A hurricane kit: water, flashlight, batteries, Psalm 55.
It was a short journey. Brilliant lights swung into view. A disembodied hand lowered a mask over my nose and mouth. A voice said “oxygen” to no one in particular. I drew a breath and slipped into the void known only by God.
Maps produced at the start of the 16th century reflect the ongoing struggle between ancient, medieval, and modern perspectives. The surge of incoming data challenged traditional thinking. Mariners found themselves blinking at fresh charts under the Atlantic sun even as mapmakers in Europe scrambled to update graphic blends of fact and faith.
Readers who regularly go to Bible Lands Explorer for a diet of mildly frivolous data are worried. I know because I get your emails. People ask: Did you fall off your camel? Slide backwards into a mountain crevasse? Get arrested by the Mossad? While all of these options are likely explanations for my absence, not one of them is true. Let me put everyone’s fears to rest. In so doing, you will understand why our smorgasbord of stories has grown cold.
A couple of friends surfaced in our recent move to Florida. They were hiding behind some small boxes under the bed in the loft.
I hollered down the stairs to Vicki, “Hey, Look! My old sandals!” It was a keen discovery, akin to finding the body of Jimmy Hoffa.
I brushed off the fuzzy green mold.
Shemuah (A “heard thing,” “report,” or “announcement”).
First, please accept my apology for the interruption. The last few weeks have been overwhelmingly busy. I hope to return to the Jesus Trail soon.