Returning Point

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The wood creaked as the old man pushed the window open as far as it would go. During the heaviest rains it had been swollen by the damp—and kept firmly closed. Now, dried out, and with the rain stopped, the wood yielded to gentle persuasion, allowing bright sunshine to enter.

Noah shielded his eyes against the brilliant light. He’d opened the window when his floating zoo had come, with a decisive thump, to rest against the mountainside. He hadn’t seen peaks—or sunshine—for a long time. The air smelt blue not green, like water not grass. The birds he loosed came back, unable to find a place to land.

So he waited, opening the window and looking out every day, curbing his impatience. All the inmates were restless, anxious to get out, to feel solid ground under their four feet, two feet, ten feet, three hundred and fifty-four feet, or no feet at all.

They were all that was left, too few to afford to make a mistake and leave the safety of the ark before God had made adequate provision for them. Everything else was gone, a world scrubbed clean by the brush of the Almighty.

They would have to start again.

But the birds had kept coming back.

Then the last one didn’t.

Like an old hound, Noah sniffed green on the breeze, heard the Voice, and turned toward his traveling companions bunched up behind him.

“Out!”

Years later another old man stood outside the entrance to the great city, staff in hand, watching a floodtide of humans and animals flow past, heading toward the wilderness.

They carried, carted, or drove everything they owned—along with bags and chests of items that their “hosts” for the last four hundred years had eagerly thrust on them. Was it compensation for years of ill treatment? Or desperation? The cries of bereaved Egyptians could still be heard even above the tramp, shuffle, and creak of the Hebrews.

When the crying stopped and the anger set in, Moses knew that they would be pursued. He shaded his eyes, looking to see if the end of the column was visible yet. They had to hurry, get as far as they could as fast as they could.

For Moses, what was happening on this day was a kind of redemption. Years ago he had tried to do what God had done today—rescue his people. He’d failed miserably. He carried that failure into the desert. Now, a better and more humble man, Yahweh had brought him back to Egypt, to do it right, to take His people toward a brighter day and greater prospects.

“Forward!”

Forty years later Moses was dead. Joshua felt his absence. For all those years he had followed the old man, listened to his instructions, obeyed his orders, and seen God work through him. Now, the newly-minted leader stood on the shores of the Jordan and wondered if he was capable of wearing Moses-sized sandals…or if he wanted to.

He’d witnessed the stubbornness of the people Moses had led out of the Egypt. Just because those he was leading were of a new generation didn’t mean much. They still had the same genes, and the same propensity to want to do their own thing their own way.

Across the river lay fortified cities, and people stronger and more numerous than the Hebrews he led. He had seen them. Though he knew that Yahweh would give them what He had promised—a homeland—he also knew that gaining it wouldn’t come cheaply.

Still, it was a new beginning. At long last, entrance into the land promised to their forefather, Abraham, awaited them.

The priests stood at the edge of the river. Between them, carefully carried, was the Ark of the Covenant that represented the promise the great I AM had made to them—and the commitment they had made to Him.

They waited for Joshua’s command. Behind them, still and silent, were the soldiers and the citizens of this new nation.

He shrugged off the heavy cloak of his fears, remembering that late night encounter with Someone much senior to him. He may have succeeded Moses as leader but he knew he wasn’t the real commander.

He raised his spear.

“Cross!”

Yes, cross—another new beginning.

A Stab In The Dark

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“Yup, deader than my uncle’s great aunt.”

A skinny bare foot shot out to poke the body sprawled on the sun-baked earth.

“You ain’t got an uncle, Arnon.”

“That’s the point. Anyway, this guy won’t be botherin’ none of us no more.”

The other man looked around furtively. The noonday heat had driven every living thing in search of cooler places. The two men were alone—if you didn’t count the dead man.

“Yah, well, there are lots to replace him. Slave drivers work and slaves work, but only one of us gets paid.”

The man without an uncle bent over to finger the cloth of the dead man’s tunic.

“How much you think that’s worth, Ghassan?”

“Forget it. You can’t sell it, wear it, or give it away unless you’re thinkin’ of bein’ buried in it after his buddies stretch you to pieces between two of them wheels."

Ghassan waved his arm in the general direction of the two stone rollers the slaves used to move the blocks designated for the building of Pharaoh’s storehouses. Arnon recoiled, both from the cadaver’s clothes, and from the horrific thought of such a painful end. He quickly changed the subject. The stones might have ears.

“You seen who done it?”

“Sure. I was the one he was beatin’ on, wasn’t I.”

“So, if you tell, maybe we won’t all get blamed for this guy’s sudden end.”

“True.”

“Whatcha waitin’ for then?”

“Dunno. I got a feelin’ about him, you know, the one who stuck his nose in my business. Said he was one of us—didn’t see any dirt under his fingernails though. Told me he was fed up with us bein’ treated like so much garbage. I don’t feel right about turnin’ him in. ‘Sides, I don’t want him mad at me. He seemed a mite quick tempered.”

“Well then, we’d better get ourselves outta here before someone finds this buzzard bait, or we’ll do time for the crime.”

With that, the two slaves scurried off. When they were out of sight, a shadow, hidden behind a pile of brick, converted itself into flesh and blood and moved quickly to where the body lay. Grabbing the dead man under the arms, his killer dragged him away.

If anyone missed the slave master, it wasn’t the slaves. As predicted, someone just as cruel soon took his place. Life went on, one painful day dying, then resurrecting, into another.

Some time later Arnon and Ghassan were assigned to collecting the bits of straw that fell from the carts as they trundled back and forth from the pits where the bricks were made. The two men took advantage of the lighter work to get as far away from their compatriots as reason would allow.

“Hey, that sister of yours is sure gettin’ to be quite a looker. She got herself a boyfriend?”

Ghassan straightened from his task, his eyes narrowing in anger.

“You’ll be smart to keep your eyes to yourself. That ain’t any way to speak about a respectable girl.”

“I’m only sayin’ …”

Whether it was the heat, the sun, the boring job, or the comment itself, the difference in perspective soon brought the two men nose-to-nose and fist-to-fist.

“Stop it, you two. You’re brothers in captivity. You should be helping each other, not fighting like two dogs over a bone.”

Surprised by the presence of a third party, Arnon and Ghassan stopped in their tracks. They turned. Ghassan gasped. The killer had returned.

Recovering from the shock, and with the heat of his spat with Arnon still burning in his brain, the words spewed thoughtlessly from Ghassan’s mouth.

“What? Who made you God? What right do you have to lord it over us and tell us what to do. You gonna kill me too, like you killed that Egyptian?”

To his surprise, the stranger’s mouth went slack, his face paled. Without another word, he turned and fled.

Their argument forgotten, Arnon turned to Ghassan.

“Well, don’t that beat all. You suppose he really wanted to kill us?”

Ghassan shook his head.

“I got a feeling lots of men will die on account of him, but I don’t think the Egyptian was supposed to be one of them. It’s like he suddenly realized he’d started a war before reading the battle plan. He’s runnin’ scared.”

“What plan?”

“Ask the one who’s chasing him.”

“What ‘one’?”

“Arnon, you know, sometimes you’re thicker than a brick. My granddad told me about the prophecy …”

It All Depends On Who's In Charge

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Soon. Too soon. I know you told me that you’d be with us, that we should be courageous and strong. I can hear your words ringing in my ears, reverberating through every sinew and muscle, sticking like Jordan’s muddy banks to my every sense. Nevertheless, it still feels like it’s too soon.

You took Moses too soon. I know, I know — he blew it at the rock, but I’d rather follow him than be the leader. After all, he was your friend, got closer to you than any man ever has. I hear that voice again reminding me about what you said: you’ll be with me just like you were with Moses.

I just feel that I will never be as close to you as he was, obey you as well as he did — the rock notwithstanding! I’ve never had that intimacy with you that he did. That’s my fault, I know. I’m sure not blaming you. I try to meditate day and night on your word, just like you said. It’s not easy to find the time or the energy with all these people at my heels.

When I think of all the things that could go wrong, I get a bad feeling. I told the people what you said, and they promised to do everything they were instructed to do. But, as soon as they said that they would obey me just as well as they obeyed Moses, I could feel the hair rising on the back of my neck. They think they are better than their fathers. You and I both know they aren’t. I know I’m not.

Then there’s the business with the prostitute in Jericho. I hope I didn’t make a mistake there. You told me not to spare anyone and now I have to live up to the promise that Micah and Judah made to that woman — and to whoever ends up sheltered in her house. She did take a lot of risks for them, and showed some strong faith in you. Still, I feel as though I’m already breaking the rules you made. How can you bless me, or these people, if I don’t do exactly what you tell me? I hope there are exceptions.

I’m a military man, not a diplomat, so who knows how many toes I trampled on issuing the orders to get us across the river. That WAS pretty amazing though. I remember the Red Sea parting, but not too many others do. Crossing the Jordan with the waters piled up before us was like déjà-vu for me. I still haven’t gotten over the big hoopla once we crossed. For the first time, I really felt that the people saw me as their leader, not just as a Moses stand-in. Now that I’ve reached that plateau, I’m not sure I want to be here.

I suspect your latest command brought me down a couple of rungs on the leadership ladder. That business with the circumcision took the stuffing out of most of the male population — quite literally! Boy, you sure do ask us to do some scary things. While the men were healing we could have been wiped out, easy pickings for any ten-year-old armed with a pick handle.

Well, here we are, facing Jericho. I sound confident, but my innards are churning. You told me to be strong and take the land you promised, and here I am thinking that the desert is beginning to look pretty good!

Wait, someone’s coming from the Jericho side.

“Who goes there? My men know better than to draw a sword in the presence of their commander, so you’re either suffering a lapse in judgment or, you are an enemy. Which is it?"

“It’s a good thing YOU don’t have your sword drawn then, isn’t it. I’m not one of your men, nor am I one of your enemies. Give your brain and your innards a break, Joshua, I have come as the commander of the Lord’s army.”

Get down, man! Get down. This is a Moses moment.

“My Lord, give me your orders.”

“Moses took his shoes off in my presence once; you do the same. I touched the ground you are standing on and it is now holy."

Forgive me; here I was thinking I was in charge of all this. It’s you; it always has been. Just as I was Moses’ servant, I am more than happy to be yours. Issue your orders, Lord: I’m ready now, whenever you are.