October 13

"The people went up into the city, every man straight before him; and they took the city."—Joshua 6:20.

I FIND three marvels in this history.

There is the strangeness of the siege. For seven days God's people marched round Jericho in unbroken stillness. They lifted against it no sword or spear, battle-axe or bow. It brings me a double lesson—the lesson that my God is unwilling to inflict on sinners the stroke which means death, and the lesson that He tests the faith of His children. Let me master it. He bids judgment linger that I may turn to Him. He bids my soul trust Him to the uttermost.

Then there is the strangeness of the victory. What trophies of a tangible sort did the conquerors gain? Absolutely none. The silver and gold, the flocks and herds, were destroyed. And did God win nothing for His own? He won a sinful woman's heart. Rahab delivered from death, it was God's prize that day. I thank Him for the story. It tells me how inestimable my sin-paralysed soul is to Him. It tells me to what royal uses He may turn it; for did not Rahab become the ancestress of Jesus Himself?

And there is the strangeness of the prohibition which followed the triumph — Jericho is never to be rebuilt. And why is that? To remind outsiders of the mighty power of God; yes, and to remind Israel where its true strength lies. If He has humbled the fortress of my unbelief and pride, I am a sermon to others of what He can do. If I am His child, I need no bulwarks but His eye and heart and hand.

So these mysteries, like other divine mysteries, are full of benediction.