Friday, March 13

Scripture: So Joshua took the whole land, according to all that the Lord had spoken to Moses; and Joshua gave it for an inheritance to Israel according to their tribal allotments. And the land had rest from war (Joshua 11:23).

Observation: The conquest is done, and the land can rest. Joshua and the Israelite armies have subdued most of the peoples of the Promised Land, conquered their cities and taken their land. The following chapter (Joshua 12) lists all the kingdoms that fell to Joshua, thirty-one in total. The epic tale of Israel overthrowing city after city, starting with Jericho and Ai, then a rapid succession of cities and kings and armies, none of them a match for Joshua, covers only a few chapters in the Bible but, in real time, lasted decades. Joshua is an old man “advanced in years” (Joshua 13:1) by the time his military campaign is complete. Reading these chapters leaves the heart feeling heavy: so much death and war, and lasting for so long, and reading that God ordered it all to happen, even intervening in Israel’s favor to swing battles their way- it takes a toll on the heart. The land felt this way, too. The tale of Joshua’s conquest of the Promised Land ends with this heartbreaking verse: “And the land had rest from war.” The ground itself is tired of war. Reminiscent of Genesis 4 when Cain murders Abel, resulting in Abel’s blood crying out to God from the ground, the soil which bears witness to the bloodshed of Joshua’s wars, which cries out in pain and agony with a language known only to God, is exhausted of human warfare and may finally know the peace of rest.

Application: It’s natural and to be expected for anyone who reads the Book of Joshua to ask, “Did God really command Joshua to kill all those people?” The authors of Joshua believed the answer was yes. Yet part of the beautiful holiness of Scripture is the subtle thread of another way of being tucked within the most difficult verses. This thread begins with God’s gracious act of sewing Adam and Eve clothes so they might be kept warm outside of Eden, and continues all the way to Jesus, who embodies God’s better way of being in the world; and in between, this thread shows up in the gloomiest parts of the Bible like a fresh green blade of grass forcing its way out of the cold dead earth of winter. Here in Joshua, the thread appears as the land finding rest after decades of war. The land is a silent character in the story. The reader is allowed to identify with the land. As a disciple of Jesus, I see myself in the land, weary of war of all kinds and longing for lasting rest. Notably absent from Joshua is the word “peace.” I get it. Peace can feel like a long way off; too long, even. But rest I can attain. Rest I can work for. Rest I can model for a violent world.

Prayer:

“Peace on earth and goodwill for all humankind” I recall the angels announcing to the shepherds will be the outcome of Your arrival in the world as a squirming squishy exquisite human baby. So, and I don’t mean to make things awkward between us: where’s the peace and the goodwill You promised? Two thousand years is a long time to wait. And I hear You: I know the words of the shepherds are both a promise of what You are doing with or without my help and a challenge rto roll up my sleeves and be part of the peace and goodwill You are making. But still, and really I’m don’t mean to make things awkward: I’m tired of war and collateral damage and meanness and cruelty and apathy and words launched with the same deadly intentions as any other weapon; and so, make me an instrument of Your rest. You heard me: make me where Your rest is happening on earth. Peace feels like a long way off. But rest I can attain. Rest I can work for. Rest I can model for a violent world. Rest I need for my own soul, and rest I desire for all the precious souls around me: rest from violence, overwork, cruelty, hurry, the rat race of achievement, obsession with being liked. For rest I pray today, for me and all peoples on earth. I surrender peace and goodwill to You. As for me and all, make us instruments of Your rest. Onward we go: amen.