I have always been a very spiritual person. I was once told by a pastor that I could either be a an of the world or a man of God but not both. I was young and did not understand the full meaning of what he was saying.

As I prepared to travel to the Middle-East a life-long friend gave me a beautiful little Greek Orthodox Bible to carry with me. I carried it everywhere I went and looked for passages that spoke of the land I was in. I still have that Bible, 27 years later, sitting on my night stand. 

I carried that Bible with me as I stood on the hill overlooking the Jordan Valley where God told Moses he would not enter with his people. The ruins of an ancient Byzantine church mark the location. I carried it throughout Greece and Rome and attempted to trace the travels of the Apostle Paul. 

Most memorable were the several occasions I took it with me to the tiny little underground chapel at the end of the Street Called Straight, where, as recored in Acts 9:11 God told St. Ananias to go and seek Saul of the House of Judas (the Apostle Paul). St. Ananias would baptize Paul and this chapel would be named in his honor - The House of St. Ananias.  There is some debate of the date of it’s origin but scholars put it as early as the first century AD. 

This was the most peaceful place in an very noisy, busy city. Where Straight Street narrowed you come to a small gate where a lone monk would respond to the ring of a tiny bell to let you through the gate before walking you through a little courtyard to a set of ancient stone stairs leading underground. 

The chapel is quiet, cool and tranquil. I would spend a good deal of time there each visit contemplating religion and the nature of the people who met in this little chapel. I tried to imagine those who came here in the first century - the very origins of the Christian Church. They would have held congregation without the benefit of the Bible and much of the ritual, ceremony and tradition we have grown accustom to.  Were there songs to sing?  How did they pray?  It would have been fascinating to be a fly on the wall during one such congregation.

It might surprise some to hear that I left the Holy Land more spiritual but less Christian than when I went.  Something about living and working among Orthodox Christians, Catholics, Jews, Muslims, even Buddhists left me more agnostic.  I had to ask myself if I were only Christian because I was born in a Christian land.  The honest answer was, yes.  I had become a man of the world after all; the pastor was right.