Original Meaning

Yahweh’s Commission to Joshua (13:1–33)

The Commission Proper (vv. 1–7)

THE COMMISSION PROPER (VV. 1–7). Joshua’s advanced age leads Yahweh to raise an important matter.12 What is to be done about the “very large areas of land [still] to be taken over” (v. 1)? Before Yahweh commissions Joshua to distribute Canaan among the tribes (vv. 6b–7), Yahweh surveys the land that remains to be conquered (vv. 2–6a). His concern is twofold (v. 6): Because of Joshua’s old age, someone else will have to liberate the above lands later from possession by non-Israelites, and yet Joshua is to include those unconquered lands in the distribution.

After twice celebrating that “Joshua took the entire land” (11:16, 23), the book’s mention of unconquered areas may strike some readers as a contradiction. The comment should not surprise us, however, since (as noted above) the existence of areas of Canaan still awaiting conquest is implicit both in the conquest narrative (Josh. 6–11) and in the celebratory list of kings (Josh. 12). Also, the celebratory claims probably reflect a touch of authorial hyperbole. The remaining land includes two large swaths along the Mediterranean coast (13:2–3, 4), one from the Egyptian border to Ekron (the Philistines, Geshurites, Avvites, Canaanites), the other through Phoenicia north of the plain of Acco or the Litani River (the Sidonians).13 It also includes land east of the Sea of Galilee (the Gebalites).14 The Sidonians, however, Yahweh promises to destroy (NIV “drive out”) himself rather to leave the matter to Israel, so Joshua must include their territories in the distribution of inheritances (v. 6).15

In verse 7, Yahweh formally (lit., “And now …”) commissions Joshua to “apportion” (halaq pi.) the entire land—that just described and the parts already within Israelite control—among the nine-and-a-half tribes. This command governs all the activity through 19:51. As we will see, the means of dividing them is to cast lots (lit., “throw it down”; NIV “allocate this land”). Theologically, Israel presumes that Yahweh invisibly guides the process of lot-casting that decides who gets what (e.g., 14:2; 18:11; 19:1). So, Israel accepts the results as Yahweh’s will. But the question is, what about land for the other two-and-one-half tribes? That question occasions a glance backward.

Retrospective Review (vv. 8–33)

Retrospective review (vv. 8–33). This section reviews Moses’ prior land allocations east of the Jordan to two-and-a-half tribes (cf. Num. 32:33–42).16 He did so on one condition—that they fight to win inheritances for the other tribes on the west side of the Jordan. As Israel prepared to cross the river, Joshua reminded them of their acceptance of that stipulation (Josh. 1:12–18; cf. 4:12). Now, for Joshua to launch his long land distribution report with the Transjordanian tribes makes chronological sense since they had received their land first. But it also makes the important point that every tribe—the entire nation—received its inheritance from either Moses or Joshua—and on both sides of the Jordan.

Thematically, this retrospective adds details to the description in 12:1–6 and anticipates Joshua’s later dismissal of the east-bank tribes to their lands (ch. 22). The review begins by surveying the geographical sweep of all the land allotted in Transjordan. Two cities, Aroer on the rim of the Arnon River gorge and an unnamed one mid-river, mark its southern boundary (and its boundary with Moab to the south). To the north it extends across the Medeba plateau to the Ammonite border (i.e., the Jabbok River [Deut. 3:16; Josh. 12:2]).17 It includes the city of Dibon a few miles away as well as the cities that King Sihon ruled from his capital at Heshbon twenty miles north (vv. 9–10).

It also incorporates land farther north—Gilead, the lands of the Geshurites and Maacathites, Mount Hermon, and Bashan as far east as Salecah (v. 11). The latter formerly belonged to King Og, another Transjordanian monarch who ruled from twin capitals, Ashtaroth and Edrei. Moses and Israel also destroyed him, laying claim by conquest to his territory (v. 12; cf. Num. 32:33–35). But, stepping forward in history a moment, the author notes parenthetically that Israel failed to destroy Geshur and Maacah, so they still lived amid Israel in his own day (13:13). This marks the first mention of a theme soon to become prominent, the inability of some tribes to destroy peoples occupying Israel’s lands (see Josh. 15:63; 16:10; 17:12). The author also comments that the tribe of Levi received no land east of the Jordan because their God-given inheritance comprised fire offerings (see comments above).

The retrospective next details the inheritance in Transjordan that Moses gave to Reuben (vv. 15–23), Gad (vv. 24–28), and East Manasseh (vv. 29–32).18 Reuben’s holdings run along the east bank of the Jordan from the Arnon River gorge past the city of Medeba to Heshbon, all territory in the Medeba plateau formerly in Sihon’s kingdom.19 It includes twelve towns dominated by the city-state of Heshbon. Zereth Shahar appears only here, while the rest find brief mention in itineraries in Numbers (chs. 21, 22, and 32) and Deuteronomy (chs. 2–4).20 The town list may incorporate an ancient source or the writer’s own composition drawing on biblical materials just mentioned.21

Perhaps reminded by Beth Peor (v. 20), the site near the Plains of Moab of a notorious episode of Israelite apostasy (Num. 25), the writer mentions another casualty of the conflict in Transjordan, the diviner Balaam (v. 22; cf. 31:16). Subtly, the reference reminds Israel of the dangers that non-Israelites pose to Israel’s exclusive devotion to Yahweh, a theme that Joshua himself will sound (ch. 23). So, the writer concludes, the above constitutes the inheritance of Reuben, clan by clan, both towns and unwalled farming villages.

The opening formula “Moses had given to …” (v. 24) and its concluding counterpart (v. 28) bracket the report of the inheritance Moses gave the tribe of Gad. In general, the report is briefer, less detailed, and less clear than that of Reuben. It combines boundary descriptions, a town list, and some general geographical references. Gad’s inheritance included Jazer (v. 25), a town (and region) about ten miles north of Heshbon already taken by the Gadites (Num. 21:32; 32:35) and destined to become a levitical city (Josh. 21:39);22 all the towns in southern Gilead south of the Jabbok and half of Ammonite territory as far as Aroer, a town just west of Rabbah (modern Amman, Jordan) that the Gadites also later built up (Num. 32:34); territory falling between two north-south axes—between Heshbon and two towns, Ramath Mizpah and Betonim (locations unknown; v. 26), and from Mahanaim (north bank of the Jabbok east of the Jordan)23 to the territory of Debir (somewhere in eastern Gilead); four towns in the Jordan Valley, the best known of which are Succoth and Zaphon thought to be near where the Jabbok enters the Jordan; and, finally, the rest of Og’s kingdom east of the Jordan and north to the Sea of Galilee (v. 27). Admittedly, the picture is murky, but Gad’s land lay north of Reuben’s, ran north along the Jordan Valley, and involved the Jabbok River as a boundary on the north and (perhaps) the east.24 The concluding formula (v. 28) exactly matches that for Reuben (v. 24b), citing the towns and unwalled villages within Gad’s terrain.

The inheritance of East Manasseh receives an even briefer, vaguer report than Gad’s (vv. 29–31). Again, “Moses had given …” opens it but, unlike those for Reuben and Gad, no concluding formula ends it. Its southern boundary is at Mahanaim (v. 30; cf. v. 26), but the description turns sweeping, general, and imprecise: It extends north to “all of Bashan” and “the entire realm of Og”—truly an imprecise end point. That realm includes sixty towns in Bashan associated with Jair along with half of Gilead (i.e., north of the Jabbok; v. 31a; cf. 12:2, 5),25 and Og’s two royal cities, Ashtaroth and Edrei (the latter, way east of the Jordan along the Yarmuk River). Jair may be the judge “Jair of Gilead” whose thirty sons, according to Judges, “controlled thirty towns in Gilead, which to this day are called Havvoth Jair” (Judg. 10:4).26 Boling plausibly suggests that ḥawwot yaʾir (lit., “villages of Jair”) may be an ancient name for the group of villages in Bashan conquered by the Manasseite Jair (Num. 32:41; Deut 3:13–14; cf. Josh. 17:1–6; 1 Chron. 2:22–23).27 If so, despite its geographical imprecision, the term may preserve an early Manasseite memory of its ancestral holdings. In short, East Manasseh’s inheritance belongs to half of the clan of Makir (v. 31b), undoubtedly a major clan descended from a prominent ancestor, the other half inheriting land west of the Jordan in West Manasseh.

Verse 32 sums up the entire retrospective (“this is the inheritance Moses had given …”). It anchors the historic moment at its historic site, “the plains of Moab across the Jordan east of Jericho” (Num. 22:1; 26:3). For the second time (cf. Josh. 13:14) the writer mentions that Moses gave no inheritance to the tribe of Levi (v. 33). The rationale this time, however, is that Yahweh himself is Levi’s inheritance, just as Yahweh promised them (cf. 14:3–4). Set aside for Yahweh’s service (Ex. 32:26–29), the tribe of Levi enjoyed the special blessing of ongoing contact with him and his personal provision of their financial needs (i.e., Israel’s tithes and offerings). Levi formed the human bridge between holy Yahweh and unholy Israel that maintained their relationship. The theme of Levi’s inheritance here will soon recur (Josh. 14:3–4; 18:7) and reach its culmination in ch. 21. In sum, chapter 13 affirms that Moses gave Israel’s Transjordanian tribes their inheritances—and, thereby, the basis for their land claims—and reasserts that, despite the barrier of the Jordan, they help comprise larger Israel.

Joshua’s Obedience: The First Allotment (14:1–17:18)

Bridging Contexts

THOUGH COMPLEX TERRAIN, JOSHUA 13–19 raises several subjects for further discussion in preparation for exploring their contemporary meaning. Additional background concerning Israel’s understanding of inheritance will set the scene for treatment of the inheritance theme in the New Testament. In light of this history of violent conflict over the piece of land once called Canaan, the reader’s most pressing question perhaps might concern who owns the land today.

The promised inheritance—at last! Earlier I commented that, however boring and irrelevant these chapters may strike modern readers, they actually comprise the heart of the book.107 The reason is that they consummate a biblical theme that spans the Bible’s first six books and echoes in many others. Specifically, they give tangible—maybe all too tangible!—proof that Israel has finally received something God promised to give them long ago.

Recall that a single catalyst—the promise to Israel’s ancestors of the land of Canaan—has driven the long, convoluted story of Israel. God first gave the promise to Abraham (12:7; 13:15, 17; 15:18; 17:8), then reiterated it to Isaac (26:3) and Jacob (28:13–15; 35:12; 48:4). Four centuries later in Egypt, Yahweh invoked anticipation of the land promised the patriarchs in establishing the Passover (Ex. 13:5, 11). At Mount Sinai he also guaranteed Israel long life there if they keep his command to honor their parents (Ex. 20:12). By then, Israel could only ponder that land as a far-off, enchanted, mythical Never-Never Land—a place to be sweetly savored with the imagination but not seen with the eyes. When Israel left Sinai, that land and its happy prospects were to be their immediate destination (Deut. 1:8). But, alas, it was entry into “the land I promised on oath to their forefathers” that the frightened rebels in the wilderness soon forfeited (Num. 14:23; Deut. 1:35).

Forty years later, on the Plains of Moab beside the Jordan, with the long-promised land clearly visible in the distance, Moses also invoked that phrase to motivate Israel to stay loyal to Yahweh (Deut. 6:18; 8:1). Thoughts of the land buttressed his exhortation to Joshua as his successor: To Joshua belonged the double privilege of going there with Israel and of later dividing it up (naḥal hi.) among them as their inheritance (Deut. 31:7; cf. Josh. 1:6). Finally, the theme of the Promised Land forms a literary envelope around Joshua 1–21. God exhorts Joshua to “be strong and courageous” since he is about to “lead these people to inherit [naḥal, hi.] the land I swore to their forefathers to give them” (1:6).

After assuming leadership of Israel, Joshua’s first orders were for Israel to prepare to cross into the land to “take possession of the land the LORD your God is giving you” (1:11). Many battles and lot-castings later, the biblical narrator can write in retrospect, “So the LORD gave Israel all the land he had sworn to give their forefathers, and they took possession of it and settled there” (21:43). In short, the story of Israel from the patriarchs to Joshua 21 is about finally reaching and owning Never-Never Land after nearly seven centuries of waiting and imagining.

But what does it mean that Canaan is Israel’s “inheritance”? The Hebrew verb naḥal (“to receive property”) and its noun naḥalah (“inheritance”) are basically legal terms that concern the passing of tangible property from an ancestor to succeeding heirs. It assumes that an estate is being divided among joint heirs, each of whom “receives” his or her rightful portion (an “inheritance”), not the whole estate.108 This legal background illumines the distribution of land in Joshua 13–19.

It may be significant that these chapters refer to those receiving their inheritances (NIV “Israelites”) as (lit.) “the children of Israel” (or Jacob). This might assume Jacob as the ancestor whose estate is being divided among his twelve children. If so, the roots of that assumption may go back to Abraham’s visual survey of and walk through Canaan, gestures through which he symbolically claimed ownership of it (e.g., Gen. 13:13, 17).109 More likely, however, the presumed owner is Yahweh himself, since the Bible universally acknowledges him as the land’s “giver” (Deut. 32:49; Josh. 1:2, 11; 2:9, 14; 18:3). Indeed, Yahweh is the one who authorizes the apportioning to begin (14:2), further confirmation of his ownership of Canaan.

Nevertheless, while Yahweh gives the land, Israel still must actually “take possession” (yaraš) of it (Deut. 1:39; Josh. 1:15a; 21:43). Often paralleled with naḥal and naḥalah, yaraš merits a brief comment. In the context of military conquest (e.g., Joshua), the verb probably refers to “juridical seizure of enemy territory after battle.”110 To “take possession” explicitly or implicitly involves the military conquest of the current occupants of a place. Hence, the proper rendering of the verb is “to destroy,” after which the legitimate assumption of legal ownership falls to the destroyer.111 As Lohfink writes:

The fact that the territory of nation A has been taken possession of by nation B (qal) is legitimated by the destruction of nation A by the god of nation B (hiphil), so that nation B can be the legal successor of nation A (qal).112

But what does Joshua mean when the text says that Yahweh “gives” something? The model that this compares most closely to is the ancient practice of the royal land grant.113 The motif may assume one of two premises: a feudal principle that the king may give away title to lands he owns in exchange for services rendered him (cf. 1 Sam. 8:14; 22:7; 27:6), or the premise that the whole land is ultimately royal property. Whatever the assumption (the texts are unclear), the Bible clearly understands Yahweh as king (see comments in ch. 12) and, hence, ancient laws concerning kingship offer illuminating analogies for Joshua 13–19.

To be specific, as cosmic king, Yahweh rules over the nations as his subjects and the lands as his territory, including agricultural land. His “giving” of land is, thus, a legal act of title transfer—in Israel’s case, an action to which he committed himself in advance. In this context, the verb yaraš assumes that the “giving” (i.e., the legal title transfer by the king) has already taken place and states that the new owner now “takes possession of” (i.e., exercises ownership over) the former royal land. Further, it clearly assumes that the latter step takes place in a specific way, by military conquest.

The metaphor of royal land grant also applies to the lands granted to Caleb and Joshua.114 Each has rendered valuable service to Yahweh and his program for Israel, and King Yahweh rewards each with an appropriate royal land grant. Each receives a city—Hebron and its environs (Caleb) and Timnath Serah (Joshua)—and in each case military conquest comprises an integral part of the process of taking possession. Caleb must destroy the Anakites from Hebron (Josh. 15:13–14), and Joshua (more generally) the Canaanites from the land as a whole. That Caleb later grants Othniel and Acsah title to portions of his allotment (15:18–19) confirms that Yahweh’s land grant endowed him with the full legal rights of ownership.

All the above examples of Yahweh’s gift of land illustrate that God is a promise keeper. He promised Abraham that his descendants would inherit Canaan and Joshua 13–19 confirms that they did. He promised Caleb and Joshua inheritances in the Promised Land, and both received them. Theologically, this mirrors one of God’s attributes, his unwavering reliability. As Balaam told King Balak, “God is not a human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?” (Num. 23:19 TNIV). The obvious answer is, “Absolutely not!” God is consummately reliable; he keeps his word.

Joshua 13 illustrates another aspect of God’s character worthy of comment. Recall that, in the context of Joshua’s old age (v. 1), Yahweh surveys the areas within the land promised to Israel that remain unconquered (vv. 2–5). God voices no opinion as to what is to be done about them. In my view, his silence leaves the responsibility with Israel. But the Sidonians who live along the coast around Tyre and Sidon God himself promises to destroy (v. 6). This promise intrigues me because it underscores that God himself takes on the responsibility for doing this. In my view, the most likely reason is that, at the time, Israel was militarily stretched with taking over territory farther south, so God, as it were, applies his power to compensate for Israel’s weakness.

The solemn covenant-sealing ceremony in Genesis 15 makes a similar point. God had reassured Abram of the promise of land and descendants and asked him to bring several kinds of animals to God. Abram cut each of them in half and set them across from each other and then, mysteriously, fell into a deep sleep overwhelmed by a “thick and dreadful darkness” (15:12). Then Abram watched as a smoking firepot and torch passed between the separated pieces. The animal pieces symbolized the deadly consequences of covenant breach by the parties, while the firepot pictured Yahweh’s passing between them as Abram slept and watched. This symbolism underscored that, in this covenant, Yahweh himself took full responsibility for ensuring that the blessings of the covenant would happen. The assumption was that, without that divine commitment, the covenant would depend on fallible Abram and would certainly fail. Below we will pursue the implications of this aspect of God’s character for Christian life today.

Land and identity. Though it may surprise some readers, the mind-numbing minutia in Joshua 13–19 actually serves two purposes. (1) It supports Israel’s land claims on both sides of the Jordan. As Goldingay says:

There might … be other claimants to the land, but the king’s grant guarantees the recipients secure possession over against other people’s claims.… As the subjects of the King, the people can look to the future with confidence rather than fear.115

Concern for ownership of inherited land was more than just a theoretical or technical matter in ancient times. When the Ammonite king demanded that Jephthah return “my land” in Transjordan, Jephthah invoked history and theology to defend Israel’s claim. He said that Yahweh had defeated Sihon and given Israel the land—and that Israel had already lived there for a long time (Judg. 11:13–27). More important, data like Joshua 13–19 would help individual clans preserve or restore their ownership—for example, to authorize the redemption process of inherited portions temporarily mortgaged because of financial hardships (e.g., Lev. 25:23–28, 41, 49). As Nelson astutely observes, this is the reason the allocation reports emphasize that the distribution involves subdivisions among clans.116

(2) The second purpose that Joshua 13–19 serves is to promote Israel’s identity as a unified people.117 In reality, the transition from the family-style existence of a single camp to the spread-out style of a settled people marked a major transition for Israel. To settle in towns and to meet the demands of daily life inevitably loosened larger familial ties, especially with enclaves of wary Canaanites still present. Village life meant that Israel had finally “come home,” but it also fostered preoccupation with local rather than national concerns. But against that centrifugal momentum, Joshua 13–19 holds out the ancient ideal of “all Israel”—of Israel as a united people under Yahweh their God—as reflected in several subthemes.

(a) The first subtheme is that greater Israel comprises both Trans-and Cisjordan. That is why chapter 13 reviews the tribal holdings of the two-and-and-a-half tribes on the east bank. In chapter 22 we will learn that the Jordan proves a barrier to unity and the partial cause of inter-tribal suspicions. But the two allocation reports discussed above sound the theme that “Israel” includes all twelve tribes, regardless of their perceived distance from what became the west-bank heartland.118

(b) The second subtheme is that every town, however small, distant, or obscure, forms a constitutive part of Israel. To be sure, the order of the allocations and the depth of treatment accords special prominence to the towns in Judah, Joseph, and Benjamin. But the writer of Joshua 13–19 takes pains, within the limits of his source materials, to incorporate everyone—both heartland and periphery. As Seleznev says, “The vision of a unified ‘Greater Israel,’ with a balance of North and South, is dominant in this text.”119

Further, it is important to remember that each town name—however unknown to modern geographers—was once home to real people who were born, grew up, married, had kids, raised them, and died there. Life for people in, say, Kabzeel in the semi-arid southern Negev (15:21) depended on wells and springs and an ongoing search for pastures to survive as sheepherders.120 By contrast, residents of Ashnah (15:33), somewhere in the western foothills near the Sorek River, had a steady, clean water supply and fertile valleys in which to farm and tend orchards of fig trees. Terrace farming of fruit trees in the steep slopes of the central hill country fed folks in obscure places like Giloh in Judah (15:51) or Helek in Ephraim (17:2). Springs and cisterns provided water but required manual delivery to the orchards. Farther north, the broad, fertile Jezreel Valley, watered by the Kishon River, offered people in the Zebulunite town of Maralah (19:11) Israel’s lushest soil and access to international trade. The care of fruit trees probably preoccupied residents of Edrei in Naphtali (19:37), and they probably had more contact with the sea-faring Phoenicians of Sidon and Byblos.

The location of none of the above towns is known, but they made the lists of Joshua 13–19 because they had one thing in common: They were part of a tribe of Israel. They may have witnessed no historic events, produced no great leader, showed no great heroism, or earned no lasting fame. But each of them belonged to the people of Israel—to “all Israel.”

(c) A third subtheme concerns the importance given to women as part of Israel. Supplementing the portrait of Caleb is that of his daughter, Acsah, whose apparent desirability drives Othniel to conquer Debir in order to claim her as his wife (Josh. 15:15–16; cf. Judg. 1:10–15). The brief narrative conveys a strong character typified by initiative, determination, and persuasive verbal skills (Josh. 15:17–19). The roles of her husband and father signal that patriarchal authority still prevails, but the freedom of women openly to press their case for consideration and even to own land is evident.121

The possession of land by women figures even more prominently with the daughters of Zelophehad (17:3–6). Indeed, in situation they parallel more Caleb than Acsah since both receive inheritances promised them long ago, and both by divine command (cf. Num. 27:1–11). Like Acsah, however, they present their personal case to the ruling authorities, much as the whole tribe will shortly (Josh. 17:14–18). Hawk rightly observes that the parallel listing of the names of the petitioning daughters (v. 3) and of Manasseh’s sons (v. 2) implies a “social equivalency” between those sons and daughters. Further, three times the author says that the latter received an inheritance alongside the former. He rightly comments: “The daughters thus personify what Acsah [sic] anticipates, that ‘Israel’ cannot be identified fundamentally in male terms only.”122 Put differently, “If women possess land, women are Israelites in the most fundamental sense.”123

(3) Finally, the linkage of land and identity plays a role in the vision of a future land distribution by the prophet Ezekiel (Ezek. 47–48). Like Joshua 13–19, his vision lays out the boundaries of Israel’s restored land (47:15–20) and orders its division among the tribes (47:21–48:7). But in several startling ways Ezekiel 47–48 contrasts the allocation pattern in Joshua and, in so doing, lays some groundwork for the following discussion of contemporary meaning.124

(a) The first way is that Ezekiel speaks in a unique genre—what one scholar calls “theological geography.” He wields geography as a metaphor to describe in concrete terms the spiritual reality of God’s presence and the nature of the new Israel.125 The highly symbolic, carefully contrived, and imaginative nature of the literature intends to convey a message rather than to announce the details of an actual, future historical resettlement.

(b) Rather than detail boundaries or list towns, Ezekiel 48 grants each tribe an east-west swath of land identical in north-south size but varying in width. Further, a division of seven northern and five southern tribes replaces the ancient pattern of ten northern and two southern tribes (see 1 Kings 11:31–36). Both the above provisions symbolize the future equality of the tribes and may even mark an attempt to remedy past inequities.126

(c) A third way in which Ezekiel 47–48 contrasts with Joshua is that, unlike Joshua 13–19, Ezekiel’s distribution allots a “consecrated area” (vv. 48:8–22) between the northern and southern tribes. The temple and land portions for priests, Levites, the public, and someone called the “prince” (probably a messianic figure) occupy that special, sacred area. The description of the temple is clearly ideal, symbolic, and theological rather than a blueprint to be followed by later builders. Interestingly, the vision locates Benjamin and Judah closest to the consecrated area but in reversed locations (i.e., Benjamin to the south and Judah to the north).

(d) Finally, Yahweh decrees that resident aliens with children born in Israel are to receive an inheritance among the tribe where they live just like native-born Israelites (Ezek. 47:22). As Levenson rightly observes, “This prescription is much more radical than anything else in all the legal corpora of the Hebrew Bible.”127 It certainly relaxes the much stricter policy toward aliens, which admitted only aliens from Edom and Egypt and only after three generations of residence in Israel (Deut. 23:2–9).128 Thematically, Ezekiel’s view parallels that of Isaiah 56:1–8, although the latter extends the welcome beyond resident aliens to any “foreigners who join themselves to the LORD” (vv. 6–7).129 In my view, the important point is that Ezekiel’s vision gives priority to theological (not territorial) concerns. It stresses as essential loyalty to Yahweh and Israel’s unique, covenant-based identity regardless of whether the person is an ethnic Israelite or a resident alien permanently residing in the land. The land is still the place Israel dwells, but it is less the anchorage for their identity in Ezekiel’s thinking than it is in Joshua 13–19. In short, as I observed elsewhere:

Ezekiel’s vision works out the logic of Israel’s long experience with the person of Yahweh—his compassion toward all peoples, his eventual universal recognition by all peoples—and announces a new way for Israel to be Israel.130

Who owns the land today? At a recent college reunion, a classmate had the then-current Middle East crisis in mind when he asked me, “How do these events relate to biblical prophecy?” His quizzical silence over my answer suggested that he was unprepared for it, and the same may be true of some readers of this commentary. The question is: Does Joshua 13–19 imply anything for the present land dispute between Israelis and Palestinians over the ownership of the land? The most common answer among evangelical Christians is, “Yes, God gave the land to Israel, and that gift is still valid.” This approach underlies the political support that Israel has traditionally enjoyed in North America, especially among evangelicals and fundamentalists.

In my view, however, two weaknesses undermine such an approach. (1) It fails to reckon adequately with the implications of an idea that most Christians accept—progressive revelation. Progressive revelation affirms that God has chosen to reveal his truth through Bible writers over time, so that later biblical books may modify the ideas of earlier ones. This is most obvious in moving from Old Testament to New Testament, where Christians believe, for example, that the death of Jesus ended the need to follow the Israelite sacrificial system any longer.

(2) This leads me to mention the second weakness: It simply jumps from the Old Testament to today without reckoning with modifications the New Testament might have made on the subject. Did the New Testament reaffirm God’s promise of land for Israel or in any way modify its understanding of it? In reply, a brief concordance search shows how little the New Testament says theologically about “land” compared to the Old Testament.131 A few New Testament texts mention it in connection with past and present events (e.g., Matt. 2:20; Acts 7:3–5, 45; 13:19; James 5:17), but to my knowledge only Hebrews 11:9 interprets it theologically (see below). The New Testament seems to reflect an oft-overlooked phenomenon in the Old Testament highlighted by Chris Wright. Granted, the Old Testament accords great theological importance to land, it also shows awareness that Israel’s relationship to God “did transcend that realm and was not permanently or exclusively bound to it.”132

For example, according to Wright, that awareness underlies the motif of Israel as Yahweh’s (firstborn) son. This motif actually predates the Exodus and (by implication) the gift of land (e.g., Ex. 4:22; Deut. 32:5, 6, 18, 19; Hos. 11:1), and it also anchors the later restoration when Israel is landless (i.e., in exile). The father-son motif explains why Israel can still affirm their relationship with Yahweh despite being away from their inherited land.133 A second example, observes Wright, is an intriguing development in later Israelite prophecy. It evidences “a ‘loosening’ of—almost a dispensing with” the ancient connection of land with Israel’s relationship with God. He sees this phenomenon in texts that anticipate the eschatological inclusion of types of people whose membership in Israel, if based on the traditional family-land connection, would otherwise be uncertain or unclear. These include unmarried, childless Israelite women (Isa. 54:1), foreigners and eunuchs (56:3–7), and resident aliens (Ezek. 47:22).

This same “loosening” also seems evident in the absence of the land-promise in the New Testament’s interpretation of the Abrahamic promises. Paul teaches that those who believe in Jesus, regardless of ethnic background, are all descendants of Abraham (Gal. 3:7) and that their faith fulfills the patriarchal theme of blessing to the nations (v. 8). Since Jesus is the “seed” of Abraham (Gal. 3:16), all who belong to Christ are also his “seed” and his “heirs according to the promise” (v. 29; cf. Eph. 3:3). Paul makes no mention of the patriarchal promise of land, apparently because it bears no relevance to his subject.

The land’s reduced importance is even clearer in Hebrews 11. According to the writer, Abraham lived in tents in Canaan not to await the right moment to build houses but the arrival of “the [future] city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (vv. 9–10). In Hagner’s words, Abraham “knew that what God ultimately had in store for his people transcended security and prosperity in a parcel of real estate on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean.”134 In short, the New Testament knows that the land of Israel remains the homeland of Jews, but its prime concerns lie elsewhere. Its preoccupation is with the Jews and Gentiles throughout the Roman world whose newfound faith in Jesus fulfills the Abrahamic promise.

At this point it is helpful to understand how the New Testament interprets the Old Testament. In a word, the New Testament interprets the Old Testament typologically. This interpretive approach assumes that since God’s way of working in history never changes, one may rightly interpret correspondences between Old Testament redemptive events and New Testament ones. Thus, “NT persons consciously considered their experiences to match the patterns of God’s redemptive history that began with Israel.”135 They assumed that a promise-fulfillment schema linked the Testaments together, so they read events in the Old Testament as “promise” and corresponding events in the New Testament as “fulfillment.”

For example, the Gospels underscore that Jesus not only fulfills Old Testament messianic expectations, but also embodies Israel at its God-pleasing best.136 Matthew 1–5 portrays Jesus as reenacting Israel’s history (Matt. 2:15, 19–20; 3:13–17; 4:1–11; 5:1–2), but unlike Israel in the wilderness, he spurns the alluring temptations and stays loyal to God (4:1–11). John presents Jesus as the temple, the place (or person) to offer prayers to God and to deal with sin (e.g., John 2:19–22; 8:34–36; 16:23–24), and as the good shepherd (10:11–16), whose gathered sheep comprise a new Israel. Luke offers Jesus as Savior of both Jews and non-Jews (e.g., Luke 2:30–32; Acts 28:17–28).

Typology also underlies the foundational New Testament conviction that the church is the new Israel. As the community founded by the Messiah, “the Christian Church is the organic continuation of Israel. It is heir to the names and privileges of Israel, and therefore also falls under the same ethical responsibilities.”137 This is evident in the way apostolic writers apply to early Christian congregations, with both Jews and Gentiles, covenant concepts and terms previously associated with Israel. When Paul wishes “mercy and peace” on “the Israel of God” (Gal. 6:16), he probably refers to the church. Echoing Exodus 19:6 and Hosea 2:23, Peter writes:

… you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God.… Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (1 Peter 2:9–10; cf. Rom. 9:25–26)

According to Paul, churches are “the elect” (1 Thess. 1:4–5), the “redeemed” (Rom. 3:24; Eph. 1:7), and the “children of God” (Rom. 8:14; cf. Ex. 4:22). They may rightly appeal to God’s covenant faithfulness for reassurance and security in the face of all dangers (Rom. 8:31–39) and expect the Lord to reward their wholehearted service with “an inheritance” (Col. 3:23–24; cf. 1:12).

In short, apostolic terminology assumes that the church, a mixture of Jews and Gentiles, is the new Israel—the ultimate offspring of Abraham by faith. It is international in scope, and its temple is not a building in Jerusalem but the collective body of Christian believers dispersed throughout the world—both Jews and Gentiles—in whom God’s Spirit now lives (1 Cor. 3:16–17; cf. Eph. 2:21). Wherever located, the physical body of every believer is also a temple where the Spirit dwells (1 Cor. 6:19).138 Indeed, in Acts it was the unexpected fall of the Holy Spirit on non-Jews after they believed in Jesus that forced the apostles to accept them as fellow believers without requiring them to join Israel first (Acts 11:15–18; 15:7–11).139

This does not mean, of course, that God has rejected the Jews as the people of God and replaced them with the Gentiles. Nor does it mean that the Jews have stumbled so badly as to never recover (see Rom. 11:2, 11). Rather, through faith in Christ they become part of the new, redefined, and expanded people of God along with the Gentiles.140 They may be “an identifiable subset within the people of God” and play a unique role within that newly redefined body, but they still form part of it.141

As for the land, the New Testament views it typologically (i.e., as fulfilled and continued in the church), not geographically (i.e., as a location of special importance). Paul offers a classic example of this understanding in Ephesians 2–3.142 He masterfully melds two Old Testament motifs, sonship and inheritance, to expound the status of his Gentile audience. Invoking Old Testament language, he reminds them of their pre-Christian status—“excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise” (Eph. 2:16). But, he continues, Christ’s death has broken down the “wall of hostility” that separated Jews and Gentiles, made peace, and opened access for them to God (2:13–16). Now—and note the Old Testament terminology—they are “no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household” (2:19). In the Old Testament language of inheritance, Paul declares them to be “heirs together with Israel, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus” (3:6).143

This fulfills the eschatological expectation of the prophets concerning the inclusion of the Gentiles within the people of God. They, too, are God’s “son” entitled to their “inheritance” and full citizens of God’s new Israel (cf. 1 Peter 1:3–5). In short, “the inheritance in Christ is no doubt different from the land received and lost by Israel, but it is greater, not less, than that land.”144

Finally, what is Israel’s status today? This remains a controversial matter, one to be treated carefully and humbly, ever mindful of subtle, sinister anti-Semitism.145 Again, Paul in Romans 9–11 provides the classic exposition on the matter. (1) By “Israel” Paul means neither the physical land, nor a political state, nor Jews as an ethnic group. Instead, he argues that “not all who are descended from Israel are Israel,” nor “because they are his descendants are they all Abraham’s children” (Rom. 9:6–7). Instead, he has in mind the “children of promise” (v. 8)—the “remnant” (both Jews and Gentiles) who have received salvation by faith (9:23–27; 10:6–13).

(2) Paul denies that God has completely rejected Israel as a whole, thereby setting aside the idea argued by some Christians that God’s covenant with Israel has ended (11:1). Rather, Paul cites himself—an Israelite but also a believer in Jesus—as evidence that God’s sovereignty has preserved from Israel a “remnant chosen by grace” (vv. 1, 5).

To explain the big picture, the apostle invokes the metaphor of an olive tree, an Old Testament symbol of Israel (Jer. 11:16; Hos. 14:6). In rejecting the gospel, Israel (less the remnant, of course) became “hardened” (Rom. 11:7, 20, 25; cf. Isa. 6:9), and as a result, God pruned them as unsatisfactory branches from the root tree (vv. 17, 20).146 This sad fact happily opened the way for Gentiles to be saved—that is, to be grafted into the original root (vv. 12, 15, 17). But, Paul says strongly, that boon gives absolutely no basis for any sense of Gentile spiritual superiority, thus (in modern terms) nipping anti-Semitism in the bud (vv. 17–20). Unlike the fine cultivated olive tree (Israel), the Gentiles are by nature “wild shoots”—not a compliment!—that God grafted into the superior root tree, an act in fact “contrary to nature” (vv. 17, 24). Gentile arrogance is completely without foundation: “You do not support the root, but the root supports you” (v. 18). And spiritually proud Gentiles themselves run the risk of being pruned by God just as Israel was (v. 21).

Ultimately, however—and as another one of God’s mysteries (Rom. 11:25)—God will show Israel the same mercy as he has the Gentiles (vv. 31–32). Because of their election, covenant, and the patriarchal promises—all of them “irrevocable” (v. 29)—God will mysteriously save “all Israel” (vv. 26–28). In this case, “all Israel” does not refer to the church, nor does it likely assert that every individual Jewish person alive at the time will be saved regardless of his or her stance toward Jesus.147 Rather, in Romans 11:26–27 the quotation from Isaiah 59:20–21 (LXX) clearly implies faith in Jesus the Messiah as the condition for the prophecy to be fulfilled. Now, the existence of the modern state of Israel might anticipate that fulfillment, but nothing is said here (or elsewhere in the New Testament, for that matter) about the involvement of a “nation” of Israel in it. In my view, the reference is to some future recognition among Jews of Jesus as Messiah without reference to a political state presiding over national boundaries.148

In summary, the whole tenor of New Testament teaching points Christians away from a Holy Land-based perspective toward an international one—from Jerusalem to the uttermost parts of the earth. Its concern is with Jews and Gentiles worldwide—and this includes Palestinians—and not simply with modern Israel, itself a secular state. In my view, the demands of the gospel support a just, even-handed approach toward the question of the land rather than the decidedly pro-Israel leanings typical of many evangelicals.

Contemporary Significance

Contemporary Significance

WHAT REMAINS. JOSHUA 13–19 begins with Yahweh’s conversation with aging Joshua concerning “the land that remains” (13:2). He surveys the terrain not yet in Israelite hands, leaving Israel to do its part and promising to drive out the Sidonians himself. An important contemporary theme emerges from this conversation: Given our human weakness, we always carry out God’s tasks imperfectly, but God is strong and caring; he stands ready to aid our efforts rather than tolerate our compromise.

The first part of that theme reminds me of how imperfect is my execution of what God wants of me! The more I read Scripture and listen to the Holy Spirit, the more aware I become of areas of my person and my way of life not yet surrendered to the lordship of Christ. In my soul still lurk dark corners that I keep Jesus out of lest he discover the sin, self-centeredness, and rebellion hiding undisturbed there. (As if, of course, he did not know they were there!) Deep inside me are secret closets with big signs saying “Keep Out!” I have a hidden Sweet Revenge Closet, where I store my hurts, bitterness, anger, and juicy desire for revenge against people who have wronged me (or so I think). There I hide my secret files like “Slights I’ll Never Forget” and “Wish List of Disasters for You-Know-Who.” With evil relish I often sneak into this closet to pore over the files and fantasize about scenarios that would vindicate me. Secretly, I admire the cleverness of Doc, a character in John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, who suggested a way to get revenge on a bank: “Rent a safety deposit box … then deposit in it one whole fresh salmon and go away for six months.”149

In my Self-Righteousness Closet I keep my file of “Speeches to Straighten Certain People Out.” These are orations I keep for situations in which I somehow feel that my world—or, at least, the world as I want it to be—is threatened. They feign rhetoric to persuade people on whose decisions the tidiness of my world hangs, but in reality they are nothing but self-serving, passive-aggressive attempts at foot-dragging. The air in this closet reeks of fear and panic—and plain faithlessness. I suspect that my readers have dark, secret closets of their own where they shut out the searching light of Jesus, lest it expose the inner corruption and spiritual detritus stockpiled there.

Several years ago I had an episode of cardiac arrhythmia called atrial fibrillation (or “A-fib,” for short). I noticed that my heart beat irregularly and that I lacked my usual “oomph” during exercise. After a few days of hemming and hawing, I finally visited my family physician who, alas, diagnosed the problem and sent me to the hospital. Four days later, the cardiologist released me, put me on various medications, and scheduled periodic follow-up visits to his office. During one such visit he advised me that the next step would be, so to speak, to hit the reset button on my heart. This means to shut down the heart with medication and then restart it with electric shock. “Now, doesn’t that sound like fun?” I nervously laughed to myself.

Three months later during one of my daily heartbeat checks, I thought I heard the sweet sound of regular rhythm, and my wife confirmed it. One of my scheduled visits was a few days later, and I did not breathe a word of my suspicion as my cardiologist quietly listened to my heartbeat. “Well, Bob,” he said when he was done, “you’ve saved us some electricity. Your heart has converted.”

“Converted”? What an interesting word choice for a doctor! He meant, of course, the conversion of my heart from arrhythmia to regular rhythm. After learning the medical term, I joked to my wife, “I thought I’d done that a long time ago!” In Christian theology, conversion denotes a radical change of one’s direction in life. It means to turn around from a trajectory away from Christ to one toward him. Granted, as an eight-year-old I was “converted to Christ” in a genuine moment of personal commitment that launched my long life of discipleship. In reality, however, the more I learn about myself, the more I reckon myself among the partly converted. There is much about me that remains unconverted. For my conversion to become more complete, I need to dismantle those hidden and forbidden closets deep down in my soul, thoroughly clean up the space, and toss their contents into the trash.

This is where the second part of this theme comes into play. God promised to give Israel the land, and Joshua 13–19 demonstrates that he did so. Similarly, God promises us his power to compensate for our imperfections and failures of Christians. As God’s power compensated for Israel’s military weakness against Sidon, so also his power offsets our spiritual weaknesses. God supplies this deficit in order to encourage us as we contend on his behalf against our spiritual Sidonians.

Recall Paul’s classic encounter with God over a problem (2 Cor. 12:7–10). The apostle explains that, to keep him humble rather than boastful, he received a “thorn in the flesh,” possibly an allusion to the cross of Christ.150 If so, in citing the “thorn” Paul identifies his sufferings for the gospel with those of Jesus, as his later reference to “insults … hardships … persecutions … difficulties” (v. 10) indicates. God answers his persistent prayer for deliverance with a stunning declaration: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (v. 9). God assures Paul that his power is at its best when human weakness is at its worst—precisely Paul’s own situation.

Weakness, therefore, is not a cause for despair but of boasting because of the paradox inherent in the gospel itself—that “the power of God is at work in weakness.”151 That paradox leads Paul to embrace and revel in his weakness—in the hardships, the opposition, the uphill battles, and so on. It leads him to voice his own paradox: “When I am weak, then I am strong” (v. 10). It also undergirds his affirmation in Philippians 4:13, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”

Imagine what this means to us: When we feel the weakest, that is when we are the strongest! And one thing is certain: We never lack moments of personal or spiritual impotence. All of us have our temptations, whether it be addictions to food, alcohol, or drugs; whether it be personality traits that get us into trouble like jealousy, competitiveness, or a short temper; whether it be hard situations we cannot escape like painful memories from the past, a difficult marriage, or a job we hate but desperately need; or whether it be opposition to our Christian faith like the snide comments of coworkers, the cold distance kept by defensive neighbors, or the pressure to compromise by unbelieving relatives. Day after day and week after week we face the debilitating, strength-sapping forces around us.

Whatever our “thorn,” the gospel paradox that Paul voices offers us encouragement: When I am weak—frustrated, beaten down, exhausted, at my wit’s end—then I am strong. At that moment, the powerful grace of God comes into play. In a sense, it works like the engines in the hybrid cars of today: During acceleration to thirty miles per hours, the hybrid’s electric engine quietly powers it, but above that speed—when more power is needed to sustain momentum—the gasoline engine kicks in. Similarly, our strength is like that electric motor. It can keep us going when things are not intense or hectic, but when they get hot and heavy—when we feel in over our head—that is when God’s power is at its best. That was his promise to Joshua and Israel and to Paul—and that is his promise to us.

The trick, of course, is to relax and let that power take over. Here is what I suggest to surrender to God’s power: Memorize Philippians 4:13, and when you feel yourself in need of God’s power, simply say, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” When you dread going to work: “I can do everything through him.…” When you fail and need to repair a relationship: “I can do everything through him.…” When you have no idea how to solve a problem, “I can do everything through him.…” When you feel like you cannot live another day: “I can do everything through him.…” You will experience the paradox of the gospel: It demonstrates its incredible power at the moment we feel at rock bottom.

The people of God today. Above, I pointed out how the seemingly endless, mind-numbing details of Joshua 13–19 symbolize the ideal of Greater Israel. I indulged in a short flight of fancy wandering among some of the obscure towns to bring them and their people a little more to life. Now, in my view, that picture of Greater Israel comprises a microcosm of God’s people today, the Greater Church of Jesus Christ worldwide. As Greater Israel spread in various directions and in various concentrations across Canaan, God’s people today are spread across the globe we call earth. But in what ways does Joshua 13–19 illumine our understanding of that Greater Church?

(1) It reminds us that there is no caste system or rank structure in it. Acsah and the daughters of Zelophehad anticipate the picture of the Gospels that the kingdom includes women of faith as well as men. As Acsah sought Caleb’s blessing, first-century women also navigated swarming crowds and reluctant disciples to connect personally with Jesus. Their perseverance brought them salvation, healing (in some cases), and the blessing of Jesus on them and their whole households.152 Though Israel remained a patriarchal society, “Israelite faith was a woman’s faith—cherished, defended and exemplified by women.”153 Their prominence in the Old Testament anticipates their prominence in the early church. On a broader scale, Acsah, Zelophehad’s daughters, Rahab, and the Gibeonites prepare the way for Paul’s two majestic declarations concerning status in the kingdom:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Gal. 3:28)

Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave free, but Christ is all, and is in all. (Col. 3:11)

Among Christians, oneness in Christ, says Paul, has radically abolished the pecking orders of rank and status that may pertain outside the church. It has erased all the ugly, connotative labels with which we humans seek to prop up our feeling of superiority over others. Instead, each member of the church is just as important as any other. Per Paul’s body analogy (1 Cor. 12:12–27), lesser body parts (e.g., the foot) are just as important as more honored ones (e.g., the hand), for each serves its God-given function within the larger body.

Charlie Brown’s sister, Sally, once spoke about this truth in a Peanuts cartoon strip. As her brother watches television, Sally suddenly rushes in behind him, blurting out,

“Ha! You didn’t think I could get mentioned, but I did!”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie asks.

“The School Play! The Program where everyone gets mentioned! See?” she says showing him the paper program. “They have the names of all the kids who were in the play and they have the names of all the adults who helped with scenery and food and things.”

Charlie looks at the program. “Where do you come in?” he asks.

“Where do I come in? Just read that last line … you’ll see …”

So Charlie reads: “‘Space does not permit the listing of all those wonderful people who gave their time and effort when needed’.”

Sally snatches the program from her brother and walks away, saying proudly, “By golly, don’t tell me I’m not important enough to get mentioned!”

Yes, within the Christian community, everyone is important, but the challenge is to make sure that everyone feels that importance. We humans are all too prone to respond to first impressions, some that make us want to get to know people, others that lead us to avoid them. But, alas, in the Christian community Jesus has not given us the option of ignoring people within it because that violates its identity. If it welcomes attractive people and shuts out unattractive ones, it might as well go out of business. It has lost its true Christian identity and no longer has a reason to exist.

This might be a good moment to pause, close your eyes, and imagine yourself standing on the platform of your church on a Sunday. Let the eyes of your imagination pan across the audience. Visualize the individual faces before you. Observe which people you know by name and which are unfamiliar to you. Among the latter, observe whether they came in with or are seated among family or friends. Make a mental note of anyone who seems to be there alone. After your scan of the crowd ends, ask yourself, Who in my community is overlooked? Whom does the body keep on the periphery or deprive of attention? Resolve to approach one such person next Sunday simply to get to know them and to make them feel welcome.

(2) Joshua 13–19 reminds us the church is truly a worldwide church. The apostles have done their job well: The gospel message long ago moved out from Jerusalem through Samaria to the uttermost parts of the earth. I find great inspiration in pondering that I have sisters and brothers in all kinds of places with whom I have Jesus Christ in common. Indeed, that thought just confirms the power of the gospel for me—that it can transcend thousands of miles of geography, adapt its truths to all kinds of cultures, and transform lives. It confirms that the gospel is what it claims to be, “the power of God for the salvation to everyone who believes” (Rom. 1:16).

I have been privileged to see this firsthand in many places over the years.

• There is the compact, adobe Methodist church in Hipólito, a small railroad town in the barren, windswept desert of northeastern Mexico. As part of a youth gospel team, I preached my first sermon there, and the team supported a Mexican evangelist in holding several days of revival meetings in the town theater.

• During my military service in Vietnam, a Vietnamese friend took me to worship one Sunday evening at a small Christian church at Long Xuyen. The music was very Asian, as was the Vietnamese language of which I knew barely a few words. But I sensed the presence of Christ there, the same Savior I worship, the one I was serving as a Navy chaplain.

• Then there is the small Pentecostal congregation at Kumah Dunyo, a small village in the lush, green mountains of Togo near the border with Ghana. Its church stood unfinished and unusable due to a lack of funds, so worship took place outdoors under a covering of tree branches. The pastor was a tall, gracious, and dignified man, who the day before had graciously visited the home where my family and I were staying. During worship I remember the fun of line dancing, Togolese style, to praise songs accompanied by a worship band with local, hand-made instruments.

These examples represent only a tiny sample of the small, obscure places of worship that dot the globe, places known only to the Lord in whose honor local peoples meet. Together they comprise that wonderful band, the Greater Church of Jesus Christ.

(3) Joshua 13–19 reminds us that our challenge is to make our worldwide unity work. Distances of culture and geography certainly divide us; they make it difficult for Christians in North America to keep aware of our international brothers and sisters. But there are several things we can do to live out our connection to the Greater Church. We can start with our Jerusalem by joining with other local Christian bodies to provide some practical service that this community needs. Such endeavors help dispel the popular impression that Christians are always bickering over doctrine or competing for importance.

For our Samaria, we may seek to support ongoing ministries, especially struggling ones, that serve a city or town nearby. For example, suburban congregations might band together to share their resources to assist nearby urban congregations. During my years in Denver, Colorado, I saw Mile High Ministries become one such innovative, suburban-urban cooperative venture. Today it sponsors Joshua Station, a holistic ministry to homeless families, and the Issachar Community, a leadership/discipleship community that mentors and trains young leaders from at-risk populations to do community development. Similar ministries are going on throughout North America and would gladly welcome new allies in their endeavors. Or God may lead churches into other creative ventures of Christian witness and advocacy.

(4) Finally, one good way to keep aware of fellow believers in the uttermost parts of the earth is to get to know people from there in our own neighborhoods and towns. Granted, this requires some initiative on our part, but the recent waves of immigration have landed people from everywhere almost on our doorstep. International Students is an organization that befriends foreign students studying at colleges and universities in North America. The friendship of Christian families during their years of study opens up opportunity to sow the seeds of the gospel that may bear fruit in the distant lands to which they return.

In my city, World Relief enlists and advises local sponsors (e.g., churches, community organizations, etc.) on refugee resettlement. I can testify that my church’s involvement with recent arrivals from Sudan has introduced me and my congregation to the needs of that country. Contacts with Christians working overseas or mission trips to other countries are two other ways to keep current on what God is doing elsewhere today.

I warn readers, however, that they will never be the same once they commit to involvement. But that is really the point of the gospel. It is not just fire insurance for eternity that lets us do whatever we want once we have it. It is not just a set of right beliefs (though it is that). Rather, “the land that remains” for Christians is a transformed people—a radically-changed, strikingly different kind of community—whose difference catches the eye of a cynical, watching world. As Philip Yancey writes:

The kingdom of God will grow on earth as the church creates an alternative society demonstrating what the world is not, but one day will be: Barth’s prescription of “a new sign which is radically dissimilar to [the world’s] own manner and which contradicts it in a way which is full of promise.” A society that welcomes people of all races and social classes, that is characterized by love and not polarization, that cares most for its weakest members, that stands for justice and righteousness in a world enamored with selfishness and decadence, a society in which members compete for the privilege of serving one another—this is what Jesus meant by the kingdom of God.154

We have an inheritance, too. Joshua 13–19 is about the inheritance of the tribes of Israel, a theme the New Testament picks up and applies to us today.155 Obviously, the inheritance of Christians has nothing to do with actual physical property in Palestine. Rather, it builds on the understanding of the church noted above as the true descendants of Abraham who benefit from the fulfillment of the patriarchal promise in Christ, its true heir (Gal. 3:29). The fulfillment of the land promise to Israel finds one historical fulfillment in Christ and a final fulfillment at the end of time.

Further, in the parable of the wicked tenants, Jesus uses the vineyard, an Old Testament symbol of Israel (see Isa. 5), to teach about the kingdom of God (Matt. 21:33–46; cf. 5:5, 10). The clear implication is that the themes of Israel and the Promised Land have expanded into Jesus’ much broader theme of the kingdom of God. Ultimately, the kingdom is the form in which believers inherit in the future what was promised long ago in the past (Matt. 25:34; 1 Cor. 6:9; 15:50a; Gal. 5:21; Eph. 5:5; James 2:5). In a sense, the truth that both Jews and Gentiles receive inheritances through Christ represents a further extension of the inclusive vision of Ezekiel 47–48 (see above).

In the New Testament, the idea of inheritance and heirs has both soteriological and eschatological dimensions. It concerns, on the one hand, spiritual realities received from the past and experienced in the present, and, on the other, realities to be received and enjoyed in the future. It also has implications for how God desires his people to live today.

What are the present realities of our inheritance as Christians? (1) Through faith in Christ, the true heir of Abraham, we outsiders have been lovingly adopted into God’s family (Eph. 1:5). Our spiritual adoption entitles us to be coheirs with Christ himself (Rom. 8:17; Gal. 3:29), with full rights to our promised inheritance. Imagine for a moment what this means. Before receiving salvation through Christ, we were nothing—poor, bedraggled beggars constantly scrounging for scraps to assuage our spiritual hunger. We were hopelessly lost and doomed to eternal oblivion as if we were living on some totally other, lifeless planet. Now, however, we live in Fat City! We have a loving, generous Father, who has graciously made us full members of his huge, caring family. He has added our names to the list in his will of legitimate heirs who will receive equal shares of inheritance. In spiritual status, we have risen from the outhouse to the penthouse. That is truly something about which to praise God!

(2) To reassure us that a full inheritance share really awaits us, our Father has even given us a deposit—the Holy Spirit in our hearts (2 Cor. 1:22; 5:5; Eph. 1:14). In ancient commercial transactions, “deposit” (Gk. arrabon) designated a down payment on a purchase. By paying part of the purchase price in advance, the buyer secured his legal claim to the item or made a contract valid and binding. He also accepted the obligation to make further payments or lose his deposit.156 The same practice still prevails today. Anyone who buys a major purchase on credit—say, a house or car—knows the drill well. To hold the item while financing is arranged, the seller always requires a deposit. By accepting the deposit, the seller agrees not to raise the purchase price or sell the item to someone else. The buyer pays the deposit to confirm the seriousness of his interest and to promise to pay the full balance. The implication of the metaphor is that, by giving us the Holy Spirit now, God has obligated himself to pay us the full inheritance promised us. So, how do we know that we will get what is coming to us? We now have the Spirit—part of God himself—as a guarantee. I certainly cannot think of anything more reassuring to my faith than that!

Followers of Calvinist theology invoke the acronym TULIP to help them remember its main tenets.157 A humorous description of the alternative Arminian theology is “daisy,” meaning (with no acronym implied) “he [God] loves me, he loves me not.” At times we all struggle with doubts as to God’s love, especially when dark days of suffering and despair envelope us in gloom. When the sky is dark and God himself seems silent and withdrawn, one wonders if God’s promises are indeed true. At such moments, God certainly fails to meet our expectations. The temptation is to throw away our faith and to strike out on our own quest for certainty. Until, of course, we recall the guarantee in our hearts—the precious Holy Spirit of God. His is the soothing voice amid the chaos, the reassuring touch amid the hurts, the comforting presence amid the grief. His quiet, powerful presence reassures us that, despite the mystery of God’s dealings in the moment, God’s obligations to us remain sure. We can, so to speak, take them to the bank.

What are the future realities of our inheritance as Christians that the Spirit guarantees? Certainly, the special privilege of an eternal relationship with our heavenly Father and with Christ tops the lists. That was Jesus’ promise to anyone who abandoned everything to follow him (Matt. 19:29–20:1; Mark 10:29–31; Luke 18:29–30; cf. Acts 20:32; Heb. 1:14). Through salvation we have become “heirs having the hope of eternal life” (Titus 3:7), the inheritance set aside for us from eternity (Matt. 25:34). It comprises unbelievable wealth (Eph. 1:18), and it marks the final reward for our faithful service for our Lord (Col. 3:24) and the moment we receive new bodies (1 Cor. 15:50a).

Several texts associate our inheritance with heaven. According to Peter, God keeps it safe and waiting for us in heaven, a guarantee that, unlike earthly legacies, it “can never perish, spoil or fade” (1 Peter 1:3–4). Like Abraham, the writer of Hebrews says, our inheritance includes life in the heavenly city “whose architect and builder is God” (Heb. 11:10; cf. Col. 1:12). Theologically, the ultimate roots of this concept go back to God himself—specifically, his deep desire to have a relationship with us. The inheritance theme captures something profoundly simple, God’s loving desire to provide us a secure place to share with him forever.158

Inheritance as demand. The above discussion might create the impression that, since our inheritance is secure and its realization inevitable, we may live any way we wish. But that is a dangerous misperception. The Bible several times lists the kinds of people who will not inherit the kingdom of God: the sexually immoral, the greedy, idolaters, thieves, drunkards, slanderers, and swindlers (1 Cor. 6:9–10; cf. Gal. 5:19–21; Eph. 5:5).

The double-edged point of Jesus’ parable of the good Samaritan is also worth remembering (Luke 10:25–37). He told the story to identify a neighbor for the Jewish law expert to “love as himself,” as Leviticus 19:18 demanded. It critiques the disdain for Samaritans typical of the day and applauds the stunning compassion of the Samaritan, notwithstanding his status as an outcast. Jesus’ conclusion answering the legal scholar before him also addresses us today: “Go and do likewise” (v. 37). He calls us to cross stupid, selfish barriers that divide, to stop slapping derogatory labels on victims, and to stop withholding compassion because we simply do not like some people. But I hasten to add that the above warnings in no way make our inheritance conditional. Paul’s prohibition (“Do not be deceived” [1 Cor. 6:9]) simply aims to dispel any doubt that God tolerates such conduct (cf. Rev. 21:8). He rightly deems such behavior as unworthy of people whom God has graciously made coheirs with Christ.

By contrast, God commends good conduct to heirs waiting to receive their inheritance. In our secular employment, what pleases God is that we work not halfheartedly or lazily but wholeheartedly, as if the Lord himself, not a human, were our boss—which he, in fact, is! (Col. 3:23–24; cf. Heb. 6:12). When we confront daunting obstacles that test our faithfulness, we are to get the best of them, rather than let them buffalo us (Rev. 21:7).

Along this line, Caleb points us in the right direction. What set him apart from his panicked contemporaries was his optimistic trust in God (“a different spirit”) that led him to “follow [God] wholeheartedly” (Num. 14:24; Josh 14:14). As we saw above, his stance earned him his promised inheritance, and a similar stance by us will similarly win us the approving “Well done, good and faithful servant” from our Lord Jesus (Matt. 25:21, 23; Luke 19:17). After all, as Yancey, writes, “the New Testament declares that the future of the cosmos is being determined by the church. Jesus played his part and then left. Now it is up to us.”159