Riffraff
Then Joshua secretly sent out two spies from
the Israelite camp at Acacia Grove. He instructed them, “Scout out the land on
the other side of the Jordan River, especially around Jericho.” So the two men
set out and came to the house of a prostitute named Rahab and stayed there that
night. (Joshua 2:1)
There are some kids
in Cateura, on the outskirts of Asuncion, Paraguay, who’re making music with
their trash. They're turning washtubs into timpani, and drainpipes into
trumpets. Other orchestras fine-tune their polished maple cellos, or burnished brass
tubas. Not this band. They play Beethoven sonatas with plastic buckets. On
their side of Asuncion, trash is the only harvestable crop. Garbage pickers
sort and sell refuse for pennies a pound. Many of them have met the same fate
as the trash they pick – they’ve been tossed out and discarded. But now, thanks
to two men, they’re making music.
Favio Chavez is
an environmental technician who envisioned a music school as a welcome reprieve
for the kids. Don Cola Gomez is a trash worker and carpenter. He had never
seen, heard or even held a violin in his life. Yet when someone described the
instrument, this untutored craftsman took a paint can and an oven tray into his
tiny workshop and made a violin. Thanks to this Stradivarius, the junk pile gets a mulligan, and so do the kids who
live among it.
You see, God
makes music out of riffraff, and heaven's orchestra is composed of some of the most
unlikely musicians. Peter, first-chair trumpet, cursed the name of the Christ
who saved him. Paul plays the violin, but there was a day when he played the
religious thug. And the guy on the harp? That's David. King David. Womanizing
David. Conniving David. Repentant David. Oh, and pay particular attention to the
woman on the French horn. Her name is Rahab. Her story occupies the second
chapter of Joshua.
The time had
come for the Hebrew people to enter the Promised Land. Jericho, a formidable
town that sat just north of the Dead Sea, was their first challenge. Canaanites
indwelled the city. To call the people barbaric would be like calling the North
Pole a little chilly. These people turned temple worship into orgies. They burned
babies alive. The people of Jericho had no regard for human life, or respect
for God. It was into this city that the two spies of Joshua crept. And it was
in this city that the spies met Rahab, the prostitute.
A lot could be
said about Rahab without having to mention her profession. She was a Canaanite.
She provided cover for the spies of Joshua. She came to believe in the God of
Abraham long before she ever met the children of Abraham. She was spared from the
utter destruction of her city. She was grafted into the Hebrew culture. She
married a contemporary of Joshua. She bore a son named Boaz, had a
great-grandson named Jesse, a great-great-grandson named David, and a
descendant named Jesus. Yes, Rahab's name appears on the family tree of the Son
of God. Her resume didn’t have to mention her profession. Yet in five of the
eight appearances of her name in Scripture, she’s presented as a
"harlot." Five. Wouldn't one be enough? And couldn't that one be a
little euphemized like, "Rahab, the best hostess in Jericho," or "Rahab, the pretty working girl,” or “Rahab, the escort to the stars”?
It's bad enough
that the name Rahab sounds like "rehab." So, disguise her career
choice. Veil it. Mask it. Put a little concealer on this biblical blemish. Just
drop the reference to the brothel, why don’t you. But the Bible doesn't do that.
Just the opposite; it points a hot, red light on it.
It's even
attached to her name in the book of Hebrews’ Hall of Fame. The list includes
Abel, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses . . . and then, all of a
sudden, "the harlot Rahab." (11:31) No asterisk, no footnote, no
apology. Her history of harlotry is part of her testimony. Her story begins
like this: "And it was told the king of Jericho, saying, 'Behold, men have
come here tonight from the children of Israel to search out the country.' So
the king of Jericho sent orders to Rahab…." (Josh. 2:2-3)
The king could
see the multitude of Hebrews camped on Jordan's eastern banks. As Rahab would
later disclose, the people of Jericho were terrified. Word on the street was
that God had his hand on the newcomers and woe to anyone who got in their way.
When the king heard that the spies were hiding at Rahab's house, he sent
soldiers to fetch them. So, I'm seeing half a dozen men or more squeeze down the
narrow cobble-stoned path in the red-light district. It's late at night. The
torch-lit taverns are open and the patrons are a few sheets to the wind. They
yell obscenities at the king's men, but the soldiers don't react. The guards
keep walking until they stand at the wooden door of a stone building that abuts
the famous Jericho walls. The lantern is unlit, leaving the soldiers to wonder
if anyone is even home.
The captain
pounds on the door. Soon, there’s shuffling inside. Rahab answers. Her makeup
is layered and her eyes are shadowed. Her low-cut robe reveals the fringe of a
lacy secret that even Victoria’s can’t
keep. Her voice is husky from one cigarette too many. She positions one hand on
her hip and holds a dirty martini with the other. "Sorry, boys, we're
booked for the night." "We aren't here for that," the captain
snaps. "We're here for the Hebrews." "Hebrews?" She cocks
her head. "I thought you were here for a good time" as she winks an
eyelid, heavy with mascara, at a young soldier. He blushes, but the captain
stays focused. "We came for the spies. Where are they?" She steps out
onto the porch, looks to the right and then to the left, and then lowers her
voice to a whisper. "You just missed them. They snuck out before the gates
were shut. If you get a move on, you can catch them." At that, the king's
men turn and run.
As they
disappear around the corner, Rahab hurries up the brothel stairs to the roof
where the two spies have been hiding. She tells them the coast is clear.
"The whole city is talking about you and your armies. Everyone is freaking
out. The king can't sleep, and the people can't eat. They're popping Xanax like Tic-Tacs. The last ounce of courage left on the morning
train." Her words must have stunned the spies. They never expected to find
cowards in Jericho. And, what’s more, they never expected to find faith in a
brothel. But they did. Read what Jericho's shady lady said to them: “I know
that the LORD has given you the land . . . [W]e have heard how the LORD dried
up the water of the Red Sea . . . and what you did to the two kings . . . who
were on the other side of the Jordan . . . [T]he LORD your God, He is God in
heaven above and on earth beneath.” (vv. 9-11)
Well, what do
you know? Rahab found God. Or, maybe better stated, God found Rahab. He spotted
a tender heart in this hard city and reached out to save her. He would have
saved the entire city, but no one else made the request. Then again, Rahab had
an advantage over most of the other residents. She had nothing to lose. She was
at the bottom of the rung. She'd already lost her reputation, her social
standing and her chance for advancement. Ever been there? Maybe you’re there
still. You may not be selling your body, but you've sold your allegiance,
affection, attention or talents. You've sold out. We all have.
Lest we think
God's Promised Land is promised to a chosen few, he positions Rahab’s in the
front of the book of Joshua. In fact, the narrator gives her an entire chapter.
She gets more inches of type than do the priests, the spies, or even Joshua's
right-hand man, combined.
If quantity and
chronology mean anything in theology, then Rahab's headline position announces
this fact: God has a place for the Rahab’s of the world. As evidence, consider
Rahab's New Testament counterpart, the Samaritan woman.
By the time
Jesus met her, she was on a first-century version of a downward spiral. Five
ex-husbands and half a dozen kids, each looking like a different daddy. Decades
of loose living had left her tattooed and tabooed and living with a boyfriend
who thought a wedding was a waste of time. Gossipers wagged their tongues about
her. How else do you explain her midday appearance at the water well? Other
women filled their buckets at sunrise, but this woman opted for lunchtime, apparently
preferring the heat of the noonday sun over the heat of their scorn. Were it
not for the appearance of a Stranger, her story would have been lost in the
Samaritan sands of time. But he entered her life with a promise of endless
water and a quenched thirst.
He wasn't put
off by her past. Just the opposite. He offered to make music out of her
garbage. She accepted his offer. We know that because of what happened next. “Many
Samaritans from the village believed in Jesus because the woman had said, ’He
told me everything I ever did!’ When they came out to see him, they begged him
to stay in their village. So he stayed for two days, long enough for many more
to hear his message and believe. Then they said to the woman, ‘Now we believe,
not just because of what you told us, but because we have heard him ourselves.
Now we know that he is indeed the Savior of the world.’" (John 4:39-42)
The woman on the margin became the woman with the message. No one else gave her
a chance. Jesus gave her the chance of a lifetime. He came for people like her.
Like you. Like me.
And that’s the
work of God. And what a work he did in the life of Rahab. The Hebrew spies, as
it turns out, were actually missionaries. They thought they were on a
reconnaissance trip. They weren't. God didn’t need a scouting report. His plan
was to collapse the city walls like a stack of pancakes. He didn't send the men
to collect data; he sent the spies to reach Rahab. They told her to "bind
this line of scarlet cord in the window" so that they could identify her
house when the Hebrews attacked. (Josh. 2:18) Without hesitation she bound the
scarlet cord in the window. The spies escaped and Rahab prepared. She told her
family to get ready. She kept an eye out for the coming army. She checked the
cord to make sure it was tied securely and dangling from the window – probably a
thousand times or more. And when the Hebrews came and the walls fell, when
everyone else perished, Rahab and her family were saved. "By faith the
harlot Rahab did not perish." (Heb. 11:31) Her profession of faith
mattered more than her profession as a harlot.
Maybe your past
is as checkered as Rahab’s. Maybe your peers don't share your faith. Maybe your
pedigree is one of violence, your ancestry one of rebellion. If so, then Rahab’s
your model. We don't drop scarlet cords from our windows, but we trust the
crimson thread of Christ's blood. We don't prepare for the coming of the
Hebrews, but we do live with an eye toward the second coming of our Joshua –
Jesus Christ. Ultimately we will all see what the people of Asuncion are
discovering today. Our mess will become music, and God will have a heaven full
of rescued Rahab’s in his symphony. And whatever instrument we’re playing,
we’ll all know "Amazing Grace" by heart.
Grace,
Randy
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