Dateline Jerusalem: An Eyewitness Account of Prophecies Unfolding in the Middle East
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History’s final chapter will be written in Jerusalem.
When an Iranian president thunders a murderous threat or an obscure Turkish drunkard has a dream in Mecca or a Jewish couple from Brooklyn lands at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion airport, these events might seem disconnected. But they’re not. In Dateline Jerusalem, CBN News correspondent Chris Mitchell connects the dots and unveils Jerusalem as the epicenter and crossroads of the spiritual, political, and, yes, supernatural worlds.
For thousands of years, Jerusalem’s powerful draw has always transcended simple economics, military strategy, and religious affiliation.
In our own time, as the Arab Spring threatens to become an Islamic Winter, one commentator warns: “The Arab Spring doesn’t lead to democracy, it leads to Jerusalem.” Indeed, the fragile peace of Israel is in new peril as violent Islamic factions vie for control of surrounding nations. Yet Muslims are converting to Christianity in record numbers. Dateline Jerusalem untangles and chronicles all this through the riveting narrative of a Christian reporter in the upheaval of the modern Fertile Crescent.
We live in a world where we cannot afford to be ill informed. What happens in the strategic Middle East, Israel, and Jerusalem is critical. It matters to you. Today’s news might focus on Washington, New York, London, or Moscow, but history’s final chapter will be written in Jerusalem.
Chris Mitchell’s firsthand experiences and reporting uniquely qualify him to expound on and explain the major trends and developments sweeping the Middle East and affecting the world. Mitchell has served as the bureau chief for CBN News since August 2000.
jutting into southern Lebanon. Below Metulla sweeps the Hula Valley, one of Israel’s most scenic and fertile agricultural breadbaskets. The Golan Heights on one side of the valley runs majestically all the way down to the Sea of Galilee. Mount Hermon, thought by some Bible scholars to be the site of the transfiguration of Jesus, looms in the distance. But Metulla—called the Switzerland of Israel—was anything but neutral in the summer heat of 2006. Instead, it sat at the center of a pivotal and
its own. Thousands wanted to touch the coffin, the flag, or the body. The crowd stirred up plumes of dust. The afternoon sun glistening through that dust painted a golden, surreal, and riveting scene. The coffin made its frenzied way around the compound and finally arrived at Arafat’s grave. Given the mood of the crowd, officials seemed to bury him as fast as they could. They buried a man one commentator called “a terrorist with a good public relations campaign.” Another called him the “most
Israel will gather them and will watch over his flock like a shepherd.” —JEREMIAH 31:10 NIV DATELINE: ODESSA, UKRAINE WE ARRIVED IN THE UKRAINIAN PORT OF ODESSA, A CITY ONCE ruled by the Czars and then by the Soviet Empire. But now it served as a gateway for Jews from the former Soviet Union. We visited the famous Potemkin Steps near the docks, where a workers uprising in 1905 supported by sailors of the battleship Potemkin made history and foreshadowed the Soviet Revolution twelve years
Middle East is spawning stories of great faith in the midst of severe persecution. Consider the story of Fatima Al-Mutairi. She was born into a well-known Bedouin tribe in a religiously zealous town and named after Fatima, the fourth daughter of Muhammad. According to Tom Doyle’s account, her family expected no less than absolute devotion to Islam.31 Yet on the Internet Fatima began to hear stories about Muslims coming to faith in Jesus through dreams. After chatting with others online about who
I thought how many times I glibly sang that song without realizing what it really meant. Now, I felt that I was being asked to “surrender all.” I loved my children. They were the joy of our lives. I hope this doesn’t sound too hard-hearted, but was I willing to allow someone else—even God—decide their fate? Yet, with His help, I persevered. I continued to pray and experienced what many old-time Pentecostals used to call “breaking through.” After a particularly meaningful time of prayer, I