the "peace" of Jerusalem

Maybe you've heard about the recent missile strikes in Israel and Jordan.  More than likely, if you are an American, you haven't.  This sort of thing-- a terror attack that ended in one death of someone not even targeted-- maybe doesn't make the news, especially as everyone in the West is mad at Israel right now.

But now you know.

There have been planes humming through the night sky for the past few evenings, and with good reason.  Last night, I was in the biblical garden, reading my Bible, journaling, and praying.  Suddenly, something lit up the sky to the south.  It appeared to be a flare, falling in a set of flashes.  A second later, and a little more to the southeast, another fell.  They appeared as brilliant, soundless miniature fireworks.  My heart leapt into a pounding gallop, and I sat still, hands clenched at my sides, waiting.  But as I watched these twin flares, or missiles, or whatever they were, fall toward the ground, I knew one thing with certainty.

I am not afraid.

It sounds naive, foolish, silly, but the thought of a war does not frighten me as much as I imagined it would.  My heart is so tied to this land, after only a month and a half of living here.  Indeed, there is something even stranger that I'm feeling.

If war comes . . .
if this is "the end" (of time, of the world, however you read "the day of the LORD") . . .
there is no other place I would rather be.

In fact, I'm fairly certain being forced to leave Israel in the midst of war would break my heart directly in two . . .