending someone up the water shaft. He then moved the capital of Israel from Shiloh to this new city, called Jerusalem which not only had a strategic defensive but also an excellent water source, the Gihon spring.

The city was small but Solomon would later add on and build the first temple—a grand structure that would attract attention from around the world.

The View from the City of David

We descended on the City of David along with more tour groups than we had seen at any location we had been in so far in our travels.  Curtis wanted to stay in front of them, so we didn’t linger long as we passed through the excavations of David’s palace and the likely residences of his staff. 

Since the city’s position at the top of hill and it’s water source below created a vulnerability, King Hezekiah connected a water tunnel later to divert the water under the mountain and add to the impenetrability of the city. 

We passed through the enormous caverns leading down to Hezekiah’s tunnel which still flows clear spring water.  It was chilly, but once you get used to it, the water doesn’t seem so bad.  We were the first of the morning through the long, impressive tunnel chisel into rock from two directions for a third of a mile to meet in the middle.  It was a lot longer than you think it’s going to be and a little concerning if you’re claustrophobic.  Thank goodness I had Lonnie behind me constantly saying, “keep moving!”  It is dark, damp, and there are no emergency exits.

The tunnel ends at a pool of water which Jewish men still bathe in for ritual cleansing.  We got through just in time to inconvenience a few who were waiting to take their baths in the chilly out of doors.

Despite all the defensives, Jerusalem was destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonians in 586 BC after a string of godless kings; just like Jeremiah prophesied that it would.  There is evidence of the 18 month siege of the city and of course, the temple was destroyed and all of the implements carried off.

A lot happened between that time and the time of Christ, but the main thing to know when you are visiting is that when Jerusalem’s walls were rebuilt by Nehemiah and the temple was rebuilt by Zerubbabel, they were built on the hill above the original site.  Thus, when we refer to the “Old City” and the “Temple Mount” we would be referring to the Jerusalem that Jesus would have traveled to during his lifetime, not the Jerusalem David would have called home.  The mix of this history and the current structures in place make it difficult to picture the cities the way they used to be either at the time of David or the time of Christ (which were very different), but we could catch glimpses such as at the excavated portion of the Pool of Siloam—where travelers to Jerusalem for festivals would have bathed prior to ascending to the temple.  There are some excavations revealing the original steps leading to the temple—one of the few places in Jerusalem where you can walk “where Jesus would have walked.”

What the streets near the temple might have looked like in Jesus’ time

We worked our way toward the temple mount—the site where the temple was rebuilt after the Babylonian captivity and where Herod would later “renovate” on top of an enormous and impressive temple mount.  Curtis took us up the actual front steps of the temple mount…you can’t access the mount itself from there anymore, but I didn’t realize how much happened there on the temple steps until we sat and looked at several of the verses.  The Temple was the hub of Jewish life in Jesus’ day and he would have first been carried here as an infant, later be “lost” here as an adolescent and later make a nuisance of himself here as he threw out moneychangers and overturned tables of merchandise. 

Herod’s temple, of course, was also destroyed as Jesus himself predicted and access is now restricted due to the site being controlled by the Islamic Waqf.  We timed our day so that we would be able to enter the temple mount during the one hour it was allowing tourists.  They confiscated the Bible one person in our group had in his backpack and they cracked me up by asking me to wrap my neck due to it being too exposed!

Jews do not go up to the Temple Mount for fear of stepping on the site of the Holy of Holies and thus pray and do their worship at the small section of the Western Wall of the mount that’s been exposed. But I thought it was worth the hassle of covering my collarbone to walk around the sacred site was well worth it even though it is now the site of a mosque and, of course, the Dome of the Rock.

They kicked us off the Temple Mount in no time at all which was a shame except for the fact that I was starting to melt under the raincoat zipped up to my chin.

We were ushered out through the Muslim quarter which was a buz with vendors selling food and trinkets. For a country so concerned with COVID, there were sure a lot of people in the narrow streets.

We eventually found our way to the Jewish quarter and to the Blue and White art studio. There, a world-class Messianic Jewish artist named Udi tells the story of Christ through art. He has become particularly special to our family.

We had walked about seven miles so far in this day and the fun was just beginning. It was Purim and the Jewish quarter was getting into party mode. They dress up in costumes and celebrate the historical rescue of their people from the wicked Haman through the story of Esther as if it were yesterday.

Technically, it was “free time” in the city but most of us followed Curtis back to the Arab quarter to meet up with a new friend–a licensed antiquities dealer with a winner manner and a crazy-disorganized shop.

Ancient Roman glass vases were pulled out of old shoeboxes stuffed with trash…he pulled out one valuable after another from shopping bags and piles of debri. It was getting chilly again so I was glad to be sitting by the heater upon which the tea kettle was perched.

What made the experience especially surreal were the recommendation letters he showed us from an eclectic clientele including Chuck Swindoll, Bill Clinton, Gavin Newsom, Metalica, and others. He has been featured in National Geographic on more than one occasion. We passed a few happy hours shivering and marveling at tiny treasures.

Eventually, my interest in food began to eclipse my appreciation of old coins and pottery and we walked outside the Jaffa gate to a classy Italian restaurant in the Mamilla mall. I was exhausted and my feet were complaining from a long day of walking on stone, but it was Purim and the city was still very much alive so we decided to pay an evening visit to the heart of the city–the Western Wall.

Did I mention the Jews know how to party? They abstain form a lot of things but alcohol is not among them. All in all, though, it seemed to be a sincere celebration of the deliverance of God.

On this particular day, we had walked about twelve miles and climbed the equivalent of 64 flights of stairs. We had covered about 1700 years of history from David to the Dome of the Rock. As we finally puttered our way back to the hotel, I didn’t feel like we could have packed much more into our first day in the Old City.

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Day Four—A Lesson in Contrast

It was an especially early start as we rolled our bags to the van for a long drive through West Bank to Shiloh. What different scenery as we left the lush Galilee area and headed south to the Judean dessert.

West Bank is largely Arab, of course, and the difference is striking. As an aside, huge amount of humanitarian dollars get spent there including in new construction. We could see the evidence in the form of many large homes and apartments that are newly built but empty. West Bank and the other “occupied territories” present all kinds of complicated issues.

But first, Shiloh.

Shiloh was the home of the tabernacle for three hundred years between the Exodus and the building of Solomon’s temple. What an awesome dig and find! Your friends have not been here.

The team working the dig has done a thorough job (see Associates for Biblical Research) and that makes it extra cool. You can actually see where the tabernacle was erected and it is surreal to think the Ark of the covenant was in that very spot. All around in the surrounding hills, the twelve tribes would have camped prior to their conquest and when they traveled to make their sacrifices three times a year.

In the last few days, we had covered thousands of years from about 64 BC to present history. Now we were stepping another 1400 years back in time from the first century sites we had been largely focused on. I was thankful Curtis was constantly working to help us understand the full timeline of Israel’s colorful history.

And Shiloh definitely holds its share of colorful history. Those hills could tell so many stories over the centuries…from the days of Joshua to more recent civilizations. The site of the tabernacle has been especially convincing through the many pottery finds and even some rare finds such as 8 scarab beetle—the seal of the Egyptian pharaoh which to me is strong evidence for biblical account of the Exodus.

Hannah would have stood there at that tabernacle and prayed in desperation that God would give her a son. A few years later, she would have returned with little Samuel.

I regretted that we didn’t have more time to linger at Shiloh. There have been other civilizations at that site over the years as well (mostly irrelevant to biblical history) and so we really only scratched the surface at that hallowed place.

Masada was our next destination and we soon found ourselves peeling off layers of clothing…some of us eventually making it down to our shirt sleeves for the first time this trip.

What a fascinating place Masada is. Thanks to Herod’s wealth and ingenuity, two thousand years later, we can still appreciate the genius of his water collection and storage enabling a mountain on the top of the desert to house a garrison of men that would virtually never, ever run out of water.

I had been here once before and surprisingly, I think I actually found it more fascinating the second time. There are battling theories about its usage a hundred years after Herod for the last stand of the Jews against the Romans siege (now we are back to 70 AD). I pulled up the history on this and read one lady’s opinion that this has been a mere occupation of days or weeks. Clearly, this “scholar” had never been there to see the synagogue erected on the top, the Torah rooms, and the converted Mikvahs. Jews had definitely made this their home. Not only that, but the Romans trying to lay siege outside had clearly spent some time there as well—they built walls and cities around the city…conquering this hilltop fortress was clearly a substantial effort.

As you know, the Romans eventually did conquer the massive fortress and the story is that the Jews inside had committed mass suicide the night before the Romans entered.

Several of us really wanted to hike the Snake trail down the mountain from Masada, but by the time we were leaving, the trail was closed and we had to ride down in the gondola like your friends did. Nonetheless, Fitbit was pretty happy with me as a job well done.

Our final stop was by the Dead Sea. Only a few of the guys would brave the water considering it was not super warm or super sunny. Since I had been in once previously, and since the changing rooms were locked, I chickened out.

In one day we went from the lush Galilean countryside, through the dirty streets of West Bank, to the simple green valley of Shiloh, up to the dry barren heights of Masada, down to the lowest point on earth dotted with luxury resorts. And we weren’t quite done.

After a quick dinner, we completed our last drive pulling in the Jaffa gate in the dark and winding our way through the narrow streets of the Old City of Jerusalem.

I loved that we were staying in the Old City. Your friends have not stayed in the sold City…they stayed in the modern city just next door that most people refer to when they say, “Jerusalem.” That is, I would soon love that we’re we staying in the Old City. At that moment, I was much too tired to soak in the lively atmosphere between the high walls and stone streets.

One good shower and day four was in the books.

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Day Three

We continued our theme of going where our friends have not gone by heading to Gamala. It was cold. So cold in fact, that it turned out the trail was closed and we could not actually hike out to the site. We were able to huddle above at the overlook, however, and Curtis told us the story. This was the site of the last stand of the Jewish rebellion circa 64 BC. The Rabbi Gamaliel later spoke of it when he encouraged the religious leaders in Jerusalem to leave Jesus alone because if it wasn’t from God it would come to nothing just like the uprising that culminated there at Gamala.

It helped us understand better the political climate of the sliver of time between the Hasmonean dynasty and the failed rebellion that would come in AD 70. Jesus came to a diverse culture full of zealots and Hellenists…Pharisees and Sadducees…Jews and Samaritans…it was an ever-thickening hot mess of strong opinions and corrupt leaders; high taxes and low tolerance of others.

Sounds a little familiar.

Gamla was never rebuilt and it’s ruins were silent. Just us and the birds soaring overhead did not seem to be bothered by the cold.

Again, Jesus likely did come here although it was not specifically named in Scripture. He likely brought His simple message to these redneck farmers. Maybe many times.

From there we took a hard turn and studied some of Israel’s modern history from the unlikely university of the Eli Cohen. Your friends have not been here.

The building lies in a quiet strip of nothing, almost on the current Syrian border (and within the disputed territory). It was a fabulous and fabulously cold experience to walk through the long, graffiti covered halls and ponder the years of hatred and conflict, plotting and planning that was hosted in the many rooms. (If you aren’t familiar with Eli Cohen, you can see the dramatized version of his story in the Prime Video feature, Impossible Spy)

We shivered our way back to the van and it took a while even then to warm up. We headed from there to Banis—there’s nothing quite like visiting the gates of hell on a snowy March day.

Banis is beautiful but it was the site of some of the most grotesque pagan practices of that time. There is record of Jesus coming to this area—known then as Cesarea Philipi. In fact, Jesus may have stood on the same rock we stood on near the temple to the god Pan a/k/a the “Gates of Hell” when he famously declared that he would build his church and the gates of hell would not prevail against it.

It was sunny, windy, and snowy alternately so we didn’t loiter too long before making our way into the restaurant there for a delicious “Lebanese” lunch.

When we were sufficient full of chicken kabobs and hummus, we headed towards Nimrods castle—not an original plan but kinda a cool place if you ever find yourself in Israel with a couple of hours to kill.

The most pressing question on many of our minds was…how in the world did they heat this place? I can’t even imagine living in a stone structure on top of a snowy mountain with nothing but cold wind for company. Brrr.

Clearly, tons of time and effort was spent building this incredible defensive. It now provides an amazing house for the Irex (?) which appear to be living there quite comfortably despite the weather.

Our last stop was beside the side of the road to get some fresh pomegranate juice. The local vendors seemed very glad to see a van of tourists pull up. I suspect it has been a long two years of shut down for them.

I was exhausted by the time we reached the guest ranch and more interested in a hot bath than dinner. The front desk lady took one look at me and asked, “where on earth did you go on this cold day?”

So I told her: A cold place, a really cold place, and an even colder place.

So I told her: A cold place, a really cold place, and an even colder place. I guess I should have told her the truth: a closed national park, the Israeli/Syrian border, and the gates of hell. So…what did you do today?

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Day Two-the Galilee

Morning dawned over the Sea of Galilee.

Unfortunately, I could not pull myself out of bed to watch, so all I saw of the beautiful hues is what dared to peak around the edges of the curtain.

When I did pull myself out of bed, I made my way as far down to the water as I could, which was still a ways away but within view of our corner of the lake. I tucked myself behind some rocks and took the time to sit and read my Bible and then just be quiet. It is rare in life that I have the opportunity to sit and be quiet.

We had a last minute change of plans enabling us to hike Mt Arbel. Wow, was that cool! Your friends have not done this!

While it’s not a biblical site, it has a colorful recurrence in history including unsuccessful fortifications during political rebellions both shortly before and after the time of Christ. An understanding of them informs your understanding of the Galilean people and even why they may have viewed Christ as an up-and-coming political savior.

It’s hard to describe the amazing views over Magdala and the Sea…the cows parking themselves along the path…the bright red and yellow flowers. I cannot stress enough how different it was to see Israel in March instead of late May.

The climb gets aggressive a/k/a fun along the way. Let’s just say I understand why they close the trail when it rains.

All in all, we were proud of our time, we did it in about one hour and thirty-five minutes including time to snap photos along the way.

Our next stop was up a windy hill in the now Arab town of Nazareth. It was chilly as we piled out of the van and into a neat little dining area used by the folks at Nazareth village to feed us a period lunch.

Nazareth Village is a recreation of first century Nazareth. It is helpful in bringing the ruins to life and letting you see what a corner of the village might have been like.

The coolest part of Nazareth Village is the first century wine press. Jesus quite possibly stood on that very community wine press…(contrary to popular misconception, there are not many places one can walk where Jesus actually walked). This is one. If you don’t know what you’re looking at, it’s just one rock in the midst of many rocks that make up a rocky mountain. But if you take the time to investigate, it’s not hard to picture little Jesus stomping on grapes alongside his friends.

Probably one of Israel’s best kept secrets, Nazareth Village does a great job with its recreation and commentary and I was thankful for their interpretations that helped make the “everyday” come alive—including the climax in the synagogue.

While Capernaum was Jesus’ headquarters during the ministry years, Nazareth was Jesus’ hometown–Likely populated by just a few hundred who would have seen Jesus grow up. They were not ready to accept Him as Messiah and when he stood in their synagogue and read the passage of Isaiah prophesying of the Messiah and pointed to himself as diety and hinted that hinted that He had come for the gentiles as well, the fine folks of Nazareth did their best to throw him off a cliff. Not exactly a warm welcome from your friends and relatives. (Luke 4:16-30).

Actually being in the town helps you understand this story—it hugs the side of the mountain and they apparently had a designated spot for just such executions.

Our Muslim friends would contend that Jesus did not claim to be God. A simple reading of the gospels would show that not only did He claim to be God…the Jews around him knew precisely that He was making this bold proclamation on several occasions; often at the threat of His life.

After Nazareth, we squeaked in a visit to Magdala–the fish processing hometown of Mary the Magdalene. The Bible doesn’t specifically record Jesus coming to Magdala, but it most certainly was one of the other “cities and villages” where he would have preached in the synagogue. This town destroyed in the revolt during 70 AD and never rebuilt. It was only discovered in 2009 and the ruins which stand in the way of a hotel parking lot include the floor and benches from a true first century parking lot. Coins they found in the floor indicate it would have been in use during Jesus’ time.

“And Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit into Galilee: and there went out a fame of him through all the region round about. And he taught in their synagogues, being glorified of all.” Luke 4:14-15

We had dinner at an empty restaurant just down the street from Magdala and then those of us who were not too cold and exhausted ended the day warming our hands by a fire next to the Sea of Galilee. A perfect bookend to a perfect day.

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Israel Travels – Day One

There is no easy way to get up the next morning after an overnight flight coupled with a 7 hour jump ahead in time. But I didn’t second guess the alarm clock because Curtis had us on a tight time schedule leaving the hotel at 8:00. Most everyone had just enough time to grab a cup of coffee.

Our first stop was the beach just before Caesarea. We marveled at the powerful aqueduct Herod had built to bring fresh water to the new city he was building along with the largest port of Israel.

Here we were introduced to the land of Israel—the small, complicated patch of planet earth God chose to be the stage for his chosen people roughly 2000 BC. It’s an unlikely crossroads between three major continents—the epicenter of wars and conflict, ideology and history.

There was a brisk breeze and rain sprinkled on and off as we walked and talked. The beach was rich with tiny shells and smooth stones.

Along the natural berms near the ocean, erosion has exposed layers of civilization where you can find broken pieces of pottery that so quietly hold the stories from a thousand years ago.

Broken pottery buried underneath the floor of a later civilization

This is my second journey to Israel and I’m so glad to be back. There is more than what can be absorbed in just a few days. This trip was promised to take us “where our friends haven’t gone” (and a few places they have).

Following the beach, we pulled into Caesarea—which was almost devoid of tourists. We stopped in a small rock hallow along the shore and discussed the sordid history of Herod the Great and his powerful and ruthless family legacy.

Caesarea Maritime was built as a pledge of loyalty by Herod to Octavian–the man who would later call himself Caesar Augustus—the self-proclaimed savior of the world (just ahead of the coming of a quiet, working-class contractor across the ocean whose legacy would turn the world upside down).

I accidentally left my phone in the van and I regret not getting any photos in this amazing port town but we talked about the birth of the gentile church here at Caesarea about 10 years after the ascension of Christ. One would be remiss not to see the amazing hippodrome and theater.

The rain drove us back to the van and we made a quick stop for a mall lunch on the way to Capernaum—the fishing village that would be Christ’s home during much of his ministry years.

The cramped stone houses just feet from the waters edge would have held no secrets and left no need for social media or even telephones.

Peter’s house is almost certainly identified and it was surreal to stand so close to the walls that may have witnessed Christ miracles such as healing Peters’ mother-in-law. The city of 1,500 was sometime gathered at the door of this unassuming home such that the roof was torn off for access to Jesus.

We also went to the synagogue which, although destroyed and rebuilt since the time of Christ, still boasts to be the site of Christs’ casting out a demon.

Interestingly, Capernaum’s strategic position as a rest stop along the Via Maris made it a convenient place for collection of taxes (think Matthew) and location for a Roman garrison (think Centurion who asked Jesus to heal his servant).

Capernaum is the site of many more miracles such as the healing of Jairas’ daughter, and catching a fish for tribute tax money. How many can you name? This trip has made me pay so much more attention to the “where” and the “when” of the Bible stories we have mindlessly read over and over.

Unfortunately, Capernaum did not—despite their interest in Jesus—respond to him as Messiah. Consequently, it incurred one of Christ’s sternest warnings in Matthew 11:21-24.

From Capernaum we traveled to Hippos. This is a fairly recent dig opening to the public really for the first time. Your friends have not been here.

While this more up-scale town was not specifically named as such in Scripture, it’s position in the Decapolis on the other side of the Galilee allows us to identify it as the likely place where Jesus comes to heal one man who has been possessed by demons.

Jesus’ peculiar stop in an unclean, far-off town to radically change the life of one crazy man lit a flame that quickly raged into a bonfire. He would likely be in this same town where 4,000 would be listening so long that Jesus felt the need to feed them from a few loaves and fish.

It is very possible that as Jesus gave his famous Sermon on the Mount just across the sea (likely near Capernaum) he might have used Hippos as his illustration when he spoke the words “Ye are the light of the world; a city set on a hill cannot be hid.” Maybe not. But just the same, we used this spot to renew our commitments to be a city on a hill to light up the night in this darkening world.

Unfortunately, our candles would not light in the chilly wind, so we resigned ourselves to waving our cellphone lights over the Sea of Galilee. A beautiful way to end our first day in the little strip of land God chose as the setting for the birth of His son.

Did I Mention it was Cold? it was cold. It was green. It was beautiful.

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It’s a Hurting World. But don’t let that Discourage You.

Due to some technical difficulties, none of my blogs for 2021 ever actually posted. So, the good news is that I have a backlog of posts all written and ready to go and never yet viewed by another human being. The bad news is that life changes so quickly that what I wrote a year ago seems dated and irrelevant.

In fact, reading my unposted News Years’ post for 2021 felt a lot like pulling out leftovers from a delicious meal only to realize that 45 seconds in a microwave will not do much to revive the cold lumps of has-been cuisine. It’s over. Let them go.

But interestingly, I read a much older New Years post I had written (you can read it here) that still seemed to resonate with me. You see, even as I said “Happy New Year” while bustling through the airport on the first of January, I carried a certain guilt in throwing around the shallow greeting when I know so many hurting–truly hurting–people.

It seems all the dust kicked up in 2020 was settling in unpleasant places in 2021. Friends were dealing with life threatening issues. Friends lost jobs. Some battled with deep inner struggles. Some had difficulties in their marriages or in parenting. We all agonized over a world ever losing its mind.

If I am choosing to be happy, is it because I’m shallow and uncaring? Out of touch with reality? Still on a sugar buzz?

On the other hand, it hardly seems like a good idea to just let myself be down and discouraged. As the fun of the holidays passed and we returned to normal life again, I found myself wanting to choose joy in a hurting world and yet feeling a little awkward. Is it okay to be okay?

I watch my girls often as they laugh and play completely oblivious often to my own inner hurts and struggles much less the mayhem of the world we live in. And then I often have to force myself into sympathy when I see how distraught they become over the silliest of things.

And so it occurred to me…who I am to judge in my feeble mind what is the right placement of hope and grief? Even though I care about my friends and their struggles, I confess I don’t know what is truly best for them. I feel like my sense of what is important and what is not is more sophisticated and mature than my kids’ drama, but then, that’s not a very high standard. How often am I worked up about something only to find later that it doesn’t matter?

My thoughts turned to Psalm 131:

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
    my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
    too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
    like a weaned child with its mother;
    like a weaned child is my soul within me.

3 O Israel, hope in the Lord
    from this time forth and forevermore.

David, at the time of this writing, is arguably one of the most influential people in the world. He’s the king and Israel is reaching the pinnacle of its importance. He’s amassing wealth that his son, Solomon, will use to build a temple that will bring onlookers from remote parts of the earth. He is considered a military genius. He has experienced incredible blessing of the Lord that enabled him to kill a giant with a sling shot and a lion and bear with nothing but his savvy shepherding skills.

Yet, in Psalm 131, we see him humbling and quieting his soul, confessing that there are things he does not understand, and choosing to hope in God despite his inability to fully comprehend the world around him.

He even chooses the analogy of a small child– I envision a toddler placing his hand in his mother’s, not fully understanding everything that it going on and yet realizing that he doesn’t need to. He can walk along cheerfully–maybe even skip–with the quiet confidence that his mom knows the way.

Maybe that best describes me in the dawn of 2022. I don’t have the naivety to think that the problems of 2021 will evaporate. But I do believe that we can calmly walk on–maybe even skip–knowing God doesn’t expect us to know it all. He encourages us to calm and quiet our souls knowing He has given us everything we need to live joyful, fulfilled lives.

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A Thrill of Hope

Melodee was not happy.

But then, she was never happy.

She could only remember tiny fragments of happiness…moments back in her Mimi and Papa’s trailer.  Christmas there had been happy.  She remembered tangled lights that she and her sisters had wrapped around a tipsy tree.  A huge meal Mimi had cooked that Melodee hadn’t eaten because she had stuffed herself with life savers, candy canes, and M&Ms.  She remembered fighting with her sisters until they broke the new radio.  She remembered insisting on wearing her new Christmas pajamas to play outside and then crying when she slipped off her scooter and ripped a hole in the pant leg.  Yep, that had been a happy Christmas.  She had been with her family…such as it was anyway.

She had blocked the Christmas’ that followed out of her mind.  She didn’t look back at the last four years that she had spent in nine different foster homes.  At first, she had made a cautious effort to be a part of each new family.  But all of those efforts had slowly diminished and finally altogether abandoned three homes ago when…well, it didn’t matter now.  All that mattered now was that she didn’t bother to get attached to these people.  The Carriers would just pass her along like every other family had. 

She turned up the music that was already blasting through her earbuds and pulled out the bag of Cheetos that she had hidden in her nightstand drawer.  She tried to be careful not to get cheese on the white bedspread…not because she’d give two rotten bananas for the bedspread, but because she didn’t want to get in trouble for having food in her room.  Again.

The door opened suddenly and Mrs. Carrier stood there holding baby Harper. 

“Hey, Melodee…” Her eyes went immediately to the bag of Cheetos and Melodee braced herself and prepared to act like she couldn’t hear above the music.  I dare you to take these away from me.  She didn’t speak the words, but she yelled them with her eyes.

Mrs. Carrier stood and waited until finally Melodee pulled out an earbud.  “Hey, Melodee, I wondered if you could hold Harper for me for a few minutes.  She is a bit fussy and I’m trying to get dinner in the oven in time for company tonight.”  Melodee had been reminded two thousand times that some old family friends had just moved back into the area and they were coming over for dinner tonight.  Mrs. Carrier acted like it was the event of the century.  Frankly, Melodee didn’t give two rotten bananas.

Melodee rolled her eyes and tried to act inconvenienced although they both knew the truth was that Melodee loved to hold Harper.  She looked around for something she could wipe her cheesy fingers off on.  Definitely not her new Adidas hoodie. 

Harper fussed as she made the transition to Melodee; but Melodee followed Miss Carrier to the kitchen because she knew she had the best chance of a happy baby if Momma was within her sight lines. 

Byron, the Carrier’s obnoxious preschooler, was sitting quietly at a train table in the living room building and rebuilding a long wooden track.  “Watch, Melodee!”  He called happily.  Okay, so he wasn’t really obnoxious.  He was more “obnoxiously good.”  But there are a lot of ways that people can be obnoxious and maybe Melodee happened to not like four-year olds that would sit and play with a train when they were told to.  

Besides, it wasn’t fair.  Byron’s life was everything hers wasn’t.  Melodee had this unexplainable need to make sure that Byron’s life wasn’t perfect and that his parents knew that he wasn’t perfect.

Read the rest of this stories and many other family stories by purchasing the ebook or paperback…”Christmas Candles“

Posted on by lgandre

You don’t have an Agenda? We’ll be Happy to Provide you With One

So, I guess you could call what was happening in the Senate Judicial committee a “hearing.” Mostly ACB hearing all the things Democrats wanted to say (and have repeated ad nasueum) to the American electorate about medical care, immigration, abortion, and racial differences. Once in a while, though, they did cross over into Judge Barrett’s judicial philosophy and other relevant matters.

It seemed if she so much as opened her mouth to reply, however, they cut her off “for the sake of time.” Some of them had spent a lot of time on their questions and presentations and they wanted to get through them. So… sit there, and be quiet ACB. This hearing may be about you, but actually, well, it’s not.

But I was enraptured. I loved that she didn’t engage in useless debates. She didn’t seem to feel the need to “win.” She listened patiently and proved to have the humility that she professed.

When Cory Booker tried to make her feel grossly inadequate because she has not extensively studied racial disparity and its demonstration in the number of individuals incarcerated, she did not seem to be embarrassed that she simply follows federal sentencing guidelines in criminal cases. Isn’t that what a judge is supposed to do? Follow the law? No wonder he will not vote for her. She has prepared to be a judge, not a racial equality activist.

Her knowledge, maturity, and decorum seems to have reduced the Democratic opposition to “we shouldn’t be appointing a justice as this time.” Wildfires! COVID! An election! We can’t confirm a judge while life is happening in America. Please.

I find the argument that “four million people have already voted” ridiculously uncompelling. Not only because if those four million people had any doubt about how they wanted to vote, they would have waited. But also because the people did vote on who should decide this–in 2016 and 2018 they voted in the elected officials who will be making political decisions through 2020. Republicans have suffered enough of the downside of 2020, they deserve to get what little upside is available.

But there’s really no sense in trying to break down their arguments, we all know it’s an excuse for them not to confirm a nominee who has not demonstrated that she embraces the liberal agenda. She hasn’t said she doesn’t…I honestly don’t know how she will vote on the Supreme Court.

To be fair, Republicans shouldn’t have used an impending election as an excuse to block the confirmation of Merrick Garland in 2016. They should have just said, “no.”

But nonetheless, I found myself impressed. In fact, I think I was more inspired by her than I have been by any living human being in a long time. She was classy, composed, confident. She is the kind conservative that I wish we had far more of in this nation.

Judge Barrett said in her opening that she is used to working in a group of nine–her family. I hope she has significant influence where ever she goes and that her group of nine–black and white–continues to inspire and encourage our country.

Posted on by lgandre · 1 Comment

Baby showers: A whole new world

TeddyBearPicnic_1201089195Those of you who have truly followed my blog forever, may remember this post. Which can basically be summed up as follows: you’ve been to one baby shower, you’ve been to them all. Someone, please save us from trying to guess how many m&ms are in the baby bottle!

All baby showers were basically the same: cake club plus oohing and ahhing at booties, onesies, binkies, blankies…and guessing how many m&ms are in the jar.

Then came Pinterest.

I guess you could say it was an answer to my prayer for increased creativity at baby showers. Pinterest has, in fact, taken baby showers to a place I never dreamed they could go. I mean, we have co-ed baby showers. (Now there’s a trend I’m pretty sure won’t last. Men are not given to sitting in a circle oohing and ahhing over booties, onesies, binkies, and blankies…even if there is cake involved.

Back to Pinterest

So…a few weeks ago, I volunteered to host a shower for my friend, Hannah, who along with husband, is expecting a boy this summer. After all, it’s easy enough to send out an invite and make a cake.

But then there was Pinterest.

Pinterest.

You can’t have a baby shower without a theme.

And you can’t have a teddy bear theme without brown paper plates with construction paper ears glued on them. Without “Beary Punch” and a Bee Hive cake.

Okay, I’ll admit it. I loved, loved getting carried away looking through the many teddy bear picnic ideas. After all, I have long been a believer that showers do not have to be pale pink or powder blue.

I spent many happy minutes scrolling through glimpses of other people’s parties and pulling recipes like this adorable cheese ball hedge hog and the awesome toffee dip…

Of course, I thought the whole idea of Pinterest was that you could find the stuff you pin later on. Nothing makes me feel old like not getting an App to do the only thing it does.

But then, I guess I am old. I remember when baby showers consisted of sitting around in a circle oohing and ahhing over booties, onesies, blankies, and binkies. Only then, I think we called them socks, clothes, blankets, and pacifiers. And anyway, girls now are getting bottle warmers and boppies and unspillable cups and wireless video baby monitors. So much has changed.

Thank you, Pinterest. I called, you answered.

We are all better off for it.

Except the men.

Posted on by lgandre

I went to a small, Christian correspondence law school. Here’s how it turned out.

img_7671.jpgI went to an Oak Brook College of Law Alumni Retreat at the beautiful Lake Tahoe this summer. You could say it was a reunion of sorts. One third of my graduating class was present. Hard to believe that we started 20 years ago. The three from my class don’t look like they aged a day. Okay, so maybe I do.

Despite a rather punishing return trip that had me back to Kentucky two calendar days later than I planned, it was a good experience. And pondering it made me realize that I’ve never shared my student experience or bragged on my law school on this blog. And I really should.

Those who have asked where I went to law school have probably heard me say that I went to “a small Christian law school in California.” But that doesn’t really do it justice; so let me explain.

It’s small.

Yep. It’s small. It’s been in existence for 25 years and it has something like 300 Alumni. That’s not per year; that’s total. I don’t know the exact averages, but I’ve heard in law schools there is usually a 50-70% attrition and my school has probably experienced that. So that was not a misprint above where I said a third of my graduating class was there and there were three of us. I think we started out with eighteen and ended with nine (and a few finished with a later class).

I’m excited to say that OBCL is growing now so maybe one day soon it will be 300 a year; but that definitely wasn’t my experience.

Here’s the thing: You don’t have to be big to be a good school. After I finished and was studying for the bar, I took a nationwide bar review course with graduates from law schools all over the country. In the various subjects, my memory (and give me some grace here, it’s been 15 years) is that my scores ranged in the top 25% to the top 2% of the test takers (depending on the subject). And I was not the top of my OBCL class and I’m not super smart—I just studied hard.  Anyone can do that.

The California bar is one of the hardest in the nation with something like a 25-35% pass rate (depending on the year) and my school had one of the best pass rates.

Beyond that though, I’m always impressed by the caliber of the graduates and the number of ways those 300 are impacting the world.

Many have started their own law firms and are doing quite well. Some have become District Attorneys, one is a top election lawyer for the Republican party.  One holds a top position for the Department of Labor.  We are very proud of Christiana who has appeared for Fox News and the Today Show to represent Alliance Defending Freedom.  Many more work for other think tanks, legal defense associations, and political action committees.  Some of the graduates are pastors, home school moms, teachers, and more.

So…I would say, though we be small, we are mighty.

It’s Christian

Oak Brook unashamedly proclaims Christ and maintains a biblical worldview.

The mission of the school has remained unchanged since the beginning 1995.  We have a Statement of Faith. Our graduations feel a bit like a church service. We pray before and after our alumni meetings. We believe that law is the standard that tells us what is right and what is wrong. That’s correct, we can draw a line and say certain things are wrong. We’re Christian.

If you don’t believe in Jesus or the Bible; we understand. There are lots of other law schools in the world and we suggest you look into them. We are Christian. I hope that never changes.

It’s in California.

So this is where it gets complicated. And this is the part I usually find myself leaving out. Historically, I was afraid to say I went to a long distance learning law school lest people think I had done nothing more than get a cheap mail-order diploma to hang on my wall. But I passed a tough bar exam, remember, so at least hear me out on this.

Oak Brook attracts students from all over the US (and Canada, eh!) but the student population is largely concentrated in the few jurisdictions that will allow OBCL graduates to practice law. Let’s start with California.

OBCL is licensed in California and all graduates can take the California Bar. [Hey, guess what? We found something that a state full of crazies actually got right.]

There are a handful of other states and provinces that will allow grads to practice (ten currently, plus federal jurisdictions); especially if they pass in CA first (and, in some cases, practice in CA first).   But not all states will even allow you to take their bar because the liberal, power-loving ABA has a tight grip on most state bars and it will not accredit Christian, long distance law schools at this time. It’s not fair; but hopefully as online learning continues to grow and expand, the liberals will eventually be forced to be more…well…open minded, diverse, and accommodating to the lower class.

It’s Far Less Expensive

Here’s one of my favorite things: the unconventional route of Oak Brook allowed me to work my way through school and graduate broke, driving an old Plymouth Voyager, but completely debt free. Dave Ramsey would have been so proud of me. In fact, after the bar exam, I spent 10 days in Rome with classmates and alumni and returned home still debt free though I had been working for $7.25/hr.

It was important to me then; but I realize just how valuable that was now. I have friends and co-workers who, 15 years out, are still paying student loans. Some are ten years out of law school still living with their parents. Yikes!

Maybe, maybe, my earning power would have been more if I had gone the traditional route. But I think, when I last calculated, I get something like a 700% return on my post high school investment per year. That’s not exactly terrible. Some grads do better than that; I’m sure a few have done worse, but then general rule seems to be that graduates of OBCL who apply themselves can make a good living doing whatever they choose. Not all practice law; and not having a mountain of debt gives them that freedom to do whatever they feel called to do.

It’s the People

But here’s my favorite thing about Oak Brook. Remember that is said I got home from my trip two days later than planned? It went like this…I got up at 5:00 am on a Sunday morning so a friend could drive me to Reno for a 7:30 flight. Alas, my flight had been cancelled. So I spent the next several hours of my life trying to arrange an alternate itinerary and eventually resigning myself to the fact that I would not be able to get out until the next morning.

The retreat was ending, but a group of 8 or so was staying over at a rental house nearby so they invited to bunk with them. It was in in the opposite direction of the airport, which had me a little concerned because in my attempt to be a good steward, I had not rented a car and was instead relying on friends to get to and from the retreat center.

This meant my very unfortunate friend who had offered airport transportation had to get up at 4:00 am so we could make the drive to Reno/Tahoe Monday morning. I could hardly drag myself out of bed so I could only imagine the happy thoughts he was thinking at 4:00 am after a weekend retreat.

But hey, we only see each other like once every five years so it’s great to have some time to compare notes with some other lawyers, hear how their practice is going and encourage each other to love Jesus, do right, and change the world.  We had two extra hours to do that; which is about the right amount of time to figure out how to change the world.

Of course, it was not until he dropped me off and I got to the front of the security line that I realized I forgot my purse. Which meant, of course, that I had no ID and no hope of making my flight.

Reluctantly, I called my friend who confirmed that the purse was not in his car. It was at the rental house…two hours away.  Too bad we had already figured out how to change the world.  There was nothing left to do except try to apply my very tired brain to figure out how to get my ID and get myself to Kentucky.

The best I could come up with was to ask my very tired friend to come back and get me and take me to my purse.  Then I would pay my fair share of the Stupid Tax in the form of an Uber or a one-way rental to get myself back to the airport.

If I was a Harvard grad, that’s probably what I would have done.

If I was coming back from a weekend with classmates from Loyola, Yale, or Stanford; frankly, I probably wouldn’t have had a friend to pick me up at the airport to begin with.

But Oak Brook is different.  And maybe that’s why still another OBCL alumni gave up several hours of his own sleep to grab my purse and meet us halfway so that I could make the next flight.

But as I attempted my long cross country venture for the third time, I was feeling extremely blessed and especially glad that I choose Oak Brook.  I didn’t know when I started that the people I met would still be my friends 20 years later.  That I would want to see them enough to risk getting stuck in Reno and they would risk getting stuck with me.  Perhaps most impressive, that they would never tell a soul about my mistake.

I have no regrets about where I went to law school.

And when we change the world…well, that will just be a little bonus.

IMG_7678
As to the Stupid Tax…don’t worry; I still got to pay my fair share.  When the airline starts feeding you pizza…well, that’s when you know things are bad.