Wandering Jew and accompanying Gentile

I was roaming around the house on the phone (cell phones are so cool!) with my daughter yesterday, and found myself in the sunroom. We were discussing our morning quiet times (having a Christian “adult” daughter is so cool!) when I noticed that one of the plants had decided to jump its pot. I don’t know where it thought it was going, but lengths of the vine had severed themselves from the momma plant and landed on the carpet.

“What craziness!” I thought. Closer inspection revealed that the vines had “dampened off”- the stems had rotted an inch or so above the soil. So I rescued the still-living (that is so cool!) escapees and pinched off the dead ends and set them in a glass of water to re-root. I exiled them to another part of the room, where they could be protected until they were ready to re-plant.

The name of the plant? Wandering Jew.
My quiet time study earlier that morning? The return of the exiles to Jerusalem.

Tell me God doesn’t have both impeccable timing and a keen sense of humor.

I’ve never considered myself to be much of an Old Testament scholar. But recent Sunday School lessons have had me digging into history to try to put it all together. Basically, I’m trying to gain some chronological understanding of the prophets, the exile, the return to Jerusalem and all the kings involved. Stuff that I’ve “historically” (smile) found boring has now piqued my interest. (Tell me God doesn’t work miracles! Next thing you know, he’ll have me fascinated with numbers. Hear that sound? My husband and children are laughing uncontrollably. One day I will tell you the story of The Fit of Rage and The Algebra Book, by Lisa Roszler.)

Did you know that not all the Jews returned when they were allowed? Nope. Some just stayed behind in Babylon. “Y’all go on ahead! Be safe! I’m happy for you!”

Maybe they’d been there so long that it felt like home. Their children were born there, their new homes were comfortable. Perhaps they had no need of the old ways, couldn’t identify with the homeland, had lost their religion? Forgotten what it was all about? Maybe they had become so assimilated that they were unrecognizable, even to themselves, as being a different, chosen people.

Then a profound thought hit me.

I am a modern-day exile. Where is my Babylon? America? This planet? Am I so enamored (see that root “amor”-love?) with this present life that I have failed to remember where I truly belong? Am I trying to make my heaven on earth? Have I forgotten what my life is to be about? Am I recognizable as being a citizen of Heaven, Zion, New Jerusalem? Do I long to return?

Those sprigs of vine will soon grow roots, but they can’t live forever in a glass of water. They need soil. They need home soil. Just like this Wandering Gentile. Praise God He gives us His Word, His Living Water to remain in until He takes us home!