Rahab raked her fingers through her hair, pushing the curly dark mass over her shoulder. “Rahab!” someone called from below. She didn’t look down. She wasn’t interested in a merchant from Jebus or the owner of a caravan taking spices to Egypt or another soldier from a vanquished army. They were all walking dead. They just didn’t know it yet. Only those Hebrews out there beyond the river were alive. For their God was no stone idol carved by human hands. He was the God of heaven and earth!
And I am just a rat inside a hole in this wall. . . .
What a strange and marvelous God He was! He had chosen the Hebrews—a nation of slaves—and set them free from Egypt, the most powerful nation on earth. He had taken the lowest of the low and used them to bring down the mighty. She’d heard that He’d even rained bread upon His people. They had nothing to fear, for He was mighty in deeds and yet showed kindness and mercy to them. Who would not love such a God?
Her king. Her people.
I would love Him!
Her mouth trembled, and her eyes were hot with tears.
I would serve Him any way He asked. Given the chance, I would bow down before Him and rejoice to be counted among His people!
Cabul snored loudly from the bed behind her, reminding her of his unwelcome presence. She pressed her palms over her ears and shut her eyes tightly, filled with self-disgust and anger. If she gave in to her feelings, she would shake the man awake and scream at him to get out of her house. He hadn’t told her anything new last night. Cabul was a waste of her time.
She watched the road again. She had one small glimmer of hope that had been roused by something her father had told her. Moses had sent spies into the land forty years ago. “We beat them back then.” She had wondered about that, mulling over reasons for the Israelites’ failure. They had been slaves, freed from mighty Egypt by an even mightier God. But perhaps they had still thought like slaves rather than men under the banner of a true God. Perhaps they had refused to obey. She could only guess why they had failed. But she knew it was not due to any failure of the God who rescued them.
Those who had rebelled all those years ago must surely be dead by now. A new generation had arisen, a generation who had been hardened by desert living, a generation who had been in the presence of Power from their birth. She could only hope that Joshua would do as Moses had done before him and send spies into the land. And she would have to be the first to spot them. With victory assured by their God, the Israelites didn’t need to send anyone, but she still hoped the noble leader Joshua would take nothing for granted. Even if it wasn’t necessary, it would be prudent to send spies to view the land and evaluate enemy defenses.
Please come. Please, please, please come. . . . I don’t want to die. I don’t want my family to die. Send someone. . . . Open my eyes so that I’ll recognize them before the guards do. If they see them first and report to the king, all is lost!
“Rahab!” a man called to her again.
She glanced down impatiently and saw an Ishmaelite merchant waving at her from among the throng gathered at the gate. He was eager to lodge with her, but she spread her hands, shrugging and shaking her head. Let his camels keep him warm. He held up a gold necklace to bribe her. Ha! What good would gold do when the day of destruction came? “Give it to one of your wives!” she called back. Those around him laughed. Another man called up to her, but she ignored the entreaties and flatteries and watched the road.
Let them come to me.
If the spies were ragged from wandering, she would give them beautiful robes from Babylon. If they were thirsty, she would give them fine wine. If they were hungry, she would serve them a feast fit for kings. For they would come as servants of the Most High God. She would show them the honor meant for the One they served. For mighty was their God and worthy of tribute!
Her chest was tight with yearning. She wanted to be safe. As long as she was inside this wall, inside this city, she was condemned. She had to be counted among the Israelites to survive. The gods of the Jerichoans and Amorites and Perizzites and a dozen other tribes who inhabited Canaan wouldn’t come to her rescue. They were stone tyrants with corrupt priests who demanded constant sacrifice. She’d seen babies taken from their mothers and placed on an altar, their little bodies boiled until the flesh fell away so the bones could be put into small bags and buried beneath the foundation of a new house or temple. As though murdered children could bring good fortune! She was thankful she had never had a child.
But if I did have one, I would give my baby to the God out there, the unseen One who dwells with His people, who shades them by day and keeps them warm at night, the One who protects those who belong to Him as though they were His children. A God like Him could be trusted. . . .
“Ah, the light.” Cabul groaned. “Close the curtains!”
Rahab clenched her teeth; she kept her back to him. It was time the man was gone from her bed and her house. “The sun is up,” she said in a pleasant voice. “Time you were as well.”
She heard a muffled curse and the rustle of linen. “You’re hard-hearted, Rahab.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder and forced a sultry smile. “You didn’t say that last night.” She looked out the window again, searching, hoping to see someone who looked like an Israelite spy. What would one look like? How would she recognize one if he did come?
Cabul slid his arm around her waist and reached up to lift the curtain from the hook. “Come back to bed, my love.” He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck.
She caught his hand before it could move to caress her. “The king will hear you’re missing from your post. I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”
He laughed softly, his breath hot in her hair. “I won’t be late.”
She turned in his arms. “You must go, Cabul.” She put her hands against his chest. “Your absence at the gate will be noticed, and I’ll not have it said that Rahab caused a friend trouble.”
“You are causing me pain right now.”
“You’re man enough to survive a small discomfort.”
He caught her hand as she moved away from him. “Is there a rich merchant below?”
“No.”
“I heard someone calling your name.”
“And what if you did?” Did he think putting a few coins in her hand meant he owned her? “You know what I do for a living.”
He frowned, his eyes darkening.
Stifling her annoyance, she brushed her fingertips down his cheek and softened her tone. “Don’t forget I came out of my house to find you.” In her business, it was always wise to send a man away feeling he was someone special.
He grinned. “So you love me a little.”
“Enough to wish you no harm.” She allowed him to kiss her briefly and then disentangled herself. “A crowd is waiting at the gate, Cabul. It’s time you opened it. If the merchants are annoyed, the king will hear about it.” She crossed the room, leaned down, and swept up his clothes. Opening the door, she tossed them back at him. “You’d better hurry!” She laughed as she watched him dress hastily, then closed the door behind him. Dropping the bar to keep any would-be visitors out, she hurried back to her post at the window.
Solitude was a luxury. She stepped up and sat in the window, one leg dangling out. Ignoring the whistles from below, she watched the plain. Was that a column of smoke in the distance? She couldn’t be sure. She had heard that the Israelites’ God accompanied them as a column of smoke during the day and a pillar of fire at night.
When the heat became oppressive, she closed the curtains, left the window, and brushed her hair. She ate bread and sipped wine. But every few minutes, she parted the red-dyed linen and looked out again, studying every stranger who walked along the road.
Ω
Ω
Ω
Salmon had waited all his life to set foot in the Promised Land. He could see it from where he was camped. He was eager for the battles ahead, his confidence strengthened by past victories the Lord had given His people. It was the waiting that was difficult. Salmon felt like a horse reined in, prancing, champing at the bit, ready for the race to begin. He laughed, excitement coursing through him as he sparred with his friend Ephraim. It was early, the sun just rising, but every day was an opportunity to train, to prepare for God’s work of taking the Promised Land.
Gripping his staff, he made a thrust. Ephraim parried, turned, and struck, but Salmon countered him.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Ephraim came at him with fierce determination, but Salmon was ready. Turning, he swept the staff in a hard circle and swept Ephraim off his feet. Salmon was too confident, for he didn’t expect Ephraim to make another swing at him from the ground, which landed Salmon on his back in the dust. Both lay in the dust, panting and grinning.
As soon as Salmon got his breath back, he laughed. “I’ll be less smug next time.”
“When do you think we’ll attack Jericho?” Ephraim said, rising and dusting himself off.
Salmon sat up and looked toward the rise where Joshua stood each day, praying. “The Lord will tell Joshua when the time is right.”
“I hope it’s soon! Somehow the waiting is harder than the battle itself.”
Salmon stood, his staff gripped in his hand. The desert wind stirred Joshua’s robes as he stood on the rise. Since Moses had died, Salmon had turned his full attention to Joshua and Eleazar, the priest, for leadership. Whatever they said was law, for they followed the Lord wholeheartedly and spoke only what God instructed them to say. As a boy at his father’s knee, Salmon had heard the story of how Joshua and Caleb had spied out the Promised Land and said it could be taken. They’d believed God’s promise to give them the land, but the other ten spies had convinced the people—even the great leader Moses himself—that victory was impossible. The people had lacked faith and lost their opportunity, so the promise was deferred to the next generation. Salmon’s generation. Salmon hadn’t even been born when the Lord had passed judgment and sent the people back into the desert, but he’d been affected by it. He had grown up in the shadow of his father’s shame and regrets.
How many times had he heard his father weeping?
“If only we’d listened. If only we’d believed Joshua and Caleb.”
Over and over again, year after year. If whining could wear down the Lord, his father’s surely would have.
“If only we’d listened, we wouldn’t be out in this wilderness, wandering like lost sheep.”
Salmon grimaced at the memory of his father’s complaints and self-pity, for they hinted of the old rebellion and the unchanged attitude of a man’s heart.
Lord God of mercy, save me from such thinking,
he prayed.
Make me the man You want me to be—a man of courage, a man willing to step out immediately when You say go.
It was too easy to sneer at the mistakes of others. Such arrogance. Salmon knew he was no better than the man who had fathered him. The danger was in looking too far ahead. He must
wait,
as Joshua was waiting. The Lord would speak when He was ready, and when God did speak, Salmon knew the choice would be presented to him: obey or disobey. He didn’t want to hesitate like his father had. Better to fear God than men. No matter how frightened he might be of the battle ahead, he knew it was a more fearful thing to displease the Lord. Therefore, he set his mind on obedience. He wouldn’t allow himself to give in to his human weaknesses, his fears. How could one fear men and please God?
Jehovah had promised the land of Canaan to His people. The day would come when He would call them to take hold of that promise. It would be up to Salmon and all those of his generation to obey.
So far, none had weakened, but a few were grumbling at the delay, and a few questioned.
Lord God of heaven and earth, I beg You to give me the confidence of Joshua. Instill in me Your purpose. Do not let me weaken. You are God and there is no other!
“Prepare yourself,” Ephraim said.
Turning, Salmon brought his staff up and blocked Ephraim’s blow.
When the Lord called him into battle, Salmon intended to be ready.
Ω
Ω
Ω
“Salmon.”
He recognized the deep voice immediately. Jumping to his feet, he pulled back the tent flap and gaped at Joshua.
“I have work for you,” the elderly man said calmly.
“Please, enter.” Salmon stepped back quickly and bid his commander welcome.
The old warrior ducked his head slightly and entered the tent, looked around briefly, and faced Salmon once more. Salmon shook inwardly with excitement, for what greater honor could there be than to have Joshua seek him out? “Please sit here, sir.” He offered him the most comfortable place.
Joshua inclined his head. Setting the bundle he had brought with him to one side, he folded his legs beneath him as easily as a young man. When he looked up at Salmon, his eyes were dark and intent, ablaze with purpose.
Under normal circumstances, the commander would have summoned him rather than come to his tent. “What can I serve you, sir?” Salmon said, curbing his curiosity in order to show respect and hospitality. Joshua would explain when he was ready.
Smiling slightly, Joshua held out his hand. “Nothing. But you can sit.”
Salmon did so. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands and said nothing. The old man closed his eyes for a long moment and then raised his head and looked at him. “I need two men to go on a mission of great risk.”
“I’ll go.” Salmon straightened, heart pounding. “Send me.”
Joshua tipped his head to one side and considered him in amusement. “It might be prudent to hear what the mission is before you volunteer.”
“If you want it done, it needs doing, and that’s all I need to know. The Lord speaks through you. To obey you is to obey God. I’ll go wherever you want me to go and do whatever you need done.”