The book of Joshua paints one of the most beautiful testimonies of God’s love for the people of Israel. You may be familiar with this story: after wandering in the desert for 40 years, the people, who God liberated from slavery in Egypt, finally arrive at home. This arrival brings fulfillment to God’s promise to Abraham—which we find way back in the book of Genesis.[1] Remember? God told Abram, “Leave your land, your family, and your father’s household for the land that I will show you” (Genesis 12:1b). Now, several generations have passed, and God has journeyed with God’s people through seasons of feast and famine, faithfulness and unfaithfulness, and home stands within reach. But curiously enough, we find this very perplexing story on our path—this is a story by the way that does not fall within our three-year preaching rotation and some of you may say “thank God for that.” This story is also nothing like what you may recall from your Children’s Bible or the negro spiritual “Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho.” The level of violence portrayed in this account is enough to make even the greatest advocates of modern warfare ask for higher standards of engagement. But despite the difficulties we encounter in this text, there is hope to be found here.

You have heard me proclaim, way too many times, my love for biblical stories and I mean it. I love the stories of this Holy Book of ours, in particular, stories that highlight the depth of our brokenness and God’s unparalleled capacity to love. The people of Israel, and their ancestors, are a wonderful reminder of this truth because there was nothing extraordinary about them—and as a matter of fact it seems like God picked them for that reason. They were just common, regular people like you and me. And this story points to a reality well beyond anything Joshua, the spies, Rahab, or anybody else could have foreseen: a reality manifested in the bloodline of Jesus, the witness of the Apostle James, and record of the faithful found in the book of Hebrews.[2] That alone should be good enough to close the sermon—but I have to honor the myth about preachers and talking.

For those who had been seeking home for generations, now home standing right before their eyes. God’s promise of land and blessing is a river crossing away, plus an impregnable fortress. Though our minds want to focus almost exclusively on the violence found in the story, there is a deeper truth, God makes Godself present to those who seek him, even in the midst of tragedy.

Take for instance, Rahab, a woman with a colorful past to say the least, but a fierce heart and a prophetic understanding that all other characters in the story lacked. Rahab knew and confessed a reality that was yet to come. As she encountered the spies sent by Joshua, she told them, “I know that the Lord has given you the land. Terror over you has overwhelmed us. The entire population of the land has melted down in fear because of you… This is because the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on earth below.  Now, I have been loyal to you. So pledge to me by the Lord that you in turn will deal loyally with my family. Give me a sign of good faith. Spare the lives of my father, mother, brothers, and sisters, along with everything they own. Rescue us from death.”[3] Though others doubted that Jericho would ever fall, Rahab was so convinced that she placed her life on the line against her own people. It seems that Rahab understood something about the God of Israel that others did not. She placed her life on the line trusting God’s provision and protection. Whether we realize it or not, Rahab found home, not in the place where she lived, but in the God of heaven above and earth below, the God of the people of Israel.

There are three things we must here in this story:

First: Violence is not the will of God for God’s creation. How do we reconcile God’s extravagant love we find in Jesus with the genocidal violence we encounter here? After reading texts like t