A few years ago, Harrison Ford, as “Indiana Jones,” galloped through the gigantic geological cleft called the Siq, at the entrance of ancient Petra in Jordan, in search of the Holy Grail.He didn’t find it, of course, but he came face-to-face with that magnificent royal tomb called the “Treasury of the Pharaoh”.

Petra. It’s been called one of the seven modern wonders of the world —and, surely, it is. Enclosed by towering rocks and watered by a perennial stream, Petra had all the advantages of a fortress, even while it controlled the main commercial routes of this entire region. It’s described by Biblical Archeology Review this way:

For every tourist who visits the ancient city of Petra in modern day Jordan, there is one        breathtaking moment that captures all of the grandeur and mystery of this city carved in stone. After passing the final bend of the tortuous narrow canyon that leads into the site (the Siq), one is confronted by the awe-inspiring spectacle of a towering rock-cut façade, its sun-struck sandstone gleaming through the darkness of the canyon.

This has been quite a day. Long, hot, arduous. Yes, all of those. But these words, too, describe our experience: breathtaking, wonder-full, unforgettable.

We hiked right into the heart of ancient Petra today. We saw the wide, half-mile long street flanked on both sides by remarkable examples of the city’s Hellenistic life. As one writer put it: “On the left, one can spot the remnants of luxurious pools and gardens, as well as a bustling market and a grand temple reached by a monumental staircase; to the right, there is an elegant nymphaeum and an opulent shrine dedicated to al-Uzza, one of the chief goddesses of the Nabataeans.It was the capital city of the Nabateaen Kingdom.”

Herod the Great’s mother was a Nabataean and his father an Idumean (or Edomite).  He spent some ten years as a child in Petra and as King of the Jews had close political and commercial relations with the Nabataean city.

It’s possible that St. Paul spent some time here immediately following his conversion.He writes in Galatians: “I went away at once into Arabia” (Gal. 1:17). Some NT scholars, including Martin Hengel, link that comment to Petra.

In II Corinthians 11:32, Paul tells how his preaching in Damascus angered the governor under King Aretas IV of Nabataea, who “guarded the city of Damascus in order to arrest me.” Paul was let down over the walls of Damascus in a dramatic escape in a basket.

We sat in the beautiful ruins of a Byzantine Church, again blessed with beautiful mosaics down either side of the columned nave. And after Dr.Dearman spoke to us, we sang the great hymn of the Church: Great is Thy Faithfulness.

Two things that Andy said today grabbed me: (1) Looking at the blue colonnade of a nearby Byzantine church, he said: “Those columns come from Egypt. I want you to think of this: Someone loved their worshipping congregation so much, believed that the worship shared together here was so dear, that they paid an enormous sum to bring the very best stone for these columns all the way from Egypt.” I found myself thinking of our own building effort at FPC, Tulsa.

And (2) he also said: “As we look at the once-beautiful, but now ruined churches, we must remember that true faith can whither and die. Today, in this whole region, there is no living Christian community here.” Who will tell the children?  Who will sing the joyful news? How will others come to know unless those who know share what they know?!

On a personal note, we celebrated the birthday of Mrs Kathy Winslow in a grand and unforgettable style. I’ll let her tell you the story! Happy birthday, Kathy!

Tonight we gathered as a group and read one of the Psalms of Ascent, Psalm 121. This pilgrim psalm seems appropriate because we, too, like the ancient Israelites, are on a pilgrimage, going up to Jerusalem.

Tomorrow we drive to the border and into Israel. We will visit Masada, the ancient fortress, and our story will continue.

Let me close with an old poem called, Petra, written in 1845 by John William Burgon:

It seems no work of Man’s creative hand,

by labour wrought as wavering fancy planned;

But from the rock as if by magic grown,

eternal, silent, beautiful, alone!

Not virgin-white like that old Doric shrine,

where erst Athena held her rites divine;

Not saintly-grey, like many a minster fane,

that crowns the hill and consecrates the plain;

But rose-red as if the blush of dawn,

that first beheld them were not yet withdrawn;

The hues of youth upon a brow of woe,

which Man deemed old two thousand years ago,

match me such marvel save in Eastern clime,

a rose-red city half as old as time.