There are a few books I’ve read that are so sad, so devastating, so traumatizing that I vow never to read them again.
I almost always break that vow because devastating books are usually some of the best, and they deserve a re-read.
I recently broke that vow last week by revisiting one of the most devastating books ever written.
The book of Second Kings in the Old Testament.
It’s a tragic read for a few reasons
- Destruction
- Captivity
- More destruction
- Idol worship
- Scattering of Israel
- Evil Kings
- More Captivity
- Even more destruction
- Human sacrifice
And finally the saddest part of all
- The Destruction of Jerusalem
I broke my vow because I volunteered to teach a class in church on the Second Book of Kings since we’re doing an Old Testament focus this year.
I also broke the vow because I can’t, in good faith as a Christian, keep a vow to not re-read the Bible since it’s kind of important to the foundation of my faith.
All my feelings of tragedy and sadness returned as I read through the story of Second Kings and re-encountered verses like this one:
Until the Lord removed Israel out of his sight, as he had said by all his servants the prophets. So was Israel carried away out of their own land to Assyria unto this day.
As our Sunday School class barreled our way through the scattering of Israel and the destruction of Jerusalem, it felt like we had already discussed it all before… because we had—have—are… and whatever other past, present, or future verbs are possible.
When you read Jeremiah, Isaiah, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and pretty much any other book in the Old or New Testaments, it just starts to feel like Jerusalem is constantly on the brink of destruction. Even if you didn’t read from the scriptures and just took a peek at some old world history or modern-day international conflicts, it’s clear that Jerusalem is that place that can never really catch a break.
It’s devastating that a city so rich with covenants and life is always being fought over, invaded, and destroyed.
I think it’s appropriate and even healthy to take at least one day a year to mourn over Jerusalem… and this re-read of Second Kings brought on the full-time mourning.
I walked the streets of NYC all that Sunday and into the next day feeling the loss of Jerusalem and the sadness of its constant destruction.
The evening after teaching the class, I attended a screening of a new film called Jerusalem 67, about the 6-Day War—another conflict in the most contested land in the history of the world.
I couldn’t have timed the screening more perfectly with my own personal Jerusalem depression.
While watching the movie, I remembered something.
A photo taken in May 2023.
Me, laughing in the streets of Jerusalem, holding an ice cream cone.
How can that sentence be true?
I thought about this lament in the book of Matthew by Christ:
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate.”
How does a Christian Gentile find herself laughing in the streets of Jerusalem in a place left desolate centuries ago?
How is it possible that the city of Jerusalem exists to such an extent that there’s a photo of me, in the city, laughing?
The photo was taken on my second trip to Israel in the summer of 2022. Jerusalem was the big finale after we had been everywhere else we could safely visit in the country.
I was so full of joy.
We had visited the Dead Sea that morning, which due to low elevation put me in a dazed and confused headspace. (I literally walked in on strangers in the bathroom after they said: “don’t come in.”) I was also recovering from a strange case of heat stroke and sleep deprivation, and finally getting my appetite back. That night, I was finally restored to full mental and physical health. I had an amazing meal, two cups of hummus and an ice cream cone when our guide said: “Grab your cones for the road and follow me because we’re hitting the streets of Jerusalem.”
I remember in that moment being so completely full of happiness, joy, and excitement to be in Jerusalem, to be healthy, to be learning about important things, to be with good people.
Look at the joy.
Seriously the joy.
“The vibes were off the charts,” as the kids would say.
Jerusalem is an overwhelming place, and there are certainly moments of mourning and sadness while being there. (I alone have contributed enough tears in Jerusalem to fill a camel.)
But when I think back to walking out of the hotel with my ice cream into Jerusalem, I just remember the joy, the gratitude, the hope, and most importantly, the excitement that the most turbulent city of all time was waiting to be explored.
Somehow we happened to be in the city on Jerusalem Day, a significant holiday for the Jewish people. We went out into the streets that night and saw men, women, and children celebrating the reunification of the city after the 6-day-war.
We saw people dancing, crying, cheering, and laughing in the streets of Jerusalem.
And we laughed with them.
WE LAUGHED WITH THEM.
We, a group of 40 Christian kids, on a trip to Israel, laughing with Israelis in the streets of Jerusalem.
We all knew the Bible; we knew the countless times the city had been destroyed, we knew the city was still contested in the modern-day, and yet we couldn’t doubt the evidence of our own eyes that Jerusalem was still very much alive and well.
Sitting in the theater watching Jerusalem 67 and thinking about that photo in the summer of 22″ reminded me of these things:
Jerusalem is a sacred place.
God has a special relationship with the city.
God keeps the promises he made to his people.
Israel will be gathered
The lost 10 tribes will be restored.
I know this because I laughed in the streets of Jerusalem, a thing that should not be possible.
The city of Jerusalem, and the Jewish people, have been through some really really really tough times (which is a ginormous understatement). And yet, instead of letting it be the end of the story, they fight and reclaim, and rejoice just as the Psalms from Jerusalem centuries ago say: “For his anger endureth but a moment… weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”