Wind, Waves, and the Strongholds of Ein Gedi: Reflections on our trip to Israel

It was around 3 a.m. on June 13th, following our fourth evening in Israel. The first four days had been packed with meaning. From the ancient port of Jaffa to the ruins of Caesarea Maritima to the sacred spaces of Magdala and Capernaum, my heart and mind felt full—saturated with history, teaching, and awe. But that night, while staying at a hotel right on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, we heard the first siren. We soon learned that, as part of its Operation Rising Lion campaign, Israel had bombed Iran’s nuclear enrichment facilities, missile factories, and military command centers.

Our group of 19, along with our tour guide, gathered in a downstairs hallway of the hotel, waiting to see if Iran would retaliate. After about an hour, we moved to a bomb shelter as a precaution. 

Being about 200 yards away from the shores of Galilee was no accident. There are numerous moments we can recall from Jesus’ ministry around the region of Galilee. In that bomb shelter I began to think of the disciples’ fearful cry to Jesus during a storm on the Sea of Galilee: Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?1 Like them, we were caught in a moment of helplessness and uncertainty. In times like that, fear often gives way to frustration. I don’t just feel afraid—I start to grumble. I want someone to blame. And honestly, sometimes I want Jesus to fix it by dealing with them—whoever they are.

Jesus’ response to the storm, two millennia back on a boat with his fearful disciples, was stunning. He rebuked the wind and the waves. “Peace! Be still!” Around Galilee, he had touched the sick, healed the hurting, and taught with divine authority. And more, “Even winds and sea obeyed him.”2

In that moment, Jesus’ invitation to me was both convicting and comforting. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.3 It was as if he was saying to me, “If I have authority over the wind and the sea, don’t you trust that I can handle this situation too? I offer more than temporary relief—I offer lasting peace. I bring shalom.”

After that first night of sirens, our next scheduled stop was Ein Gedi—what turned out to be the safest place in Israel at the time. Though our tour was eventually cut short, the Lord was still teaching.

Ein Gedi is the very place we read about in 1 Samuel 23 and 24. King Saul, driven by jealousy, sought to kill David. But David and his men found refuge there at Ein Gedi—in the rocky strongholds high above the Dead Sea, hidden among the caves and hills. It’s a landscape made for hiding, and in that ancient terrain, God once again provided protection.

While there, on Trinity Sunday, Fr. Jon Hall, Rector of Incarnation Tallahassee, led us in a Eucharistic service. I had planned to close with Holy, Holy, Holy, but in a moment that felt divinely timed, Fr. Jon leaned over and whispered, “Let’s close with Rock of Ages.”

There, in a place where the Lord had once preserved David—and was now sheltering us—we lifted our voices: “Rock of Ages, cleft for me; let me hide myself in Thee…”

As we sang, I was struck not only by the safety God provided, but by the purpose behind it. Just as David was preserved in Ein Gedi to continue his calling, and just as Jesus calmed the storm, teaching his disciples to trust and follow, God’s protection is never meant to end with us. His blessing is always an invitation—to trust him more deeply, and to be a blessing to others. 

In a time of fear and uncertainty, we were reminded that we are not only sheltered—we are also sent to bear witness to Jesus, our Messiah, to peace that surpasses understanding, and to shine as light among the nations.