Julia Fisher looks back at 2007 in Israel

Julia Fisher

What a year it's been! If there is a saying, 'The older you get the better life gets' then I'd like to vouch for it! In order to make amends for the long delay in writing, and as it's that time of year when people write (sometimes tedious) letters, let me share with you some of the highlights of my year.

I will spare my family the embarrassment of writing about the new baby and the wedding (I could write reams about both). Incidentally, the new baby and the wedding are not connected you understand; one son and his wife had the baby whilst the other son got married!

Rather I will tell you about some of the surprises and shocks I've encountered on my travels this year. Stories of families at war form the basis for many books, films and tv programmes. Sadly, statistics reveal Christmas is the time when many couples decide to divorce and children are left with their dreams shattered. How ironic that when the reason for the season is the birth of the Prince of Peace, suddenly we find the manger overturned, the baby screaming and the parents refusing to talk to each other. What hope for reconciliation?

Magnify one family's 'war' thousands of times and you find yourself in a 'Middle Eastern' scenario. Years of embittered memories passed from one generation to the next. Suspicion, distrust, fighting, even death. Well meaning peace brokers come and go, but the 'war' goes on, neither side ready for reconciliation.

Talking of the Middle East, this year I have seen much evidence of reconciliation between Jew and Arab; and if there can be reconciliation here there can be reconciliation anywhere!

For example, in September I was travelling around Israel on my own gathering stories for my next book (which will be published later next year). Come with me to a down town area of Jerusalem. We turn off a busy highway into a suburban area that looks semi-industrial. We leave the car at the car wash (a few people with buckets of water and sponges) and continue on foot along the narrow pavement with broken paving stones, around rubbish bins, it's hot and dusty, noisy and chaotic and we enter a tatty three or four storey building and rather than take the lift we climb the stairs to the second floor. I am with a Jewish believer in Jesus who has recently opened a drug and alcohol rehab centre.

We step into the living area of a small apartment. To the right is a tiny galley kitchen. Next a large bedroom with four bunk beds. Next a dining room. Finally another small room with one bed - for whoever is on duty at night. Not the choicest apartment in Jerusalem maybe, but there I had lunch with five former drug addicts - three Jewish and two Palestinian men. One of the Palestinians was a former Muslim. I will never forget that lunch because those guys were the best of friends. They shared their stories ... some had been on hard drugs for years; most had been in prison for years; they all recognised their lives were wrecks and they were destined for an early death. However, here they were, all off drugs, all well, all undergoing an intensive six month rehabilitation course centred on prayer and Bible study and they were all thriving. They were not believers in Jesus when they arrived, but after experiencing the power of prayer during withdrawal (what withdrawal?) they had subsequently all asked God to forgive their sins and had chosen to believe in Jesus Christ and were filled with the Holy Spirit. What united them as a group and allowed them to function as friends rather than as long term enemies? Their common belief in Jesus and His death on the cross; that He had died for them individually so that they could be forgiven and healed and restored to live the life that God had planned for them even before the world was created (that's what the Bible says). These guys were talking about their 'destiny'. They knew they had a future and they knew it would be meaningful. They were no longer living for themselves and hurting others in order to feed a habit that was killing them. They recognised they had been snatched from the fire, so to speak. And they were grateful.

In October I was back in Israel, this time with a group of people mainly from Oxfordshire. I had heard about the annual meeting of Jewish and Arab believers in a forest just to the west of Tiberias, but I'd never been there at the right time, until this year. We found out about it almost by accident. A chance conversation with an Arab pastor resulted in us being invited. It was another one of those unforgettable experiences when you just know you are touching on something supernatural because in the natural it would never have happened. Imagine being in a clearing in a forest with 1,000 men, women and children - Jews and Arabs - worshipping God together in Hebrew and Arabic being led by Jewish and Arab pastors and musicians followed by a picnic lunch and dancing to a jazz band! It was like being at a wedding! These people had no problem mixing and socialising together. They had no problem worshipping God and praying together. And what were they praying? That God would add to their numbers ... that He would reveal Himself to all who live in Israel, that all could enjoy the fellowship and peaceful relations they were enjoying because of their common belief in Jesus.

A few weeks ago, in November, I was in Israel again with another group. We were on our way to Bethlehem. Most of the group had not been to Israel before and a quiet descended on the bus as we passed through the checkpoint and the now famous high wall. We were on our way to meet a group of Christians from Gaza. One of their number had recently been murdered by a terrorist group. A young father, Rami had been manager of the Bible Society bookshop in Gaza City - a brave job at the best of times. We met his young widow, Pauline, now alone with two young children and expecting their third child. And yes, she told us her story. And she told us how proud she was of Rami, that he hadn't denied his faith whilst being tortured. Did she pray for the man who shot Rami? Yes, she did.

So, now I'm left pondering about Christmas. It seems there are many people who 'celebrate' at Christmas time without knowing why.

As I stood looking out at the shepherd's fields around Bethlehem, I thought that the last thing those shepherds were expecting that night was an angel in the sky announcing the birth of a baby. They could have ignored this spectacle and got on with their lives. But they didn't. They went to investigate and they found things to be just as the angel had said!

I suppose that's the secret - we have to get up and investigate things for ourselves and decide whether or not to believe. Clearly for those who do believe, life is never the same again.