The people of God stand at the border of the promised land. It has been hundreds of years since this land was first promised to Abraham. It has been a whole generation wandering the desert on the other side of the border. But, now, finally, after so much promise, it is about to become reality. Joshua receives final instructions before going in and claiming the promise.
We have been on a long journey through the Old Testament already. But all it, from the fall, to the promise to Abraham, to the salvation from slavery, through the giving of the law and the wandering and being sustained in the desert, all of it has been leading up to this point.
We finished the Olympics just over a month ago. I’ve been privileged to go to two different Olympics. I’ve mentioned that I’ve gone to two Olympics before in previous sermons and people have come up to me after the service and asked me what I did. I’d love to tell you I competed in the swimming or gymnastics or shooting or anything. But I didn’t. I watched. And I loved every minute of it. Particularly when we were in Seoul in ’88. The tickets were cheap and we got as many as we could. We went to two or three events a day. It didn’t matter what they were. All of it was exciting. It was exciting because even if we had no idea what was going on. It was exciting because it was thick in the air that each of these athletes, whether they had a chance of medalling or not, they had been working their entire lives for this moment. They had been working their entire lives for this one moment.
The Israelites had been existing as a people for hundreds of years for this moment. They are the people of the promise. They stand at the edge of that promise now. I hope you catch the drama of this passage. Everything has led up to them crossing the Jordan River and inhabiting the land God has promised them.
We are the people of the promise. It is an even greater manifestation of that very same promise. The promise that is fulfilled in their inhabiting the land is fulfilled even more fully through the people of Israel in the birth, the life, and the death of just one man almost a thousand years after this. And that same promise is fulfilled in each and every single one of us, in our hearts and our lives when we trust God the same way these Israelites are called to trust him that day on the banks of the Jordan.
The Christian life is about inhabiting the Promised Land. I don’t mean Palestine. I mean the Kingdom of God.
I have spoken this piece of theology before, yet it is so vital to our understanding of our own lives. It is the understanding of the now and not yet aspects of the kingdom of God in this world and in our current lives. On one hand, the kingdom has not come in its fullness. We wait for the promises to be fulfilled. We know that in the last day, we will be victorious and our hearts and sin will be completely cleansed and we will be righteous and in the full presence of God. Until that time, the creation continues to groan, and we struggle to persevere and grow in our faith and righteousness. On the other hand, the kingdom of God has come in Jesus Christ. God is with us. We can know God fully even now, just as we are known by him. This is the place of a full relationship with God that we can know even now. We can see the face of God and know every moment that he is with us and have our lives transformed dramatically into his image with the glow of the glory of God reflected in our face as we keep our eyes on him.
Virtually every sermon, every message, every devotion can be looked at and seen in this tension between the now and the not yet. Some focus on the not yet: our need to grow, our need to face our existing sin, our needs at all. Other sermons focus on the now: the fact that we are justified, free, gifted, and transformed into the likeness of Christ who is with us always, fully, here and now.
This passage is a picture of that tension, of that life in between. They stand right on the edge of the promise. It is right where we are at. We, in many regards, are still in the desert. But we as so close, the Spirit is in our hearts, it is so real and so palpable that we can see our promised land right there in front of us. 1 Peter has a good picture of this tension in chapter 2, verses 11-12. “Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world.” That is what we are. We are aliens and strangers in this world, because we are citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. Heaven is already in us. Peter goes on to give us directions how to live on this border of the Promised Land: “abstain from sinful desires, which war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.”
Peter speaks of a war, a war with the kingdom of this world. That is the border war that the Israelites face. And in preparation for that war, we have the words God gave to Joshua on the edge of the Jericho. Three times in this short passage, he says, “Be strong and courageous.”
Herman Wouk was a famous novelist, who was also a Jew. In 1955, he visited Israel and had the opportunity to spend some time with David Ben-Gurion who was the first leader of Israel when it was re-established after World War 2. Ben-Gurion was asking Wouk in subtle ways during their time together to move to Israel during those frightening times. Wouk writes, “When we were leaving, he came out with his straight Zionist line, no more hints. "You must return here to live," he said. "This is the only place for Jews like you. Here you will be free."
"Free?" I ventured to reply. "Free? With enemy armies ringing you, with their leaders publicly threatening to wipe out 'the Zionist entity,' with your roads impassable after sundown—free?"
"I did not say safe," the old man retorted, "I said free."
So often we think that becoming a Christian, and, even more, becoming a mature Christian, means that things are going to get safer. In the respect that nothing can finally harm us, that is true. In that respect, we are of all, the most free. But we are not safe. Being a Christian should never, ever be safe. Crossing the Jordan and moving more and more fully into the promised land is not safe. And if we are trying to make our lives and our church safe, we are heading the wrong direction. The fulfillment of God’s promises, the blaze of his glory is not safe.
There is a great picture in the great children’s books the Chronicles of Narnia of this truth. Jill finds herself in a position where she feels she is dying of thirst, she sees a river of beautiful water, but then she sees laying on the other side of the water a lion. Then she hears a voice saying, “If you’re thirsty, you may drink. …For a second she stared here and there, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, ‘if you are thirsty, come and drink,’ …and she realized it was the lion speaking. …She had seen its lips move this time, and the voice was not like a man’s. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.
“Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.
“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.
“Then drink,” said the Lion.
“May I – could I – would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.
“The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
“Will you promise not to – do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.
“I make no promise,” said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
“Do you eat girls?” she said.
“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.
“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.
“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”
“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.
It never occurred to Jill to disbelieve the Lion – no one who had seen his stern face could do that – and her mind suddenly made itself up. It was the worst thing she had ever had to do, but she went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn’t need to drink much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once. Before she tasted it she had been intending to make a dash away from the Lion the moment she had finished. Now she realized that this would be on the whole the most dangerous thing of all. She got up and stood there with her lips still wet from drinking.
“Come here,” said the Lion.
We stand at the river. We’ve known the thirst of the desert. We’ve tasted the refreshing water of salvation. But now it is time to cross that river and enter the Promised Land. And the Lion of Judah looks us in the eye and says, “Come here.” The Promised Land is the full presence of God.
Amongst other things, that is frightening. It is frightening because we have to trust one who knows us so well trust that he will not devour us. It is frightening because we know that the Promised Land is going to be a whole new life that we have never known before. Even though it included thirst, at least we knew it, and we felt some sort of control. I don’t really want to face or give up my sin. We are frightened of heaven because the promises are just so, so big. It is hard to have the faith that they will be true.
This group of Israelites has grown up and been raised in the wilderness for this moment. This is what they were born and bred for. We have been born again so that we might enter heaven. I want to tell you folks, you ought to be frightened, not of this world, but of heaven. What, can you imagine, might happen if the power of heaven that is promised us might enter your life, might enter this church?
But I believe this. We stand at the banks of the Jordan. We have drunk the sating waters of salvation. And the Lion of Judah is calling us in, into the Promised Land – the reign of God in our hearts and lives. And we have this word from God through Joshua: “Be strong and courageous.”
