Stopped in My Tracks

Photo by Mary Vee, Amman, Jordan

9 Days until Easter

Today I will take you to the land of Jordan. The capital city is Amman.

We stayed one night in the city in a hotel specializing in hospitality for tourists. It had all the amenities of four or five star hotel.

After breakfast the next morning, we traveled north to a town called Jarash.

Our guide took us to a place where we walked up a hill. From there we walked through this gate. Our guide showed us ruins of two temples one for Zeus and one for Athena/Diana. In between the two temples was a theater.

After the explanation of the architecture and ruins, our guide let us walk around the area. We had fun climbing the steep hills, walking through Roman and Greek columns, then on the way up to the farther temple, something happened that made me stop.

Photo by Mary Vee - Jarash, Jordan

Down the valley and up a higher hill a ways to the right, the call for prayer came from a mosque speaker. The sound permeated the air. Words I could not understand, yet they stirred terrible agitation inside of me. A sensation of deep remorse.

Others from the group kept walking toward the temple for historical reasons, but a second sound held me in my tracks. A higher pitch, distinctly a different voice calling for prayer from a high hill a ways to the left.

The calls were not stereo. They were different messages being proclaimed from the speakers.

I covered my ears yet the sound permeated the block. My sole desire was to leave. To get far away and inside the bus.

This was not a sensation of safety.

It was a sensation of heavy, soggy, dank, despair.

It was not even a spec of the sensation Jesus felt when he bore our sins.

Not even a spec.

Thank you, Jesus. We did not deserve your gift.

This post has been brought to you by the one-word: Stopped

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