Feedback fact-finding trip Israel/Gaza
Where Olives Weep
Between Checkpoints and Churches, Unity Endures (Part 1 of 6)
The towering concrete walls of Checkpoint 300—Rachel’s Tomb—loomed before us, a nine-meter barrier that did not simply stand but imposed. This grey scar stretches for hundreds of kilometers, severing fields and villages, separating not just land, but families from their livelihoods.
As our vehicle crossed into Bethlehem, the soldiers' presence was immediate—their eyes cold, their weapons a silent reminder of unchecked power. Crucially, entry into the occupied West Bank required no inspection; it is only when one seeks to leave that the scrutiny begins.
Beyond the checkpoint, colour burst against the stone. Graffiti spoke in bold, angry strokes, and my gaze locked onto one particular piece of vivid, unsettling lettering: 'another sunny day in the world’s largest open air prison.' I paused, the weight of those painted words already heavy. Did they tell the whole truth, or would the reality we were about to witness reveal a deeper, more complex narrative than paint alone could capture?
Our host, a local man whose testimony would become essential to this investigation, spoke, his voice heavy with the weight of recent months.
"Before the war," he stated, "as many as fifteen thousand Palestinians passed through this checkpoint each day to work. But since the fighting began, all their permits have been cancelled. Many depended on tourism, and that too has come to a standstill." His voice carried no bitterness, only a sober recognition of how quickly livelihoods can vanish.
I was aware that behind every statistic stood a family, a story, a struggle. The silence that followed was not empty; it was filled with the unspoken question: how do people endure when the ordinary rhythms of life are broken so completely?
The Dual Mission
Why am I here at a time such as this? My presence is driven by a dual mission. Primarily, it is an act of solidarity: to be with the church in this region, assuring them that the body of Christ in South Africa cares and is praying. I am here to hand over funds from Project Hope Gaza to our partner, Jerusalem Evangelical Outreach.
Yet, this mission also requires an accounting. I came to bring back answers for our supporters: How is the church in the West Bank and Gaza doing—physically, emotionally, and spiritually? How do they see peace through the lens of Christ, and how are they practically involved in pursuing that peace?
To compile the most accurate and balanced picture, I have scheduled meetings with prominent organisations such as the Bible Society, with church leaders from different denominations, with Christians in Gaza, and with a large sample group of ordinary citizens. One cannot compile an accurate picture of a situation by listening only to selected voices; it is imperative to hear from across the entire spectrum of the community.
The Rhythm of Life
We were greeted by a sudden, intense flood of sensory life. Shawarma shops spilled their heavy, spiced aroma into the air, the smoke of grilled meat mingling with the dust of the road. Traffic pressed in from every side, cars weaving through narrow, winding lanes, missing one another by mere millimeters.
The chaos was constant, yet it carried a frantic rhythm of its own. In that moment, I felt strangely, instantly at home—the noise, the colour, the movement reminding me that life persists, even in places fundamentally marked by division.
Despite the towering walls and the cancelled permits, the spirit of community and faith persists. We learned that one organisation hosts as many as twenty discipleship meetings weekly—sessions catering to children, young adults, women, and men, with a significant number of participants coming from a Muslim background. It is in these intimate gatherings, away from the checkpoints and the graffiti, that the true work of endurance and peace is quietly taking place. With the noise of the market fading behind us, we decided the logistics could wait. "Let's drop the bags at the hotel," I told our host, "and join in on the first one." The real investigation, I knew, was about to begin.