Well friends, I have some great news to share.

Later this week, I’ll leave on a long flight to the country of Jordan. I’m going at the request and a guest of the nation’s Ministry of Tourism and Cultural Affairs. As part of a group of 12 writers, we are encouraged to reflect on the country’s claim to be the other Holy Land. They want us to write on not just the landscape, but the people and the culture.

In our company will some of the country’s own government leaders who are working to achieve peace in the Middle East, harmony among the faith groups, and cross-cultural progress.

We’ll also be given audience to the some the nation’s prominent NGO leaders who are working with Iraqi Christian refugees, Christian ministries, and other peaceful-minded groups.

The Jordanian government is flying us into the country, feeding us, housing us, and giving us a fabulous tour of the sites: the Jordan River (where John baptized Jesus), Petra (remember Indiana Jones!), the Dead Sea, Mt. Nebo (where Moses saw the promised land), Jerash, Decapolis, Madaba (the Mosaic city), Pella (Jacob’s wrestling spot), and the place of John the Baptist’s last imprisonment – and beheading.

I’ll be spending Easter Sunday (the Eastern church has a different calendar) in a Coptic Christian Church. We’ll visit an Italian hospital that is caring for Iraqi refugee children, and interview local church leaders. I’ll spend time with Iraqi refugees, Greek Orthodox and Catholic believers, and business owners. I’m most interested in the story of how this country, surrounded by madness, stays sane – and protects it’s Christian minority.

It is the Middle East — and Jordan shares some defined borders with neighbors Iraq, Syria, Israel, and Saudi Arabia. As I’ve slipped this news to friends and family, I can tell right away that they think I’m nuts – or at least a few degrees away from room temperature. But the country has long been a broker in the peace process. King Abdullah is continually working the phones, rolling out the carpet, and bridging the West, the Middle East, Muslim, Jew and Christian. And as a guest of the country, something tells me we’ll be safe.

It will be a fascinating opportunity in a unique time in history. But more than any other time in my life, I feel different. More than any other opportunity, this one rings of something greater. It’s a pilgrimage to a story that I didn’t know. Like the wise men who simply followed a star and asked a few questions, what will I find?

Why me?

So you’re probably asking, “What gives you the privilege?” It’s true. I’m a sloppy writer, with odd spacing and documents that often scream for a proofreader. I’m not building a big Internet presence and I openly disdain platform-building. And the question you ask sounds like the one I’ve been asking too. “Why me?” I am an unlikely pilgrim in this journey.

I don’t know. I could name a 100 other writers – check that, 1,000 others — who could step into the role with better skills and a larger audience. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t apply. I didn’t even know the opportunity existed. But thanks to a long-forgotten connection with the Get Religion blog, a fan at the Associated Church Press, and a willingness to jump at the last minute, they found me.

But I don’t want to be like Moses, handing the job off to Aaron. I don’t want my lack of authority, or Klout score, or legions of fans, or links, or likes, or commenters, or readers to stand in the way. The door is open and I’m jumping in.

I don’t even know what I’ll write, and will trust since this offer came out of the blue, that there’s a bigger story that God has in mind.

Preparation

Last week, I me with Louie, a Jordanian who lives near my home. What a wealthy of information he was – and you’ll hear more about him. But for every stop on my journey, he has a friend, or a niece, or a cousin, or a brother. He was raised a Christian in this country and has deep and meaningful roots in the multi-ethnic, multi-religious roots of this county.

While there, I’ll be looking for those who work together – side by side, and yet have different faiths.

Of course, I’m packing – and repacking. And come Thursday, I’ll still forget something.

But I never want to forget this moment, this time of great anticipation. I feel like I’m standing in the great treasury of Petra – and my Father is helping me cross the divide to the Holy Grail.

“Walk by faith”

Walk by faith