Lilies of Red

Tiffany & I said goodbye to our guide Daniel Rona. I sincerely thanked him for his testimony. As I spoke, I was emotional and was able to convey my feelings. I could tell he received the message.

Most special to me was his testimony of Christ at the Garden Tomb. He turned to us, smiling, and said, “I know that He lives. He spoke to His apostles. He ate with them. I know He lives.” Also, at Gethsemane, he taught about Christ falling on his face- without anything supporting him, bleeding from every pour. His garments must have been soaked red.

As Tiffany and I prepared to leave, I felt very sad. In Gethsemane, and throughout Jerusalem, are the lilies of the field. They are bright red. When cut and dried, they turn blood red. They grow where the Savior made the sacrifice for all. I had wanted to take some home as a souvenir, but was instructed not to. Later in the trip, our guide said it was okay to pick the flowers. So we looked but could not find any. Now, it seemed too late.


We left for the airport the next morning at 4:15 a.m. Our driver, a Palestinian, who didn’t understand much English, seemed accommodating, so I asked him if he knew where the red lilies grow. After five minutes of trying to explain what we were looking for, he said: “A Cantona! They are everywhere in my village.” He pulled off the road at the next exit. We looked out the window, but found nothing. It was too dark. Undeterred, he pulled over near a field. We all got out of the car. I took a flashlight and walked over rocks, hills, and through thorns.

We even looked by the way side, but still no lilies to be found. Time passed quickly, and we needed to get to the airport. The driver was still confident and indicated he knew one more spot. The ground looked right. I could see yellow flowers as we approached. We had seen the red lilies among these before. Tiffany and I were both praying fervently with faith. After 10 minutes of looking, we stopped, empty handed. We got back on the highway, disappointed.

We needed to go to the airport. Our driver seemed to be done with the adventure, and even Tiffany and I knew we had to leave. To say thank you, I dipped into my wallet and handed the driver a $10 bill for his troubles. The money invigorated him. He put up his finger, to indicate, “One more try.” He pulled off the next exit. We approached a green patch in the center of a roundabout. Streetlights illuminated the area. I jumped over the guardrail and looked. Amidst the green I saw it: a red lily. And another! More then I had hoped for. This was the good ground. To celebrate, we took a picture with the driver.


The rest of the drive, I was smiling. Tiffany held my hand and smiled back. Our prayers were answered. We searched diligently in darkness, in an unknown land, aided by a Arab, Muslim, Palestinian man, helping White, Mormon, Westerners find flowers that grow, only one month out of the year.

Praying in faith yet pressed by time, we tested the Savior’s words: Ask and ye shall receive. Seek and ye shall find.