In my previous post, I recounted the story of Joshua, Israel, and the defeat of Ai. I skipped over Jericho, and its miracle story of walls falling down before their very eyes. It is very interesting to me to read these old stories with a perspective I didn’t have as a child. I have mentioned it briefly, how Old Testament stories tend to mirror our spiritual journey. Every story–every one!–correlates to faith living. As a kid, I loved the story for the story. There was no need to moralize the adventure; I would read it again and again for pleasure. I am amazed how God reels a small child in with story and a grownup with wisdom. The Word is truly as shallow and deep as a body can plunge, forever exactly what a person needs to read at any given moment.
In the book of Joshua, the Israelite warriors move into unfamiliar territory. God was giving them the Promised Land. However, foes and great cities stood in their path. They were hot off forty years in the desert, but Jericho–and as we see it, the world, stood in their path. And it stands in our way today.
Earlier this year, on a nice afternoon in February, I sat outside the building where the kids take music lessons. Two kids played on the scrappy playground on the property, an ignored, humble area with gravel and trash spread evenly. Once again, I kicked myself for not having brought a garbage bag to pick up sticks. The place could stand some attention, and I didn’t have much else to do while biding our time. I wandered along the fence, corralling bocce balls with my feet and debating the overall safety of the place. The fence itself was nice, six or eight foot, wood and whitewashed. I noticed some painted trellis material had been tacked above the fence height, making the barrier a total of twelve feet or more.
This didn’t trigger any warnings in my mind, and I pleasantly put myself to work. Then I spied something. A large white lump in the shadows merited a closer look. Upon quick inspection, I determined it was an adult diaper, used and discarded, and most likely having been out in the elements for a couple days.
No, I realized, this isn’t the safest place for children to play.
On the other side of the fence is a memory care unit, it turns out. An elderly man has been tossing his diapers over the fence for years–this is what the lady at the front desk of music lessons told me. She was embarrassed. I was too. I was pretty certain this didn’t fall in her job description, but if I’m being honest, neither of us wanted to pick up the soiled pants. She was sorry indeed. They had added the extra fencing above the original to deter him. It was no matter. Apparently the old man was a regular Tom Brady with zero couth and zero memory.
It certainly changed my perspective on things. For one, I will do better at screening playgrounds. (For another, who is to say we won’t be the ones pitching diapers some day?)
The world is, I think, suddenly feeling scarier to a lot of people just now. Perhaps we just never thought there was much risk in living, in stepping out into places that seemed safe. A playground with play things is for children–isn’t the world also our stage? We become used to, and take for granted our freedoms to walk around without fear. Maybe we have just fooled ourselves into believing nothing bad could ever happen to us, or that, truly, there is good in everyone. Who would specifically target another human being with hate crimes? Who really harbors murder, envy, and rage inside them? Who would actually send a filled diaper over the fence without warning, possibly hitting an unsuspecting passerby?
Yet this is what fills our news and conversation. Can you believe this? What in the world is going on? We blink and stare, shell-shocked, like we didn’t realize we actually lived in a world that is an enemy to God’s people.
I’ll be honest–right now I am smack in the middle of a very liberal (I mean this as opposed to conservative) city that is on the verge of rearranging public education as we know it. They want to make it safer, healthier. I guess I just naively thought involved parents who love kids was the answer. I’ve been, as best as I know how, trying to clean up the proverbial playground and dodge whatever crap balls keep getting tossed over the fence in my direction. I wanted to follow Jesus in this here world, keeping my eyes on the prize. Secondarily, I hoped we’d have the added effect of changing things for the better. At the very least, we would be respectable whistle blowers, protectors of the less privileged. We would be grassroots voices, building from the ground up and weathering the highs and lows. We would stand for justice and noble causes.
But I’m finding out the world doesn’t care about how responsible I am. The world is not waiting for wonderful human beings (if there was such a thing) to step up and just be strong and courageous (though it definitely takes being strong and courageous to affect change). The world that hates a moral compass and is power hungry will not pause for my opinion. It cares not for the poor or disadvantaged, the child who needs a gentle touch. A whip is cracked over the backs of both cowards and the brave-hearted. Whom might they subdue with their fear tactics? Whom might they incite with their eat or be eaten ideology? How can they live like gods and establish their own system? Can smooth talk convince us they have our best interests in mind?
On the surface, it appears I’m left with two choices: get off the playground or fall in line with the rule makers, or in other words, come to the point of agreeing with the world itself.
I know I must reject both options.
God gave Joshua a pep talk prior to Jericho:
No one will be able to stand up against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and very courageous. Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged. The Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.
Then the people crossed over Jordan, and Joshua circumcised the people–a painful, clear reminder that they belonged to the Lord. After forty years of manna in the desert, they ate their first breakfast of Wheaties in Canaan–God was fortifying them for the battle ahead. Their minds were filled with songs of victory, their bodies strong and ready.
And God gave them marching orders:
See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands. March around the city for six days. On the seventh day, march around the city seven times, with the priests blowing the trumpets. When you hear them sound a long blast on the trumpets, have all the people give a loud shout; then the wall of the city will collapse.
Jericho didn’t stand a chance. The world doesn’t stand a chance. It will be annoyed when we march around it in quiet circles, obedient to Jesus and no one else. It will hold a haughty fearlessness in the face of God. It will laugh in our faces, thinking itself invincible, insurmountable. It will stand until the bitter end, when it crumbles to dust.
At the end of His earthly life, Jesus assured His disciples they were meant to live in the world down here. This must have been a tough pill to swallow. The Romans weren’t exactly chummy with Christian converts. The Jewish leaders also had a bone to pick. Jesus prayed for the new believers to stay unified and strong–like a red rover team. Don’t make a big fuss–I’ll send the Spirit to be with you the whole time. Hold hands. Stay on the playground till I come back.
In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
John 16:33
We are Israelites, marching. We are the Spirit-filled believers in the New Testament. We are living down here on this dirty ground, our hearts circumcised, our bellies full of God’s word, fortified for the struggle, knowing full well the walls will fall. The victory is already ours. We aren’t supposed to get used to this playground as our final destination, but we are meant to stay put.
This means we’re in the firing line, ducking and dodging.
I cannot help but look around me and wonder–how exactly does this mean we ought to be living? Right now, right in the middle of uncertainty, stay-at-home orders and potential civil unrest–what is my next move?
School still puzzles me. New rules will certainly hamper our freedoms if we do public school the way it is being proposed, but I have a few months yet to hem and haw on that decision. I know I can’t run off the field, but I also know I cannot change the system.
A friend of mine told me about her church in southern Colorado that has not stopped meeting on Sundays.
“It’s mostly an older crowd,” she says. “They all sit a pew apart and they’ve decided to forgo fellowship time. Oh, and they each have to bring their own crackers and juice for communion.”
We chatted about the arrangement and agreed the reason they haven’t been reprimanded is because they have no internet presence. They don’t stream services, post devotionals, or meet on Zoom. In other words, they aren’t running out into the line of fire just to get attention for exercising religious freedoms. No social media, no stock in what the world thinks about them is key to safeguarding their liberties. They refuse to toss their pearls before swine. There is a quiet defiance that speaks Jesus louder than any flashy neon marquee.
I love the example they are setting–but will others follow suit? It occurs to me–most people won’t be satisfied marching around the walls, quietly and patiently waiting for God to dismantle them. The world has too easily become their playground. They enjoy the games, the frolicking on the edges, the public attention. They’ve become accustomed to the loud, the lewd. They’ve made a game of catching dirty diapers and throwing them back over the fence. They think it is quite fun; possibly even the very purpose to which they are called.
Friends, this world is not our home. Take a good look at how you are behaving on the playground. Are you playing with filth, are you gathering sticks when your heart ought to be silent, your eyes focused heavenward? Who knows, maybe we are closer to becoming like the first century believers than ever before. Perhaps we will soon be sneaking along the edges of this here world, burying treasure under the trash, quietly waiting for the walls to fall down.
Knowing the victory is already ours. Watching for our faith to become sight.
