A Lineage of Grace by Francine Rivers
Yet no one knew the fierce heart that beat within her. No one suspected the stored resentment, the gathering fury, the aching hunger to break free and escape. She was in a prison others had made for her, a prison she had succeeded in filling with earthly treasures. But she had other plans, other dreams and hopes.
And they all depended on the God out there, the One she knew had the power to save those He chose. Somehow she had known—even as a young girl hearing the stories for the first time—that He was a true God, the only true One. When He brought His people across the Jordan, He would take this city and crush it as He had crushed all His enemies.
The end of everything she had known was in sight.
We’re all going to die! Doesn’t anyone else see that? Are they all blind and deaf to what’s been happening for the last forty years? People come and go as they always have, thinking everything is going to be all right. They think the walls we’ve built will protect us, just as I thought the walls of my father’s hut could protect me all those years ago. And we’re not safe—we’re not safe at all!
She was filled with the terror of death, filled even more with a terrible longing to be a part of what would come. She wanted to belong to the God who was coming. She felt like a little girl wanting desperately to be swept up in her father’s arms and saved from destruction.
Several months ago, an Egyptian had spent a night telling her stories of the God of the Israelites. “But everyone says those are myths,” she had said, wondering whether he believed the tales he repeated.
“Oh, no. My father was a boy when the plagues came. . . .” He’d talked far into the night about the signs and wonders and about a man named Moses. “He’s dead now, but there’s another . . . Joshua.”
She went to the king the next morning, but he was only interested in tactics, weaponry, numbers. “It’s the God of the Hebrews you need to fear, my king,” she said, but he waved her away impatiently.
“You disappoint me, Rahab, talking like a hysterical woman.”
She wanted to shout at him. Moses might be a great leader, but no man could break the might of Egypt. Only a true God could do that! And He was out there, preparing His people to take all of Canaan.
But one look into the king’s eyes and she knew pride was on the throne. Men listened only to what they wanted to hear.
Now, sitting at her window, she stretched her hands out and waved them. Oh, how I wish I were one of Your people, for You alone are a true God. Her eyes were hot and gritty. I would bow down to You and give You offerings if given the chance! She put her hands down and turned away. She could wish all she wanted, but she was going to share the same fate as everyone else trapped inside these walls. This fortress would become a slaughterhouse.
Because the king was stubborn and proud. Because the king thought the walls were high enough and thick enough to keep him safe. Because he was too stubborn and stupid to put his pride aside for the sake of his people. The king was afraid of the Israelites, but it was their God he should fear. She had known men all her life, and they were all much the same. But this God, He was different. She could feel His presence in some strange way she couldn’t define, and she was filled with a sense of awe and urgency. Oh, how fortunate were those who belonged to Him! They had nothing to fear.
Although she had told the king everything she learned, he refused to listen. Still, she kept trying.
“I never knew you to be so fainthearted, my sweet. Those Hebrews will tuck tail and flee the same way they did forty years ago when the Amalekites joined forces with us. My father drove them out of the land. If they have such a mighty god on their side, why didn’t they prevail against us then? Plagues . . . seas opening . . .” He sneered. “Myths to frighten us.”
“Have you forgotten Sihon?”
He paled, his eyes narrowing coldly at her reminder. “No army can break through our walls.”
“Before it’s too late, send emissaries of peace with gifts for their God.”
“What? Are you mad? Do you think our priests would agree to that? We have gods of our own to appease! They’ve always protected us in the past. They’ll protect us now.”
“The same way Egypt’s gods protected her? Egypt bows down to insects, and this God sent swarms to destroy their crops. They worship their Nile River, and this God turned it to blood.”
“They’re just stories, Rahab. Rumors to spread fear among our people. And you add to them! Go back to your house and do what you do best. Watch for foreign spies. . . .”
And so she did, but not for his sake.
Cabul talked freely last night, boasting of manpower, weapons, and the continuous sacrifices being made to the gods of Canaan. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry your pretty head.”
Fools! They were all fools! Surely the God who mocked the gods of Egypt and opened the Red Sea would find it easy to break down these walls! What good would stone and mortar idols do against a God who controlled wind, fire, and water? Rahab was certain that one breath from His lips would blow open the gates of Jericho. A sweep of His hand would make rubble of all the king’s defenses!
But no one would listen.
So be it. She had given her last warning. Let it be on the king’s head what happened to Jericho. She was going to find a way to align herself with those who would have the victory. If she didn’t, she would die.
How could she get out of Jericho without jeopardizing the lives of her family members? If she left, the king would have her followed. She would be captured and executed for treason, and every member of her family would suffer the same fate to prevent the spread of her rebellion. No, she couldn’t leave Jericho unless she took her father and mother and brothers and sisters and their families with her. But that would be impossible! Even if she could find a way to leave without arousing suspicion, her family wouldn’t come. Her father believed whatever the king said. It wasn’t in his nature to think for himself.
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
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.
* * *
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 listene
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.
* * *
“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.