Consequences
Then Joshua built an altar to the Lord, the God of Israel, on
Mount Ebal. He followed the commands that Moses the Lord’s servant had written in the Book of
Instruction: “Make me an altar from stones that are uncut and have not been
shaped with iron tools.” Then on the altar they presented burnt offerings and
peace offerings to the Lord. And as the Israelites watched, Joshua copied onto the
stones of the altar the instructions Moses had given them. (Joshua 8:30-32)
The last words I
remember hearing before I stepped into the water were, “Remember, son, still
waters run deep.” I waved away the odd warning without even turning around. Still
waters? What was he talking about? I was in my dad’s waders on the banks of the
Metolius River – fly rod in hand; big trout on my mind. Besides, this was a
river. What “still waters” could he possibly be talking about? And that’s when I
spotted it; the perfect place to wade into the clear, frigid waters of the
Metolius – a beautiful river nestled in a forested valley on the east side of
the Cascades in central Oregon, and one of the largest spring-fed rivers in the
United States whose clear, cold and constant waters are to fly-fishing what Wrigley Field is to the Chicago Cubs. That
still pool of crystal clear water couldn’t have been more than a foot deep, anyway,
and would be the perfect place to wade out into the river and catch that monster
trout. It was more than a foot deep.
It was closer to
four feet deep, and my three foot waders on my 5’10” frame were filling up with
ice cold water. Fast. In fact, the water was so cold that I started to
hyperventilate as I was carried out into the middle of the river by the
swift-flowing water. Teenagers, you know, can do anything, but the only thing I
wanted to do at that moment in time was to save my dad’s cherished fly rod and
reel. So, I found a little island out in the middle of the river, threw the rod
and reel onto dry land and looked for something to grab onto before taking an
unplanned whitewater rafting trip down the river in waders, rather than a kayak.
That’s when I spotted a log near where I had thrown the rod and reel. I latched
onto it and pulled myself onto the sandbar. Soaked and shivering, I sheepishly
looked across the river at my mom and dad, dumped the water from the waders,
and found my way back to the river’s edge. The only thing that would’ve made me
feel better that day was if I’d at least found a trout in those waders.
Life comes with
voices. Voices lead to choices. Choices have consequences. Why do some saints
thrive while others scramble to survive? Why do some tackle Everest-size
challenges and succeed, while others walk seemingly downhill paths and stumble?
Why are some people unquenchably content while others are inexplicably unhappy?
Some seasons feel like a downhill, downwind bike ride. Others are like pedaling
a flat-tired unicycle up Pikes Peak.
Why? The answer comes back to voices and choices. Our happiest inheritance days
happen when we make good choices. Trouble happens when we don't.
That’s the
headline message delivered by Joshua to the nationwide assembly in the Valley
of Shechem. As you compile your list of key geographical touchstones in the
book of Joshua, don't overlook this one. The list includes: the Jordan River
(site of the crossing); the Gilgal encampment (the stones of remembrance, and the
renewal of circumcision); Jericho (where Joshua saw the Commander, and the
walls collapsed); Ai (where Achan fell, and Joshua rebounded); and now,
Shechem.
The pilgrimage
to Shechem was actually Moses' idea. (Deut. 27:4-8) He had instructed Joshua to
bring the invasion to a halt, and every person to the Valley of Shechem.
Shechem was a twenty-mile hike from the Hebrew encampment at Gilgal, and the
Hebrews must have looked like an Amazon River of humanity as they marched
inexorably toward their destination. Once they reached the valley, Joshua set
about the task of building an altar. (Josh. 8:30-32)
In
the ancient Near East, it was customary for kings to commemorate their military
achievements by recording their conquests on huge stones covered with plaster.
Joshua, however, didn't memorialize his work. He celebrated God's law. The
secret to the successful campaign of the Hebrews was not the strength of its
army, but the resolve of its people to keep God's commandments. And then this:
“Then all Israel, with their elders and officers and judges, stood on either
side of the ark before the priests, the Levites, who bore the ark of the
covenant of the LORD, the stranger as well as he who was born among them. Half
of them were in front of Mount Gerizim and half of them in front of Mount Ebal,
as Moses the servant of the LORD had commanded before, that they should bless
the people of Israel. And afterward he read all the words of the law, the
blessings and the cursings, according to all that is written in the Book of the
Law.” (vv. 33-34)
The then-meadows
of Shechem sit between Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. Gardens, orchards and
olive groves grew throughout the valley. Limestone strata sit in the deepest
part of the ravine, broken into ledges giving the appearance of a series of stone
benches. The rock formation creates a natural amphitheater with acoustic
properties that allow a sound originating on one side of the valley to be heard
on the other. So, the twelve tribes were assigned their places: six on one side,
and six on the other. In between the tribes stood the priests, Levites,
leaders, and the Ark of the Covenant. When Joshua and the Levites read the
blessings, the million or so people standing on Gerizim shouted,
"Amen!" And when the leaders read the curses, the million or so remaining
on Ebal declared, "Amen!"
Can you imagine
the drama of that moment? "If you listen obediently to the voice of God,
he will . . . "Defeat your enemies!" "Amen!" "Order a
blessing on your barns!" "Amen!" "Lavish you with good
things!" "Amen!" "Throw open the doors of his sky vaults
and pour rain on your land." "Amen!" (See, Deut. 28:1-13) The proclamation of the curses followed the
same pattern. "Cursed is anyone who . . . "Carves a god image!"
"Amen!" "Demeans a parent!" "Amen!" "Takes a
bribe to kill an innocent person." "Amen!" (See, Deut. 27) Back and forth, back and forth. Voices reverberated
off the stone cliffs. All the people – children, immigrants, old-timers,
everyone – in antiphonal rhythm proclaimed their values. "There was not a
word of all that Moses had commanded which Joshua did not read before all the
assembly of Israel, with the women, the little ones, and the strangers who were
living among them." (Josh. 8:35)
Keep in mind the
“when” and “where” of this particular assembly. This was in the middle of an
invasion, in the midst of enemy territory. These desert-toughened people
pressed the Pause button on the
physical battle in order to fight the spiritual one, because heeding God's Word
is more critical than fighting God's war. In fact, heeding God's Word is fighting God's war. Conquest happens
as the covenant is honored. Do you want to experience Canaan to the fullest? Then
obey God's commands. What? Were you expecting something more mystical, exotic, or
intriguing?
Did you think that
the Canaan-level life was birthed from ecstatic utterances or angelic visions,
mountaintop moments or midnight messages from heaven? Sorry.
"Obedience," wrote C. S. Lewis, "is the key to all doors."
Don't think for a second that you can heed the wrong voice, make the wrong
choice, and escape the consequences. At the same time, obedience leads to a
waterfall of goodness not just for you but for your children, your children's
children, and the children of a thousand generations in the future. God
promises to show "love to a thousand generations of those who love me and
keep my commandments." (Ex. 20:6) As we obey God's commands, we open the
door for God's favor.
Obedience leads
to blessing. Disobedience leads to trouble. Remember Jesus' parable about the
two builders who each built a house? One built on cheap, easy-to-access sand.
The other built on costly, difficult-to-reach rock. The second construction
project demanded more time and expense, but when the spring rains turned the
creek into a gulley washer, guess which builder enjoyed a blessing and which
experienced trouble? According to Jesus, the wise builder is "whoever
hears these sayings of Mine, and does them." (Matt. 7:24) Both builders
heard the teachings. The difference between the two was not knowledge versus
ignorance, but obedience versus disobedience. Security comes as we put God's
precepts into practice. We're only as strong as our obedience. As the apostle
James encourages, "Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving
yourselves." (James 1:22)
Voices await
you. Maybe not on the banks of the Metolius, but at work, in your neighborhood,
at school, on the Internet. They're waiting for you. You can't eliminate their
presence, but you can prepare for their invitation by remembering whose you are.
You are God's child. You've been bought by the most precious commodity in the
history of the universe: the blood of Christ. You are indwelled by the Spirit
of the living God. You are being equipped for an eternal assignment that will
empower you to live in the very presence of God. You’ve been set apart for a
holy calling. You are his. And remember where you are. This is Canaan. You’re in
the Promised Land. Not geographically, but spiritually. This is the land of
grace and hope and freedom and truth and love and life. The devil has no
jurisdiction over you. He acts like he does, but as you resist him and turn to
God, he must flee. (James 4:7) Decide now what you will say then. Choose
obedience. And, as you do, you can expect blessings: the blessing of a clean
conscience; the blessing of a good night's sleep; the blessing of God's
fellowship; the blessing of God's favor. This is no guarantee of an easy life. It’s
the assurance of God's help. "The good man does not escape all troubles –
he has them too. But the Lord helps him in each and every one." (Ps.
34:19)
One final
thought before leaving the Valley of Shechem. Take note of the altar's
location. Did you notice where it was built? Not on Gerizim, the mount of
blessing. Joshua built it on Ebal, the hill of the cursing, instead. You see, even
in the midst of poor choices, there’s grace. So, may we hear the right voice.
May we make the right choice. May we enjoy blessing upon blessing. But if we
don't, may we return to the altar on Ebal. It was built for people just like
us.
Grace,
Randy
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