| Let’s be honest…most of us are tired of hearing about the war. I live in it, and I still find myself looking away. Not because I don’t care, but because the weight of it is relentless, and I just feel helpless. Every street corner in Jerusalem bears the faces of hostages, silent, pleading. I pass them daily. I pray. But often, I keep walking. Numbness creeps in. Guilt and relief mix when I glance instead at something else. I see a blooming tree. I notice the red poppies that have arrived. These are the things that feel like life. A few weeks ago, twelve students arrived at our reopened Bible college, bringing with them laughter and fresh energy. They walk Jerusalem’s weary paths with lightness, almost as if the city’s grief doesn’t touch them. Maybe it doesn’t yet. Or maybe that’s the point. I catch myself smiling when I hear them. Their laughter spills down the ancient alleyways. It’s like water returning to a dry riverbed. For a moment, it feels like the city is breathing again. And so am I. But beneath their laughter is another kind of war. They’ve come from modern noise and emotional silence, the pull of relentless algorithms, glowing screens, darkened rooms, and thoughts that loop endlessly without check. Unlike Jerusalem, their battles don’t make headlines. But they carry them quietly, behind bright eyes and giant water bottles. Jerusalem doesn’t offer them ease. It offers something far more profound: a steady, enduring witness. Through its ancient stones and layers of history, the city whispers to them. It tells truths they hadn’t known they were searching for. Stories of battles fought and faith kept. Stories that say: God is the same yesterday, today and forever. They walk the same paths as Jesus and the prophets and kings. They pass gates and gardens that have seen both despair and redemption. In doing so, they begin to hear a new kind of call. It is quiet but persistent. It is the call to fight the good fight of faith. Here, surrounded by the visible ruins of history and the steady rhythm of today’s sirens, they learn that being unsettled is not the same as being destroyed. That in a place where no one is truly in control, they are being invited to let go…and trust. The irony isn’t lost on me: in a city still under siege, their souls are being fortified. And suddenly I don’t feel so helpless anymore. |
12 Disciples
Let’s be honest—most of us are tired of hearing about the war. I live in it, and I still find myself looking away.
– Kate Finch
Jerusalem Light 