God's Beloved
God’s beloved. That is what my name means. From Saul’s anointing of God’s chosen King, the one who would unite the tribes and people. I met a David today, a young man for whom I share a name. Nineteen-years-old (looked even younger) with scruffy auburn hair and an undeniable look of intrigue. I had just been at a rest stop, and off the bus, on our way back to Jerusalem. I had a coffee in my hand and was taking a deep breath of fresh air before stepping back aboard. Across the way, the young man stood next to a camouflaged and armoured jeep. Dressed in an Israeli uniform, like so many I’ve seen on this trip, with a machine gun strapped across his shoulder in full view. He motioned to me, and asked me to come over, and I could feel every eye from my group on the bus look with panic as I began to step in his direction. “Where are you from?” he asked, just simply wanting to engage in some light conversation. We talked about his military service, his longing to be done, and his plans to settle down with his girl. I told him about my love of the Gospel and how it drove me to want to visit here. He smiled a lot, and was kind and gentle, and nothing like I would have come to expect or fear. It’s hard not to think about a war machine when it rests just inches from you, but I’d certainly reduced the entirety of his humanity to nothing more. I shook his hand and wished him well, and he asked me to pray for him. David, God’s beloved, here in Israel.
