Note: This is the eighth chapter of a book my father, Rev. Matt W. Leach, wrote in 1955 about a miraculous trip to the Holy Land.
-Michael Leach
That Evening, in the Garden
Again we rang the bell, and again Lydia opened the door for us. We were ushered into their home and made very comfortable. As Mr. Mattar talked, he bid Lydia bring us something, and our very gracious hostess brought delicious cookies and equally delicious lemonade. There was no question but that this house belonged to God.
As Mr. Mattar talked, before us unfolded a story of great faith and Christian living.
“I have made enemies of some of the charities. They give things away and help, but they do not tell the people about Jesus. I ask them why, and they say that their lives are their testimony. How can the people hear unless someone tells them, I ask. With all their charity they lead no one to Christ.
“Everyone who comes to this tomb, I tell them the story of Jesus. You remember the people I was talking to this afternoon when you came? At the time I didn’t know they were Catholic. The two women were wives of English officers, and they asked me to tell their children the story of the garden.
“I told them how Christ died for our sins and how He rose again from the dead. I told them that Christ wants us to accept Him as our Savior and to have faith in Him.
“I told the children how Christ loved the little children.
“I told them about prayer. I told them that God hears our prayers and answers them. I was a banker in what is now Israel, and I had much property. I had enough to educate all my children and set them up in business. And then when the Jews were given Israel I lost everything, and we became refugees.
The Day the Food Ran Out
“One day all our food was gone. I had no money or way to buy food. I wasn’t going to steal, I wasn’t going to borrow.
“Oh, I had believed in Christ before, but I had never really given my life to Him. Now my wife, my children and I knelt down to pray. We put everything in God’s hands. An hour later a man came with money for us. I have never been in want since then. God hears and answers our prayers.
“I explained how it doesn’t matter if this was Christ’s real tomb. We do not worship relics or tombs. We worship a Risen Savior.
“The two women, with tears in their eyes, thanked me for telling them.
“There is a very great need for a place for boys and girls to be brought in off the streets and be given special training to prepare them to earn a living — such as carpentry, sewing, etc. I didn’t know if the Lord wanted us to start one or not, or how we would finance it.
Finally, a short time ago, I prayed to God that He give me an answer that day so that I would know what to do. I told Him I would not stop praying until He gave me the answer. That afternoon the answer came. In September the girls’ training class will start. Many girls have asked if they can come after school.””
When asked where he had learned his English, Mr. Mattar replied, “From God’s Holy Word itself.”
We spoke about how expensive our tour was.
“That is too much to pay. There are places to stay in Jerusalem that are just as good. You should be able to live on about $4.00 a day.
“We hope that some day we will have a place for visitors to stay. It will be inexpensive. One time two Englishmen came with their car on a very limited budget and asked their guide to leave them outside the city by a field so they could camp.
They had their sleeping bags. We told them that they shouldn’t do that. They would wake up in the morning to find all their things gone. I let them sleep here in the garden.””
“If I were to write to you before I came again, would you help me to find a place to stay?” I asked.
“Yes, we like to help visitors. There is a place here where you could sleep.”
What He Saw at the Sepulchre
Mr. Mattar continued. “Today I was downtown on business, and even though I was in a hurry I took time out to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I didn’t go to make fun of the Church. I was once a Catholic myself.
I asked where Golgotha was, and the guard pointed to a steep steps that led up to another altar. But I didn’t see Golgotha. All I saw was a building with a lot of ornaments. I looked at the sky and saw only the roof.
“I asked why they called Golgotha ‘Adam’s Hill,’ and the guard said because Adam is buried here. I asked where Adam was. I didn’t see Adam. ‘Well,’ the guard admitted, ‘tradition says it’s here.’ All I saw was a building.
“I visited the tomb, and all I saw was another building inside the church. I went in the door and there was a slab of stone and lights and pictures and ornaments. But I didn’t see a tomb.
“My heart was very sad as I saw people worshiping a hole in the rock where Christ’s Cross supposedly stood, a slab of rock on which He was supposed to have lain.”
We talked on about many things. This humble man, so strong in his faith, teaching me lessons I will never forget. Time was forgotten.
The Garden in the Moonlight
From the house we stepped into the garden, beautiful in the moonlight. Peace lay all around. Silently we walked to the place of a Skull. Softly and tenderly the moon bathed the garden in radiance. Even Calvary seemed to reach towards Heaven.
Caught in the beauty, the peace, His Presence, I paused. “He bought my soul at Calvary. Oh, Lord, forgive me. You have done so much for me and I do so little for Thee. I still live and act and think as I always have. Such Amazing Grace. Thank you, Lord.””
The tomb, meant to be a place of death, cold and unfriendly, gave forth a warmth and feeling of welcome that beckoned me, saying “Come, look, He is not here, He is Risen.” I looked, and the tomb was empty.
We sat on the stone trough in front of the tomb that 2,000 years ago had guided the stone that had sealed the tomb. Softly we talked about our God, our Lord. In silent fellowship we breathed His Presence.
“It doesn’t matter if this was Christ’s tomb or not. It is what He did here. We do not worship relics or places, we worship a Risen Savior.”
With a fervent prayer that reached from the depth of his soul to encircle the world, Mr. Mattar brought our thoughts back to the present.
Mr. Benton and Mr. Mattar went ahead and entered the house, while Lydia and Ferris and I stayed back to talk.
Lydia, the first Christian I had met in all Jerusalem, asked:
“What do you have there?”
“It is the New Testament, in a pocket edition.”
“May I see it? — — — I want this.”
“Would you really like it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a pen? — — — To Lydia, from a fellow Christian. God bless you always. John 3:16.“
“Good night, my friends. You are always welcome here,” said Mr. Mattar, the second Christian I had met in all Jerusalem.
Good night, and thank you — thank you for everything, thank you very much.
In silence we left. The light of the moon softly radiant upon us, the Peace of God flooding our souls. Behind, the door closed — and yet it didn’t close, but a greater door opened. Heaven was close. Walking with us, more alive than we ourselves, closer than hand or foot, walked THE MASTER.
A Miraculous Return Home
On leaving Jerusalem the next morning, something told me that we would have a plane waiting to take us to Rome the next day. Did I say that “something” told me? No, God told me. The plane was there, but more than the plane.
God had prepared things for us so that as soon as we stepped out of our taxi that had brought us to Beirut, Lebanon, and stopped to look around to get our bearings, a man had his car stop and he spoke to us.
This man was a hotel owner. He took us to his hotel, where he introduced us to the pilot who was flying the plush Air Force executive plane that was to take us to Rome at 6 AM the next morning.
This same man gave each of us a single room and a supper (that still makes my mouth water to think of it), as well as breakfast in our rooms the next morning, for a price that still amazes me.
