A Lineage of Grace (22 page)

“Moses!”
the children all said at once, laughing and clapping their hands.

“Yes, the child was Moses,” Amminadab said quietly. His solemnity made the children go quiet again. “Moses was the chosen servant of the Lord, the one who brought Israel the Law God wrote upon the stone tablets with His own finger on Mount Sinai, the Law for which the Ark of the Covenant was made.” He ran his hand gently over the hair of his daughter and looked at the other boys and girls. “It is because our fathers and mothers broke faith with God that we’ve wandered almost forty years in the wilderness. It is because they refused to believe and obey that they all died in the wilderness. The Law is written so that we can study it and know how to live to please God.”

“The Law is meant to be written upon our hearts as well,” Salmon said.

His brother glanced up at him. “If such a thing is possible.”

Salmon thought of Rahab. She didn’t know the Law, and yet she was exhibiting the heart of it.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind, and all your strength.
How could Rahab have such faith unless God Himself had given it to her as a gift? Could anyone grasp the ways of God with human understanding? Could anyone account for His great mercy? Rahab was a pagan, marked for death, and yet the Lord was seeing to it that death would pass over her.

“The Lord sent Moses to Pharaoh. Moses told Pharaoh to let our people go,” Amminadab went on, “but Pharaoh wouldn’t listen.”

Another brother, Nahshon, stepped forward with a glass of wine. He hunkered down and began to pour the wine slowly onto the ground. “The Lord God poured out His wrath upon Egypt in ten plagues: water became blood; frogs and lice came; beasts of the field died; disease, boils, hail, locusts descended; darkness came when it should have been day; and finally came the slaying of all the firstborn of Egypt.” The last of the wine stained the ground.

“Before each plague,” Amminadab said, “the Lord gave Pharaoh another opportunity to repent and let our people go, but each time his heart grew harder and more arrogant, more defiant. When the last plague was coming upon Egypt, the Lord instructed us through Moses to kill a perfect lamb and paint our door lintels with its blood. That night when the angel of death came, he saw the blood and passed over all Israel.”

“Why do you cry, Mama?”

“I cry over the suffering of our fathers and mothers under slavery, but I cry, too, for all those who died because Pharaoh held power over them.”

“All Egypt was laid waste because Pharaoh’s heart was hard,” Amminadab said. “He had no mercy upon Israel, nor did he have mercy upon his own people.”

“Some of them came with us,” Nahshon said.

Amminadab’s eyes flashed. “And most died in the desert because they couldn’t give up worshiping their idols.” He looked at Salmon. “They led our people astray!”

Heat poured into Salmon’s face. Everyone had heard about Rahab. “Our own nature leads us astray,” he said gently. “The Lord says, ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly.’”

“I know the Law.”

“She doesn’t know the letter of the Law, but she obeys the heart of it. She has repented and made God first in her life.”

“Who?” a child said, only to be ignored.

Amminadab was not mollified. “We shouldn’t have foreigners among us. They bring their foreign gods with them. They bring trouble!”

“I agree,” Salmon said quietly. “Foreigners do bring trouble. But they cease being foreigners when they cast off their false gods and worship the Lord God with all their heart, mind, and strength.”

Amminadab’s eyes flashed again. “And how do you know if they are sincere in what they say? How can you trust a woman who has prostituted herself to other gods—not to mention other men?”

“Who?” another child piped in.

“As our fathers and mothers prostituted themselves to the golden calf?” Salmon said, restraining his own rising anger. “How quick you are to forget our own weaknesses and see those of others who have not had the blessing of God’s very Presence.”

Setting his nephew aside, Amminadab rose. “You risk us all by saving this woman and her relatives!”

The children looked back and forth, confused and frightened. Salmon looked from them to his older brother. “God has given us Jericho, Brother. I don’t know how He’ll do it, but He will hand it to us. If Rahab and her relatives survive what is to come, it’s because death passed over them just as it passed over us. The red cord hanging—”

“Red is the color of a harlot,” Nahshon said.

Feeling attacked from all sides, Salmon refused to withdraw. “Red is the color of blood, the blood of the Passover lamb.”

“You are so sure of her, Salmon?”

“Leave it to Leah to ask the gentle question,” Amminadab mocked when their sister quietly spoke up.

Salmon faced Amminadab again. “The heart of this woman belongs to the Lord; I’m sure of it. She declared her faith as strongly as Miriam, the sister of Moses, did. And do you not wonder? Of all the thousands in that city, the Lord singled out Rahab for our attention. Why would God do that unless He meant to rescue her?”

Salmon spoke to the children. “The Lord didn’t save our people because we were worthy. Look how our fathers and mothers turned away from God! They witnessed the ten plagues; they saw God open the Red Sea! They were still faithless and rebelled. And some of our own people turned away to bow down to the baals of Moab. No,
we
are not worthy. Only the Lord is righteous. No other but the Lord is worthy of praise.”

“And yet, God saved
us
,” Amminadab said firmly.

Salmon rose and faced the others. “Yes, God saved us. The Lord delivered us because of
His
great mercy.
He
plucked us out of Egypt just as
He
will pluck Rahab out of Jericho. This night we must remember
the Lord our God
freed us.
The Lord
delivered us.
The Lord
redeemed us.
The Lord
took us to be His people. Our salvation depends not on who we are but on who
He
is.”

“Who’s Rahab?” the children persisted.

“No one important, dear ones,” one of the women said softly.

“Just an Amorite woman in Jericho,” Nahshon said.

Salmon restrained his anger. “Rahab is a woman of faith. She hid Ephraim and me when the king of Jericho sent his soldiers to capture us. She told us that the Lord our God has given us the city.” He smiled at the children and at his sister. “And you’ll meet her soon.”

“God willing,” Amminadab said.

* * *

Rahab looked out at the plains of Jericho, where thousands of campfires flickered beneath the starry night. Jobab came and stood beside her. “What is that sound?”

“Singing.”

“They’re celebrating as though they’re already victorious.”

“They
are
victorious. Their God is on their side.” And soon, she hoped, soon, she and her relatives would be with them, aligned with the Lord God of heaven and earth.

“Why do you think they wait?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps their God told them to wait.”

“Why?”

“I can’t answer, Brother. I’m in the darkness as much as you.”

“Maybe they’ve changed their minds now that they’ve seen the height and breadth of the city walls,” Mizraim said from across the room, where he had been dozing against some cushions.

“They will do to Jericho what they’ve done to the other Amorite cities,” Rahab said, “but the men who came here will rescue us.”

“I’m hungry,” Bosem whined.

Smiling, Rahab stepped down from the block. “I’ll make bread.” She added small pieces of wood to the hot coals in the brazier and put the sheet of metal over the top. She and her sisters had ground flour that morning. She poured some into a bowl, added water and seasoning, and worked the dough.

“I hope it will be as you say, Rahab,” Mizraim said. “I hope we will be saved.”

“God will hold them to their oath.” She flattened a piece of dough and turned it round and round until it was thin. She laid it carefully on the hot metal. The dough bubbled and steamed. Using a pronged stick, she watched it briefly and then turned it over carefully. Her house filled with the aroma of roasting grain.

Awbeeb squatted beside her, watching her cook.

“The bread will be ready shortly, little one. Why don’t you ask your father to pour wine?”

By the time the first loaf of flat bread was made, she had prepared another to cook. She placed the first on a reed mat to cool and began a third. Her father broke off a piece and passed it to his eldest son. The men ate first, then the children. Rahab broke a round of flat bread into quarters for her sisters. There was enough dough left in the clay bowl to make one small portion of unleavened bread for herself.

Mizraim replenished his father’s cup of wine. “Maybe they’ll simply wait until we run out of food and water.”

“That will take months!” Jobab said. “They’re probably looking for a way to break through the gate or set fire to it.”

“They won’t be able to get close. The king has archers on the wall.”

“You still don’t understand,” Rahab said. “Do you think God will waste the lives of those who honor Him? The God of Israel isn’t like the gods of Canaan. He protects His people. He doesn’t demand their blood. You waste your time worrying.”

Mizraim ignored her. “When the battle begins, there will be confusion.”

“Confusion
within
the city, Brother,” she said hotly. “There’s no confusion out there. They are calm. God is making them ready for battle.”

“Why must you go on and on about their god?” her mother cried out.

“There must be something we can do,” Jobab said. “Perhaps we should try to get out of the city now, before the battle begins.”

“We will wait, as we were told to do,” Rahab said, frustrated. “If we try to protect ourselves by our own means, we’re doomed right along with everyone else in this city. No. We will trust in the men of God. They will see the red cord and remember their oath. Inside this house, we are safe.” She broke off a piece of her bread. Dipping it into the wine, she ate it.

Still, her brothers grumbled and whined and worried. Why did men have such difficulty with inaction? She tried to be patient. She tried to be compassionate. Her father and brothers had been cooped up in this house for days. They were beginning to wear on one another. The women were no better. All this talk of war disturbed them. As much as Rahab loved her relatives, they were a trial to her. No matter how many times she reminded them of the promise and encouraged them, they kept worrying over the future. They were like dogs chewing a bone.

“Why don’t we eat our bread and go to sleep?” she suggested. “Let tomorrow take care of itself.” She needed some peace and quiet.

When everyone was settled for the night, Rahab went back to the window. With a sigh of contentment, she propped her chin in her palms and watched the Israelite encampment. The night was so still; it was as though everyone and everything around Jericho waited for the Israelites to move forward into battle. She ran her hand over the thick red rope that hung from her window. After a long while, she lay upon her mat. She put her arm across her eyes, fighting her tears.

Come, Lord of heaven and earth! Please come! Break down the gates and take the city! Send Your men to rescue us from this place of desolation! Oh, God of all creation, I’m begging You for mercy. Let the day of our deliverance dawn!

When the battle was won, would the Hebrews allow her to become part of their nation? Ephraim had been far from friendly, quick to judge her. If her future was left up to men like him, what hope had she? He would keep his promise to save her and her family, but that would be the end of his obligations. And she hoped for so much more. Should she have asked for more? begged for more? She would drive herself mad worrying about it. All she could do was wait . . . and hope that God was more merciful than the men who followed Him.

She rose first in the morning as she always did, eager to see if there was any movement in the Israelite camp. She stepped over Mizraim and Basemath and around Vaheb and Hagri. The stars still shone, only the hint of dawn coming.

Startled, she saw an old man of regal bearing standing within arrow shot of the city wall. He was staring up at it. Who was this man dressed for battle, all alone, seemingly without fear of the danger in which he had put himself? Was he studying the walls to find some weakness? He had the bearing of a leader, a man diligent and responsible. Was he contemplating the defenses of the enemy? Surely, if this was the Israelite commander, he should have soldiers with him to act as his bodyguards. Lifting her head, Rahab looked for others who might be keeping watch over this man, but all was quiet in the camp behind him.

When she looked at the man again, another was with him, a soldier, his sword drawn. Where had he come from? Surely she would have seen his approach. The old man went to the soldier quickly, his manner both challenging and eager. He was close enough to the walls of Jericho that she could see his lips move.

Rahab’s heart pounded as the old warrior fell to his knees and then prostrated himself before the soldier. Then he rose just enough to remove his sandals! Her skin prickled strangely. Who was the man standing before the elder? Why would the elder bow down to the younger?

Mizraim groaned behind her and rolled over, startling her. She glanced back.

“Mizraim,” she said softly. “Get up! Quickly!” She motioned to him frantically. “Come see what is happening outside the walls!”

When she turned back, the soldier was gone and the old man was striding back toward the Israelite camp, head high, shoulders back. She felt a shiver run through her body.

“What is it?” Mizraim said sleepily, standing beside her, looking out the window as dawn spilled light across the plains of Jericho.

Rahab leaned out the window as far as she could. The soldier was nowhere to be seen. She felt a strange excitement rush through her blood. “The day has come, Mizraim. God is bringing His people into their land!”