After Jericho

Do you ever get nervous when God starts answering prayers? It seems counterintuitive, I know, but after an eventful few weeks and studying what happens after Jericho falls, I’m thinking that angst is a pretty common response to the Lord’s work.

Can you relate to that? Any times where God’s done something monumental … and you’re left panicking?

Not gonna lie, I feel that way right now. But as our studies are about to show us, this panic is brought about because our eyes stray … off of the Almighty and onto our own might.

(Nothing like a broad and somewhat vague conclusion to propel us into our next recap.)

After the favorable report from the spies, the Israelites march across the Jordan River—without getting wet, since the Ark of the Covenant parts the waters—and execute the battle strategy that He’s laid out for them: don’t fight, but walk. Around and around and around Jericho’s wall for seven days. And don’t make a sound, either. Then, on the seventh loop of the seventh day, give a unified shout …

And watch as the mighty wall crumbles under the weight of the Almighty.

Once the wall is destroyed, the seemingly-undefeatable Canaanites are crushed, with only Rahab and her family being spared. And while this not fighting strategy is an astounding battle plan that truly tests the peoples’ trust in the Lord, for our intents and purposes, we’re just going to focus on their one, roaring shout …

Now Jesus, the Lion of Judah, may as well be called the Lion of Praise (that’s what Judah means, in case you need a refresher). And like any lion, our Messiah fights. Fights, I’d argue, with praise.

We see this play out in Jericho—a victorious, faith-filled shout emphasizing, “the Lord has given [us] the city!” is what destroys the insurmountable wall—and it’s got me thinking: praising our Protector is lethal in the war against fear, sin, and Satan (Josh 6:16).

After all, how can darkness thrive if it’s snuffed out by shout after shout after song after prayer … of Light?

The dark gets destroyed when we focus on the Light, and in and of itself, this potent weapon of praise is amazing. Unfortunately, us humans can be dumb; the Israelites represent all of us, in that we have a nasty habit of misrecognizing God’s Light.

While studying Deuteronomy, I compared us to plants who turn towards a fake, false lightbulb of an idol and expect it to provide the sustenance that only the Son can, but that’s not the only trap our planty selves can fall into.

Sometimes (like now), we forget our roles entirely.

In an irrational thought process that would be laughable if it wasn’t so destructive, we mistake our leaves and stems for sunrays, our roots and petals for light waves; we take credit for His Light, and try to be Light, ourselves. 

Dear readers, I bring all this up (which is a nice way of saying, Maddie’s going down another getting-steeper-by-the-minute rabbit trail that makes no sense but will hopefully make sense in the end) to highlight that we have to be aware of our foolish Light-replacing tendencies. Because right after the Hebrews experience this epic, triumphant Jericho victory, we read this:

“They chased the Israelites from the city gate as far as the stone quarries and struck them down on the slopes. At this the hearts of the people melted in fear and became like water” (Josh 7:5, emphasis mine).

Guys, the people melting in fear are no longer the enemies of God, but His Chosen People. After Jericho, Joshua sends out spies to prepare for the siege of the next city … but as far as the texts reveal, he doesn’t consult the Lord. Now, he could’ve, of course, and simply chose not to reiterate that little detail, but since the Old Testament is very detailed (I mean, do we really have to go into the nitty-gritty of the clean and unclean emissions of sexual fluids or what to do with the guts of the sacrificed animals? I know He has a purpose for those tidbits, but wow, sometimes I learn much more than I bargain for during my commentary readings), it seems odd to leave out a key conversation with God.

Thus, perhaps no such conversation occurs. Perhaps Joshua feels so assured in his army’s monumental victory … that he feels mighty enough to attack a lesser foe.

Regardless, we know without a doubt that Joshua goes to the Lord after his solders return. Thirty-six Israelites have been killed, the congregation is terrified and panicking—melting and as aimless as water, just like their Jericho enemies were—and Joshua is at a loss as to why the Lord would “deliver [them] into the hands of the Amorites to destroy [them]” (Josh 7:5-7).

In full disclosure, scholars disagree whether his agonized prayer is indicative of holy fear or unbelieving terror. Stuff like “if only we would’ve been content to stay on the other side” of the river because then we wouldn’t have to deal with enemies who will “surround us and wipe out our name” sounds pretty anxious and overreactive to me (Josh 7:7-9). That being said, Joshua also exclaims, “what then will you do for your own great name?” which indicates that he knows God’s worthy of honor, respect, and fear (7:9). Personally, I think the phrase “pardon your servant, Lord” says it all (7:8):

Like a squeaky see-saw, Joshua is rocketing from terror to trust, terror to trust, over and over again. He’s up and down, in battle between faith and fear, and is no longer fooling himself into thinking that he—the petrified little plant—is the Lightsource. As such, the Lord meets Joshua’s repentance with revelation …

The reason why they’ve been defeated and running scared has nothing to do with God’s apparent betrayal of the Israelites, and everything to do with their actual one. And all it took was one guy. One guy brought pagan items from the ruins of Jericho—directly disobeying the Lord’s instructions—and shared them with his household (Ex 23:24, Josh 6:18, 7:1).

Since God knows how easily pride, unbelief, sin spreads, He does not tolerate it, not one little bit. And so, since the Israelites have broken their commitment to Him—have departed from His Light in pursuit of their own fake lights—He has let them have all the protection and victory that said fake lights can provide (which is none, just to be clear).

The newly-enlightened (gotta get as may light references in as I can) Joshua quickly heeds the Lord’s council and kills the perpetrators, with the support of the Israelite congregation, and would ya looky there—God removes His wrath against the tribes!

But, you know what they say: all it takes it a tiny crack, a single weak point, to shatter glass into a thousand pieces. Despite the congregation’s wholehearted agreement with God’s punishment against the rebellious household …

A brutal, anxiety-ridden crack has chipped at the people.

One prideful slip-up earns God’s (apparent but not actual) disappearance, which unearths all of the Israelites’ old habits of self-righteousness, unbelief, and panic. The crack expands without their knowledge, becoming a chasm so great that even Joshua—who’s spent his entire life shouting the Lord saves, just like his name proclaims—fails to consult Him and needs to be reminded of the Truth he’s known for decades but so quickly forgotten:

“Then the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Take the whole army with you, and go up and attack Ai. For I have delivered into your hands the king of Ai, his people, his city and his land’” (Josh 8:1, emphasis mine).

(Point of clarification—Ai is the nation who’s just sent them running in terror.)

Friends, the I have delivered you, I am with you, therefore, do not be afraid reframe that extends throughout Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy … is now back. And while it is a lovely reality to be reminded of, it reveals how far the Jews have fallen. From being strong and courageous and making their enemies melt in fear, the Hebrews are now melting, weak and scattered. Quivering under the notion that God has abandoned them, even though He’s promised that He never will (Deu 31:8).

They’ve lost their trust in Him, and it’s all because they thought His Light shone from them. Their triumph, not His. Their might, not His. Their gods, not Him.

I wish I could say that we’ll never make the same mistake, but given our foolish, fallen reality, that’s not true. In our sinful pride, we will fool ourselves into thinking we’re the equivalent to God, and panic when we feel the weight of that responsibly.

Thankfully though, we are the plants, not the Son; the glass, not the Glassblower. No matter how many times or how badly we crack, He can make us whole in Him. And regardless of how often we forget the Light that we should remember …

We have a Savior who’ll make Satan crumble as quickly as those Jericho walls … in His time, and in His Way. So perhaps all we have to do in this spiritual war is turn towards His radiant Light, wait, trust, submit, and give Him our shouts of praise.