Whenever you get a group of people together, there is naturally going to be differences of opinion. Each one of us has our own perpective, understanding God’s Word from our own paradigm. Our group is no different.
A discussion ensued when I referred to myself as a Gentile. The issue was a difference in understanding of the word. One opinion is that the term ‘Gentile’ is a derogatory term meaning pagan. Yet when I look up the word it simply means ‘a person who is not Jewish’. Going to it’s origin, I find it comes from the Latin word ‘gignere’ (meaning ‘beget’) and developing to ‘family, race’ then of a family or nation, of the same clan’. The same is true of the word ‘goy’ or ‘goyim’. It simply means ‘nation’ or ‘nations’.
It didn’t come into high use until mid 1900s. The same people who don’t give credence to many of the Jewish opinions, stand in agreement with them giving a negative connotation to the word. Why do I bring this up as I walk the Land? Because after having this discussion, we watched a movie describing the Temple. In it, there was a limit to where the Gentiles could go, a limit to where the women could go, and a limit to where the Israelites could go, and a limit to where anyone but the high priest could go.
Now, I agree that Yeshua tore down the wall of separation. But with all the transgender and homosexual issues we are facing today, I must ask, does that now make me a man? Silly question I know, but in my mind it is the same thing. Just as His tearing down the wall did not change my gender, neither did it change my nationality. I am still a Sicilian woman. It is still the blood of Japheth that runs through my veins.
Yet at the same time, I feel very much at home in the Land. I feel very much a part of this place. As I ascended the steps to the Hulda Gates, I felt in awe of God’s majesty. As I stood leaning my head in prayer against the walled-up gate, I felt a deep longing and desire to enter into court of my God and King.
Wandering through the destruction of the Temple, the stones thrown down by the Romans, my heart broke. As I gaze upon my favorite place – Robinson’s Arch – I long to see the Temple rebuilt, I long for the return of splendor to this place. I long for the world to be made right again.
As I was leaving Jerusalem Archeological Park, I saw that a large group of people were gathering on the teaching steps (leading to the Hulda Gates). Exiting further I saw an enterage approaching, with a man in the center that everyone seemed to fawn over. As they passed, I realized it was Benny Hinn. Spiritually, I felt as though I was transported back in time, the time of the Temple, when people would fawn over King Herod, or Pilate, or any other man. And I realized we still have a long way to go, when it comes to personally recognizing God as King – in our lives and in the world.
As for me and my Italian house, we will serve the Lord in the capacity He choses, taking our place in His Kingdom, as His adopted child, grateful to be a part of His family.