Tucked Away

Israel stormed into the Promised Land with great victory, confirming the worst fears of the inhabitants of the land - that the Lord was really with them and there was nothing for the people to do to defend themselves. But it doesn't take long before things start to look a little different.

Before Israel gets soundly defeated in battle.

The people are stunned, on both sides. Israel doesn't know how they lost so badly after winning so big, when she knew that the Lord had given her that city, too, and the people of the city couldn't believe they had pushed back and defeated Israel - the Israel. And in fact, you kind of wonder if this early defeat changed Israel's entire trajectory, if it emboldened the other nations and put more fight in them. If other peoples took this defeat as a sign that maybe Israel wasn't all she was rumored to be. She could be defeated, and well, gosh, maybe other peoples started to think they were just the people to defeat her.

But Israel's defeat had nothing to do with the strength of other nations; it had everything to do with the sin of a single Israelite. (Remember when we recently looked at how one man's sin affects the entire tribe? Here's another example of that.) Achan had taken plunder from the battle that he wasn't supposed to have. He had used it to increase his own wealth. And he had buried it in his own house. As long as he was holding onto his sin, Israel didn't stand a chance against her enemies.

An assembly of the nation was called and the people were divided by tribe, then by clan, then by family, then by man until it was narrowed down and revealed that Achan was the source of their great defeat. Achan had come to the assembly, as any dutiful man would, knowing what the assembly was about, knowing that he was the guilty one (perhaps hoping he was not the only guilty one), knowing it was likely that he was about to be singled out in front of the entire community. 

And when he was, he confessed. He plainly admitted what he had done. He even told them where they could find the contraband in his tent, where exactly he'd tucked it away under the dirt. But it's worth noting here that he didn't bring it with him. He didn't offer it up willingly. If the people - if God - wanted it, they'd have to go get it. 

He was going to confess, but he wasn't going to surrender.

Isn't that the way we do it? Isn't that the truth about all of us? Pushed to it, we'll confess what we've done. We'll tell you exactly what our sin is. We'll hang our heads in shame and talk about how sorry we are for the damage we've done, for the hurt we've caused, for the pain and trouble that's come out of our wrongdoing. We'll speak until we're blue in the face, even get some tears rolling down our cheeks for good effect.

But we won't surrender. We won't bring our sin with us and lay it down. We won't give up what we've got. We won't really change how we act or what we're doing with our lives. If the people - or God - want that, well, they'll have to go get it. 

They'll have to invest the energies to dig through our lives, to turn over our floors, to push through our doors and pull it all up by the roots. They'll have to pursue us to the place where we live, where we can't get away from them any more. We make it so hard to actually elicit any real change in our lives, even though we're so good at being confessional with our language.

What if it wasn't that way? What if we were better at surrender? What if we let our words drive our hearts into change? What if we let our confession spur our true repentance? What if we were more than sorry?

What if we brought our contraband with us to our confession and laid it down before God and before the community? What if we showed, rather than just said, how sorry we are? 

We might just restore more than ourselves. 

(Note: after Achan and his contraband were destroyed, Israel went on to conquer the people who had just driven them back, securing their places once more as victors.) 

Part the Waters

As Israel makes entry into the Promised Land, taking on first the city of Jericho, they find themselves with another body of water to cross. 

Now, you would think that if you were the men of Jericho, you would see this water as a bit of a blessing, and as an opportunity to confront your enemies while they are in a weak spot. Crossing water wasn't easy, and all the warriors of Israel are going to have to find a way to break through before they can even think about waging war against Jericho. It seems to me that if Jericho wanted to get the upper hand, and get it early, they would go out and set up their armies near the edge of the water...and wait. Then pick off Israel one by one as they drag their weary, wet bodies back onto land. 

Except, of course, that this isn't the first time that Israel has encountered seemingly-prohibitive waters. Challenging waters. She remembers well that when she came out of Egypt, her first barrier was the Red Sea. And it's likely that Jericho remembers this, too - and what happened to the enemy soldiers who pursued Israel at the water. 

Yeah, they all drowned. 

And it turns out that God's history with Israel at the water will repeat itself here on the outskirts of Jericho. As the armies of Israel prepare to cross the river, the tribe of priests takes hold of the Ark of the Covenant and carries it forward. As soon as they step into the waters, the waters pull back and pile up somewhere way up river, just as the Red Sea had. As long as the Ark stands in the middle of the riverbed, Israel's whole army passes through on dry ground. 

So much for wet, weary soldiers. Israel's coming for Jericho strong, courageous, and confident. And all of the rumors that Jericho had heard about the favor of God for His people were just confirmed while they looked out over their walls and saw the waters part once more. 

It's a great story. Absolutely, no doubt, hands-down a great story. We love to read about the power and provision of a God who parts the waters. 

But that's really only half of the story.

Yes, we have a God who parts the waters, but we have to remember, too, how the people move. We have to pay attention because this is crucial for our own lives, for what we're praying to God for, for what we long for from Him. It's crucial for us to be able to recognize what God is doing for us. 

Because, you see, in the first case, God parted the waters for the people on their way out of Egypt. But in the second, He parted the waters for their people on their way into the Promised Land. 

It's not, then, just that God parts waters, as cool and wonderful as that is. It's also why God parts the waters for you. It's not just what He's leading you through; it's what He's leading you to. It's about whether you're on your way out...or on your way in. And we shouldn't confuse the two, lest we find ourselves mired in places God has made a way out or running from those where He's made our path in. 

So where is God leading you? Through what? ...and why?

A Cave Outside Jericho

As Deuteronomy closes and Joshua opens, Israel goes from the edge of the Promised Land right into the heart of it. And it all starts at a little place called Jericho, where Joshua sent a handful of Israelite spies to encourage the people. 

The entire town of Jericho knew what was up. They had seen Israel camping on the edge of their city for quite some time, waiting on the day when they would move in. They knew that the Lord was with these people; they'd heard rumor of His strength and provision. After all, word had had forty years to reach their ears. And the arrival of a band of Israelite spies did not escape the men of the city.

They knew what was going on, and they armed themselves and came to the house of Rahab, the prostitute. The spies had found shelter here, and favor with Rahab (who was wagering for a little favor of her own with them), but the men of Jericho were not wrong - if they could soundly defeat the small band of spies, they might just send terror through the whole camp of Israel and spare their lives and their livelihoods from sure destruction. 

But Rahab was onto them and tucked the spies away before lowering them out a window in the wall and sending them on their way. When she did, she told them - go and hide out in the caves out in the far-away region until the men of Jericho give up on finding you and come back here. That way, you'll be safe.

So that's what they did. The spies of Israel ran to the cave outside of Jericho and hid themselves. 

For three days.

You may or may not be aware at this point that we are firmly in the church's "three day" season. We're coming up on Easter, where we find ourselves for three days in another cave outside of another town. This time, Jerusalem. This time, Jesus. 

And that's why I bring this story up. Because it's easy for us to read about the Israelite spies going into the Promised Land, being lowered out a window, and tucking themselves away in a cave until the enemy stopped pursuing them and think what a nice story that is and how it shows good insight on the spies' part, knowing where and how to hide themselves before going back to Israel. And we might even think about what the rest of Israel might have been thinking when their spies did not return for three additional days. Were they dead? Had they been captured? What did the men of Jericho do to them? 

But when we put this in the context of another three days in another cave outside of another city, it takes on an entirely new meaning, and we start to see the pattern that God is developing. Because Jesus, too, was sort of like a spy; He was sent to give the people a glimpse of another way to live, just as the spies in Israel were supposed to paint a picture of life in the Promised Land. He was the Promise, overflowing with abundant life the way the land flowed with milk and honey. He was put into a tomb in a cave outside of Jerusalem for three days while the enemy, death, pursued Him. 

And we might even think about what the rest of the faithful might have been thinking when Jesus died on that cross. Was He dead? Had He been defeated? What did the men of Jerusalem do to Him? Where is our Savior now? 

Interesting, isn't it?

Thunder

If we want to understand more about the lightning of God, which is His love, then we need to know a little bit about the thunder, too. For never in the world as we know it is there lightning without thunder. 

Yesterday, we saw Moses reminding Israel that God brought lightning out of His right hand because of His great love for them, and we know that it must be true. For only love cuts light through darkness, makes a way in the storm, ignites a fire - all things that we know that lightning does. Even when it seems like a power play, we know that God does what God does out of the depths of His love. 

We know it even better when, after the lightning, the Lord speaks. Hence, the thunder.

When you look at thunder in the Bible, you see quickly a pattern developing: thunder is the noise that the people hear when God is speaking directly to someone in their presence. Someone within earshot hears the voice of the Lord speaking, but the rest of the camp just hears thunder. 

This was the case when Moses was on the mountain, and it's actually why the people so quickly deferred to his leadership. They heard the thunder and knew that the Lord was speaking to him, and it was such a powerful noise that they trembled before it and decided they did not want the Lord speaking directly to them. It happened when Saul/Paul was blinded on the road to Damascus; he heard the voice of the Lord, but those traveling with him just heard thunder. 

What if it's still happening today?

I know, I know. We've taken all the fun out of thunder by "explaining" it with our scientific notions. Thunder follows lightning because light moves faster than sound, so the force of the light pushing through the dense air creates a sort of sonic boom that is then heard as thunder. And if you listen closely, you can determine how far away the storm is by calculating the amount of time between the flash of lightning and its subsequent thunder. 

Yawn.

What if thunder is still the sound of God speaking to His people? What if every time you heard thunder, someone, somewhere within range, was hearing the voice of God Himself? What if what they were hearing was an answer to their prayer? What if it was a word for the community? What if it was an affirmation of all that God is, of the greatness of His love?

It's not too far of a stretch to say that in the same breath that God cuts through the darkness with light, He speaks a new word to someone listening. We know that He does. It is the pattern of our faith, not just in the stories that we have in the Scriptures, but in our own stories. Every time our darkness is lifted, it's replaced with a new word from God for living redeemed. Every time the power of God shows up, so does His love. Every time His right hand moves, His heart speaks. 

It's love. 

Moses was right. It's absolutely love. 

In lightning and thunder, of all things. 

Lightning

As spring settles in, I am struck by the image of lightning in the Bible. We're nearing the end of Deuteronomy, as Moses is giving his final words to Israel before his death, and he says something quite interesting about who God is. He says, 

The Lord came from Sinai and appeared to them...and came with ten thousand holy ones, with lightning from his right hand for them. (Deut. 33:2)

A footnote in the CSB indicates that the word here translated lightning is meant to indicate the "fiery law," and we know well the imagery of God's right hand, where his power and glory sit. And it would be easy for us perhaps to think that this is yet another show of God's strength, that it was meant to invoke fear in the Israelites - fear leading to obedience. Here's God, showing off again, reminding His people of His power and authority over their lives with the lightning cracking through the clouds, shaking the earth with its thunder. 

But look at what Moses says directly next: 

Indeed he loves the people.

Uhm...love? Two seconds ago, we were terrified. Scared. Startled by the sheer power of a God who throws lightning through the dark skies. Meekly submissive to His "fiery law," a law so heavy a burden that no one could properly bear it. A law with so many rules, so many things we have to do to obtain righteousness - obtain, not achieve, for who could ever achieve such a thing? We simply earn it through our obedience and by God's great mercy. 

And now, love? This lightning is love? 

It's so hard for us to understand, to comprehend, to wrap our minds around the idea that God's power is love. We're so used to power being used for so much less, being wielded as a weapon in our world. We're used to leaders and those in authority who misuse their power for their own gain, who flaunt it just because they can, who take every opportunity to remind us that they are over us, that they are the ones with authority, that they make the rules and heaven help them, they enforce them. We're so used to power being used to keep us down. 

Yet here we are with a God whose power is love, who uses His power for our gain, who never flaunts it but always offers it with a reminder of who He is - not the God that we fear, but the God that we love because He first loved us. He doesn't use His power to keep us down; He uses His power to light us up, even in the darkest places. It's a storm of grace, of mercy, and of tender care, meant to remind us who God really is. 

He is our Lord, our Lover, our Light and our Redeemer. Our Lightning.