A Loud Warning.

The Command to Take Shelter.

Eight days ago, I downloaded the Israeli Home Front Command app. It remembered my sign in from the last trip. I was just being eager and organized before our October 13th travel to the Middle East. I also moved the United, El Al, US Embassy, and Centcom app to the front page of my Home Screen. The countdown had begun.

Then one day later, the Israeli Home Command app woke up. She no longer slept. Unexpectedly, she went off (in silent mode I might add) with a siren that could not be ignored. It was very loud. Shivers traveled up my spine. “Lord Jesus,” I said aloud as I rushed to unplug it from our bedroom wall. I was home alone.

The shrill warning forced my mind and emotions back to April when Mark and I sheltered on Mordechai Street as 300 incoming projectiles from Tehran flew our direction. It was terrifying.

This October alert of incoming missiles from Iran was different. It was worse. ICBM’s were faster. And bigger. The iPhone notice said that I had a mere 90 seconds to get to a bomb shelter. But I was not in Israel.

With phone in hand, I headed outside. A clear blue Colorado sky greeted me overhead. It was peaceful. There was not a cloud in sight. It was so hard to believe that war was imminent, and according to my phone, I had to hurry. No white foamy incoming tracers, no iron dome chasers that popped and banged and no falling debris sizzled above me. But I knew that Israel’s skies did not mirror mine. They were dark with night and full of lit up, orange terror.

I paced the Rock Mountain gravel driveway. The names of our friends formed on my lips. I placed them before God’s throne as their faces floated through my memory. Young and old, secular Jew and Christian, they represented so many nationalities. Our friends were scattered across The Land and they were in harm’s way at that very moment.

Those in uniform and those in civilian clothes. They were all in trouble.My prayers were for the warring angels to be dispatched to protect them, for the Spirit to guide families to safety and to comfort the fearful, but mainly for Abba to meet with His people.

A rather pitiful salty stream of tears and the verbal intercession of one was all I had to give. It didn’t seem enough. But I knew that my singular prayer was rising and joining up with millions, probably tens of millions, of prayers. All of us asked and besought heaven on Israel’s behalf and indeed all in the region.

That was a much bigger number, not my measly sum of one, and after an hour or so, it seemed enough.

Once the night air in Israel cleared and miraculously lives were spared, I went back inside to my daytime laptop. It was over.

But it was also over for our upcoming departure. I knew, the four ‘security fleeces’ that we had put in place months before were unmistakably, ‘soaked.’ They were dry in early August. But had become very wet from September’s warning rains. Today had marked the final downpour.

It was so upsetting.

We are officially postponed. Uggh.

Oh, how we’d like to go back on our own word. But we won’t.

It’s a trust game for us now. We will trust God. Trust Him for all the plans and all the time spent in preparation for our seven week, Music Is Medicine tour. Those days and weeks and months will simply have to be held in heaven’s time bottles - just like our tears.

Pray for us as we quickly and ever so reluctantly, rethink the next seven weeks in front of us.

But mainly, pray for the peace of Jerusalem. We have choices that they simply do not have. Be thankful for your freedom and for your peace tonight.