Rethinking Tourism
Now that I've stood where Moses gazed and caught what must have been his view of the Promised Land, I'm reading his story with a clearer view of what it means. Now that I've seen what Ruth must have viewed when she looked up from the Jordan to her homeland, Moab, I can appreciate how far she walked for food. Now that I've seen the Dead Sea, I read with new appreciation Jesus' words about salt that loses its flavor.
And there's more... Now that I've seen Jesus's baptismal site and the wilderness where he fasted forty days, I can appreciate more of what incarnation's sacrifices involved. Now that I've batted flies in a place that uses all natural fertilizer, I can better appreciate what it meant to be wrapped in grave clothes and laid in an animal's feeding trough.
It has been said that every Christ-follower should seek to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land at least once in his or her life. Now I see why. Our God is a fantastic storyteller. What a setting!
There's also the consideration that traveling to developing countries helps struggling economies. (Granted, our own economy right now needs help, but our unemployment rate--bad as it is--is still around 6%. Jordan's is closer to 16%.) Jordan in particular is striving to be the big brother in a troubled region--a hospitable place for many Iraqi refugees, a moderate voice amidst radicalism, and a peacemaker between warring nations. That's worth positively reinforcing with tourist bucks. 
But we don't usually choose vacation locations for spirituality or justice, do we? We go for beauty and mystique and fun. And Jordan has that, too. The spot that gets my vote is the Mövenpick Resort and Dead Sea Spa. Oh. My. Gosh. Check out this shot of the Dead Sea at sunset from the hot tub, taken by a friend. Sadly, when I was there, it was totally "Rotic"--that is, romantic without the man. Places this breathfaking were meant to be shared!
Having been raised in the PNW, I've often wondered what makes a desert in the Middle East great enough to qualify as the Promised Land. It's not green, it has no waterfalls, and farmers struggle to grow crops. The country is vast. And it requires dependence to live. Yet that's part of its magic. A cloud by day in the desert keeps people from frying; a fire by night in the desert keeps them warm. A place without water requires a leader to speak to a rock for provision. Or manna to come from on high. Or quail to fall from the sky.
What an eduvacation!
Sometimes a place takes on its own character in the story. And this is just such a place. As a novelist, I'm thinking a setting just doesn't get much better than that.