Original Meaning

Joshua’s Marching Orders (1:1–9)

THIS IS HOW A new day dawns for Israel, camped east of the Jordan but with all eyes aimed west toward Canaan and Israel’s future there.

The Introduction (v. 1a)

The introduction (v. 1a). The brief opening report formula, “after the death of Moses,” signals that Joshua 1 picks up where Deuteronomy 34 left off and pushes the story forward.3 Readers are to regard everything to follow as the continuation of events in Moses’ life. Indeed, although we presume a major canonical break between the books of Deuteronomy and Joshua, the narrative does not.4 Further, it reiterates that the chapter’s geographical setting remains that of Deuteronomy, the Israelite camp in the plains of Moab east of the Jordan River.

The death of Moses leaves a leadership vacuum in Israel, so it is no surprise that the book immediately turns to a speech by Yahweh (v. 1b). The compiler of Joshua to 2 Kings (DH) often includes speeches, especially farewell speeches by historic leaders, to sound important themes (e.g., Samuel to Israel [1 Sam. 12]; David to Solomon [1 Kings 2:1–9]). The book of Joshua itself ends with three speeches by Joshua to various Israelite assemblies (22:2–5; ch. 23; 24:1–15). Joshua 1:1–9 marks the first of many occasions on which Yahweh will address Joshua (3:7; 4:1, 15; 5:9; 6:2; 7:10; 8:1, 18; 10:8; 11:6). But on only two occasions does the address amount to a speech—concerning ridding Israel of Achan’s sin (7:10–15) and concerning Yahweh’s past great deeds for Israel (24:2–13).

That Yahweh addresses Joshua son of Nun also is not a surprise. Joshua’s long career of leadership precedes this moment.5 He was the hero of Israel’s first military victory, the defeat of Amalek (Ex. 17:9, 13). A comment in Numbers 13:16 implies that Moses either changed the future leader’s name from Hosea (“salvation”) to Joshua (Heb. yehošuaʿ, “Yahweh is salvation”) or (more likely) preferred the latter. Moses’ intention was perhaps to identify him as an Israelite who consistently obeyed Yahweh.6 The LXX renders “Joshua” as Iesous, the New Testament name for Jesus, an apt name for one who brought “salvation” both to Israel and to the whole world.

In Numbers 14, Joshua and Caleb were the only spies who favored invading Canaan. Hence, only they of the generation that had escaped Egyptian slavery were permitted to enter the land (vv. 6, 30, 38; 26:65). His long career as Moses’ “aide” (Heb. mešaret; Ex. 24:13; 33:11; Num. 11:28) culminated in God’s command that Moses publically commission Joshua as his successor (Num. 27:18–23; 32:28; Deut. 31:3). Yahweh recognized in him two spiritual qualifications for leadership, the indwelling of Yahweh’s spirit (Num. 27:18 [“a man in whom is the spirit”]) and a consistent pattern of obedience (32:12 [“followed the LORD wholeheartedly”]).

When Moses died, Israel readily accepted Joshua’s leadership because Moses’ hands had given him “the spirit of wisdom” (Deut. 34:9). Nevertheless, with Moses gone, Yahweh’s address here establishes his personal relationship with Joshua and confirms the validity of his prior commission. No leadership vacuum will trouble Israel, and Israel will know whom God has now put in charge. The drumbeat of God’s plan for Israel moves on. But as we will see, though Moses is dead, his words and decisions mark the blueprint that shadow and guide most of what follows. Joshua may erect a new nation on the promised soil, but its architect remains Moses.

Joshua’s Commissioning (vv. 2–9)

Joshua’s commissioning (vv. 2–9). Yahweh immediately tells Joshua what to do now that Moses is gone. Literarily, the commissioning speech sounds like a king issuing battle plans to his field general, and its language compares with other biblical passages (Deut. 11:24–25; 31:6, 8; 1 Chron. 28:20).7 The speaker, of course, is Yahweh, Israel’s Savior from slavery and covenant partner. Ordinarily, the words “Moses my servant is dead” (v. 2a) might launch a period of Israelite mourning. Certainly, the phrase “my servant” makes Moses worthy of a spectacular state funeral and of the unique posthumous title “servant of Yahweh” (Deut. 34:5; Josh. 1:13, 15; et al.).8 But Israel has already mourned Moses for thirty days (Deut. 34:8), so “Now then …” announces the moment for new action. The glorious Mosaic era is over, but Israel must move forward with God’s help.

Specifically, Joshua and Israel are to “cross the Jordan” into the land which Yahweh will give them (v. 2b). The command assumes that the river has a separating rather than a uniting function.9 A quick glance backward underscores how momentous this command is. The realization of the ancient promise of land made to Abram six centuries earlier—the very same land into which Israel will cross—is to begin (Gen. 12:7; 15:18). The text betrays no excitement or wonder at the thought of ancient hopes-come-true, but readers know how significant this day is. Rather, “I am about to give” stresses the land as the generous gift of Yahweh, Israel’s mighty Savior from slavery and gracious covenant partner. In sum, the command to cross creates reader expectation of eventual conquest, an expectation toward which subsequent events mark progress and whose completion Joshua 11:23 declares officially.10

The gift includes the whole Promised Land. Yahweh quotes Moses’ own words in a slightly expanded form (Deut. 11:24) to reiterate the promise spoken through him (vv. 3–4).11 The quotation dramatically highlights that the ancient promise of land is about to be fulfilled. It also implies that, though off scene at the moment, Israel also participates in it through Joshua. “Every place where you set your foot” (v. 3) stresses that Israel’s new territory is so vast that wherever he walks, Joshua will never leave it. Furthermore, earlier Yahweh had directed this exact same phrase to the people (Deut. 11:24), but here he addresses it to Joshua. The subtle change underscores that Joshua truly is Israel’s new leader. He enjoys the same relationship with Yahweh as Moses did, and he is the one through whom the promise will become a reality. “Now Joshua no longer listens to Moses report Yahweh’s commands. He has become the recipient of Yahweh’s messages for the people.”12

The traditional boundary markers (v. 4) trace Israel’s borders in a crisscross pattern: south (“the desert) to north (“Lebanon”), then east (“the Euphrates”) to west (“the Great Sea” [the Mediterranean]).13 Slight embellishments of Moses’ original words give the description added flourish. “Lebanon” here is (lit.) “this Lebanon,” the Euphrates is “the great river,” and the Mediterranean Sea is (lit.) “the great sea of the sunset.” Also, the phrase “all the Hittite country” between Lebanon and the Euphrates probably evokes memories of that ancient superpower.14 In short, the embellished picture paints Israel’s new land as huge and fabled.

But for Joshua the crucial question is not the extent of the terrain but its conquerability. Perhaps for a moment Joshua recalls a mob scene a generation ago, the panicked voices of his fellow ten spies despairing of the conquest dream (see Num. 13). They reckoned Canaan’s inhabitants as too “powerful,” too gargantuan, and their cities too heavily fortified, to be conquered (13:28, 31–33). A popular proverb taught that no combatant could hold his ground against the storied sons of Anak (Deut. 9:2). Surely, Israel feared, those giants would trample Israel like so many tiny grasshoppers. On this day, those voices—all Joshua’s contemporaries and fellow leaders—lay forever silent in desert graves.

But perhaps a nagging grain of truth distilled from their hyperbole still stirred up Joshua’s own doubts (Num. 13–14). Perhaps he wondered what tough human foes awaited him. No matter. A divine promise applying to Joshua words that Moses spoke to Israel accompanies the divine command to cross. It reassures the new leader that no human enemy can “stand up against you [Joshua]” (i.e., hold his position and thwart the onslaught), no matter how long he lived (v. 5; cf. Deut. 11:25). This astonishing invincibility derives not from raw human strength, superior technology, or strategic stealth. Rather, it comes from the presence of Almighty God with Joshua—the very presence that won Moses’ stunning victories. The presence is not only invincible but irrevocable. In a word pair, Yahweh promises never to “leave” (i.e., “relax efforts”) or “forsake” (i.e., “desert”) Joshua.15 Yahweh’s efforts on his behalf will always be vigorous, his presence always constant.

For his part, Joshua receives Yahweh’s command to “be strong and courageous” (Heb. ḥazaq weʾemaṣ), a formula of encouragement reiterated three times (vv. 6, 7, 9; cf. v. 18; 10:25). In my view, the formula may form a hendiadys to be rendered “unshakeably (or doggedly) courageous.” Structurally, the formula (vv. 6 and 9) forms a thematic inclusio around vv. 7–8. The former sounds the speech’s key theme—i.e., “be strong and courageous”—while the latter highlights its key arena of implementation (“follow the Instruction”).16

Elsewhere ḥazaq weʾemaṣ appears in contexts where a king commissions subordinates to undertake specific actions. For example, David commissions Solomon to build the temple (1 Chron. 22:13; 28:20) and Hezekiah appoints military officers to lead the fight against the invading Assyrians (2 Chron. 32:7). The present context, however, directly parallels the wording of Deuteronomy 31, where both Moses (v. 7) and Yahweh (v. 23) invoke it in appointing Joshua as Moses’ successor.17 Indeed, the word repetition verbally links the two contexts, implying that here Yahweh formally installs Joshua in the office to which he had appointed him in Deuteronomy 31.18 Indeed, for Israel this installation marks Joshua as the chosen leader whom Yahweh expects them to follow. His specific task is to lead them to inherit the Promised Land (v. 6b; cf. Deut. 31:7).

Further illumination concerning his task emerges from an understanding of the possible legal status of that land in light of Ancient Near Eastern law. According to Kitz, the legal principle of residual rights and the institution of undivided inheritance supply the background.19 Yahweh owns the land of Canaan (Deut. 12:10) but has transferred ownership to the patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob) while still retaining residual rights (i.e., the right to rescind that ownership). As the “sons of Israel,” Jacob’s descendants have inherited Canaan but as undivided land—land held in common as a whole by coheirs. Once the land is divided and distributed among them, the coheirship and collective ancestral “house” will end and each tribe will own its own inheritance.20

In the interim, the coheirs will appoint an administrator to manage their property until the division takes place. Given this background, when Yahweh tells Joshua that “you will lead these people to inherit [tanḥil] the land” (Josh. 1:6), Yahweh may actually appoint him as estate administrator on behalf of the Israelites.21 If so, to execute this duty Joshua must make the situation in Canaan conducive to the legal allocation of land. He must lead the coheirs to remove the squatters currently inhabiting it (i.e., the Conquest [chs. 1–12]) and divide and distribute it among the heirs so they may take possession of it (i.e., the settlement [chs. 13–24]). In essence, the first duty removes the legal barrier for the accomplishment of the second. Clearly, the appointment implies that the Israelites have a legal right to take possession of the land because they own it. In short, by Yahweh’s appointment Joshua is probably to wear two hats—that of military commander and that of estate administrator.22

As for Yahweh’s command, the negated word pairs “do not be terrified; do not be discouraged” often parallel ḥazaq weʾemaṣ (see v. 9) and further illumine its meaning.23 The persons addressed always face a momentous, risky, humanly impossible task. To human eyes, to build a magnificent temple, to defeat the mighty Assyrians, and to conquer Canaan pose mountains too lofty to scale. The danger is that fears, feelings of inadequacy, and doubts may cripple the leader’s resolve, muddle his mind, and shake his confidence. The resulting confusion, wavering, and tentativeness sow despair, if not dissent, among the followers and endanger the mission. The temptation, then, is to back off from risks, to strike compromises, or to retreat altogether. To “be strong and courageous” means to be steady, resolute, bold, and unafraid.

Undergirding Joshua’s confidence is the simple fact that he is not alone. Yahweh All-Powerful leads the way and surrounds him with his presence.24 That is why vv. 7–8 detail the single proviso that Joshua must observe.25 Joshua’s actions must carefully conform to what Moses taught (Heb. torah, “instruction”; v. 7a; cf. Num. 31:21; Josh. 22:5; 2 Kings 21:8). Indeed, the very success of his future endeavors hangs upon his never wavering from Moses’ teachings (v. 7b). For the first time in the Bible the “obey-Moses” principle emerges, and we will soon see how thoroughly Moses shapes all that Joshua does. Though dead and buried, Moses remains the gold standard to guide Joshua and all later leaders of Israel. And all future generations of Israel will likewise live or die by that same standard. More important, for the present generation it is Joshua’s unique task as Israel’s new leader to enforce their obedience.26

How can Joshua align his conduct with Moses’ teaching and thereby assure its successful outcome? The key is “this Book of the Law” (v. 8), an allusion to a document that, according to Deuteronomy, Moses wrote shortly before his death (Deut. 28:58; 29:21; 30:10; 31:26). Scholarly speculation about this book abounds, but it probably contained at least the legal portions of Deuteronomy (i.e., Deut. 12–26).27 Moses instructed the Levites to place it beside the ark of the covenant as a “witness” against Israel. From sad personal experience, the great lawgiver anticipated that inevitably the people would reject his teaching and reap bitter divine judgment (31:26–29). As if dramatically pointing a finger at “this book,” Yahweh urges Joshua, so to speak, to prove Moses wrong by engaging rather than ignoring it. To “not depart from your mouth” (Josh. 1:8a) means that the book is always to be in his mouth—to be read aloud, at least, and perhaps, by implication, talked about constantly or shaping all of one’s words.

The metaphor implies that Joshua should treat the book’s contents as something to read in the hearing of others—to be shared with the community rather than hoarded to oneself.28 Most important, success will follow Joshua only if he “meditate(s) on [the law] day and night.” To “meditate on” the law (Heb. hagah be) probably means “to murmur audibly” while reading it.29 Perhaps we are to imagine soft oral recitation or a quiet reading so intense as to produce audible whispering. “Day and night” is a Hebrew expression for “always.”

In any case, the phrase implies eager, focused study free of distractions. The reader’s posture pictures the text’s importance: the reader hunches over it, eyes riveted on every syllable in order not to miss any detail. The posture also mirrors how critical is the law’s guidance; only rigorous reflection can mine its depths. To “skim” the law is to imperil one’s future by missing something crucial. Indeed, it is not enough simply to read it, think about it, or even talk about it. Joshua must “be careful to act” on it—to put Moses’ instructions into practice, live it out, and give it feet in the real world. Only “doing” the law will give Joshua success, a point rhetorically hammered home by the two parallel sentences (lit., “only then … and only then …”) which conclude v. 8b.

Yahweh’s speech ends by sounding again its main theme (“Be strong and courageous”). The preceding rhetorical question gives the scene a climactic rhetorical flourish. Given Hebrew style, the question “Have I not commanded you?” actually expresses a strong declaration (so NRSV, “I hereby command you …”).30 In other words, rather than look back to vv. 6 and 7, v. 9 simply reiterates the key pair of commands, appending a negative pair (“Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged”) for emphasis.

Literarily, the two parallel, contrasting pairs again drive home the speech’s main point: Joshua must maintain firm faith and fixed focus, leaving fear and despair no quarter. The basis for his faith and focus also reiterates a theme in v. 5b—God’s constant, never-ending presence with him (“the LORD … will be with you”). And the twofold repetition of “wherever you go” (vv. 7, 9) underscores that his presence knows no territorial boundaries. Joshua need never wonder whether he may unwittingly wander into realms where Yahweh cannot go and is powerless to conquer. On the contrary, wherever Joshua’s mandate takes him, no human can stop him (v. 5a), and his obedience to the law guarantees success (vv. 7b, 8b). With God he is unstoppable.31

Thus, with a dramatic speech, Yahweh orders Israel to cross into Canaan and officially installs Joshua as Moses’ successor. The plan of God for Israel did not die with Moses, although Moses’ shadow will follow Joshua everywhere. On several later occasions, Joshua will carry out specific instructions that Moses gave prior to his death. But for now, Joshua is Yahweh’s on-scene commander, and the stage is set for his relationships with both Yahweh and Israel to grow or decline. For Israel, the long-awaited moment to realize a long-cherished dream has begun.

Joshua Passes the Word (1:10–18)

Bridging Contexts

JOSHUA 1 RECOUNTS HOW Joshua succeeded Moses as Israel’s leader. The dramatic voice of Yahweh addressing Joshua dominates the main scene (vv. 1–9). The speech interweaves promises, both national (vv. 2b, 3–4) and personal (vv. 5, 6b, 9b), with exhortations to Joshua (vv. 6a, 7–8, 9a). Its total effect is formally to commission Joshua as Moses’ successor, assure him of success, and exhort him faithfully to exercise his duties. With the commission, Yahweh also grants Joshua the same authority over Israel that Moses had. In vv. 10–18, Joshua begins to exercise that authority by issuing orders to officers and tribal leaders. By obeying him, they signal their acceptance of it, and the episode marks the successful transition of leadership from Moses to Joshua.

Yahweh’s exhortations, however, assume that dark shadows of fear and failure haunt Israel’s thoughts about the coming conquest venture. (1) Israel undoubtedly worries about its ability to conquer the land set before them. From a human standpoint, it is a huge, if not impossible, undertaking. The land is vast in size and varied in terrain. The raw physical demands on Israel’s infantry just to maneuver it are daunting. Israel lacks the military technology of the opponents they are about to face, especially the normal means of toppling heavily-fortified cities. They are, after all, basically a group of nomadic herders. While aimed to encourage, descriptions of the land (vv. 3–4) might also raise Israel’s anxiety level a notch.

(2) There is uncertainty concerning how well Joshua will handle the huge challenges ahead. Indeed, those challenges may outstrip the ones that Moses himself faced. Will Joshua be able to fill Moses’ sandals? Will he enjoy the same relationship with Yahweh as Joshua?

(3) There is uncertainty concerning Israel’s courage under fire. Thus far her national history offers a mixed bag. On the one hand, she has won important victories—for example, over the two Transjordanian kings Sihon and Og (Num. 21:21–35). On the other hand, a sorry history of failure haunts her past. Granted, the sour, rebellious generation is gone, leaving the future to their children. But it remains to be seen what bad effects their poor example may have left on their offspring. For example, notwithstanding their reaffirmation (vv. 12–18), doubts may remain as to how long the Transjordanian tribes will stay. Finally, the question remains as to whether Israel’s tribes will hang together over the long haul.

The commissioning: its main themes. In the context of fear and potential failure, Joshua 1 sounds several themes that lay a bridge from the ancient text to our contemporary scene. Though not prominent, the book’s main theme, the fulfillment of the patriarchal promise of land, earns some mention. To be specific, the spotlight falls on the land as a gift of Yahweh. It is the land that Yahweh “is about to give” Israel (v. 2) and which Joshua will lead them to inherit just as Yahweh had sworn to their ancestors (v. 6). The land includes every place their feet take them (v. 3), and as its giver, Yahweh proves himself a generous God to his people. He also shows himself a God who keeps his promises, sticking with his people despite their failures and rebellions. Were Yahweh not faithful, Israel would not be poised to realize its ancient hopes for land. Without divine protection, the nation would have starved to death or been massacred by its enemies enroute. This theme will gain prominence in later chapters, so additional comment must await that occasion.

The second theme, however, is more prominent—Joshua’s need for courage against the dark backdrop of fear. As noted above, three times Yahweh exhorts Joshua to be “doggedly courageous” (vv. 6, 7, 9)—to be resolute and brave. He is to control his human fears in the face of imminent danger in order to execute fully the mission entrusted to him. Just prior to combat, other biblical military leaders urge their followers to show courage under fire (2 Sam. 10:12//1 Chron. 19:10; 2 Chron. 32:7). Absalom issues the command to his servants afraid of killing Amnon (2 Sam. 13:28). But the prophet Azariah also calls King Asa to be courageous in initiating needed religious reform (2 Chron. 15:7). In his farewell speech, David admonishes Solomon to bravery by obeying Yahweh’s law (1 Kings 2:2), especially in building the temple (1 Chron. 22:13; 28:10, 18).

Yahweh also calls for courage among the returnees from exile, dispirited by the crudeness of the temple they have just rebuilt (Hag. 2:4). Two besieged psalmists conclude their poems with calls for patient, resolute waiting for Yahweh’s intervention (Ps. 27:14; 31:24). A vision terrified Daniel, but his visionary visitor’s call for courage eased his terror (Dan. 10:19). But Joshua 1 calls for more than just fearlessness. It enjoins the application of strength and bravery to ensure obedience to Moses’ teaching (vv. 7–8; cf. 1 Kings 2:2). Indeed, the absolute necessity of obeying the Instruction of Moses marks the chapter’s third and most fundamental theme. As noted above, the text probably has in mind at least the legal portions of Deuteronomy (chs. 12–26), Moses’ last will and testament.

Here two issues arise that need comment. The first concerns the contrast between the obvious delight Joshua is to have in the law and the aversion to law typical of modern readers. Modern Christians commonly think of “law” and “grace” as antonyms, assuming that Christ somehow replaced law with grace (John 1:17) and that therefore Christians are “not under law, but under grace” (Rom. 6:14; cf. Gal. 5:4). They would happily sing that old hymn from my childhood, “Free from the law, O happy condition!” They find law a bitter taste to be spit out as old and rancid, rather than a sweet treat to be rolled around the mouth and savored. To them “law” evokes images of harsh, rigid Pharisees, coldly coercing common people to “toe the line.” Their minds equate “law” with “legal code” and “legalism,” a sinister heresy that teaches that good deeds earn the doer increased favor with God.

Contrast this aversion to the relish that OT writers have toward the Instruction.53 The psalmists regard it as a delight (Ps. 1:2; 119:70, 77, 92, 174), a source of wonder and grace (119:18, 29), and a precious treasure (119:72) that is true (119:142). Israel reveres it as an object of devotion (2 Chron 31:4) worthy of careful study and observance (Deut 6:25; 31:11–13; Josh. 1:8; Neh 8:3, 13) as well as love (Ps. 119:97, 113, 163, 165). Rather than protect children from it, Israel is to teach it to them (Deut. 31:13; cf. 11:19–21). Jeremiah even predicts a day when the Instruction will be inscribed on Israel’s heart (Jer. 31:33). It will form part of their inner make-up, exerting its influence on their will more directly than its externally read Mosaic form could.

Two key ideas explain this startling delight in the Instruction. (1) Unlike modern readers, when ancient Israel heard the Hebrew word torah, they thought of “teaching” or “instruction,” not “law” or “legal code.” They call the Pentateuch torah because its main contents—ancestral lives and Mosaic teaching—instruct Israel on how to live in ways that please God. (2) The context of the Instruction is not the law court but the covenant relationship between God and Israel. Divine promise gave that relationship birth (Gen. 12:1–3), divine deliverance from slavery confirmed God’s commitment to it (Ex. 20:2), and divine teaching laid down the ground rules for its continuation. The Instruction teaches Israel about the character of God, his loving devotion to his people, and his beneficent expectations of them. In short, Israel regards the Instruction with the same high reverence and warm affection that Christians feel for “Scripture.” The challenge for Christians is to permit Israel’s attitude to soften their aversion to law so that its instruction might illumine their lives and demonstrate how surprisingly delicious it really is.54

The second issue that Joshua 1 raises concerns the connection between intense study of the Instruction and Joshua’s effectiveness. How will study produce success in Joshua’s efforts, and how does it relieve, if not banish, human fears of weakness and failure? Given the nature of the Instruction, several reflections come to mind. (1) To study the law will remind Joshua of crucial tasks commanded by Moses to be finished. For example, Moses ordered Israel to establish cities of refuge once they are settled in the land (Num. 35), an order whose completion Joshua 20 reports. Joshua’s careful study of Moses’ teaching will ensure that he completes the great leader’s unfinished agenda.

(2) The very quantity and complexity of Moses’ teaching requires ongoing study to learn it. Humanly speaking, the frailties of human memory pose a danger. Joshua (and Israel) will do the things they remember and leave undone the things they forget. Further, the human tendency is to remember the law selectively—to recall readily its easier provisions but conveniently to “forget” its unpleasant ones. Certainly, some commands demand things one may prefer not to do, and some prohibitions outlaw one’s favorite things. That is why Moses often urged Israel to “remember” their experience of Yahweh and what he had taught them (e.g., Num. 15:39–40; Deut. 8:18; 9:7; 24:18; 32:7; et al.).55

In sum, constant study of Moses’ Instruction jogs the memory of items forgotten and confronts one afresh with provisions missed (or consciously ignored) before. It keeps one from forgetting too much of God’s expectations and leads to their inculcation into daily life. Consistent meditation on the teaching shapes one’s conduct in ways that please God.

By whose authority? Joshua’s order to his officers and his conversation with the east-bank tribes (vv. 10–18) sound the theme of leadership authority. Both groups willingly accept and follow Joshua’s leadership. Theologically, Israel’s view of human authority and leadership undergird it. All authority in Israel derives from Yahweh himself. That is, humans in themselves only have authority because Yahweh gives it for them to exercise on his behalf.

Two family lines dominated Israel through much of the Old Testament period. The priestly line of Aaron led Israel’s religious life and the royal line of David the nation’s political life. At times, both families exercised power as if they were accountable to no one. Early on, Moses’ own siblings, Aaron and Miriam, stirred up trouble against him because of his marriage to an Ethiopian (Num. 12). Many generations later, Eli’s priestly sons “were scoundrels” with “no regard for the LORD or for the duties of the priests to the people” (1 Sam. 2:12–13 NRSV). They improperly demanded portions of offerings (vv. 13–17) and committed adultery with women who worked at the sanctuary (v. 22). Centuries later, the prophets indict the priests for contributing to Israel’s defection from Yahweh (e.g., Jer. 14:18; 23:11; Hos. 4:4–6; Mic. 3:11; Zeph. 3:4).56 The royal track record was no better. The book of Kings repeatedly charges the kings of both northern and southern kingdoms with either outright apostasy or religious compromise (e.g., 1 Kings 11:6; 15:26, 34; 2 Kings 8:18, 27; 21:2, 20; 23:32, 37; 24:9, 19). Their poor performance notwithstanding, all served simply because Yahweh had appointed their family line as priests (Ex. 28, 29; Lev. 8) or kings (2 Sam. 7).57

Further, theologically any Israelite leader is simply a human stand-in for God. The violent clash between divine holiness and human sinfulness requires such mediators. The Old Testament teems with examples of this fundamental fact of reality. That clash underlies the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden and the posting of an angelic sentry to bar their return (Gen. 3:22–24). It explains Israel’s retreat in terror from the foot of Mount Sinai when Yahweh descended—and why they pushed Moses up front to mediate (Ex. 19:16; Deut. 5:5, 23–27). It stands behind the strictly regulated access to God’s presence in the Most Holy Place, whether in tabernacle or temple (Ex. 30:10; Lev. 16:2, 34; Heb. 9:7; cf. 3 Macc. 1:11). It underlies the sudden death of Uzzah simply for touching the ark of the covenant to stabilize it (2 Sam. 6:6–7) and David’s despair over its proper care (v. 9).

God must graciously, so to speak, “keep his distance”—to work through mediatorial leaders—since direct contact with humans might destroy them. For a holy God to converse with sinful humans requires a go-between—for example, a Moses, a Joshua, and priests and prophets over the centuries. Israelite leaders fill the gap created by human sinfulness between God and his people. In the present case, Joshua serves as the mediator between Yahweh the warrior ready for battle and Israel encamped east of the Jordan.

And, though borrowed from Yahweh, their authority is virtually absolute.58 The semilegal declaration by the Tranjordanian tribes (v. 18) assumes this. Joshua can make decisions and issue orders, and the people are expected to follow them without hesitation or questioning. To disobey him is to “rebel” (marah hi.), a crime so serious that it merits the death penalty. The text might imply that rebellion against Joshua is tantamount to rebellion against Yahweh himself. Such absolute authority may leave modern readers, accustomed to more democratic processes, uneasy if not alarmed. They ask, “Does God bestow on them the same authority? Does he expect me to obey my leaders—my pastor, church elders, small group leader—similarly? Am I never to ask any questions? Am I forbidden ever to disagree? If I oppose them, am I to be dismissed from the church? In fact, is it wrong even to vote on church actions rather than to follow leadership?”

Further, while some leaders may relish such authority, many pastors balk at it because of their own self-understanding. They may see themselves more as the player-coach of a congregation, someone who, besides giving direction, is also just another player. They have no aspirations to be Vince Lombardi!

The difference-maker: God’s presence. Reassurance of God’s presence with Joshua is another important theme in Joshua 1. The words “I will be with you” literarily bracket the heart of Yahweh’s commission (vv. 5, 9). That powerful presence guarantees that Joshua is unstoppable (v. 5) and Israel’s inheritance of Canaan under his leadership is inevitable (v. 6). It is that presence that backs up the commands to “be doggedly courageous” (vv. 6, 7, 9) and to “not be afraid” (v. 9). Without the presence, Joshua has everything to fear—stiff Canaanite resistance, a humiliating retreat or defeat, lost confidence in his leadership, and rebellions within Israel’s ranks. Such fears sap strength, weaken courage, and soften resolve. But with it Joshua need fear nothing. The presence empowers him to lead Israel with boldness, conviction, and confidence.

The reality of God’s presence—the reassuring formula “I am/will be with you”—undergirds much of the Bible. It reassured Jacob of safety and success as he fled frightened from Esau’s vengeance to seek a wife in Haran (Gen. 28:15). It also reassured him that he need not fear the perils of a return to Canaan (31:3). At the burning bush, “I will be with you” encouraged a nervous Moses to return to Egypt and lead Israel out of slavery. It countered Gideon’s terror of the marauding Midianites and gave him the courage to defeat them against humanly impossible odds (Judg. 6:16). Its power to rescue God’s imperiled servants emboldened Jeremiah to proclaim coming divine judgment without fear (Jer. 1:8, 19; 15:20). The power of that presence gave downcast Israel the courage to dream of returning home from exile (Isa. 41:10; 43:5) and the spirit to rebuild the temple when they got there (Hag. 1:3; 2:4).

Exodus 33–34 illustrates how crucial Israel regarded the presence of God. The golden calf episode had shown Israel to be stiff-necked and rebellious (Ex. 32). Yahweh announced that he would decide what to do with Israel (Ex. 33:5), a comment that suddenly casts grave doubt on Israel’s national future. But Moses intercedes for the people, pleading:

If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth? (Ex. 33:15–16; cf. 34:9)

Moses’ argument is simple but bold: “No presence, no go.” Without God’s presence with Israel, there is no point in leaving the Sinai desert for the Promised Land. Alone, Israel would face certain annihilation from its inhabitants. Israel’s chance of survival is far better in the desert where they might face only an occasional skirmish with other nomads. More important, Moses says, that presence marks Israel as God’s special people. No other people enjoy that distinction and the special favor it brings. Other peoples might know about Yahweh, respect him, and perhaps even worship him. But Israel’s distinguishing mark is that he lives only among them. It is the divine presence, and access to God’s power, which makes any Israelite undertaking viable. It alone banishes Israel’s fear.

Above all: “Hang together, people!” The text’s final theme concerns the unity of Israel as a people. This issue emerges from the fact that Reuben, Gad, and half of Manasseh already have their inheritance east of the Jordan. Humanly speaking, there seems to be no compelling reason for them to leave their families and risk their lives across the river. Yahweh has enough personal firepower to overwhelm any opponent. Victory does not depend on the size of the Israelite invasion force. Logically, why should they cross over to fight rather than to solidify Israel’s foothold on the east bank? Why not secure the rear for the west-bank venture?

However, is it fair for the west-bank tribes to let the Transjordanians get off so easy? Granted, from a human perspective, Yahweh’s will may not always be “fair.” For reasons known only to him, some people do suffer greater hardships in his service than others. But the point is to accept one’s lot, to trust in God’s wisdom and goodness, and to obey Yahweh whatever the circumstances. Here as elsewhere, however, human logic must give way to biblical theology. Theologically, Israel is not just a loose association of tribes but a single people. As Eissfeldt observed long ago, “To Israelite thought … unity is prior to diversity, the community is prior to the individual; the real entity is the community, and the individuals belonging to it have their origin therein.”59

Collective biblical terms reflect this profound sense of metaphysical unity that binds the tribes into one nation. Yahweh identifies Israel as his “firstborn son,” whom Pharaoh must free (Ex. 4:22–23; cf. Hos. 11:1), and frequently the name “Jacob” parallels “Israel.”60 The effect is to personify the whole people in a single person—Jacob, the ancestor from whom the people have descended.61 That sense of national solidarity undergirds the conviction that no tribe (Judg. 21:3, 6, 17) or city (2 Sam. 20:19–20) be cut off from Israel.

That underlying metaphysical unity also explains Moses’ demand of the Transjordanian tribes that the present context reiterates. No tribe may enjoy its long-awaited “rest” until every tribe does, and no tribe may fully possess its inheritance until every tribe does (Josh. 1:15).62 Israel does not really possess the Promised Land—that is, the patriarchal promise is not in fact fulfilled—until every tribe possesses its allotted share. The implied message of Joshua 1 is, “Hey, people, hang together no matter what!”

Further, potential divisions necessitate Joshua’s conversation with the Transjordanian tribes (vv. 12–18). They might have simply refused to cross the river, notwithstanding their prior promise. With the actual invasion of Canaan imminent, it is crucial that Israel unite behind the common enterprise of conquest. However minor, any discord, division, or dissent within the ranks poses a grave threat to Israel’s ability to subdue the land. At this crucial juncture, too much is at stake to tolerate tribal jealousies or personal vendettas. Most important, as never before, Israel must wholeheartedly trust the wisdom and judgment of their leader, Yahweh, and his on-site commander, Joshua. The Transjordanians’ declaration that anyone disobeying Joshua will face the death penalty (v. 18) hints at the possibility of future rebellions against Joshua. From a military viewpoint, fractious discussions about strategy or tactics will only halt forward movement, squander momentum, and undermine troop morale. Thus, Israel’s unity becomes of paramount importance.

Israel’s abysmal track record justifies the text’s concern for internal unity. Indeed, one suspects that the biblical writer writes with that sorry history in mind. Talk about a “dysfunctional family”—refractoriness seems to be a family trait! The book of Genesis narrates the family troubles among Israel’s ancestors. Recall the favoritism shown by Isaac and Rebekah toward Esau and Jacob, respectively (Gen. 25:28; 26:35), and the animosity that alienated the two brothers (chs. 27–28; 32–33). The jealous squabbling between Jacob’s twelve sons that fomented their crimes against Joseph (Gen. 37) betrays similar familial headstrongness (cf. also the portraits of tribes in Jacob’s blessings, Gen. 49).

Things do not improve later under Moses. No sooner had Yahweh liberated Israel from cruel Egyptian slavery than they complain against Moses over bitter water (Ex. 15:22–25) and shortages of food and water (ch. 16; 17:1–7). While Moses is away on Mount Sinai, they worship a golden calf in a wild, idolatrous incident that angers Yahweh (ch. 33). Later they question Moses’ leadership (Num. 11) and eventually, in response to the spies’ report, try to overthrow him and return to Egypt (Num. 13–14). One is not surprised by Moses’ assessment of Israel’s future conduct: “I know how rebellious and stiff-necked you are. If you have been rebellious against the LORD while I am still alive and with you, how much more will you rebel after I die!” (Deut. 31:27; cf. v. 29). One is also not surprised that, after Solomon’s death, once-united Israel split into separate countries (1 Kings 12).63

This is why the Bible stresses the unity of God’s people so strongly. Rebellions thwart the progress of God’s plan. They also squander the blessings that God desires his people to enjoy.

Contemporary Significance

Contemporary Significance

ONE SUMMER NIGHT DURING a severe thunderstorm a mother was tucking her small son into bed. She was about to turn the light off when, in a trembling voice, he asked, “Mommy, will you stay with me all night?” The mother smiled, gave him a warm, reassuring hug, and said tenderly, “I can’t dear. I have to sleep in Daddy’s room.”

A long silence followed as she moved toward the door. At last it was broken by a shaky voice saying, “The big sissy!”

Fear lurks in the background of Joshua 1. Fear of danger and fear of failure haunt the three scenes. Fear is an experience that all humans share. Since 9/11, I sense an intensification of fear among some people I know. They seem more wary of other people, especially foreigners, and they favor leadership that is tough or courageous. They speak openly of “the Evil One” (i.e., Satan) as a real presence—a spiritual terrorist plotting the spiritual ruin of themselves and their Christian friends. Joshua 1, however, points to four truths as the antidote to such fears: our unique identity as God’s people, our dependence on God’s word, our bond of unity with other believers, and God’s powerful presence with us.64

Our unique identity: a mission people. The scene in which God commissions Joshua closely parallels the scene in which Jesus issues the Great Commission to his disciples (Matt. 28:16–20). As Moses’ departure left Joshua in charge of Israel, so the Lord’s ascension to heaven left the church in the hands of the apostles (Acts 1:1–9). Both texts also feature a major geographical transition for God’s people. As Joshua’s commission launched Israel’s crossing into Canaan, Jesus’ Great Commission launched the exodus of God’s people from Canaan “to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). In that sense, as Christians take the gospel everywhere, they extend God’s commission of Joshua outward from the land of Israel to the rest of the world. Thus, execution of the Great Commission further carries out the commission given Joshua but pushes its horizons out to the earth’s limits. Certainly, the Great Commission echoes some provisions of Joshua’s mandate.

The commission first given to the apostles applies to all believers:

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age. (Matt. 28:19–20)

As with Joshua (“Cross!”), Jesus the Commander-in-Chief commands Christians to move forward (“Go!”). Fearful of the future, many Israelites might secretly have preferred to admire the Promised Land from the safety of Transjordan rather than risk actually entering Canaan. Harsh as nomadic life was, at least it was familiar, its dangers well known. It offered Israel a “comfort zone” to which they were long accustomed. The temptation to remain safely within a “comfort zone” also seduces Christians. At church we tend to arrive about the same time, park in the same parking space, sit in the same pew, and hang with the same people. Church activities with church people tend to clog our calendars, leaving little or no time for contacts with non-church people. We obey the command to “Go!”—we go to church!

Someone has suggested that there are four types of churches.65 The museum church resembles those found in Europe. They are old, beautiful, and empty. No one goes there for weekly worship. They are nothing but showpieces of the past. No spiritual vitality throbs within their ancient walls.

The maintenance church does a little better. It is almost empty but hanging on. Its mission is simply to survive—to maintain itself against the spiritual and social changes swirling around it. It survives by slavish devotion to its creed, The Seven Last Words of the Church: “We never did it that way before.” But as its stalwart members inevitably die off, it will soon become a museum church.

The ministry church, by contrast, pursues genuine Christian ministry but only to people already within the church. Its offers a full calendar of activities—Sunday worship with coffee and donuts afterward, Bible studies and prayer meetings galore, a good youth group, weekly choir rehearsal, special annual holiday services, summer camps for all ages, and monthly potluck dinners for fellowship. A fine staff of loving pastors and devoted members administer its full-service program, and it generously supports many missionaries around the globe. But it lacks only one thing—ministry contact with people outside the church. It would rather stay securely across the Jordan than to cross into their territory to engage them in conversation.

It is the mission church that offers truly “full-service” ministry.66 It cares for its own members and reaches out to serve its community and to win the lost. It takes Jesus’ command to “Go!” seriously. It goes out the church door into the neighborhood. It understands that its purpose is to “make disciples” (Gk. matheteusate) of those who are not already followers of Jesus.67 Our contacts and conversations with them aim to draw them into his circle of friends. In a sense, our evangelism follows up several episodes in the book of Joshua. Chapters 2 and 6 tell us how the prostitute Rahab came to survive Israel’s first military victory and to become part of Israel. Her remarkable confession about Israel’s God saved her life and earned her membership in Israel (see the commentary at ch. 2). Chapters 9–10 add another slightly different precedent, the sparing of the people of Gibeon. They, too, confess the greatness of Yahweh and end up serving at the temple, albeit doing menial tasks.

The point is that Christians always keep the doorway into the people of God open to outsiders. Indeed, our unique identity in Christ compels us regularly to cross from the safe sanctuary of church life to rub shoulders with neighbors, to listen to their thoughts, and to show our love for Christ in practical ways. Under God’s good hand, such “crossing/going” will open the way for mutual sharing—how they see their lives and how Jesus enriches ours. Hopefully, over time—and after many honest, low-key exchanges—some will surrender to the call of Jesus and become his followers.

When that happens, our commission requires two further steps.68 First, we baptize them. This familiar ritual of initiation symbolizes their identification with Jesus’ death and resurrection (cf. Rom. 6). Through baptism they publically declare their commitment to be Jesus’ disciples. We who have witnessed baptisms know how joyous those ceremonies are! (For more on this see the Contemporary Significance section of Josh. 8:30–35.)

But baptism marks only the first step of discipleship. Jesus’ second requirement is that we “[teach] them to obey everything I have commanded you” (v. 20). Here, too, our commission echoes that of Joshua. His success hangs on his study and obedience of the teaching of Moses. The same is true of new Christian disciples: We must teach them to do (i.e., to obey) “everything I have commanded you.” Strikingly, we are not to teach them just to “know” what Jesus commanded—to be able to summarize his main ideas or to paraphrase his key statements. It is not enough for them simply to learn to recite catechisms or creeds about him. Such practices serve all disciples well, but they do not quite meet Jesus’ expectations. His demand is that we teach them to “do” his commands—to put them into daily practice. Disciples are to do them on the job site, in the office, in the supermarket, in the classroom, at the gas pump, at the bus stop, across the back fence, and in the living room.

Our manual for success: God’s Word. Most organizations have a manual of some kind that details their policies and procedures. That was true when I joined the Navy in 1970 and when I joined the faculty of North Park Theological Seminary in 1995. Life in the Navy is governed by a huge document, Navy Regulations, that covers every imaginable topic. Also, major Navy commands write specific instructions that govern their specific areas of responsibility. For example, one instruction promulgates Navy policy concerning the duties of chaplains, another the rules for handling religious offerings. North Park has two handbooks, one for faculty and another for students.

The purpose of all these manuals is to clarify procedures and expectations of members of the communities they govern. They detail the pathways to function properly within the organization. People who consult the manual get along fine, but people who ignore it soon run afoul of the organization’s leaders or members. But such manuals do more than lay down rules. They also cultivate a culture of cooperation and fairness—a community, as it were—within the membership. They also voice the values that members share. In short, they show members how to be successful within the organization.

God gave Joshua such a manual to guide his service for God. God stressed how crucial Moses’ Instruction would be for Joshua’s success. It told him what to do and not do to enjoy God’s full favor. Our study of Scripture takes on a similar urgency if we are to be successful followers of Jesus. If Jesus’ example is to shape our lives, we need constant immersion in his life and teachings for success. Only as we see Jesus in action with real people and “meditate day and night” on his words will they “not depart from our mouth.” Only then—and certainly over much time—will our actions take on the character of true Christlikeness.

Bear in mind, too, that according to Jesus, the test of Christian discipleship is not how fellow believers see us but how the outside world does. For example, he calls us to obey the two great commandments (Matt. 22:37–39). The first is: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (quoting Deut. 6:5). The second says, “Love your neighbor as yourself” (quoting Lev. 19:18). Jesus orders us to pour our all into loving God and loving our neighbor with the same level of love that we give to ourselves. He leaves us no wiggle room for negotiation on these. No disciple can truly love God only with his or her mind because purely intellectual love is only partial love. Neither can a disciple love God only with his or her heart because purely emotional love is only partial love, too. No, true love of God invests the whole self in actions that demonstrate genuine commitment to a personal relationship with God.

Jesus also allows no exceptions in the love of neighbor. Someone once replied, “Oh, I love my fellow humans, alright; it’s just the people next door I can’t stand!” Such hairsplitting is unworthy of a follower of Jesus, who lovingly forgave even those responsible for his death (Luke 23:34). As the new Moses, Jesus also issued a new commandment of his own: “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34–35).

Jesus commands his followers to love each other. Of course, one wonders what it means to “love one another.” Jesus explains that such love is “as I have loved you.” Jesus’ love for us is the standard by which we gauge whether our treatment of each other qualifies as truly Christlike. Jesus did not merely “tolerate” us but genuinely “loved” us. He gave his own life on the cross so that we might escape eternal death and enjoy eternal life. We were first drawn to him by his love, and our love for others is to draw others to his love, too.

A poignant scene in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King illustrates this biblical dynamic of love. Pippin comforts Denethor, the last ruling Steward of Gondor, after the death of his eldest son, Boromir. Boromir’s warrior skills had won him the rank of Captain of the White Tower. At a secret meeting in the Elf-city of Rivendell, Boromir, the hobbits Frodo, Pippin, Merry, and Aragorn (another human) had formed the Fellowship of the Ring. The mission of this elite Fellowship was to destroy the ring and its magical powers by delivering it to the fires of Mount Doom. Destruction of the ring would finally defeat the evil Sauron.

Together the Fellowship set off for the Mount on their important mission. En route, however, the defenseless Pippen and Merry suddenly find themselves alone and facing an oncoming attack by the wizard Saruman’s Uruk-hai. Boromir soon comes to their rescue and valiantly keeps the attackers at bay until mortally wounded by three arrows in the chest. Later, Pippin visits Denethor, who is deeply grieving his son Boromir’s death. Sensitive to Denethor’s grief and owning his own debt to Boromir’s bravery, Pippin offers his life in service to the Steward—his life for Boromir’s life. He does so because Boromir died while saving his life from the attacking Uruk-hai.

Similarly, Jesus’ sacrifice of his own life dramatically put on public display his tremendous love for us. That sacrifice spared us eternal death and opened the way for us to experience eternal life. We commit ourselves to follow the risen Jesus because he first loved us (cf. 1 John 4:19). By displaying the same sacrificial love to others, we give people a glimpse of Jesus’ love and draw them to salvation in him. But we will only understand what that sacrificial love looks like by meditating on the Jesus Manual—the Scriptures.

“Hang together, people!” The ringing phone some years ago surprised me. The caller was my pastor asking me to meet with him and the assistant pastor. I agreed, although my hunch was that the appointment had to do with recent church troubles. In my view, a pastoral transition several years earlier had gone poorly. Many of my closest friends had already migrated to other congregations, and my wife and I increasingly lost confidence in the pastor’s leadership. Occasionally, I privately vented my frustrations to Christian friends and publically opposed new pastoral initiatives that I deemed unwise in light of the ongoing congregational exodus. Thus, I was not surprised at the meeting when the pastors confronted me with Hebrews 13:17:

Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you.

They asked me how my actions related to that instruction. More than a decade later, guilt over my conduct throughout that experience still pains me. I still wonder if I contributed to the division that was rending that congregation. Theologically, I affirm the priority of church unity and abominate those who sow division. For several years my wife and I struggled against a growing spiritual malaise as people continued to leave the church. Attempts to rouse the elder board to action met with sympathetic but unyielding resistance. It amounted to a classic church split in slow motion. Attendance numbers dwindled, giving declined, and even support of missionaries suffered from the budget shortfall. Only when the pastor’s marital infidelity came to light—a surprise to everyone, I might add—did the board act to remove him from leadership.

Sadly, many of us have suffered through such splits, some even more acrimonious than my example. Despite the spiritual warfare raging all around, wars often break out inside churches. Members fall out with each other over the color of the sanctuary’s new carpet or whether the service should begin at 10:30 or 11:00. A recent flashpoint in some congregations has been controversy over the style of worship—contemporary, traditional, or blended. The feelings on all sides run so high and the conflict so sharp that “worship wars” may erupt.

But our study of Israel’s unity reminds us of the importance of congregational unity. In fact, the same corporate assumption that bound Israel as one people underlies this later comment of Paul: “If one part suffers, all suffer together with it; if one part is honored, all rejoice together with it” (1 Cor. 12:26). Indeed, Paul’s theology of the church as the body of Christ (1 Cor. 12) derives its corporate assumption from the Old Testament idea of Israel. In his view, the one communion loaf that Christians share symbolizes that “we, who are many, are one body” (10:17).

Paul articulates several principles that bear review in light of the ever-present danger of church disunity. (1) He stresses that as many members comprise the human body (i.e., eyes, ears, hands, feet, etc.) and yet it remains a single living organism, so it is with the church (1 Cor. 12:12, 20). In other words, when a local church meets for worship, it meets as only one body with many parts, not as a collection of bodies sitting in the same building.

(2) Paul says that that unity even transcends the church’s ethnic (“Jews or Greeks”) and economic (“slave or free”) diversity (1 Cor. 12:13; cf. Eph. 2:16; 3:6). The diversity of members, he says, makes the church a complete, healthy organism. It has all its “members”—hands to handle objects and feet to maneuver. But its unity affirms that each member, however lowly in human eyes, is indispensable to the functioning of the whole (1 Cor. 12:16–19; cf. Eph. 4:16). I think Paul would applaud the diversity of some contemporary churches that provide worship services in various languages. The “Jews or Greeks” of Paul’s day compare to the Koreans and Hispanics of today. It must warm God’s heart each week to hear his praises echo from the same building in many tongues!

And such multiethnicity is not limited only to large cities. I have seen signs announcing ethnic services in smaller towns, too. But I think Paul would ask whether that building houses one church body or several. I think he would challenge us to build bridges across congregations, to strive to support each other, and ideally to function truly as a single body with members speaking several tongues. Paul would push us beyond the dominance of one congregation, usually the English-speaking one, over the non-English ones. Whether about offerings, office space, or office hours, I believe that Paul would desire each multiethnic body to function truly as a single body, sharing its resources equitably regardless of whose contributions fund most of the budget.

(3) Paul says that the church’s unity prohibits one member from denigrating another as unnecessary to the body’s work (1 Cor. 12:21–22). Indeed, Paul pushes the metaphor one further, even more radical, step. Within the body of Christ, God gives greater honor to its weakest members than to its strongest ones (v. 24). In other words, people whom society dishonors—for example, the poor, the indigent, the diseased, the mentally ill, the physically disabled—God honors more within the body than those humanly deemed “more important.” This is a radical demand, indeed! Imagine a worship service in which a smelly, unkept beggar reads the Scripture while a man in a pin-striped suit is ushered to a back row. Picture a service in which the church awards a “certificate of merit” to several members. One goes to the hard-working single parent who succeeds simply by getting the family through the week, the other to a naturally-gifted leader who led a wonderful missions trip. That is the kind of body Paul has in mind.

Sadly, the roles are more likely to be reversed in most churches. I have several Christian friends whose cerebral palsy has left them physically disabled and unable to speak clearly. They even joke about talking a foreign language called “C-P-ese” (“C-P” for cerebral palsy). I am appalled at the dishonorable treatment they sometimes receive from churches. Ushers routinely seat them either out of sight, so they cannot be noticed and upset anyone, or in the aisle, where people have to go around them to enter or exit. Such treatment implies that my friends’ attendance is an unwelcome bother because their physical disabilities make other members uncomfortable.

It is no wonder that, according to a denominational report I read some years ago, people with disabilities is one of the least evangelized populations in America today. Paul, by contrast, would urge our congregations to depart from the norm of the larger society by honoring those whom society ignores. The upshot of Paul’s teaching is that Christian unity outlaws divisions and promotes mutual concern of Christians for each other (1 Cor. 12:25). Because the church is an integral body, the pain of one member pains the whole body and the joy of one member makes the whole body rejoice (v. 26). In short, just as Israel with its various tribes was one people, so the church today with its diverse membership is one unified people of God.69

(4) Finally, Israel’s history of refractoriness should alert contemporary Christians to the danger that similar conduct today poses to the church. Indeed, disunity is not the exclusive province of Israel. Fault lines of division also threatened the New Testament church. Members in the church at Corinth, for example, quarreled over the person who had baptized them. Apparently, they thought that being baptized by Apollos should enhance their status in the church (1 Cor. 1:10–16). They also disputed Paul’s rights as an apostle (ch. 9) as did Jewish Christians in the region of Galatia (Gal. 1:11–12). They also insisted that new Gentile converts be circumcised and obey pharisaic law (Gal. 2:15–16; 5:2–6). In each case, Paul rebutted their errors and pled for unity—sadly, a plea that needs to be heard today, too.

In reality, the theological roots of refractoriness run back to the Garden of Eden. God told Adam and Eve, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden” (Gen. 2:16). He generously granted the first human pair free access to the surrounding bounty. Sadly, what preoccupied them was the one tree declared off-limits, the “tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (2:17; 3:2–3). They cared little that to eat of it would mean death. They rebelled, ate, and doomed humanity, including Israel and the church, to a sad history of jealousy, violence, and death. Israel’s rebellions and Christian divisions are nothing less than symptoms of sinful human corruption.

In the epic novel The Brothers Karamazov, Dostoyevsky aptly diagnoses the underlying disease:

All mankind in our age have split up into units. Man keeps apart, each in his own groove; each one holds aloof, hides himself and hides what he has, from the rest. He ends by being repelled by others and repelling him. He heaps up riches by himself and thinks, “How strong I am now and how secure.” And in his madness he does not understand that the more he heaps up, the more he sinks into self-destructive impotence. For he is accustomed to rely upon himself alone and to cut himself off from the whole; he has trained himself not to believe in the help of others, in men and in humanity, and only trembles for fear he should lose his money and the privileges that he has won for himself. Everywhere in these days men have ceased to understand that the true security is to be found in social solidarity rather than in isolated individual effort.70

That portrait fits Western culture today. But it is precisely here that Jesus calls the church to counter that cultural decadence with a healthy, thriving corporate model. As Christians, we need not follow Joshua 1:18 literally. We need not execute fellow Christians who sow dissension and disunity, to say nothing of division, in the church. But we do need at least to treat such refractoriness with the same seriousness. The unity of the body—and its very effectiveness as God’s instrument in the world—are at stake.

That was the point of Joshua’s talk with the Transjordanian tribes. It reminds us that God’s people comprise a single body whose diverse parts live to support and enrich all the others. The warfare in which we are engaged may be spiritual rather than physical, but it is no less threatening. Only a healthy congregation—one whose members egg each other on and hold each other up—will win any battles. That is why Jesus asks us to make unity—warm, genuine, mutual commitment to our fellow believers—our top priority. Only when we enjoy that quality of harmony will our churches enjoy “rest”—a level of wholesome life together that outsiders will find appealing. Only that kind of unity will compel the watching world to stop and take us seriously.

The second act of the musical Monty Python’s Spamalot features a song called “I’m All Alone.” By this point in the plot, King Arthur has reached a point of despair: The Holy Grail is out of reach, and he feels all alone. The stage grows dark, but in the spotlight King Arthur begins in song to lament his desperate loneliness. The audience, however, begins to laugh because, while the king decries being alone, King Arthur’s servant, Patsy, stands beside him with an exasperated look on his face. King Arthur is not alone! Patsy has faithfully remained at his side during the whole play. As Arthur again sings the chorus “I’m all alone,” Patsy echoes, “He’s all alone,” reminding the king of his presence. But Arthur’s blindness persists. As he sings “all by myself,” Patsy responds, “except for me.” Through the rest of the song, Arthur and Patsy humorously go back-and-forth: “I’m all alone” (Arthur) … “although I’m here” (Patsy) … “So all alone” (Arthur) … “so very near” (Patsy). Soon, all of King Arthur’s knights have joined the pair and joined in the song. At the end, everyone is singing the chorus, “We’re all alone.” The humorous irony of the scene is not lost on the audience. They see a stage full of people ridiculously claiming that they are all alone.71

Unlike poor King Arthur, we Christians are not alone. We are surrounded by sisters and brothers, all part of the body of Christ. They pick up our spirits when we are down, lift us up when we fall, walk with us through our dark valleys, and celebrate our triumphs. Our task is to look up from our isolated self-preoccupation and recognize that they are there—and that they care, too.

The powerful presence. Finally, like Joshua, we also have the assurance of Jesus’ presence with us as part of the Great Commission: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:20b). Joshua led Israel across the Jordan to face the Canaanites because God promised to be with him. Like Israel under Joshua, we Christians are an army engaged in warfare—a spiritual army fighting a spiritual war against a powerful spiritual enemy. Like Joshua and Israel, we face many dangers and live with many fears. But we are not alone—Jesus promised to be with us every moment. As that reassurance banished Joshua’s fears, so it should ours as well.

Some time ago, I heard a fascinating story that brings home this truth about Jesus’ presence with us. A mother had agreed to drive her son’s car from Michigan to California as part of his move there. It was Christmas-time, so the plan called for her to drive the car out, for her husband to fly there for the holiday, and for the two of them to fly home from California together. The day before her departure, however, the woman fell and broke her left wrist. Despite the cumbersome cast from wrist to elbow, she decided to go anyway and carefully planned the long trip.

About the fourth day out, she felt so tired that she pulled off the road for a short nap, then drove to a restaurant for coffee and a few phone calls to friends who lived nearby. As she stepped outside the restaurant, things got interesting. A man approached and asked if she was driving a Ford Explorer with Michigan plates, and whether she had pulled off the road somewhere earlier. The woman was understandably apprehensive about being questioned by a stranger, but he assured her that he meant no harm. Once she answered his questions, he asked her to wait while he made a phone call and then promised to explain.

When he returned, he told her that truck drivers had been following her since Indiana. One of them had noticed this little white-haired lady, with a cast on her left arm, driving a stick-shift across the country. They had taken it upon themselves to watch over her. Unbeknownst to her, they carefully tracked her to the motels she stayed each evening. Each morning another trucker would pick up her trail and shadow her progress. If a trucker had to exit, he would radio another rig-driver to take his place. When she pulled off for that nap, they had lost track of her and were about to alert the State Police. They were still seriously searching for her when one of them spotted her car at the restaurant. The woman had no idea that somebody cared enough about her to initiate such a protection plan. Until that moment, she had been totally unaware that, across all the miles, someone was looking after her day and night.

The presence of Jesus with us is no less watchful and faithful. Armed with his simple assurance (“I am with you”), we Christian soldiers can daily march into war. The spiritual battlefield may be our own homes, neighborhoods, job sites—perhaps even our own souls. Our lives seek to mirror the model of our Lord—or, at least, that is our dream. Like him, we bring good news to a broken, hurting, lost world. And we do so with fear offset, if not banished, by the wonderful reality that, come what may, we are “never alone.” As recent writers put it,

The truly good news is that God is not a distant God, a God to be feared and avoided, a God of revenge, but a God who is moved by our pains and participates in the fullness of the human struggle. The miraculous cures in the Gospels are hopeful and joyful reminders of this good news, which is our true consolation and comfort.72

Original Meaning

Joshua Passes the Word (1:10–18)

To the Officers (vv. 10–11)

TO THE OFFICERS (VV. 10–11). Joshua puts in motion the divine commander’s marching orders. First, he orders his officers to prepare the people for crossing (vv. 10–11), then he addresses the Transjordanian tribes (vv. 12–18).32 The “officers” probably are civilian administrators supporting Joshua rather than military officers.33 In lists of Israelite leaders, the term is often paired with “elders” (Num. 11:16; Deut. 29:9; 31:28) or “judges” (Deut. 16:18; Josh. 23:2; 24:1; 1 Chron. 23:4; 26:29; cf. Josh. 8:33) rather than with “(military) officers” or “soldiers.” The officers comprise the secular counterpart of the priests, both of whom Joshua addresses.34 They are to fan out through the Israelite camp and command the people to prepare provisions for a departure in three days (v. 11).

The term “supplies” (ṣedah) commonly refers to food carried along to sustain one on a journey (Gen. 42:25; 45:21; Josh. 9:1; Judg. 20:10; 1 Sam. 22:10). This would include, for example, bread (Ps. 132:15), grain to be cooked later, and fruits like figs, dates, or raisins (cf. Gen. 44:23; Ex. 12:39).35 In biblical narratives, “three days” seems to have a symbolic rather than a chronological sense.36 It denotes the stylized biblical time period to mark momentous events (Ex. 10:22, 23) or important transitions (Gen. 30:36; Josh 2:16, 22; 9:16; 1 Kings 12:5//2 Chron. 10:5). It also marks important journeys (Ex. 3:18; 5:3), especially into the wilderness (8:27; 15:22; Num. 10:33; 33:8).

Strikingly, Joshua’s instructions to the people focus on food, not weapons of war.37 They may reflect his great confidence in Yahweh and also anticipate Israel’s coming transition to dependence on the food of Canaan rather than on divinely sent manna (cf. Josh. 5:12). In other words, Israel will only need a three-day food supply—roughly enough for the transition.

Finally, repeated words in the last half of v. 11 signal the significance of events about to unfold. Israel is (lit.) to “enter” Canaan, the land that Yahweh (lit.) “is giving you” in order to “take possession” of it “for your own.” This is, indeed, a historic moment. After nearly eight centuries as vulnerable resident aliens in Canaan and oppressed slaves in Egypt, Israel is about to receive the long-awaited gift of land.38 Three days later the officers again will fan out through the camp to issue orders concerning Israel’s next move (3:2–4).

To the Eastern Tribes (vv. 12–18)

To the eastern tribes (vv. 12–18). Second, Joshua deals specially with the Transjordanian tribes—Reuben, Gad, and half of Manasseh (vv. 12–18). Literarily, the sudden, startling focus on them pricks the reader’s curiosity.39 The narrator probably singles them out for several reasons. He wants to confirm that, from the very first day, Joshua obeys Moses as Yahweh has commanded him (vv. 7–8). Here Joshua passes his first test, implementing Moses’ earlier instructions concerning these tribes (Num. 32:28–30).

Also, the writer is aware that special circumstances distinguished these two-and-a-half tribes from the others. They have already received their inheritance from Moses, land along the east banks of the Dead Sea and Jordan River. Numbers 32 even implies that they have already conquered it, rebuilt its cities, and lived in houses (see vv. 24, 26, 33–42). If so, they have already begun to taste the long-awaited “rest.” They have also probably joined the other tribes at this time from scattered locations and from a settled lifestyle. Finally, the author may wish to affirm that Joshua’s authority extends to the soldiers of the eastern tribes.40 This background may explain why Joshua addresses them specifically. Verses 12–18 may actually present a scene geographically separate from that of vv. 10–11 but narratively closely connected to it.

“Remember the command that Moses gave you” (v. 13) recalls Moses’ decrees in Numbers 32. He gave them land on one condition—that they first fight to win land for the other tribes west of the Jordan (Num. 32:20–30). Joshua’s brief quotation of Moses (Josh. 1:13b, “The LORD your God is giving you rest …”) actually seems to paraphrase Deuteronomy 3:18 and 20 where Moses reviewed the same episode. “Quoting” Moses, Joshua reminds them of Yahweh’s promise that they will eventually enjoy “rest” since he has already given them “this land” (i.e., the territory north and south of where they stand). The repetition of key terms—“Moses,” “give,” “land”—drives home the key points.41

The language of “rest” evokes for the Transjordanian tribes the hope that all the tribes cherished and which Deuteronomy nourished (i.e., Deut. 12:30; 25:19). To “enjoy rest” (Heb. nuaḥ hi.) means finally to settle in peace and security—truly to be serenely “home” at last—after years of migration, struggle, and war.42 Only after the west-bank tribes finally have “rest” (Josh. 21:44; 23:1) will Joshua dismiss the east-bank tribes to enjoy theirs (22:4).43 For now, their wives, children, and livestock are to remain on the east-bank inheritance that Moses gave them (v. 14a).44

Meanwhile, the men are to augment the invasion force, but not merely as support troops in the rear. All of them are gutsy soldiers—“fighting men,” “fully armed” (cf. 4:12) and ready to “help them” fight (v. 14b).45 More important, they form the tip of the Israelite spear—the vanguard troops who lead the way (“ahead of your brothers”). They have apparently volunteered for the assignment (Num. 32:17; LXX prophylake “guard out front”), probably to silence suspicions about their willingness to take risks.

Again nearly quoting Moses verbatim (cf. Deut. 3:20), Joshua reiterates the two conditions that must prevail before they can go home: when Yahweh finally has given their fellow Israelites the same “rest” they themselves have already sampled, and when their west-bank kin also possess their inheritance (v. 15).46 The military venture about to begin is not the exclusive duty only of the west-bank tribes but an all-Israelite operation. All Israel will bear its burdens, suffer its losses, pay its prices, and share in it victories.

The chapter concludes with the reply of the two-and-a-half tribes (vv. 16–18). Though speaking of themselves, literarily they articulate the loyalty expected of all tribes from here on.47 A subtle argument undergirds their words: If the Transjordanian tribes with no personal interest in west-bank land affirm what follows, how much more so the others. Structurally, v. 16 offers their summary statement, while vv. 17–18 comprise two parallel statements verbally linked by repetition of the word “all,” the root “to hear” or “obey,” and final sentences prefaced by the restrictive particle “only.…” Emphatically the tribes agree to do whatever Joshua commands and to go wherever he sends them (v. 16).

The pairing of “command” (ṣawah pi.) and “send” (šalaḥ) highlights the wide authority they recognize in Joshua. They accord him authority reminiscent of Pharaoh over his servants (Gen. 12:20) and of God himself over his word (2 Kings 17:13), natural disasters (2 Chron. 7:13), the nation of Assyria (Isa. 10:6), and his prophets (Jer. 14:14; 23:32). The east-bank tribes promise Joshua the same obedience they gave Moses (v. 17).

It is one thing for Yahweh to commission Joshua as leader and another for the people to follow him, so given the context, this last affirmation is especially significant. It signals the successful transfer of tribal allegiance from Moses to Joshua (vv. 16–17a).48 As they obeyed Moses, they will obey Joshua, doing what he commands and going where he sends them, all without question or dispute.49

The restrictive clause in v. 17b (“only may the LORD be with you”), however, seems to stipulate a condition for their continued loyalty, as if they meant, “We’re with you as long as Yahweh is, otherwise we’re gone!” In reality, v. 17b clarifies their affirmation by a simple heartfelt wish that Joshua will enjoy the same power-giving divine presence as Moses (v. 17b).50 They wish for continuity of God’s powerful presence with their new leader. The mention of Moses here gives the chapter a nice thematic inclusio, a literary device that further underscores the continuity between Moses and Joshua. The day began with reference to Moses’ death (v. 1) and ends with a wish for divine presence on par with that enjoyed by Moses (v. 17b).

As if to underscore their allegiance, the Transjordanians propose the penalty for disobedience. Indeed, “whoever rebels … will be put to death” sounds like legal sentences found in the law, although the grammar here differs significantly.51 The pairing of “rebel” and “not hear” may echo terms from Moses’ report of Israel’s wilderness rebellions (Deut. 9:23, 24). If so, v. 18a probably articulates a quasi-legal principle applicable to the tenure of Joshua based on Moses’ words.52 Certainly, it aims to curb the one thing that might derail the Israelite juggernaut—rebellion in the ranks. As Moses said, Israel had displayed such refractoriness on more than one occasion (Deut. 9:23–24), so the concern to restrain it here is justified.

The speakers, however, carefully specify what kind of rebellion they have in mind. To rebel is to “not obey your [Joshua’s] word,” that is, to not do “whatever you may command them,” or, to use their own promise as an example (v. 16), to not go where Joshua sends them. And the proposed penalty for such disobedience is death—an indicator of how important they reckon Israelite obedience to be. The assumption is that rebellion is a capital crime, ranking alongside murder (Ex. 21:12), desecration of the Sabbath (Ex. 31:14, 15; 35:2), adultery (20:14), and blasphemy of the Lord’s name (Lev. 24:16).

The death penalty reckons rebellion to be the most outrageous kind of conduct. Undoubtedly, it is outrageous because it destabilizes Israelite unity, undermines their morale, and weakens their resolve. Clearly, the concern of the Tranjordanian tribes is to buttress the authority of Joshua and to motivate their fellows to obey him. In so doing, they anticipate the later episode in which the tribes actually impose the penalty here decreed on the disobedient Achan (Josh. 7).

Finally, after affirming Joshua’s authority they address him personally. They themselves reiterate Yahweh’s command that Joshua “be strong and courageous” (v. 18b). Paraphrased, their point is this: “We’re with you—and anyone who rebels will be executed. Your job, Joshua, is to be brave and firmly resolved.” In short, as Joshua must obey Moses’ commands (vv. 7–8), so must Israel obey Joshua’s. The fulfillment of the patriarchal promise and the realization of all their own hopes and dreams hang on both leader and people doing their parts well.

Bridging Contexts

Bridging Contexts

JOSHUA 1 RECOUNTS HOW Joshua succeeded Moses as Israel’s leader. The dramatic voice of Yahweh addressing Joshua dominates the main scene (vv. 1–9). The speech interweaves promises, both national (vv. 2b, 3–4) and personal (vv. 5, 6b, 9b), with exhortations to Joshua (vv. 6a, 7–8, 9a). Its total effect is formally to commission Joshua as Moses’ successor, assure him of success, and exhort him faithfully to exercise his duties. With the commission, Yahweh also grants Joshua the same authority over Israel that Moses had. In vv. 10–18, Joshua begins to exercise that authority by issuing orders to officers and tribal leaders. By obeying him, they signal their acceptance of it, and the episode marks the successful transition of leadership from Moses to Joshua.

Yahweh’s exhortations, however, assume that dark shadows of fear and failure haunt Israel’s thoughts about the coming conquest venture. (1) Israel undoubtedly worries about its ability to conquer the land set before them. From a human standpoint, it is a huge, if not impossible, undertaking. The land is vast in size and varied in terrain. The raw physical demands on Israel’s infantry just to maneuver it are daunting. Israel lacks the military technology of the opponents they are about to face, especially the normal means of toppling heavily-fortified cities. They are, after all, basically a group of nomadic herders. While aimed to encourage, descriptions of the land (vv. 3–4) might also raise Israel’s anxiety level a notch.

(2) There is uncertainty concerning how well Joshua will handle the huge challenges ahead. Indeed, those challenges may outstrip the ones that Moses himself faced. Will Joshua be able to fill Moses’ sandals? Will he enjoy the same relationship with Yahweh as Joshua?

(3) There is uncertainty concerning Israel’s courage under fire. Thus far her national history offers a mixed bag. On the one hand, she has won important victories—for example, over the two Transjordanian kings Sihon and Og (Num. 21:21–35). On the other hand, a sorry history of failure haunts her past. Granted, the sour, rebellious generation is gone, leaving the future to their children. But it remains to be seen what bad effects their poor example may have left on their offspring. For example, notwithstanding their reaffirmation (vv. 12–18), doubts may remain as to how long the Transjordanian tribes will stay. Finally, the question remains as to whether Israel’s tribes will hang together over the long haul.

The commissioning: its main themes. In the context of fear and potential failure, Joshua 1 sounds several themes that lay a bridge from the ancient text to our contemporary scene. Though not prominent, the book’s main theme, the fulfillment of the patriarchal promise of land, earns some mention. To be specific, the spotlight falls on the land as a gift of Yahweh. It is the land that Yahweh “is about to give” Israel (v. 2) and which Joshua will lead them to inherit just as Yahweh had sworn to their ancestors (v. 6). The land includes every place their feet take them (v. 3), and as its giver, Yahweh proves himself a generous God to his people. He also shows himself a God who keeps his promises, sticking with his people despite their failures and rebellions. Were Yahweh not faithful, Israel would not be poised to realize its ancient hopes for land. Without divine protection, the nation would have starved to death or been massacred by its enemies enroute. This theme will gain prominence in later chapters, so additional comment must await that occasion.

The second theme, however, is more prominent—Joshua’s need for courage against the dark backdrop of fear. As noted above, three times Yahweh exhorts Joshua to be “doggedly courageous” (vv. 6, 7, 9)—to be resolute and brave. He is to control his human fears in the face of imminent danger in order to execute fully the mission entrusted to him. Just prior to combat, other biblical military leaders urge their followers to show courage under fire (2 Sam. 10:12//1 Chron. 19:10; 2 Chron. 32:7). Absalom issues the command to his servants afraid of killing Amnon (2 Sam. 13:28). But the prophet Azariah also calls King Asa to be courageous in initiating needed religious reform (2 Chron. 15:7). In his farewell speech, David admonishes Solomon to bravery by obeying Yahweh’s law (1 Kings 2:2), especially in building the temple (1 Chron. 22:13; 28:10, 18).

Yahweh also calls for courage among the returnees from exile, dispirited by the crudeness of the temple they have just rebuilt (Hag. 2:4). Two besieged psalmists conclude their poems with calls for patient, resolute waiting for Yahweh’s intervention (Ps. 27:14; 31:24). A vision terrified Daniel, but his visionary visitor’s call for courage eased his terror (Dan. 10:19). But Joshua 1 calls for more than just fearlessness. It enjoins the application of strength and bravery to ensure obedience to Moses’ teaching (vv. 7–8; cf. 1 Kings 2:2). Indeed, the absolute necessity of obeying the Instruction of Moses marks the chapter’s third and most fundamental theme. As noted above, the text probably has in mind at least the legal portions of Deuteronomy (chs. 12–26), Moses’ last will and testament.

Here two issues arise that need comment. The first concerns the contrast between the obvious delight Joshua is to have in the law and the aversion to law typical of modern readers. Modern Christians commonly think of “law” and “grace” as antonyms, assuming that Christ somehow replaced law with grace (John 1:17) and that therefore Christians are “not under law, but under grace” (Rom. 6:14; cf. Gal. 5:4). They would happily sing that old hymn from my childhood, “Free from the law, O happy condition!” They find law a bitter taste to be spit out as old and rancid, rather than a sweet treat to be rolled around the mouth and savored. To them “law” evokes images of harsh, rigid Pharisees, coldly coercing common people to “toe the line.” Their minds equate “law” with “legal code” and “legalism,” a sinister heresy that teaches that good deeds earn the doer increased favor with God.

Contrast this aversion to the relish that OT writers have toward the Instruction.53 The psalmists regard it as a delight (Ps. 1:2; 119:70, 77, 92, 174), a source of wonder and grace (119:18, 29), and a precious treasure (119:72) that is true (119:142). Israel reveres it as an object of devotion (2 Chron 31:4) worthy of careful study and observance (Deut 6:25; 31:11–13; Josh. 1:8; Neh 8:3, 13) as well as love (Ps. 119:97, 113, 163, 165). Rather than protect children from it, Israel is to teach it to them (Deut. 31:13; cf. 11:19–21). Jeremiah even predicts a day when the Instruction will be inscribed on Israel’s heart (Jer. 31:33). It will form part of their inner make-up, exerting its influence on their will more directly than its externally read Mosaic form could.

Two key ideas explain this startling delight in the Instruction. (1) Unlike modern readers, when ancient Israel heard the Hebrew word torah, they thought of “teaching” or “instruction,” not “law” or “legal code.” They call the Pentateuch torah because its main contents—ancestral lives and Mosaic teaching—instruct Israel on how to live in ways that please God. (2) The context of the Instruction is not the law court but the covenant relationship between God and Israel. Divine promise gave that relationship birth (Gen. 12:1–3), divine deliverance from slavery confirmed God’s commitment to it (Ex. 20:2), and divine teaching laid down the ground rules for its continuation. The Instruction teaches Israel about the character of God, his loving devotion to his people, and his beneficent expectations of them. In short, Israel regards the Instruction with the same high reverence and warm affection that Christians feel for “Scripture.” The challenge for Christians is to permit Israel’s attitude to soften their aversion to law so that its instruction might illumine their lives and demonstrate how surprisingly delicious it really is.54

The second issue that Joshua 1 raises concerns the connection between intense study of the Instruction and Joshua’s effectiveness. How will study produce success in Joshua’s efforts, and how does it relieve, if not banish, human fears of weakness and failure? Given the nature of the Instruction, several reflections come to mind. (1) To study the law will remind Joshua of crucial tasks commanded by Moses to be finished. For example, Moses ordered Israel to establish cities of refuge once they are settled in the land (Num. 35), an order whose completion Joshua 20 reports. Joshua’s careful study of Moses’ teaching will ensure that he completes the great leader’s unfinished agenda.

(2) The very quantity and complexity of Moses’ teaching requires ongoing study to learn it. Humanly speaking, the frailties of human memory pose a danger. Joshua (and Israel) will do the things they remember and leave undone the things they forget. Further, the human tendency is to remember the law selectively—to recall readily its easier provisions but conveniently to “forget” its unpleasant ones. Certainly, some commands demand things one may prefer not to do, and some prohibitions outlaw one’s favorite things. That is why Moses often urged Israel to “remember” their experience of Yahweh and what he had taught them (e.g., Num. 15:39–40; Deut. 8:18; 9:7; 24:18; 32:7; et al.).55

In sum, constant study of Moses’ Instruction jogs the memory of items forgotten and confronts one afresh with provisions missed (or consciously ignored) before. It keeps one from forgetting too much of God’s expectations and leads to their inculcation into daily life. Consistent meditation on the teaching shapes one’s conduct in ways that please God.

By whose authority? Joshua’s order to his officers and his conversation with the east-bank tribes (vv. 10–18) sound the theme of leadership authority. Both groups willingly accept and follow Joshua’s leadership. Theologically, Israel’s view of human authority and leadership undergird it. All authority in Israel derives from Yahweh himself. That is, humans in themselves only have authority because Yahweh gives it for them to exercise on his behalf.

Two family lines dominated Israel through much of the Old Testament period. The priestly line of Aaron led Israel’s religious life and the royal line of David the nation’s political life. At times, both families exercised power as if they were accountable to no one. Early on, Moses’ own siblings, Aaron and Miriam, stirred up trouble against him because of his marriage to an Ethiopian (Num. 12). Many generations later, Eli’s priestly sons “were scoundrels” with “no regard for the LORD or for the duties of the priests to the people” (1 Sam. 2:12–13 NRSV). They improperly demanded portions of offerings (vv. 13–17) and committed adultery with women who worked at the sanctuary (v. 22). Centuries later, the prophets indict the priests for contributing to Israel’s defection from Yahweh (e.g., Jer. 14:18; 23:11; Hos. 4:4–6; Mic. 3:11; Zeph. 3:4).56 The royal track record was no better. The book of Kings repeatedly charges the kings of both northern and southern kingdoms with either outright apostasy or religious compromise (e.g., 1 Kings 11:6; 15:26, 34; 2 Kings 8:18, 27; 21:2, 20; 23:32, 37; 24:9, 19). Their poor performance notwithstanding, all served simply because Yahweh had appointed their family line as priests (Ex. 28, 29; Lev. 8) or kings (2 Sam. 7).57

Further, theologically any Israelite leader is simply a human stand-in for God. The violent clash between divine holiness and human sinfulness requires such mediators. The Old Testament teems with examples of this fundamental fact of reality. That clash underlies the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden and the posting of an angelic sentry to bar their return (Gen. 3:22–24). It explains Israel’s retreat in terror from the foot of Mount Sinai when Yahweh descended—and why they pushed Moses up front to mediate (Ex. 19:16; Deut. 5:5, 23–27). It stands behind the strictly regulated access to God’s presence in the Most Holy Place, whether in tabernacle or temple (Ex. 30:10; Lev. 16:2, 34; Heb. 9:7; cf. 3 Macc. 1:11). It underlies the sudden death of Uzzah simply for touching the ark of the covenant to stabilize it (2 Sam. 6:6–7) and David’s despair over its proper care (v. 9).

God must graciously, so to speak, “keep his distance”—to work through mediatorial leaders—since direct contact with humans might destroy them. For a holy God to converse with sinful humans requires a go-between—for example, a Moses, a Joshua, and priests and prophets over the centuries. Israelite leaders fill the gap created by human sinfulness between God and his people. In the present case, Joshua serves as the mediator between Yahweh the warrior ready for battle and Israel encamped east of the Jordan.

And, though borrowed from Yahweh, their authority is virtually absolute.58 The semilegal declaration by the Tranjordanian tribes (v. 18) assumes this. Joshua can make decisions and issue orders, and the people are expected to follow them without hesitation or questioning. To disobey him is to “rebel” (marah hi.), a crime so serious that it merits the death penalty. The text might imply that rebellion against Joshua is tantamount to rebellion against Yahweh himself. Such absolute authority may leave modern readers, accustomed to more democratic processes, uneasy if not alarmed. They ask, “Does God bestow on them the same authority? Does he expect me to obey my leaders—my pastor, church elders, small group leader—similarly? Am I never to ask any questions? Am I forbidden ever to disagree? If I oppose them, am I to be dismissed from the church? In fact, is it wrong even to vote on church actions rather than to follow leadership?”

Further, while some leaders may relish such authority, many pastors balk at it because of their own self-understanding. They may see themselves more as the player-coach of a congregation, someone who, besides giving direction, is also just another player. They have no aspirations to be Vince Lombardi!

The difference-maker: God’s presence. Reassurance of God’s presence with Joshua is another important theme in Joshua 1. The words “I will be with you” literarily bracket the heart of Yahweh’s commission (vv. 5, 9). That powerful presence guarantees that Joshua is unstoppable (v. 5) and Israel’s inheritance of Canaan under his leadership is inevitable (v. 6). It is that presence that backs up the commands to “be doggedly courageous” (vv. 6, 7, 9) and to “not be afraid” (v. 9). Without the presence, Joshua has everything to fear—stiff Canaanite resistance, a humiliating retreat or defeat, lost confidence in his leadership, and rebellions within Israel’s ranks. Such fears sap strength, weaken courage, and soften resolve. But with it Joshua need fear nothing. The presence empowers him to lead Israel with boldness, conviction, and confidence.

The reality of God’s presence—the reassuring formula “I am/will be with you”—undergirds much of the Bible. It reassured Jacob of safety and success as he fled frightened from Esau’s vengeance to seek a wife in Haran (Gen. 28:15). It also reassured him that he need not fear the perils of a return to Canaan (31:3). At the burning bush, “I will be with you” encouraged a nervous Moses to return to Egypt and lead Israel out of slavery. It countered Gideon’s terror of the marauding Midianites and gave him the courage to defeat them against humanly impossible odds (Judg. 6:16). Its power to rescue God’s imperiled servants emboldened Jeremiah to proclaim coming divine judgment without fear (Jer. 1:8, 19; 15:20). The power of that presence gave downcast Israel the courage to dream of returning home from exile (Isa. 41:10; 43:5) and the spirit to rebuild the temple when they got there (Hag. 1:3; 2:4).

Exodus 33–34 illustrates how crucial Israel regarded the presence of God. The golden calf episode had shown Israel to be stiff-necked and rebellious (Ex. 32). Yahweh announced that he would decide what to do with Israel (Ex. 33:5), a comment that suddenly casts grave doubt on Israel’s national future. But Moses intercedes for the people, pleading:

If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth? (Ex. 33:15–16; cf. 34:9)

Moses’ argument is simple but bold: “No presence, no go.” Without God’s presence with Israel, there is no point in leaving the Sinai desert for the Promised Land. Alone, Israel would face certain annihilation from its inhabitants. Israel’s chance of survival is far better in the desert where they might face only an occasional skirmish with other nomads. More important, Moses says, that presence marks Israel as God’s special people. No other people enjoy that distinction and the special favor it brings. Other peoples might know about Yahweh, respect him, and perhaps even worship him. But Israel’s distinguishing mark is that he lives only among them. It is the divine presence, and access to God’s power, which makes any Israelite undertaking viable. It alone banishes Israel’s fear.

Above all: “Hang together, people!” The text’s final theme concerns the unity of Israel as a people. This issue emerges from the fact that Reuben, Gad, and half of Manasseh already have their inheritance east of the Jordan. Humanly speaking, there seems to be no compelling reason for them to leave their families and risk their lives across the river. Yahweh has enough personal firepower to overwhelm any opponent. Victory does not depend on the size of the Israelite invasion force. Logically, why should they cross over to fight rather than to solidify Israel’s foothold on the east bank? Why not secure the rear for the west-bank venture?

However, is it fair for the west-bank tribes to let the Transjordanians get off so easy? Granted, from a human perspective, Yahweh’s will may not always be “fair.” For reasons known only to him, some people do suffer greater hardships in his service than others. But the point is to accept one’s lot, to trust in God’s wisdom and goodness, and to obey Yahweh whatever the circumstances. Here as elsewhere, however, human logic must give way to biblical theology. Theologically, Israel is not just a loose association of tribes but a single people. As Eissfeldt observed long ago, “To Israelite thought … unity is prior to diversity, the community is prior to the individual; the real entity is the community, and the individuals belonging to it have their origin therein.”59

Collective biblical terms reflect this profound sense of metaphysical unity that binds the tribes into one nation. Yahweh identifies Israel as his “firstborn son,” whom Pharaoh must free (Ex. 4:22–23; cf. Hos. 11:1), and frequently the name “Jacob” parallels “Israel.”60 The effect is to personify the whole people in a single person—Jacob, the ancestor from whom the people have descended.61 That sense of national solidarity undergirds the conviction that no tribe (Judg. 21:3, 6, 17) or city (2 Sam. 20:19–20) be cut off from Israel.

That underlying metaphysical unity also explains Moses’ demand of the Transjordanian tribes that the present context reiterates. No tribe may enjoy its long-awaited “rest” until every tribe does, and no tribe may fully possess its inheritance until every tribe does (Josh. 1:15).62 Israel does not really possess the Promised Land—that is, the patriarchal promise is not in fact fulfilled—until every tribe possesses its allotted share. The implied message of Joshua 1 is, “Hey, people, hang together no matter what!”

Further, potential divisions necessitate Joshua’s conversation with the Transjordanian tribes (vv. 12–18). They might have simply refused to cross the river, notwithstanding their prior promise. With the actual invasion of Canaan imminent, it is crucial that Israel unite behind the common enterprise of conquest. However minor, any discord, division, or dissent within the ranks poses a grave threat to Israel’s ability to subdue the land. At this crucial juncture, too much is at stake to tolerate tribal jealousies or personal vendettas. Most important, as never before, Israel must wholeheartedly trust the wisdom and judgment of their leader, Yahweh, and his on-site commander, Joshua. The Transjordanians’ declaration that anyone disobeying Joshua will face the death penalty (v. 18) hints at the possibility of future rebellions against Joshua. From a military viewpoint, fractious discussions about strategy or tactics will only halt forward movement, squander momentum, and undermine troop morale. Thus, Israel’s unity becomes of paramount importance.

Israel’s abysmal track record justifies the text’s concern for internal unity. Indeed, one suspects that the biblical writer writes with that sorry history in mind. Talk about a “dysfunctional family”—refractoriness seems to be a family trait! The book of Genesis narrates the family troubles among Israel’s ancestors. Recall the favoritism shown by Isaac and Rebekah toward Esau and Jacob, respectively (Gen. 25:28; 26:35), and the animosity that alienated the two brothers (chs. 27–28; 32–33). The jealous squabbling between Jacob’s twelve sons that fomented their crimes against Joseph (Gen. 37) betrays similar familial headstrongness (cf. also the portraits of tribes in Jacob’s blessings, Gen. 49).

Things do not improve later under Moses. No sooner had Yahweh liberated Israel from cruel Egyptian slavery than they complain against Moses over bitter water (Ex. 15:22–25) and shortages of food and water (ch. 16; 17:1–7). While Moses is away on Mount Sinai, they worship a golden calf in a wild, idolatrous incident that angers Yahweh (ch. 33). Later they question Moses’ leadership (Num. 11) and eventually, in response to the spies’ report, try to overthrow him and return to Egypt (Num. 13–14). One is not surprised by Moses’ assessment of Israel’s future conduct: “I know how rebellious and stiff-necked you are. If you have been rebellious against the LORD while I am still alive and with you, how much more will you rebel after I die!” (Deut. 31:27; cf. v. 29). One is also not surprised that, after Solomon’s death, once-united Israel split into separate countries (1 Kings 12).63

This is why the Bible stresses the unity of God’s people so strongly. Rebellions thwart the progress of God’s plan. They also squander the blessings that God desires his people to enjoy.

Contemporary Significance

Contemporary Significance

ONE SUMMER NIGHT DURING a severe thunderstorm a mother was tucking her small son into bed. She was about to turn the light off when, in a trembling voice, he asked, “Mommy, will you stay with me all night?” The mother smiled, gave him a warm, reassuring hug, and said tenderly, “I can’t dear. I have to sleep in Daddy’s room.”

A long silence followed as she moved toward the door. At last it was broken by a shaky voice saying, “The big sissy!”

Fear lurks in the background of Joshua 1. Fear of danger and fear of failure haunt the three scenes. Fear is an experience that all humans share. Since 9/11, I sense an intensification of fear among some people I know. They seem more wary of other people, especially foreigners, and they favor leadership that is tough or courageous. They speak openly of “the Evil One” (i.e., Satan) as a real presence—a spiritual terrorist plotting the spiritual ruin of themselves and their Christian friends. Joshua 1, however, points to four truths as the antidote to such fears: our unique identity as God’s people, our dependence on God’s word, our bond of unity with other believers, and God’s powerful presence with us.64

Our unique identity: a mission people. The scene in which God commissions Joshua closely parallels the scene in which Jesus issues the Great Commission to his disciples (Matt. 28:16–20). As Moses’ departure left Joshua in charge of Israel, so the Lord’s ascension to heaven left the church in the hands of the apostles (Acts 1:1–9). Both texts also feature a major geographical transition for God’s people. As Joshua’s commission launched Israel’s crossing into Canaan, Jesus’ Great Commission launched the exodus of God’s people from Canaan “to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). In that sense, as Christians take the gospel everywhere, they extend God’s commission of Joshua outward from the land of Israel to the rest of the world. Thus, execution of the Great Commission further carries out the commission given Joshua but pushes its horizons out to the earth’s limits. Certainly, the Great Commission echoes some provisions of Joshua’s mandate.

The commission first given to the apostles applies to all believers:

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age. (Matt. 28:19–20)

As with Joshua (“Cross!”), Jesus the Commander-in-Chief commands Christians to move forward (“Go!”). Fearful of the future, many Israelites might secretly have preferred to admire the Promised Land from the safety of Transjordan rather than risk actually entering Canaan. Harsh as nomadic life was, at least it was familiar, its dangers well known. It offered Israel a “comfort zone” to which they were long accustomed. The temptation to remain safely within a “comfort zone” also seduces Christians. At church we tend to arrive about the same time, park in the same parking space, sit in the same pew, and hang with the same people. Church activities with church people tend to clog our calendars, leaving little or no time for contacts with non-church people. We obey the command to “Go!”—we go to church!

Someone has suggested that there are four types of churches.65 The museum church resembles those found in Europe. They are old, beautiful, and empty. No one goes there for weekly worship. They are nothing but showpieces of the past. No spiritual vitality throbs within their ancient walls.

The maintenance church does a little better. It is almost empty but hanging on. Its mission is simply to survive—to maintain itself against the spiritual and social changes swirling around it. It survives by slavish devotion to its creed, The Seven Last Words of the Church: “We never did it that way before.” But as its stalwart members inevitably die off, it will soon become a museum church.

The ministry church, by contrast, pursues genuine Christian ministry but only to people already within the church. Its offers a full calendar of activities—Sunday worship with coffee and donuts afterward, Bible studies and prayer meetings galore, a good youth group, weekly choir rehearsal, special annual holiday services, summer camps for all ages, and monthly potluck dinners for fellowship. A fine staff of loving pastors and devoted members administer its full-service program, and it generously supports many missionaries around the globe. But it lacks only one thing—ministry contact with people outside the church. It would rather stay securely across the Jordan than to cross into their territory to engage them in conversation.

It is the mission church that offers truly “full-service” ministry.66 It cares for its own members and reaches out to serve its community and to win the lost. It takes Jesus’ command to “Go!” seriously. It goes out the church door into the neighborhood. It understands that its purpose is to “make disciples” (Gk. matheteusate) of those who are not already followers of Jesus.67 Our contacts and conversations with them aim to draw them into his circle of friends. In a sense, our evangelism follows up several episodes in the book of Joshua. Chapters 2 and 6 tell us how the prostitute Rahab came to survive Israel’s first military victory and to become part of Israel. Her remarkable confession about Israel’s God saved her life and earned her membership in Israel (see the commentary at ch. 2). Chapters 9–10 add another slightly different precedent, the sparing of the people of Gibeon. They, too, confess the greatness of Yahweh and end up serving at the temple, albeit doing menial tasks.

The point is that Christians always keep the doorway into the people of God open to outsiders. Indeed, our unique identity in Christ compels us regularly to cross from the safe sanctuary of church life to rub shoulders with neighbors, to listen to their thoughts, and to show our love for Christ in practical ways. Under God’s good hand, such “crossing/going” will open the way for mutual sharing—how they see their lives and how Jesus enriches ours. Hopefully, over time—and after many honest, low-key exchanges—some will surrender to the call of Jesus and become his followers.

When that happens, our commission requires two further steps.68 First, we baptize them. This familiar ritual of initiation symbolizes their identification with Jesus’ death and resurrection (cf. Rom. 6). Through baptism they publically declare their commitment to be Jesus’ disciples. We who have witnessed baptisms know how joyous those ceremonies are! (For more on this see the Contemporary Significance section of Josh. 8:30–35.)

But baptism marks only the first step of discipleship. Jesus’ second requirement is that we “[teach] them to obey everything I have commanded you” (v. 20). Here, too, our commission echoes that of Joshua. His success hangs on his study and obedience of the teaching of Moses. The same is true of new Christian disciples: We must teach them to do (i.e., to obey) “everything I have commanded you.” Strikingly, we are not to teach them just to “know” what Jesus commanded—to be able to summarize his main ideas or to paraphrase his key statements. It is not enough for them simply to learn to recite catechisms or creeds about him. Such practices serve all disciples well, but they do not quite meet Jesus’ expectations. His demand is that we teach them to “do” his commands—to put them into daily practice. Disciples are to do them on the job site, in the office, in the supermarket, in the classroom, at the gas pump, at the bus stop, across the back fence, and in the living room.

Our manual for success: God’s Word. Most organizations have a manual of some kind that details their policies and procedures. That was true when I joined the Navy in 1970 and when I joined the faculty of North Park Theological Seminary in 1995. Life in the Navy is governed by a huge document, Navy Regulations, that covers every imaginable topic. Also, major Navy commands write specific instructions that govern their specific areas of responsibility. For example, one instruction promulgates Navy policy concerning the duties of chaplains, another the rules for handling religious offerings. North Park has two handbooks, one for faculty and another for students.

The purpose of all these manuals is to clarify procedures and expectations of members of the communities they govern. They detail the pathways to function properly within the organization. People who consult the manual get along fine, but people who ignore it soon run afoul of the organization’s leaders or members. But such manuals do more than lay down rules. They also cultivate a culture of cooperation and fairness—a community, as it were—within the membership. They also voice the values that members share. In short, they show members how to be successful within the organization.

God gave Joshua such a manual to guide his service for God. God stressed how crucial Moses’ Instruction would be for Joshua’s success. It told him what to do and not do to enjoy God’s full favor. Our study of Scripture takes on a similar urgency if we are to be successful followers of Jesus. If Jesus’ example is to shape our lives, we need constant immersion in his life and teachings for success. Only as we see Jesus in action with real people and “meditate day and night” on his words will they “not depart from our mouth.” Only then—and certainly over much time—will our actions take on the character of true Christlikeness.

Bear in mind, too, that according to Jesus, the test of Christian discipleship is not how fellow believers see us but how the outside world does. For example, he calls us to obey the two great commandments (Matt. 22:37–39). The first is: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (quoting Deut. 6:5). The second says, “Love your neighbor as yourself” (quoting Lev. 19:18). Jesus orders us to pour our all into loving God and loving our neighbor with the same level of love that we give to ourselves. He leaves us no wiggle room for negotiation on these. No disciple can truly love God only with his or her mind because purely intellectual love is only partial love. Neither can a disciple love God only with his or her heart because purely emotional love is only partial love, too. No, true love of God invests the whole self in actions that demonstrate genuine commitment to a personal relationship with God.

Jesus also allows no exceptions in the love of neighbor. Someone once replied, “Oh, I love my fellow humans, alright; it’s just the people next door I can’t stand!” Such hairsplitting is unworthy of a follower of Jesus, who lovingly forgave even those responsible for his death (Luke 23:34). As the new Moses, Jesus also issued a new commandment of his own: “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34–35).

Jesus commands his followers to love each other. Of course, one wonders what it means to “love one another.” Jesus explains that such love is “as I have loved you.” Jesus’ love for us is the standard by which we gauge whether our treatment of each other qualifies as truly Christlike. Jesus did not merely “tolerate” us but genuinely “loved” us. He gave his own life on the cross so that we might escape eternal death and enjoy eternal life. We were first drawn to him by his love, and our love for others is to draw others to his love, too.

A poignant scene in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King illustrates this biblical dynamic of love. Pippin comforts Denethor, the last ruling Steward of Gondor, after the death of his eldest son, Boromir. Boromir’s warrior skills had won him the rank of Captain of the White Tower. At a secret meeting in the Elf-city of Rivendell, Boromir, the hobbits Frodo, Pippin, Merry, and Aragorn (another human) had formed the Fellowship of the Ring. The mission of this elite Fellowship was to destroy the ring and its magical powers by delivering it to the fires of Mount Doom. Destruction of the ring would finally defeat the evil Sauron.

Together the Fellowship set off for the Mount on their important mission. En route, however, the defenseless Pippen and Merry suddenly find themselves alone and facing an oncoming attack by the wizard Saruman’s Uruk-hai. Boromir soon comes to their rescue and valiantly keeps the attackers at bay until mortally wounded by three arrows in the chest. Later, Pippin visits Denethor, who is deeply grieving his son Boromir’s death. Sensitive to Denethor’s grief and owning his own debt to Boromir’s bravery, Pippin offers his life in service to the Steward—his life for Boromir’s life. He does so because Boromir died while saving his life from the attacking Uruk-hai.

Similarly, Jesus’ sacrifice of his own life dramatically put on public display his tremendous love for us. That sacrifice spared us eternal death and opened the way for us to experience eternal life. We commit ourselves to follow the risen Jesus because he first loved us (cf. 1 John 4:19). By displaying the same sacrificial love to others, we give people a glimpse of Jesus’ love and draw them to salvation in him. But we will only understand what that sacrificial love looks like by meditating on the Jesus Manual—the Scriptures.

“Hang together, people!” The ringing phone some years ago surprised me. The caller was my pastor asking me to meet with him and the assistant pastor. I agreed, although my hunch was that the appointment had to do with recent church troubles. In my view, a pastoral transition several years earlier had gone poorly. Many of my closest friends had already migrated to other congregations, and my wife and I increasingly lost confidence in the pastor’s leadership. Occasionally, I privately vented my frustrations to Christian friends and publically opposed new pastoral initiatives that I deemed unwise in light of the ongoing congregational exodus. Thus, I was not surprised at the meeting when the pastors confronted me with Hebrews 13:17:

Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you.

They asked me how my actions related to that instruction. More than a decade later, guilt over my conduct throughout that experience still pains me. I still wonder if I contributed to the division that was rending that congregation. Theologically, I affirm the priority of church unity and abominate those who sow division. For several years my wife and I struggled against a growing spiritual malaise as people continued to leave the church. Attempts to rouse the elder board to action met with sympathetic but unyielding resistance. It amounted to a classic church split in slow motion. Attendance numbers dwindled, giving declined, and even support of missionaries suffered from the budget shortfall. Only when the pastor’s marital infidelity came to light—a surprise to everyone, I might add—did the board act to remove him from leadership.

Sadly, many of us have suffered through such splits, some even more acrimonious than my example. Despite the spiritual warfare raging all around, wars often break out inside churches. Members fall out with each other over the color of the sanctuary’s new carpet or whether the service should begin at 10:30 or 11:00. A recent flashpoint in some congregations has been controversy over the style of worship—contemporary, traditional, or blended. The feelings on all sides run so high and the conflict so sharp that “worship wars” may erupt.

But our study of Israel’s unity reminds us of the importance of congregational unity. In fact, the same corporate assumption that bound Israel as one people underlies this later comment of Paul: “If one part suffers, all suffer together with it; if one part is honored, all rejoice together with it” (1 Cor. 12:26). Indeed, Paul’s theology of the church as the body of Christ (1 Cor. 12) derives its corporate assumption from the Old Testament idea of Israel. In his view, the one communion loaf that Christians share symbolizes that “we, who are many, are one body” (10:17).

Paul articulates several principles that bear review in light of the ever-present danger of church disunity. (1) He stresses that as many members comprise the human body (i.e., eyes, ears, hands, feet, etc.) and yet it remains a single living organism, so it is with the church (1 Cor. 12:12, 20). In other words, when a local church meets for worship, it meets as only one body with many parts, not as a collection of bodies sitting in the same building.

(2) Paul says that that unity even transcends the church’s ethnic (“Jews or Greeks”) and economic (“slave or free”) diversity (1 Cor. 12:13; cf. Eph. 2:16; 3:6). The diversity of members, he says, makes the church a complete, healthy organism. It has all its “members”—hands to handle objects and feet to maneuver. But its unity affirms that each member, however lowly in human eyes, is indispensable to the functioning of the whole (1 Cor. 12:16–19; cf. Eph. 4:16). I think Paul would applaud the diversity of some contemporary churches that provide worship services in various languages. The “Jews or Greeks” of Paul’s day compare to the Koreans and Hispanics of today. It must warm God’s heart each week to hear his praises echo from the same building in many tongues!

And such multiethnicity is not limited only to large cities. I have seen signs announcing ethnic services in smaller towns, too. But I think Paul would ask whether that building houses one church body or several. I think he would challenge us to build bridges across congregations, to strive to support each other, and ideally to function truly as a single body with members speaking several tongues. Paul would push us beyond the dominance of one congregation, usually the English-speaking one, over the non-English ones. Whether about offerings, office space, or office hours, I believe that Paul would desire each multiethnic body to function truly as a single body, sharing its resources equitably regardless of whose contributions fund most of the budget.

(3) Paul says that the church’s unity prohibits one member from denigrating another as unnecessary to the body’s work (1 Cor. 12:21–22). Indeed, Paul pushes the metaphor one further, even more radical, step. Within the body of Christ, God gives greater honor to its weakest members than to its strongest ones (v. 24). In other words, people whom society dishonors—for example, the poor, the indigent, the diseased, the mentally ill, the physically disabled—God honors more within the body than those humanly deemed “more important.” This is a radical demand, indeed! Imagine a worship service in which a smelly, unkept beggar reads the Scripture while a man in a pin-striped suit is ushered to a back row. Picture a service in which the church awards a “certificate of merit” to several members. One goes to the hard-working single parent who succeeds simply by getting the family through the week, the other to a naturally-gifted leader who led a wonderful missions trip. That is the kind of body Paul has in mind.

Sadly, the roles are more likely to be reversed in most churches. I have several Christian friends whose cerebral palsy has left them physically disabled and unable to speak clearly. They even joke about talking a foreign language called “C-P-ese” (“C-P” for cerebral palsy). I am appalled at the dishonorable treatment they sometimes receive from churches. Ushers routinely seat them either out of sight, so they cannot be noticed and upset anyone, or in the aisle, where people have to go around them to enter or exit. Such treatment implies that my friends’ attendance is an unwelcome bother because their physical disabilities make other members uncomfortable.

It is no wonder that, according to a denominational report I read some years ago, people with disabilities is one of the least evangelized populations in America today. Paul, by contrast, would urge our congregations to depart from the norm of the larger society by honoring those whom society ignores. The upshot of Paul’s teaching is that Christian unity outlaws divisions and promotes mutual concern of Christians for each other (1 Cor. 12:25). Because the church is an integral body, the pain of one member pains the whole body and the joy of one member makes the whole body rejoice (v. 26). In short, just as Israel with its various tribes was one people, so the church today with its diverse membership is one unified people of God.69

(4) Finally, Israel’s history of refractoriness should alert contemporary Christians to the danger that similar conduct today poses to the church. Indeed, disunity is not the exclusive province of Israel. Fault lines of division also threatened the New Testament church. Members in the church at Corinth, for example, quarreled over the person who had baptized them. Apparently, they thought that being baptized by Apollos should enhance their status in the church (1 Cor. 1:10–16). They also disputed Paul’s rights as an apostle (ch. 9) as did Jewish Christians in the region of Galatia (Gal. 1:11–12). They also insisted that new Gentile converts be circumcised and obey pharisaic law (Gal. 2:15–16; 5:2–6). In each case, Paul rebutted their errors and pled for unity—sadly, a plea that needs to be heard today, too.

In reality, the theological roots of refractoriness run back to the Garden of Eden. God told Adam and Eve, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden” (Gen. 2:16). He generously granted the first human pair free access to the surrounding bounty. Sadly, what preoccupied them was the one tree declared off-limits, the “tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (2:17; 3:2–3). They cared little that to eat of it would mean death. They rebelled, ate, and doomed humanity, including Israel and the church, to a sad history of jealousy, violence, and death. Israel’s rebellions and Christian divisions are nothing less than symptoms of sinful human corruption.

In the epic novel The Brothers Karamazov, Dostoyevsky aptly diagnoses the underlying disease:

All mankind in our age have split up into units. Man keeps apart, each in his own groove; each one holds aloof, hides himself and hides what he has, from the rest. He ends by being repelled by others and repelling him. He heaps up riches by himself and thinks, “How strong I am now and how secure.” And in his madness he does not understand that the more he heaps up, the more he sinks into self-destructive impotence. For he is accustomed to rely upon himself alone and to cut himself off from the whole; he has trained himself not to believe in the help of others, in men and in humanity, and only trembles for fear he should lose his money and the privileges that he has won for himself. Everywhere in these days men have ceased to understand that the true security is to be found in social solidarity rather than in isolated individual effort.70

That portrait fits Western culture today. But it is precisely here that Jesus calls the church to counter that cultural decadence with a healthy, thriving corporate model. As Christians, we need not follow Joshua 1:18 literally. We need not execute fellow Christians who sow dissension and disunity, to say nothing of division, in the church. But we do need at least to treat such refractoriness with the same seriousness. The unity of the body—and its very effectiveness as God’s instrument in the world—are at stake.

That was the point of Joshua’s talk with the Transjordanian tribes. It reminds us that God’s people comprise a single body whose diverse parts live to support and enrich all the others. The warfare in which we are engaged may be spiritual rather than physical, but it is no less threatening. Only a healthy congregation—one whose members egg each other on and hold each other up—will win any battles. That is why Jesus asks us to make unity—warm, genuine, mutual commitment to our fellow believers—our top priority. Only when we enjoy that quality of harmony will our churches enjoy “rest”—a level of wholesome life together that outsiders will find appealing. Only that kind of unity will compel the watching world to stop and take us seriously.

The second act of the musical Monty Python’s Spamalot features a song called “I’m All Alone.” By this point in the plot, King Arthur has reached a point of despair: The Holy Grail is out of reach, and he feels all alone. The stage grows dark, but in the spotlight King Arthur begins in song to lament his desperate loneliness. The audience, however, begins to laugh because, while the king decries being alone, King Arthur’s servant, Patsy, stands beside him with an exasperated look on his face. King Arthur is not alone! Patsy has faithfully remained at his side during the whole play. As Arthur again sings the chorus “I’m all alone,” Patsy echoes, “He’s all alone,” reminding the king of his presence. But Arthur’s blindness persists. As he sings “all by myself,” Patsy responds, “except for me.” Through the rest of the song, Arthur and Patsy humorously go back-and-forth: “I’m all alone” (Arthur) … “although I’m here” (Patsy) … “So all alone” (Arthur) … “so very near” (Patsy). Soon, all of King Arthur’s knights have joined the pair and joined in the song. At the end, everyone is singing the chorus, “We’re all alone.” The humorous irony of the scene is not lost on the audience. They see a stage full of people ridiculously claiming that they are all alone.71

Unlike poor King Arthur, we Christians are not alone. We are surrounded by sisters and brothers, all part of the body of Christ. They pick up our spirits when we are down, lift us up when we fall, walk with us through our dark valleys, and celebrate our triumphs. Our task is to look up from our isolated self-preoccupation and recognize that they are there—and that they care, too.

The powerful presence. Finally, like Joshua, we also have the assurance of Jesus’ presence with us as part of the Great Commission: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:20b). Joshua led Israel across the Jordan to face the Canaanites because God promised to be with him. Like Israel under Joshua, we Christians are an army engaged in warfare—a spiritual army fighting a spiritual war against a powerful spiritual enemy. Like Joshua and Israel, we face many dangers and live with many fears. But we are not alone—Jesus promised to be with us every moment. As that reassurance banished Joshua’s fears, so it should ours as well.

Some time ago, I heard a fascinating story that brings home this truth about Jesus’ presence with us. A mother had agreed to drive her son’s car from Michigan to California as part of his move there. It was Christmas-time, so the plan called for her to drive the car out, for her husband to fly there for the holiday, and for the two of them to fly home from California together. The day before her departure, however, the woman fell and broke her left wrist. Despite the cumbersome cast from wrist to elbow, she decided to go anyway and carefully planned the long trip.

About the fourth day out, she felt so tired that she pulled off the road for a short nap, then drove to a restaurant for coffee and a few phone calls to friends who lived nearby. As she stepped outside the restaurant, things got interesting. A man approached and asked if she was driving a Ford Explorer with Michigan plates, and whether she had pulled off the road somewhere earlier. The woman was understandably apprehensive about being questioned by a stranger, but he assured her that he meant no harm. Once she answered his questions, he asked her to wait while he made a phone call and then promised to explain.

When he returned, he told her that truck drivers had been following her since Indiana. One of them had noticed this little white-haired lady, with a cast on her left arm, driving a stick-shift across the country. They had taken it upon themselves to watch over her. Unbeknownst to her, they carefully tracked her to the motels she stayed each evening. Each morning another trucker would pick up her trail and shadow her progress. If a trucker had to exit, he would radio another rig-driver to take his place. When she pulled off for that nap, they had lost track of her and were about to alert the State Police. They were still seriously searching for her when one of them spotted her car at the restaurant. The woman had no idea that somebody cared enough about her to initiate such a protection plan. Until that moment, she had been totally unaware that, across all the miles, someone was looking after her day and night.

The presence of Jesus with us is no less watchful and faithful. Armed with his simple assurance (“I am with you”), we Christian soldiers can daily march into war. The spiritual battlefield may be our own homes, neighborhoods, job sites—perhaps even our own souls. Our lives seek to mirror the model of our Lord—or, at least, that is our dream. Like him, we bring good news to a broken, hurting, lost world. And we do so with fear offset, if not banished, by the wonderful reality that, come what may, we are “never alone.” As recent writers put it,

The truly good news is that God is not a distant God, a God to be feared and avoided, a God of revenge, but a God who is moved by our pains and participates in the fullness of the human struggle. The miraculous cures in the Gospels are hopeful and joyful reminders of this good news, which is our true consolation and comfort.72