Holy War

Battle Speeches

2011-03-16T08:39:00.007+11:00

Ouch. Its getting to that time. 100,000 words later, in the second last scene of my book, and its time to rewrite THAT battle speech.

I hate them. They're so over done, but oh-so-necessary. Here's my fourth attempt at a second re-write (if that makes sense).

[Joshua at the 2nd Battle of Ai]

‘Every man must face his darkest fears. But fear cannot be seen or touched. It has no sword or spear, no face or name. Its within us. How do we conquer ourselves? Courage. Have the courage to believe, or go back to slavery.’

‘We’ll never be slaves again,’ shouted Amminadab from amongst the ranks, ‘we’re sons of Abraham.’

‘Are we?’ Joshua replied, ‘Who is a child of Abraham?’

By the stunned expressions on every Hebrew, clearly no one had ever asked that question.

‘Is it a birthright? Then your fathers would be here today. Achan would be here today. But who is here?’ Joshua pointed towards Rahab, who seemed embarrassed to be singled out.

‘Who is here, I ask you? You who have believed. Believe again. In victory or defeat, through heartache and loss, believe. In life or death, believe. And if like Joseph, you die in faith and send your bones into the promised land, then you may call yourselves sons of Abraham.’

Momentum

2010-11-14T08:19:00.004+11:00

Momentum is the 'mojo' of writing. When you've got it, everyday is a joy. When you haven't, just finding time to write is painful.

I've just come through one of the busiest periods of work in my day job launching the 'Dream Shield' project. I produced a whole bunch of resources - booklet, videos etc as part of a public education campaign helping Aboriginal business people manage their intellectual property.

Here's one of the more interesting videos on traditional knowledge:

Now that my diary is empty, I find the year is drawing to an end and I still haven't finished my second draft.

Pray for me.

Please.

Must... keep... writing.

Is God Good?

2010-09-19T17:04:00.003+10:00

Someone entered the tent. Joshua could tell by the flickering flame of his candle. He kept still, only his closest friends could get through the guards – especially at this hour.

“Let me guess. Caleb?” asked Joshua with his back turned.

“Everything's ready for tomorrow,” Caleb spoke with an air of resolution.

Joshua half nodded – lacking the stamina to hide the fact that his mind was elsewhere.

“Are you all right?” asked Caleb.

“In a strange way... yes,” replied Joshua, “This is God’s will.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?”

“Maybe. Every day I say my prayers, take a walk, read, write, drink, break bread with my family. Destroying a city doesn’t fit easily into that routine.”

“With respect,” Caleb answered, “every nation was born out of blood. You knew that forty years ago.”

“Well the older I get, the less I know,” Joshua echoed.

“Look, I’m tired and so are you. Get some sleep.” Caleb made his way to the door.

“Caleb. I feel like I don't know him, and I want to. I want to know God. That's all I want - nothing else. It’s all vanity.

“That's funny,” replied Caleb, “You want to get all sensitive now do you?”

“You mock me?” asked Joshua.

“You’re doing that all by yourself. You've known God all your life. He's always been there. If you're going to doubt anything, doubt your doubts.”

“It’s not that simple,” replied Joshua. “Lord knows I wish it was. If dealing with sin means killing the sinner, then what hope have we?”

“Plenty,” replied Caleb. “We’re children of Abraham.”

“Abraham? Don’t get me started.” Joshua searched for words to describe his anguish. “All that I was in my youth, all I've lived for, it’s already dead. Caleb, you’ve got to help me to believe.”

“You believed once. Believe again.”

“But it hurts,” Joshua cried. “It’s too much pain. Is it worth the bloodshed? Just for what, just for land?”

“This was never just about land!” Caleb slammed his heavy fist on the table. “It’s about the prophecy to Abraham - the land, the people and the Messiah. It's God’s word, and he will honor it.”

“What good is his promise? We’re mortal, he can do anything he wants.”

“Anything? You think he can lie, do you?”

Joshua buried his head in his hands and wept. The pressure was too much to bear.
“I want to know... I need to know that God is good. I need to know him, like I know you. If you told me that mass killing was worth it, you knew something I didn't - a higher purpose, a greater good, just maybe I could trust you. I would, but I know you. That changes everything!”

“You said yourself, every man must face his darkest fears,” Caleb replied. “Maybe this is yours. God is good. There's no darkness in him.”

“Dammit!” Joshua shouted. “You saw those babies massacred on the wall. How’s that different to Abraham killing Isaac?”

Caleb folded his arms and glared. “Your swearing I can deal with, but your thinking stinks.”

“Forgive me,” Joshua added.

“Is that it? Is that what this is about?” Caleb replied.

“My dear old friend, what kind of god would ask Abraham to kill his son?”

Caleb pondered for a moment, then smiled. “One who would raise him from the dead."

A Captive Market

2010-08-06T18:56:00.003+10:00

Somewhere in the distance, nauseating cries of slaves broke the silence of dawn. Rahab feared she might grow numb to their suffering. Not that she had, but that she could. It had become so routine, so perversely monotonous, everyone acted like it was normal. A new “normal” for a city under siege.

In the dark storerooms beneath the wall, Rahab heard the faint jingling of coins filtering through the narrow ventilation holes in the stonework. Merchants were preparing for another days trading to a captive, hungry market. War was good for business, and though the judgement of God stood at the very gates, Jericho did not repent.

A new improved "Bad Guy"

2010-07-25T05:56:00.008+10:00

I just had an amazing week. My antagonist is totally re-worked, humanized and fleshed out, and I cant believe how much energy it's added to the story.

It was always going to be tricky working out the King of Jericho - someone we know very little about. On the surface, he simply defended his city from an invader. Simple enough - so why is he the bad guy?

One of the underlying themes of this story is the clash between judgment and mercy, law and faith, pride and grace. So I had to build his character around those foundations. In essence, he had to be the anti-hero, the exact opposite of Joshua - who Joshua would become if he didn't conquer his inner demons.

So in the end, its all about theme, and characters that support the theme. A well written screenplay or novel ends up become something like poetry - its so well rounded and tight that you couldn't imagine it any other way. Like Rudyard Kipling's "If" poem, tinker with it at your peril - it's perfect poem, based on a consistent theme that speaks to so many people (men obviously).

So who is this King of Jericho? Here's a quote from my rewrite this week:

Elam nodded and paced slowly around the room, carefully considering what to say. “Judge a man by what he does, not what he says - especially when he has something to lose. You’ve alway had a thing for Rahab. I just want to be certain you’re not in this with her.”

“You want me to do it?” asked Giddel.

“Power has a price. You make choices, and your choices make you. I don’t care how you do it. Enjoy her for one last time if you wish, but before Joshua attacks you must kill her.”

“You think she’s a traitor but you want to show her our biggest secret?”

“At least she’ll know I”ll win this war. Whatever faith she has will die before you kill her.”

“What if she’s innocent?”

“There is no innocent or guilty, just power!” Elam ranted. “There’s no God. No judgment. There are just the strong and the weak, an end and a means. So we lose a whore? They are plenty more in this world.”

He's Machievelli, Hitler and Nietzche rolled into one. Now he is worthy of judgment.

Things not spoken are fascinating.

2010-07-14T09:54:00.004+10:00

One of the little gems I've discovered while writing about Joshua is his encounter with the Captain of the Lord's Army. Commonly thought to be a pre-incarnate form of Christ (because Joshua would never bow down and worship an angel), this being said so much with so few words. What's more, what he didn't say was even more fascinating. consider the following:

1. The Manner of Jericho's Demise.
God chose to destroy the wall, yet he makes no mention of Rahab, whom he knew lived on the wall. This would have freaked out Joshua, perhaps even causing him to question whether he made the right decision to honour the spies vow to protect Rahab.

2. The Ark of the Covenant.
God told Joshua to march with the ark at the back of his troops, the exact opposite of what Moses did, and a very symbolic gesture. Big shoes to fill and a tough call to make - Joshua had to have faith to obey this unusual request.

3. The Sabbath.
Joshua was asked to march seven days - it had to include a Sabbath. Again, a big call for a new leader with big shoes to fill.

More Character, Less Plot

2010-07-12T08:16:00.002+10:00

As I write more of my second draft I am constantly reminded of the well worn adage "more character, less plot." It's inescapable, even in big (yes EPIC) historical dramas. In fact, probably ESPECIALLY in this genre. The last thing I want is another "Robin Hood" (sorry, the latest incarnation of that story did nothing for me).

Back to work.

I'm going to keep blogging.

2010-07-11T14:50:00.002+10:00

After some consideration, I've decided to do a little more blogging. My original intention was to post the first act of my book - as a way of getting some feedback. However, writing a 90-100,000 word novel is such a loooooong journey I figured I need a little company along the way. So I'll take a risk and post a blog every couple of days just to keep up the dialogue.

I try to write every 5-6 days a week for a couple of hours. I could write more - alot more, but I'd like to have a healthy marriage and be involved in the lives of my amazing children.

Why could I write more? I find it fascinating how stories can improve through the process of re-writing. Its true what they say; writing IS re-writing. Now, about three quarters through my second draft, I'm thinking of all sorts of ways to improve the story.

I'll talk more about it in my next blog. Bye!

Top Ten Things I've Learned From Blogging

2010-04-18T13:06:00.008+10:00

We've reached the end of act one, 29,000+ words, or about 30% of the story. That's about as far as I intended to go with blogging. It's been such an interesting experience I've complied my thoughts into a "top ten" list of things I've learned.

1. Great writing isn't easy. I'm not that much of a writer. In all honesty, I have a lot of work to do. I expect I'll need to do another major draft after this one before I'm ready to show my work to a professional for advice.

2. Sex sells. Blogs with pictures like "Butt Cheek Girl" (King Hur's daughter) doubled or trippled my normal readership. I trust I used the power of these graphic and literary images wisely, but there's no denying the Bible is full of them.

3. Simplify everything. The more drafts I write, the more I realize that great writing keeps everything simple. Its so easy to lose an audience. I read somewhere that Dr Zeus wrote "Green Eggs and Ham" to meet his publisher's challenge of using no more than 100 words in his vocabularly (or was it 200?). Anyway, my kids can quote vast chunks of Green Eggs and Ham, and the story still has a great message. Food for thought.

4. POV separates the men from the boys. POV stands for "point of view" - and I've tried to follow one person's POV in each scene - normally Joshua's. If Joshua is not in a scene then, a) there HAS to be good reason, and b) I choose the person who has the most at stake in the drama.

5. Every story has a beginning, middle and end - but not necessarily in that order. Hopefully, I havent confused everyone with the way I mixed up the timeline by going back and forth from Salman's dialogue with Rahab, to the actual stories he told. Its an old trick, but a good one if used for the right reasons. I wanted to introduce Rahab and the King of Jericho early to heighten the drama. Story A (Joshua) and Story B (Rahab) meet up in the second act, and then its a single time line from there. Please let me know if you found that confusing.

6. Proofread everything. I don't trust myself - too many mistakes simply slip through my guard. It's scary.

7. Images are a great hook. The key is making sure they say the right thing. I just watched "Bandslam" - a movie with poster art that doesn't do it justice. When my daughters asked to hire it, I thought "great, this is a High School Musical rip-off", but I was so wrong. It was far better, edgier and more like "Juno" (not as funny - but you get the idea).

8. Start late and finish early. I try to enter a scene as late a possible and finish as early as possible to keep things moving. This is writing 101.

9. Character is everything. I'm trying to make each character have a distinct voice. How is Joshua different to Caleb? Does Phinehas say things that Salman would never even think? I'll probably need another draft just to focus on this.

10. Know your audience. This is what keeps me up at night. Who the heck will want to read this? or watch the movie (did I mention it's based on a screenplay?). I really, really, really don't want this to appeal just to a Christian audience. That would be a massive failure from my perspective. I hope that the religious aspects of the story don't undermine the fact that its a great story - and hopefully I can do it justice. Time will tell.

Thanks for reading.

A farewell to remember

2010-04-17T10:12:00.005+10:00

Salman racked his brain to think of a solution. A fast solution.

“Alright, that’s a problem. A big problem. Let me think about it for a minute. Our soldiers wont recognize know you. They might accidentally kill you in the heat of battle. You need a sign, or a secret password, or something.”

“That’s stupid,” Phinehas interrupted, “and impractical, especially if we’re under orders to kill everyone. And what if someone finds out about it?”

“You’re right. Secrecy is everything,” Salman continued. “Tell no one about us and we can save you.”

“Should we hide somewhere?” asked Rahab, “in the granary or...”

“No no - that’s too risky,” Salman interrupted as he paced the floor thinking out aloud. “If someone finds you they’ll ask questions. It’s too risky. But... if you stay here in your home, no one will suspect anything. Yes, you must be here when we attack.”

“Or you’ll die,” Phinehas added, “you and all your family. You can be certain of it.”

“Alright, I get it,” said Rahab, “ but what’s stopping your men crashing in here and killing us by mistake?”

Salman thought for a moment then rushed back to the window and grabbed the rope. “It’s too obvious.”

“What is?” asked Rahab.

“That rope, it’ll look like you’re trying to escape.”

He scanned the room and noticed some red cord wrapped around the bed posts. “I’m not even going to ask what this is doing here,” Salman chuckled as he hurriedly unravelled it.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I thought so. But if you hang this out your window on our soldiers will know where you live. Problem solved.”

Rahab embraced him hurriedly. “Thank you.”

“Salman, we've got to go. Now!” whispered Phinehas, as he climbed out the window and slid down the rope.

Salman reluctantly straddled the window's ledge. He wished he had more time to make sense of everything. Would Rahab be executed for helping the enemy? What about after the battle - would she flee the country? Would he even see her again? There was no time to think. No time to doubt.

Salman lingered for one last look, then began his descent down the wall.

“Come back quickly,” Rahab whispered, rushing to the window. “The Jordan will flood soon.”
Salman looked up at her. “I’ll never forget you.”

Rahab leaned further out the window and smiled. A million thoughts raced through Salman's head. She likes me? I could just reach up and impulsively steal a kiss. No one would ever know. It would be unexpected, uncalled for, and unbelievable! It would be the kiss of a lifetime.

But he was too far down the rope! Their lips missed by a few inches.

Rahab supressed her laughter. “Hide in the mountains. They'll come back in a day or two. Then you can cross the river safely.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“God be with you.”

He slid down the rope with ease, silently joining Phinehas on the ground below. Escaping into the night, they rain straight through the barley fields towards the palm trees beyond the reach of archers on the wall. Far in the distance, lightning and thunder awoke the black northern skies.

Rahab sat by her window looking out over the horizon, her tears of joy illuminated by flashes of lightning. For the first time in her life she prayed to the God of the Hebrews.

“God help them. Please.”

The Red Rope

2010-04-17T07:46:00.005+10:00

“Then she let them down by a rope through the window, for her house was on the city wall; she dwelt on the wall.” Joshua 2:15

The King of Jericho’s guards rode their horses hard along the moonlit road to the crossing. With fire in his eyes and Hell on his back, their Captain Giddel was seething with fury. Hashum had followed the spies into the Jericho, the King had given simple instructions, and yet nothing was working as planned.

To make matters worse, the horses were tiring and his men were complaining. Giddel looked behind his galloping steed towards his brother Hashum, who was pointing to the sky; it was starting to rain.

“Don't even think about stopping,” Giddel yelled as he violently whipped his horse, “we're going to catch them.”

But catching spies who haven’t yet escaped is an impossible task. Salman and Phinehas were still hiding in Rahab’s house, safe in the knowledge she had sent Jericho’s guards on a wild goose chase. For it was not geese being chased, but rather geese doing the chasing.

At the very moment Giddel dug in his heels and cracked his whip, miles away in Jericho Phinehas awoke suddenly in a fright and grabbed his cloak beside the bed. He ran to the window to look at the eastern sky. It was still dark, with no signs of dawn on the horizon.

“Let's go, before it gets light,” he said pacing into the other room where Rahab and Salman were packing the last supplies.

“Please, just a moment,” Rahab begged, “we’re almost finished.” Turning back to Salman, she continued. “If God is good, why did he ask Abraham to do such an evil thing?”

“You don't understand,” replied Salman.

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“There's no time,” Phinehas interjected.

“Is it too hard to answer?” asked Rahab.

Salman looked at Phinehas and shook his head in amazement. He had never encountered such a feisty women. After hours of conversation, her audacity still surprised him.

“I already told you,” replied Salman, “God stopped Abraham because he had a bigger plan. Isaac didn't die.”

“What about me? I’m as good as dead, right?”

Salman looked at Phinehas again; both were completely speechless. Neither were quite prepared to face that brutal reality.

The awkwardness of the moment unsettled Rahab, so she nervously moved to the outer bedroom and began tying a long rope around the bed posts.

“Wait, what are you doing?” asked Salman.

“What does it look like? Saving your life.”

Salman rushed to help her loop the rope through the bed’s heavy wooden framework. Somehow, as they were working together his hands ended up holding hers. It was more than accidental; he needed to feel the warmth of her skin. He needed to look into her eyes and know she could be trusted.

Using the bed as an anchor for the rope, they dragged it beside the window. Salman watched her throw the rope out the window like an expert. She’s probably done this a hundred times before, he thought. How many other men have secretly escaped her home in less honorable circumstances? How on earth am I going to explain this to Joshua?

Salman noticed Phinehas smirking. He was thinking the same thing, but added a quick shrug of his shoulders like he had no idea what to do with her.

After all they had shared in those long hours of the night, it was no longer Rahab’s past that disturbed Salman, no nearly as much as her future.

“Please, I've shown you kindness,” Rahab blurted, “spare my life when you attack.”

“God forbid you die,” replied Salman, looking to Phinehas for reassurance.

“Our lives for yours, that's fair,” said Phinehas, “but I don’t know how we’ll explain this to Joshua.

“We’ll worry about that later. Why don't you come with us now?” asked Salman.

“I can't. I won't leave my family behind.”

Salman racked his brain to think of a solution. A fast solution.

Caleb's scars

2010-04-15T20:00:00.004+10:00

“What??!” Salman gasped in amazement.

Caleb stopped in his tracks, wondering what Salman had seen. And then it clicked. The ghastly scars from Egyptian lashes on his back were completely exposed. Caleb turned around and saw Salman standing on the river bank completely horrified.

“What are you looking at?” asked Caleb.

“Why didn't Joshua come with us?”

Caleb shook his head in frustration. “Why are you asking me now? You know he wanted to, but it was too risky to leave the tribes to themselves.”

“And He never talks about the first time you saw Canaan.” Salman continued.

“You wait until I’m knee deep in the Jordan river before you ask me this?” yelled Caleb. “Son, you're opening an old wound.”

“I think I need to know,” Salman replied.

Caleb threw his arms up in the air with frustration. “You already know about the spies Moses sent! We weren’t much older than you. The others turned out to be cowards. They saw Jericho’s walls and wanted to go back to Egypt. Fools, as if slavery was the answer!”

“Why didn’t Moses stop them?” Salman asked.

“He tried. They convinced the whole camp to rebel. Your parents didn’t tell you? I’m not surprised. They took up stones against us. Sure, they repented later – but it was too late. It broke Joshua's heart. He's never been the same.”

“Why doesn’t anyone talk about this?”

“I suppose it brings up too much pain.”

“What about you?” asked Salman.

“Me? The only difference between you and me is forty years, and from where I'm standing that's not much.”

“Isn't it more like fifty?” ask Salman, “not meaning to sound rude.”

“Alright. Fifty three. I'm not one to grow old graciously.”

“I can only hope to have half your courage when I'm your age,” replied Salman.

“Well it's not doing much good now,” said Caleb as he stumbled to inch his way further into the river.

Salman looked across and saw Phinehas had reached the other side. He was waving Caleb to hurry up.

“Stay here with the horses. I'll go in your place,” Salman blurted out.

Caleb hesitated, facing his limitations was never easy. “I'm sorry, I've let you down. Too old and slow, that's my problem.” Caleb passed his satchel to Salman and took his place on the shore.

“Nonsense. The water is too deep, that's all,” replied Salman, side-stepping Caleb's bruised pride. Wading into waist depth, Salman turned around hesitantly.

“Pray for us. Please.”

“I have,” Caleb answered, “all my life.”

Salman could have sworn he saw tears swell up in Caleb's eyes, but he would never dare tell anyone. Besides, he had to deal with his own as he swam to the other side of the Jordan.
Leaving Caleb behind was a tough call. Neither Phinehas or Salman had travelled this far and Caleb's experience would be sorely missed.

Salman wondered if something went wrong, or a quick decision had to be made, who would make that call? Both Phinehas and Caleb were stubborn, but at least Caleb had the wisdom of years.

By God's grace and the prayers of Caleb, he knew they would stay safe.

Spies cross the Jordan

2010-04-14T17:29:00.005+10:00

The three men arrived at the Jordan river just as the soft light of dawn touched the water. A flock of birds scattered in their path as they cantered around the final bend in the river, but the men were too busy studying the opposite bank to even notice.

The river was high. Caleb could tell by the water lapping around the shrubs and trees. It was also too fast for his liking, for the markers at the crossing barely stood against the steady flow.
They dismounted and undressed, preparing themselves for the treacherous swim across.

“Just wait a minute till we know its clear,” said Caleb scanning the surrounding landscape for signs of danger.

“What?” replied Phinehas. “Are you afraid? I thought you’d be the first to rush in.”

“Rush into a trap?” said Caleb, “This is the perfect place for one.” He knew he was right, but he could see by the look of surprise of Phinehas’ face he had to spell it out.

“Crossing the river makes us easy prey for an ambush. We can’t defend ourselves, and we can’t retreat quickly. Any fool hiding in the grass with a bow and arrow could pick us off.”

“So what are you going to do?” asked Salman.

“We’ll cross one at a time.”

“Great, me first,” said Phinehas pushing Caleb aside and stepping into the water. Young and muscular, he forged steadily through the current, keeping his leather satchel dry above his head.

Caleb watched him closely. For someone who grew up in the wilderness far from rivers or oceans, Phinehas moved quite quickly, but the further he crossed, the harder it became. He soon started drifting slowly downstream, further away from Caleb and Salman, and into the deadly clutches of panic.

“Keep going Phinehas!” yelled Caleb, “Don’t turn back. You can do it.”

“Come on Phinehas,” yelled Salman as he started to follow him down the river bank.

“Salman, stay here with the horses,” shouted Caleb, “He’ll make it.”

“How do you know?” asked Salman.

“I know. Just believe,” he replied with steadying calm.

They watched as Phinehas barely kept his head above water. He couldn’t possibly keep his satchel dry, but it’s buoyancy was keeping him afloat. He was going to make it, just as Caleb expected.

“Well it’s now or never.” Caleb through off his tunic off and stepped into the river in nothing but his undergarments. The water was cold and his body stiff and sore. Did he have the strength to swim across the fast moving swollen waters? Time would tell.

Midnight race to the Jordan

2010-04-13T19:18:00.004+10:00

Across the moonlit plains the three men galloped with fearsome determination, as though all of Heaven held it’s breath in expectation. Phinehas led from the front, skillfully jumping over rocks and boulders, closely followed by Salman.

Caleb, however, lagged a little too far far behind. Not that he was a poor horsemen, but with every jump over tree stumps and ditches, his knees and back ached with pain. He usually didn't feel a day over forty, but to his own frustration, his eighty year old body was finally letting him down.

Moving out of the desert wilderness and into the Jordan valley, the landscape rapidly transformed into an oasis. The ground was carpeted with grass and lush plants, and a chorus of frogs and crickets filled the cool night air. The men galloped and weaved through large majestic palm trees that lined the river like sacred guardians of an ancient boundary.

One such tree had fallen over in a recent storm, presenting another hurdle for the horses. Phinehas was the first to jump and cleared it easily. For Salman, a slight stumble on landing was not enough to knock him from his saddle.

Finally, it was Caleb's turn. Salman waited behind to watch him negotiate the obstacle, but negotiation wasn’t one of Caleb’s strengths. He cleared the log courageously but then fell from his horse in the most undignified manner, hanging upside down with his legs still wrapped around its neck.

The fall wasn't hard enough to hurt more than Caleb’s pride, but Salman still checked to ask.

“You alright?”

“I'm fine,” Caleb replied, “just fine, keep going.”

“Let me help,” Salman insisted, as he dismounted his horse to hoist Caleb back into the saddle.

“Don’t bother, we're running out of time,” said Caleb.

“All the more reason,” replied Salman with a glance to the horizon. A faint glow in the East foretold the imminent arrival of dawn.

“There’s only an hour or so of darkness,” said Caleb. “If Jericho’s scouts see us approach the crossing from the South, they’ll know we’re Hebrews.”

“You think they have scouts?” ask Salman.

“Bet your life on it. I would, if I were them.”

“Come on,” continued Salman, “we can still catch Phinehas.”

Joshua sends spies

2010-04-13T05:51:00.002+10:00

Several days went by as the people of Israel mourned the death of their great leader. Moses was in a much better place, and although Joshua felt a great urgency to press on with the invasion of Canaan he also wanted to respectfully acknowledge the moment.

Joshua didn’t talk much of his experience on Mount Nebo, for he was mindful how easily the people could be frightened. Stories of Lucifer and Michael fighting over the body of Moses could be taken the wrong way. If the Devil can’t deceive people into doubting his existence, then he’ll try to crush their faith with fear. Either way, Joshua wasn’t going to stand for it.

However, so many people kept asking to see Moses’ body that, in the end, Joshua had to tell the truth. He had no idea where Moses was buried. That was a secret known only to the Lord, for which Joshua was surprisingly grateful. A grave can become a shrine, and a shrine can become an idol, and if that were ever to happen people would completely miss the point of Moses’ entire life.

Mindful that history has a way of repeating itself, a few hours after the ritual mourning had ceased, Joshua summoned his most trusted friends under the secrecy of darkness.
Caleb, Phinehas and Salman were ordered to spy out the land of Canaan, and pay particularly attention to Jericho and it’s fortifications.

Eleazar the High Priest (and Phinehas’ father) was also there to add his blessing and prayers, even as they saddled up their horses on what was certain to be a dangerous mission.

“Caleb, enter Jericho on foot,” said Joshua, “or you'll look suspicious. Salman will guard the horses at the river until you return.”

“Why the big secret?” Salman asked, “can’t we at least tell our families?”

“It’s for your own safety, and theirs” Joshua replied. “Besides, you don't have much time.”

“How long?” asked Caleb.

“Four days at the most.” said Joshua. “We'll cross the Jordan on the fifth. If you're not back, I’ll assume you're dead, or soon will be.”

“That's the least of our worries,” replied Caleb.

“I know,” said Joshua, “I only wish I could go myself.”

“Yes, but what kind of trouble would we return to?” said Caleb.

Joshua nodded his head in agreement. Caleb was right, at least on the big things, and more often than he cared to boast.

“Eleazar, it’s time send them off.”

On Joshua’s cue, the High Priest stepped forwarded and anointed each man with oil on the forehead. “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and give you peace. Shalom.”

“Shalom,” echoed Joshua, as the three men mounted their horses.

“What were you saying?” Phinehas asked Caleb.

Caleb leaned towards him with a crazy look in his eyes, “If you even smell of fear,” he whispered, “I'll kill you myself. You and Salman.”

“Oh that’s comforting,” Phinehas replied.

“Stop your squabbling and get out here,” Joshua ordered, and slapped their horses on the hind legs to send all three charging off into the night.

Eleazar stood solemnly watching them off under the moonlit sky. Joshua sensed the Priest’s fatherly pride wrestling with fear for his own son’s safety.

“He would be in more danger if he stayed,” said Joshua philosophically, “We all would.”

Although Eleazar kept his mouth shut tightly with stoic resolve, he still had to wipe the tears from his eyes. “There’s no safer place to be,” Eleazar replied, “other than in God’s will.”

“Amen,” said Joshua, as he gazed into the glorious night sky. “God’s will be done.”

The stars were too numerous to be counted.

The Death of Moses

2010-04-12T11:34:00.002+10:00

A cool breeze swept across the mountaintop bringing a chill down Joshua's spine.

Silence.

Joshua turned to Caleb. He sensed the same thing. Behind them stood an enormous majestic angel picking up the body of Moses. The old prophet was dead, and in the arms of the most beautiful being Joshua had ever seen. But no sooner were Joshua's eyes transfixed on this heavenly guide, his attention diverted to another, larger angel who appeared behind it.

The larger angel drew a flaming sword and confronted the former with unquestionable authority. “Lucifer, put him down.”

The armed Angel stood his ground, staring his old rival into submission. In an instant Moses' body was thrown to the ground and the one who had carried it transformed into a completely different creature. Now dark and shadowy, Joshua couldn't tell if it were beast or man. But the stench was undeniable.

The shadowy figure hissed and hurled around lunging at the angel in a frenzy of hate. It was Lucifer – undeniably, and the real angel was Michael, protector of Israel. The fight was so swift, neither Joshua nor Caleb could discern who was winning. A blurred flash of light intertwined with darkness spun like a whirlwind around them.

And then it was over as quickly as it began.

Michael had Lucifer by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground. Lucifer rolled over but stopped motionless in his tracks with the tip of Michaels sword poised perilously above his throat. “The Lord rebuke you,” Michael proclaimed with a booming voice.

Lucifer transformed instantly into a pile of rocks underneath Michael’s sword.

He was gone.

Michael kicked the rocks aside and they vanished into dust. The great angel sheathed his sword and respectfully picked up the body of Moses.

Joshua and Caleb stood motionless, petrified with fear and trembling. It was the most terrifying thing they had ever witnessed.

Michael carried the body alone towards the northern valley. The men scrambled to see where he was going but kept a respectful distance. But he was too fast. Before they knew it, they could no longer see Michael. He had vanished in a barren landscape with no where to hide.

Caleb rushed around the other side of the summit to see if he hadn't back tracked. Nothing.

Joshua looked in every direction and saw nothing as well. “Maybe we're not supposed to know?”

Caleb rested hands on his side catching his breath. “Good,” he replied, “We don't have to carry his body back down.” He laughed to himself as he walked away, leaving Joshua to follow behind.
“I'm not getting any younger,” yelled Caleb from a distance.

Joshua laughed, not at what he had witnessed, but at how Caleb could brush off something so serious with a light hearted comment. Seeing Moses' staff lying on the ground, he picked it up respectfully and ran to catch Caleb with a youthful energy he had so sorely missed on the climb up.

For Joshua at least, the death of Moses marked the conclusion of a dark chapter in Israel’s history. Things can only get better, he thought.

They had to. They simply had to.

A Conversation with Moses

2010-04-12T11:28:00.003+10:00

Reaching the summit, Joshua and Caleb breathed in the panoramic view with amazement. It was their first long look at the promised land from the vantage point of a mountaintop. The air was fresh and clear, and time itself seemed to slow down and catch it’s breath with Joshua and Caleb.
Moses sat down and rested by a large boulder to absorb the scenery. “Seeing this, I can’t help but think of Abraham.”

Joshua snapped out of his daydream. “Of course,” he replied. “What about him in particular?”

“Two things,” replied Moses. “His father Terah was told to leave the city of Ur and go to Canaan first, but he never made it. He settled half way. That’s all we know about him. A timely reminder, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” replied Joshua, knowing full well what Moses was implying. Compromise was not an option. No matter how difficult the task, Canaan must be conquered.

“What’s the other thing?” asked Caleb.

“Well, we know that Abraham was born into a family that worshipped many gods,” continued Moses. “Somewhere between his journey from Ur to Canaan he found the One True God.”

“We don’t know exactly how?” asked Joshua.

“Other than God simply revealed himself,” replied Moses. “What’s more intriguing, is why Abraham? And how he made the inner journey from idolatry to faith, without any knowledge of God’s law I might add. He was far from perfect, as you know. If you like, that is the true miracle.”

Joshua brooded over Moses‘ words. Something didn’t add up. In fact, it never really did. If
Moses was going to die today, there would never be another time to ask.

Joshua threw caution to the wind and blurted out his inner-most thoughts. “Through Abraham's Seed all nations shall be blessed?”

“Not the Canaanites,” chuckled Caleb.

“That’s was is written, right?” Joshua continued.

“Yes,” replied Moses, “What’s your point?”

“Surely God wouldn’t want to destroy the Midianites and Canaanites, and all the other nations he asks us to conquer?” Joshua continued. “If he can pardon Abraham’s sins, why does he judge others?”

“There’s a simple answer to that,” replied Moses, “but it probably wont satisfy you.”

“Let me guess,” said Joshua. “God is God, he judges who he wants, when he wants?”

“Yes,” replied Moses, “but truth be told, He’s bigger than that. He’s far bigger than you or I could ever imagine. What we know of Him is tiny compared with what we don’t know of Him. And that’s where things get very interesting.”

“Yes but calling it a ‘mystery’ is cold comfort to someone on the sharp end of Phinehas’ spear, don’t you think?” asked Joshua.

“Not necessarily,” replied Moses. “Think about it. God hides himself, so that we might find Him. He wants us to seek Him. I find that fascinating.”

“At times, I find it disturbing,” replied Joshua. “But maybe because I'm afraid of myself. My own heart is not pure.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me,” interrupted Caleb, “both of you. Just believe. It’s as simple as that.”
“Caleb’s right,” said Moses. “Joshua, be strong and courageous. Wherever you walk, the land is yours.”

Joshua could see something more in Moses' eyes but he dared not ask. There was always a distance between himself and the great prophet, perhaps because he could never truly understand what it meant to have experience all that Moses had. Joshua slowly turned his back to Moses and joined Caleb to gaze once again on Jericho.

“If God is for us, what’s there to fear?” said Caleb.

Joshua went to say something but kept quiet. It no longer seemed appropriate.

Moses at Mount Nebo

2010-04-06T18:00:00.002+10:00

The slaughter of the Midianites was long forgotten when the Children of Israel finally reached Mount Nebo. Joshua was burdened with other thoughts and responsibilities as Moses anointed him in front of all the elders. He was chosen not to be King, as some had wanted, but simply a humble servant. There could only ever be one true king over Israel; God Almighty.

This day was to be the last occasion for Moses to address the people. Joshua stood in quite reverence as the old prophet publicly read out the law and the commandments once again.

It was a sermon he had heard many times before. The words were etched in Joshua’s soul. Victory was assured to the Hebrews, if only they remained faithful to Almighty God. Their lives would be blessed with bountiful crops, healthy families and prosperous trade.

The curse of disobedience simply worked in reverse. Defeat at the hand of their enemies was certain. Their crops and fields would be cursed, their women would remain barren, and their life would be dogged by poverty and disease. Ultimately, they would be enslaved to their enemies and forfeit the land God had promised them.

“I set before you life and death,” said Moses, “blessing and cursing, therefore choose life.”

Life - fancy being told to choose it, thought Joshua. Yet we are that stupid. If Moses’ departure accomplishes only one thing, I hope it shocks us into remembering.

It was a mournful occasion, knowing that Moses would never inherit the promised land he had inspired so many to believe in. It was Moses who defied Pharaoh, the mightiest ruler of the world, and boldly proclaimed “Let my people go.” It was Moses who parted the Red Sea and carried the bones of Joseph across. It was Moses who sent twelve brave spies into the promised land only to have them all return as cowards.

All except Joshua and Caleb.

The two men embraced their elder prophet and escorted him up the arduous climb to Mount Nebo's summit. As the tears and wailing of a nation subsided in the valley below, Joshua couldn't help but notice the strength and vitality with which Moses tackled the climb. If this was the mountain where Moses would die, he certainly wasn’t acting like it. The closer he approached the summit the younger he appeared.

A quick glance from Caleb confirmed his suspicions. Although they were younger and fitter, both men struggled to keep up with Moses. Perhaps the angels were helping Moses to his final destination? Or maybe the cares of the world were lifting off his shoulders? What ever it was, Joshua sensed an unbridled joy in Moses’s spirit that he hadn’t seen in many years.

The higher they climbed Mount Nebo, the more they could see. Across the vast dry desert valley lay the greener lands of the river Jordan. They could see the crossing, one of several actually, but the main route through which Joshua would attack.

Further still, some twenty six miles away stood Jericho, known as the City of Palms (and for good reason). The straight road approaching the city was lined with tall palm trees. Rows of palms bordered the lush fertile fields - fields bursting with crops that could feed an army.

Cold blood

2010-04-04T20:30:00.001+10:00

“What is it?” asked Joshua.

“Come here,” Moses replied, “both of you.”

Joshua and Phinehas cautiously approached, with Caleb following behind, if only for moral support.

Moses glared into their eyes. “I said kill them all.”

“We did,” Joshua replied “they're only women and children.”

Moses breathed a deep sigh, stroked his beard, and took time to compose himself.
“I know the torment that grips your soul,” he continued. “Spare them and our sons will be fighting for a thousand years, or worse, they'll marry. Whose children will they raise? Abraham’s or Baal’s? You think the Messiah will come if there are no children of Abraham left on the earth?

Joshua could barely accept what he was hearing. “But surely...surely the only just thing to do... I didn't know...”

“Oh yes you did,” Moses interrupted. “You just didn't want to know. You wanted to bargain with God. Believe me, I've been there myself.”

Joshua bowed his head in shame. He had never felt so humiliated in all his life. If this is what a leader must do, he thought, God why did you choose me?

Moses turned his attention to Caleb, who by now was looking rather sheepish himself.
“Caleb, spare the girls. Get rid of the boys and women.”

“Yes,” Caleb answered, “if that's what you want, I’ll do it.”

Moses raised his finger sternly, “No. That's what God wants.”

Who could answer that? thought Joshua as he watched Caleb and Phinehas walk back and begin the gruesome task of separating the living from those who would soon be dead.

Moses gently put his arm around Joshua, pulling him aside from the cries of mothers desperately clinging to their children. “A great prophet will come after me.”

“The Messiah?” asked Joshua.

“Yes,” Moses replied. “Be sure to do everything he tells you.”

Amidst the bloodcurdling screams and wailing, Joshua stood emotionless watching Moses walk back into the camp. Is this what I’ll become? He thought to himself. If this is leadership, then it's a burden too great to bear. “God,” said Joshua to himself, “I just want to be free.”

Kill them all?

2010-04-01T20:27:00.003+11:00

“Now therefore, kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman who has known a man intimately” Numbers 31:17

The next day Joshua and the troops returned to camp, after a harrowing night securing the Midianite villages. It was a ugly task going house to house, confiscating weapons and supplies, made all the more difficult by what to do with the women and children.

Although Joshua expected a nasty reception, having widowed and orphaned most of the civilian population, he still felt sympathy for their desperate plight. What future could they have without husbands and sons? he thought. Who would work the fields and feed their families?

Leaving them to fend for themselves was tantamount to a death sentence. In the end, Joshua decided the only humane thing to do was to bring them back to camp. They could live outside and work for their keep. The Hebrews had been slaves themselves and would surely treat them well. Besides, the servant of a gracious master enjoyed a better life than than most free men.

Twelve thousand weary soldiers returned to camp that day, officially under Phinehas' command, but all looked to Joshua for moral leadership. They longed for the joy of seeing their wives and children again, hoping that their loving embrace would wipe the horrid memories of a bloody battle.

Joshua knew the burden of Zebulan's death hung heavy on Salman's heart. War is hell, he thought, even when you win. There’s always a price to pay. There’s always loss, pain and death. Good men die.

There were no words with which he could comfort Salman. All he could do was pray that the young man’s faith would not fail. Pray and watch from a distance. But Joshua’s solemn mood was shattered the moment he caught sight of the Hebrew camp. No one rushed to greet them. Children and wives that would normally run to embrace the returning soldiers were held back from celebrations.

It was to an old angry prophet they returned. Joshua was somewhat surprised to see his harsh countenance as they approached the western gate. A sinking feeling hit Joshua’s stomach as he dismounted his horse. This is not good, he thought. If Moses knows something I don’t, why do I feel like I’m about to be disciplined?

Moses raised his staff to halt the march.

Caleb walked up beside Joshua for moral support. “Maybe now, we should beg for forgiveness,” he whispered.

“Somehow, I think not,” replied Joshua.

Moses seemed too angry to speak. Joshua couldn’t help but notice him staring at the thousands of Midianite women and children they had taken prisoner. Joshua glanced at Phinehas, hoping he might be able to offer some glimmer of hope, but he was none the wiser.

All Phinehas could do was step forward and say the obvious. “We won. The Midianites are no more.”

Moses remained silent and unimpressed.

Death

2010-04-01T17:15:00.004+11:00

Joshua stood transfixed in the moment. So many mixed feelings awash with blood. Death is never pleasant, he thought, even the death of an enemy. He begged to be my slave? As if I was the free man.

The deathly silence was broken by Salman walking towards Phinehas. The crowd parted, and everyone saw he was carrying his brother's body in his arms.

“Zebulan is dead.”

“You tell his wife,” answered Phinehas

“You’re that heartless?”

“What, you're his brother, of course you'll tell his wife,” replied Phinehas.

“Tell her what?” asked Salman, “You rode the camels too early and too far. Your reckless lust for glory broke our ranks. No, you tell her.”

Joshua sensed the tension rising, but felt like he couldn’t take sides. His purpose there was to unite, not divide the troops.

Phinehas walked closer to Salman, close enough to whisper. “I led from the front. It's war. What did you expect?'

Phinehas turned aside to walk away but Caleb stood in the way. He wasn't moving, and after a moment of uneasiness, Phinehas yielded and walked around him.

Joshua realized the situation was deteriorating. “Salman, we did all you could to save your brother.”

“I prayed he would live,” replied Salman.

“You'll see him at the resurrection.”

Somehow Joshua's answer didn't seem enough, both for Salman and Joshua. But it was the only hope they had. It would be a long march back to camp.

Victory

2010-04-01T08:46:00.003+11:00

Salman charged first, but smashed his shoulder against the giant’s shield.

Caleb was tossed aside like a rag doll, his axe slipping from his grip.

Joshua lunged at his throat, but the giant grabbed the sword, crushing Joshua’s right hand in the process.

“Out of my way Grandpa,” roared the ogre as he knocked Joshua unconscious.

Salman threw a rock and smashed his right eye - but a wild kick in reply threw Salman back onto Zebulan.

“Two at once!” he said, wiping the blood from his face. “Number twenty and twenty one.”

“You can count?” said Salman.

The humor went unappreciated, as the giant kicked the sword from Salman’s hand then plunged his massive boot on Zebulan's chest. He was raised his sword high in the air to decapitate him.
Joshua stammered to he feet, dazed and confused. His sword was missing, but Caleb’s axe would do.

Salman hastily threw a knife into his back.
No reaction. Nothing. Not even a flinch.

The giant's sword rained down with morbid finality. Zebulan struggled to free himself but couldn’t escape the sword plunging deep through his chest.

Joshua swung the axe with one hand and struck the giant clean through the neck, sending his head flying into the backside of a passing camel. It was a stunning kill, but not enough to console Salman, who rushed to cradle Zebulan in his arms.

“Oh God, save him. Please,” he wept.

Joshua stripped off his tunic and pressed it firmly onto Zebulan’s bloodied chest. “Salman, pay attention!” Joshua ordered. “Hold this down hard, You hear me? We can't lose him. You must stop the bleeding.”

Blood was everywhere.

In the middle of the battle, Phinehas and his men were completely drenched in it. But it was royal blood they were after. Only two Midianite Kings remained, and the best of their henchmen were fighting to the very last man.

The rest of the Hebrews (those not helping the wounded) quickly surrounded the enemy, blocking every path of escape. Phinehas led the final push, slashing and jabbing his way through the remaining hundred or so Midianites. He was brutally unstoppable, slaying men with both the sharp and blunt ends of his trusted spear. Indeed, it became such a spectacle, his comrades stood back and watched in awe as Phinehas finished off the lot of them.

In the end, plump King Reba stood cowering behind King Hur, both arrayed in fine costume and jewelry.

But the party was over.

Dripping with blood and sweat, Phinehas took a moment to catch his breath and feel the adrenaline surging through the veins of his muscular limbs. He glared at King Hur like a rabid wolf.

“Sin always comes to this,” shouted Joshua as he pushed his way through the crowd. He felt compelled to witness the final judgment of his enemy.

“Joshua, you’re insane, the whole lot of you,” replied Hur.

“Maybe,” said Phinehas as he wiped his face. “You can’t reason with us, so why bother?”

The ground squelched with blood as Phinehas stepped forward for a closer look. But his face was so filthy he could barely open his eyelids. Just as he paused again to wipe his eyes, Hur charged forward and tackled Phinehas to the ground. Reba saw his chance and rushed in to help, but although Phinehas lay flat on the ground, he managed to raise his spear just in time for Reba to walk straight into it.

Phinehas flipped to his feet. Checkmate.

King Hur realized it was over. He lowered his sword to the ground and raised his arms slowly in the air.

Joshua stepped forward over the dead body of King Reba. “Hur, You brought this on yourself.”

“Take us a slaves,” Hur replied, “We'll serve your gods.”

The other Midianites dropped their swords.

“Gods? There’s only one true God. Serve you own,” cried Phinehas “...in Hell.” And with that he rammed his spear into King Hur. One hundred other Hebrew spears finished the rest in an instant. There they lay, the last of the Midianite men, bleeding, gasping, dying.

The battle was won.

The Giant of Midian

2010-04-01T05:52:00.002+11:00

Joshua scanned the battlefield with relief. The Hebrews were gaining the upper hand. All around him, Midianites were either dying or fleeing. In the centre, Phinehas was driving a wedge through their ranks, moving ever closer towards the last two kings.

“Well done,” said Joshua, as he greeted Salman bloodied and breathless,

“They’re almost finished?” Salman asked.

“That’s when its most dangerous,” said Caleb, with his eyes fixed elsewhere. “Only the tough ones are left.”

“Good Lord!” Joshua interrupted, “it's a Nephraim!”

“A what?” asked Salman.

“Look behind you,” Caleb added. “The Nephraim are giants. What’s he doing this side of the river?”

“Coming our way,” said Joshua.

The three men took positions to defend Zebulan. Joshua knew it was now their courage would be tested. Everything else had been a rehearsal for this moment. Walking eight feet tall, with the weight of three men, the Nephraim stormed his way towards them.

“We strike him at once or not at all,” ordered Joshua. “Salman take the left. Caleb, the right. Now he’s strong, but not quick, and his eyes aren’t as sharp as ours.”

“How do you know?” asked Salman.

“I killed one at the tavern in Bethel.”

“Forty years ago,” Caleb added. “And he was a one armed drunk.”

“Spare him the details,” Joshua replied, “they only make it worse.”

The Heat of Battle

2010-03-29T19:48:00.002+11:00

Stepping over his companions, a tall hooded Midianite entered the fray - keen to claim the scalp of Joshua. He was armed with a reaper’s scythe, its long curved blade normally harvested wheat, but could easily slice clean through limbs.

The reaper paced steadily towards Joshua - barely pausing to butcher someone foolishly standing in his way. A strong low sweep of his razor sharp blade took a young Hebrew’s left leg off at the knee.

Joshua couldn’t fight him alone, yet Phinehas was still unarmed. He quickly threw the spear back to him - it was far deadlier in the hands of its owner.

In the nick of time, Phinehas jabbed the Reaper’s thigh while Joshua’s sword blocked a powerful sweep of the scythe just inches from his knee.

With a quick lunge to his left, Joshua swiped his sword tip across the heels of the Reaper, tripping him to the ground. It was all over bar Phinehas’ death blow to the throat, when Joshua lunged to fend off another threat.

A Midianite axeman took Joshua’s sword through the chest. It wasn’t enough to kill, so Joshua stole the axe and sliced his throat.

“Thanks,” said Phinehas.

“You did well” replied Joshua. “Just remember, the spear tip is for flesh, the blunt end for ribs - don’t confuse the two. Now go get those Kings.”

Joshua and Caleb formed a defensive perimeter around the wounded, along with others who quickly came to their aide. There were too many wounded to remove from the battle, but at least they could protect them from further harm.

Although Joshua’s sword was not as swift as Phinehas' spear, with Caleb’s help he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. At times, they were comical.

“Caleb, are you holding up?” Joshua remarked while skillfully dispatching an enemy.

“Stop worrying,” shouted Caleb. “I'm fine, though my shoulder's a bit stiff”.

Caleb swung his sword around to loosen up his joint, and quite innocently smashed another attacker in the forehead.

“Just leave some for the others,” Joshua laughed.

Meanwhile, Salman scarcely held his own against the Midianite onslaught. Protecting his brother made him a magnet for anyone with a bruised ego looking for an easy kill.
Fortunately, one such scavenger was the third Midianite patriarch, King Zur. His golden breastplate was a telltale sign of royal title and a clear target for Salman to aim a hasty slingshot. It found its mark, but failed to shatter. Zur kept charging towards him, barely winded from the blow.

Salman hit the dirt, narrowly missing decapitation from Zur’s sword. He saved his skull, but now Zebulan lay unprotected with Zur vengefully poised to deliver a fatal blow.

With no time to stand up, Salman reacted instinctively. In one swift motion he lassoed Zur's neck with his leather slingshot.

The King spun around, furious that someone would snare him on a leash. Salman seized the opportunity to jump to his feet, and twist the cord tighter around his neck.

But it wasn't enough - Zur was still mobile. Salman crash tackled the king and tried to drag him to the ground, but he was too big. Like a huge dog on a short chain, Salman had him bound and gagging, but still couldn’t overpower him.

As he clung tightly to Zur, Salman endured frightening blows to his face and body. He couldn't fight back for fear of losing his stranglehold, so leaned against the leather cord with all his might.

And the more he leaned, the tighter Zur choked.

But two could play that game. Zur grasped the leather straps and yanked Salman over his shoulder like a rag doll. Salman tried to hold on valiantly as he swung into orbit, but Zur was breaking free of the noose. Letting go of the straps, Salman dropped to the ground and sent him reeling in agony with a kick to the groin.

The leather sling was sill wrapped around Zur’s neck, so Salman stood squarely on his back and yanked it as hard as he could.

SNAP! Zur's neck was broken, and his head slumped to the ground like a melon.

King on a stick

2010-03-26T16:54:00.003+11:00

“Watch out!” yelled Caleb.

Joshua was set upon by a swordsman. His defensive block only dampened the attack - just enough time for Joshua to trip him to the ground with a kick to the ankle.

THUD! Joshua’s sword finished him off.

WHACK!

Joshua turned and recognized a familiar axe embedded in the chest of a enemy behind him.
“You fight with a sword and axe?” said Joshua handing it back to Caleb.

“I haven’t been training for nothing,” Caleb replied, yanking his sword out of another body.

The battle soon opened up and Joshua finally caught sight of Phinehas. He was rescuing a wounded soldier, struggling to pull him up onto his camel and fend off attackers with his free arm.

Who is it? thought Joshua. Salman? Worse - his brother Zebulan. Much loved. He cannot die.
Joshua felt powerless to intervene but decided he must. He sensed a tragedy unfolding in slow motion.

Zebulan slumped to the ground, barely able to raise his shield and fend off two Midianite swordsman.

Phinehas speared one, but was dragged off his camel by the other.

Bad move, thought Joshua as he pushed his way through the fighting. Phinehas is deadlier on foot - that buys me some time.

Phinehas slashed his attacker in the jugular, then flipped his spear around and rammed the blunt end into his chest. CRACK! Ribs shattered, blood splattered, and the Midianite fell to the earth.

Joshua arrived to find Zebulan in worse danger. King Evi, a large barrel chested man, lumbered towards him like a angry bear.

Joshua knew his chances were slim. He was too big to outmuscle.

Evi charged, straight into Joshua’s flying dagger.

It landed firmly in the abdomen, followed in rapid succession by Salman’s slingshot to the head and Phinehas’ spear through his ribs.

Evi dropped dead. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Nice work men,” shouted Joshua, trying to remove Phinehas’ spear, but it was jammed in the rib cage. Joshua saw Salman running to Zebulan’s aid. “Good, see to his wounds, before he loses too much blood.”

“He’s messed up pretty bad I think,” replied Salman. “How did he get hit by our slingshots?”

“Don’t know. The plan didn’t work,” Phinehas replied, fending off another attacker with his dagger.

“No time to argue.” Joshua could see where this was going. “Salman get your brother out of here.”

Zebulan groaned at the prospect of moving.

“He’s in too much pain,” yelled Salman.

“Right - we’ll stay with him,” Joshua ordered. “Phinehas, get your spear and keep fighting. Go for the other Kings.”

“Why?”

“Don’t argue.”

“But we haven’t taken out their infantry”

“Phinehas! Nothing ever goes to plan” yelled Joshua sternly. “Now strike the shepherds and the sheep will scatter!”

“Yes sir,” replied Phinehas.

And from that moment, Joshua assumed command of the rescue, for by now he realized they were taking far too many casualties. “God forbid anyone of us should die.”

But his words were of little comfort. Even as Caleb arrived to help, panic gripped Salman’s heart. “God please, oh God, ... not my brother.”

Joshua and Caleb desperately fought off an onslaught of attackers while Salman nervously opened Zebulan’s tunic. The shoulder joint was split in two, with bones piercing the skin. His chest was drenched in blood.

“I’ll be fine,” Zebulan moaned through the pain.

“No, it’s bad. Really bad,” Salman replied.

“You’re not supposed to say that,” Zebulan screamed angrily, “Just don’t leave me, alright?”

“Never,” Salman replied, “You think I'm insane?”

There was no time to waste, but Joshua realized Phinehas still needed help. His spear was jammed King Evi’s rib cage, and no amount of pulling and heaving could dislodge it.

“You alright? What on earth are you doing?” shouted Joshua.

“I don’t want to lose the spear tip,” replied Phinehas.

“Spear tip? What about the battle?” yelled Joshua. “Give it to me.”

Joshua grabbed the end of the spear like he was holding a pitchfork.

“What are you doing?”

“Arggh... King on a stick,” shouted Joshua, as he flung Evi around on the end of the spear. The carcass flew off and hit a row of Midianites.

Chaos

2010-03-26T05:45:00.003+11:00

With exploding clay shots decimating their ranks, the Midianites didn’t know which target to choose; the foot soldiers or the camels? Most aimed for somewhere in between.

Arrows rained down like deafening hail on the ground in front of Joshua. All he could do was lie still and sweat it out, hoping none hit their mark.

“Salman,” yelled Joshua, I’m feeling helpless here.”

“Don’t worry,” Salman replied over the roar of arrows striking the earth “They’re hitting no mans land.”

Joshua looked up again, and much to his relief saw that Salman was right. They were safe, at least for the moment.

“Now can we fight?” asked Caleb

“Nooooooo! Stay down.”

Salman reloaded and fired a second volley as Phinehas thundered ever closer towards the Midianites.

Enemy horses suddenly caught the scent of the camels and panicked at the apocalyptic sight. No amount of curses and whipping could restrain them from throwing their riders and fleeing the battle field in terror.

“And I thought camels were a silly idea,” said Joshua. “Now can we attack?”

“Yes! Quickly,” replied Salman, helping him up off the ground.

“About time, I’m due for a nap soon,” joked Caleb.

Joshua and Caleb charged towards the enemy, as two thousand slingers drew their swords and joined ranks with the Hebrew infantry.

With the slingshots still raining judgement from the sky, Phinehas’ camelry smashed through the Midianite frontline. Their long spears were unstoppable. A devastating jab to the chest, a gut, and a neck - in two seconds three men were slain by the hand of Phinehas.

Joshua kept running - muscles aching, heart pounding - whatever it took to keep up with the younger soldiers. He could see King Hur now, through the rows of Midianites decimated by slingshots.

Clay shrapnel tore through shields and flesh. Standing beside King Hur, the potbellied King Rekem turned around to call for reinforcements, but there were none. A few men staggered around in a daze, holding wounds on their head and limbs. No one was spared.

Not even King Rekem.

Barely had he time to turn and to face the camels, when a final clay shot embedded in his forehead. Dead on his feet, it took a moment for him to topple like a massive cedar tree falling to the ground.

Joshua finally reached the front line, momentarily disorientated in a forest of camel legs and thick undergrowth of dead and dying men. Where was Phinehas? What the heck was going on?

Better to give than receive

2010-03-25T21:37:00.003+11:00

Down to business, Joshua leaned over and whispered in Salman’s ear. “Where do you want us? Not to get in your way.”

“Lie flat and keep your head down. You’ll be safe.”

Joshua watched Salman step forward and turn to face the front line.

“Slingers load.” His orders sparked two thousand slingers into action as Joshua hurriedly pulled Caleb flat to the ground out of harms way.

Joshua saw the intensity in Salman’s eyes as reached into his munitions pouch and loaded his slingshot. The straps were much longer than a shepherd’s sling so the heavy shot needed to kill an armored solider could reach a longer distance.

Salman crouched down like an hammer thrower, and in perfect timing with every other slinger he turned his entire body around several times to reach full velocity.

Good Lord, thought Joshua as the sling whirled inches above him, that thing really could take my head off.

“Argghhhh...” Salman released the sling from his grip and sent the deadly missile rocketing high into the sky. In a split second, two thousand other slingshots filled the clear blue skies with death.

Joshua looked up in awe - better to give than to receive! There was silence for a second, but the earth soon trembled with anticipation.

“Now?” asked Joshua.

“NO! Keep your head down,” yelled Salman.

“Yes! Yes of course.”

In a carefully orchestrated move, nine thousand Hebrew foot soldiers quickly formed into columns, about twelve feet apart to make way for the camels. The thunder of Phinehas and a thousand camelry charging through the Hebrew ranks past Joshua was planned to catch the Midianites by surprise.

And surprised they were. Not knowing whether to raise their shields for protection or to fire at the camel charge, the Midianite archers froze with confusion and terror.

“Well done!” Joshua exclaimed, “that’ll show them what we’re made of.”

Life or Death

2010-03-21T16:07:00.003+11:00

“What on earth are you doing?” Joshua couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Their presence on the battlefield was supposed to inspire courage. It wasn’t meant to be this difficult.

“It’s alright,” replied Phinehas dismounting his camel, “I respect my elders.”

The two men faced off, standing toe to toe, eyeballing each other. Phinehas’ tall muscular frame towered over Caleb’s short stocky body. Neither man was prepared to budge.

“In case you’re hard of hearing,” said Phinehas, “I’ll say it real slow and loud. YOU. ARE. TOO. OL...”

THWUMP!

Phinehas never finished his sentence. The force of Caleb’s mighty punch to his stomach completely winded him as he dropped to the ground like a sack of barley.

“As a wood cutter,” said Caleb standing proudly over Phinehas squirming in the dust, “young green saplings snap easily in your hands. But old wood - well, that’s much tougher.”

Joshua extended his hand to help a very humbled Phinehas to his feet, and motioned for the other soldiers to stop smirking with laughter.

“Well I wont have the boy,” Phinehas said as he remounted his camel. “And with all respect, you may serve under my command today but your lives are in your own hands.”

Joshua shook Phinehas’ hand in good faith. “Moses wants you to lead this battle. Nothing would make me more proud than to see you win. And if we live or die, that’s up to God.”

“What about me?” asked Othniel.

“Do as he says son,” Joshua replied. “Back to camp. There’ll be other battles.”

Phinehas deferred to his elders and moved his camel aside to let them pass. And through the ranks they marched, amidst the gob-smacked gaze of soldiers less than half their age.

“Great day for a fight,” Caleb remarked,

“That it is,” replied Joshua, quite relieved to put the argument with Phinehas behind him.

“Of course, it takes a little while to warm up,” chuckled Caleb as he loosened up the joints in his stiff right arm. “Now that I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Like the parting of the Red Sea, thousands of soldiers respectfully stepped aside to make way for Joshua and Caleb. These ancient warriors were living proof of a miracle-working God, and their entrance onto the battle field finally ushered a much greater sense of courage than Joshua had hoped for.

As they reached the frontline, Joshua gripped Salman’s hand firmly with immense honor and humility.

“Salman,” said Joshua, “Is there room for us here by your side?”

“Joshua, ... Caleb, I'm shocked, I mean.. honored.”

“Just don't expect us to carry you”, muttered Caleb.

Joshua drew his sword and raised his eyes towards Heaven. What came forth was as much a life-long fervent prayer as it was a battle cry.

“God of Abraham, Creator of Heaven and Earth, grant me now the strength of my youth. Whether in life or in death, in this world or the next, guide me now Great Jehovah, into your promised land.”

“Amen” shouted Caleb, and all raised their swords and shouted in hearty agreement.

Too old to fight?

2010-03-21T09:27:00.003+11:00

Upon arriving, Joshua thought it best to dismount from their horses, for they don’t really mix well with camels. The two pressed forward through the crush to try and overhear Phinehas’ preparations.

“The slingers are ready,” informed a messenger on horseback.

“Good,” replied Phinehas. “Riders, take your positions. Go on my mark or get out of my way.”

“Wait a minute!” someone cried in the jostling crowd of soldiers.

Phinehas saw a commotion heading his way. It was Zebulan, dragging a young Hebrew soldier by the scruff of his neck.

“What were you thinking? You’re too young!”

“No I’m not.”

“Tell that to Phinehas,” Zebulan replied as he threw the boy to the ground.

“Hey, that hurt!” yelled the teenager, picking himself up. He was instantly recognizable to Phinehas.

“Othniel, I admire your enthusiasm, but I never asked you to fight. Get up and go home.”

“Sorry, I just thought...”

“You thought you’d like to die?”

“No. I just want to fight.”

“Oh really? Not last time I checked. I need men, not boys who are afraid of women. You heard Zebulan - you’re too young. Now go, before you cause more trouble than you’re worth.”

“It’s not fair,” Othniel replied, then dusted himself off and marched past Phinehas in a huff.

“Excuse me” said Caleb, bumping into young Othniel on the way out. Although old enough to be his grandfather, his muscular frame wasn’t used to stepping aside for anyone. Caleb’s arms and legs were grotesquely scarred from Egyptian lashes felt many years before - a legacy of the suffering that couldn’t break his spirit.

“Caleb, what are you doing here?” asked Phinehas.

“What does it look like? Taking my position on the field of battle.”

“Really?”

“Yes he is,” replied Joshua, stepping into view behind his old friend. “We waited our whole life for this day, and God help the man who tries to stop us.”

“Whoooa! Whose in charge here?” Phinehas replied. “You’re too old - both of you.”

This wasn’t the reaction Joshua planned for. He smiled, raised his hand and was about to reason with Phinehas, but was quickly brushed aside by Caleb.

“Too young? Too old? Think you’re special? Who was chopping firewood before you were born?”

“Exactly. That’s my point!” Phinehas laughed.

“I can still swing an axe with one hand and split a log as thick as your skull,” Caleb shouted.

“You’re the only one with a thick skull,” scorned Phinehas.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t know how to build a golden calf like your grandad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Phinehas.

“Caleb! You’ve said enough.” Joshua put his hand over Caleb’s mouth. “Only dogs dig up old bones.”

“I’ve got nothing against either of you,” Phinehas replied calmly, “But you’re just too old.”

“Come down off your fancy schmancy camel and say that to my face,” demanded Caleb.

War

2010-03-19T07:23:00.004+11:00

Children’s temper tantrums are usually a little more sophisticated by the time they grow up and go to war, but for King Hur, the best he could do was smash large pottery flagons of wine on the battle ground where he paced like a wounded bull.

“Curse Joshua! Curse his god, his prophet and his people”, bellowed the angry tyrant, “I’ll drink the blood from his skull before this day is done.”

The King’s murderous rants left globules of spit dangling from his long bushy beard, as he tip-toed around the shards of broken pottery. If the situation wasn’t so serious, his subordinates would have laughed at the absurdity of such a dummy spit. So incredulous were Hur's violent threats, it seemed he mourned the loss of his pride more than his daughter.

The Midianite’s proud words did nothing to impress his regal companions assembled on that dreaded day of battle. Four other kings united forces with Hur - King Evi, Rekem, Reba and Zur all appeared sympathetic to Hur's personal loss, but “pathetic” more accurately described the true nature of their allegiance.

It was alliance of fools, politicians and mercenaries - the worst way to go to war, and for the very worst reasons. Hastily forged in the fires of convenience, Hur’s army flagrantly mocked the Hebrews under the hideous banner of their man-made god, Baal Peor.

Nevertheless, across the dry hot valley the two armies stood. The Midianites to the north were a ragged horde of ten thousand barbarians and nomads, blackmailed into service on the promise of spoils and the threat of retributions. The pride of their forces consisted of several hundred horsemen, mercenaries who were as fine as any calvary in the known world (as long as they were paid).

In front were several thousand archers, mostly herdsmen who hunted wild goats in their spare time, but their weapons were equally deadly aimed at human foe. At the rear, six or seven thousand foot soldiers bulked up their numbers, but the absence of any real discipline or fighting prowess was clearly evident in their motley assortment of weaponry. Sickles and pruning knives, stone axes and rough metal implements suggested that they either lacked the ability to forge iron or had arrogantly assumed the Hebrews would pay for the convenience of a negotiated peace.

The Hebrew army stood on the opposite hilltop in strict formation, looking keen, focussed and ready for battle.

Joshua and Caleb eagerly observed their preparation from a distance. They weren’t asked to fight the Midianites, as it was Moses’ decision for Phinehas to lead the troops into battle.

“...to reward his zeal for killing King Hur’s daughter,” said Joshua.

“Or finish what he started?” Caleb asked.

“Perhaps.”

Joshua studied the battlefield to guess Phinehas’ plans. At the front, Salman marshaled two thousand slingshots, armed with long leather straps and hollow clay balls the size of oranges. A hit to the skull could kill a man at three hundred yards - or worse still, shatter on his shield and tear shreds of flesh off several men. Wounding three was better than killing one, if only for the chaos it created.

In the middle, Zebulan (Salman’s older brother) led nine thousand foot soldiers, swords held high glistening in the morning sun. They stood in twelve groups of about seven hundred and fifty a piece, each behind the banner of their tribe.

At the rear, Phinehas commanded a frightening force of a thousand riders, mounted on camels and armed with long spears. Slower than horses, but faster than foot soldiers, the camels towered over all with their impressive size and proud gait.

“I didn’t come here to watch,” said Joshua. “You think we can help?”

“Yes,” Caleb assured him, “But should we?”

Joshua stroked his beard and considered his options.

“Moses did ask Phinehas to lead the battle.”

“But he didn’t say we couldn’t fight,” replied Caleb.

“True. So we fight now, and ask for forgiveness later,” Joshua laughed as he galloped off to race his old friend once again.

Hope

2010-03-18T08:47:00.010+11:00

Salman stood up and paced the floor to stay awake. “Hope is all we had for four hundred years. Hope is what kept us alive.”

“Its amazing you even remembered where you came from,” Rahab interrupted. The Egyptians take people from all over the world and they never return. Children born into slavery don’t know any better.”

“We’re different,” said Salman rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “We had a prophecy that we would return, and we had Josephs bones.”

“Who?”

“What?” replied Salman. “I’m sorry, I’m falling asleep. Help me to stay awake.”

“Joseph. Who was Joseph?”

“He was the first Hebrew sold into slavery - his brothers betrayed him. That’s how we all came to be in Egypt. Before he died he asked to be buried back home in Canaan. We’ve passed his coffin down through the generations.”

“So you still have his bones now?”

“Yes. We carried his bones from Egypt to bury in the land of our fathers.”

“The bones made you remember?” asked Rahab, listening intently on the edge of her seat.

“More than that. I believe his bones carried us.” Salman slouched back in his chair and slowly deliberated over his words to fight back the tiredness.

“Hope carried us. The hope of freedom in a land of our own. The promised land, flowing with milk and honey. Canaan.”

“You make this place sound better than it is!” Rahab laughed.

“That’s God’s plan - that it be much better, better than you or I could ever imagine.”

“Things normally turn out worse than I imagine,” Rahab replied. “I’m sorry, that’s how its always been for me.”

Salman sat up in his chair and thought deeply for a moment as he stared into the soothing glow of the fire. The similarities between Rahab’s life and the story of his people were strikingly obvious now. “But hope without courage turns to despair,” he continued. “And despair breeds rebellion in the hearts of men.”

His eyelids got heavier while still rambling on. “That was the beginning ...of many sorrows. Forty years of wilderness, neither slave ...nor free.”

A crackling spark from the fire reminded Salman of what the crack of an Egyptian’s whip might sound like. Although he had never felt its pain in real life, he had imagined it many times in his sleep. He flinched and stood bolt upright, almost as if to shake off his daydream. He desperately wanted to stay awake and keep talking with Rahab.

“Slavery and prostitution are very similar you know. Someone else owns your body.”

“I’m not a Hebrew,” Rahab answered abruptly. “What can your God do for me?”

Salman was lost for words, but wasn’t about to give up easily. “I don’t know. But I do know he made all people, and if I were Him, I would care for my creation. And I’m just a man, far from perfect - so he must love you more.”

“Well, that’s a nice idea,” Rahab replied, “but how did God love the Midianites? Surely they didn’t take too kindly to the news of their princess’ death.”

“No they didn’t,” replied Salman. “You’re right. It was a bloody and terrifying battle, and one best forgotten. Sadly, I still remember it all too well.”

Stay Awake

2010-03-18T08:43:00.002+11:00

“...and that’s how Joshua became our leader - quite unexpectedly,” Salman concluded his story to Rahab. “Moses simply handed it to him not long before he died.”

Two or three hours passed since Giddel and his men were sent on a wild goose chase. The two Hebrew spies had made the most of Rahab’s hospitality and were now fully prepared for their escape.
So prepared, in fact, Phinehas fell asleep by the window, catching up on some well earned rest. The others talked about waking him up, but decided he was so exhausted the sleep would help for the long journey home.

Salman, on the other hand, had good reason to remain awake. Several hours of conversation with Rahab seemed just like a few minutes, and with every passing moment the two were drawn to each other’s fascinating stories.

“It’s strange God would do that to Moses,” said Rahab.

“I’m sure He has his reasons,” replied Salman, “but sometimes I feel like He can be quite dramatic, almost theatrical - just to prove a point.”

“What point?”

“I don’t know. That’t the funny thing, I don’t have a clue about Moses. So many things about Jehovah are symbolic.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Take the crossing of the Red Sea for example. He didn’t have to lead us into the wilderness - we could have travelled the direct route to Canaan, by the way of the Philistines.”

“You think he was showing off?” Rahab asked.

“Well, he doesn’t need to show off,” Salman replied, “but maybe we need him to.”

“The bread should be done now,” said Rahab as she leaned over towards the fire. “So this Midianite woman that Phinehas killed, how did Joshua know her? Did he sleep with her?”

Salman waited for Rahab to remove the bread from the oven before stoking the fire with a few extra pieces of wood. “No, although some people assumed that. King Hur had offered his daughter’s hand in marriage some months before, as a way of keeping peace between our people.”

“To whom?” asked Rahab.

“What?”

“Who did he want her to marry?”

“Didn’t matter - Moses, Joshua, whatever it took to mix the blood lines of our people.”

“So he was a man of peace?”

“No. He was a merchant. Everything has its price - or so he thought,” Salman answered apprehensively, realizing the nature of Rahab’s occupation.

“You should get some sleep,” said Rahab. “You look tired.”

“What if we all fall asleep? replied Salman. “I can’t risk it.”

“True,” said Rahab “I’ll stay up with you till the middle of the next watch - when the guards are drowsy. It’ll be safe to leave then.”

Salman gazed into her stunning brown eyes. He was too tired to think before speaking. “Thanks, I’ve never talked to someone like you before.”

“What do you mean? A prostitute?” Rahab replied, “It’s alright. You can say it. I don’t mind”

“Sorry. I think you do,” said Salman. “I think you do mind, or at least you used to mind. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t.”

“Maybe, a long time ago. When I was younger, it was like looking over the edge of a cliff. You know it’s dangerous but something draws you to it. And then once you’ve jumped, it’s easy. The deed is done. It can’t be undone.”

“I disagree,” replied Salman.

“What?” laughed Rahab, “you think I can be pure again? You’re more immature than I thought.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean there’s still hope.”

“Hope. I have long since forgotten the meaning of that word,” replied Rahab.

Our new fearless leader?

2010-03-09T22:10:00.001+11:00

Caleb picked up the axe and handed it to Joshua. “Hey, you want to try it again with one hand?”

“What?”

“You deaf?”

“No,” replied Joshua.

Caleb chuckled. “I said can you do it with one hand?”

“Is it safe?”

“Our new fearless leader?” Caleb laughed, “is it safe?”

“Alright, alright. You’re always so competitive, aren’t you?” replied Joshua.

He placed the split half-log back up on the block, and took a firm grip of the axe handle with his right hand. Slowly, he raised the axe above his head, trembling with the strain on his muscles.

“Steady now,” said Caleb.

“Don’t distract me,” Joshua chuckled.

THUD! The axe completely missed it’s target, embedding firmly into the chopping block instead.

Caleb laughed, “Ha! Don’t worry, it’s not easy.”

“Well this axe was made for two hands,” replied Joshua.

“Sure it was,” Caleb chuckled. “No. You’re right - two hands are better”

“Caleb...” Joshua spoke in a more serious tone.

“I know, I know,” Caleb nodded. “I’m your left hand. Always have been. Always will be. You can be sure of it my friend.”

Joshua smiled and handed the axe back to Caleb. They had been friends long enough to know each other’s thoughts. “Till Canaan then.”

“Nothing’s changed. Canaan or death,” Caleb replied. And Joshua knew he meant it.

“Now the question is, can you do it?” asked Joshua.

“What?”

“With one hand.”

“Not till yesterday - been practising for weeks”

Caleb, placed another hefty log onto the chopping block and held the axe firmly in his favored left hand. It was now clear to Joshua he had done this many times before.

“No way,” Joshua marveled as he watched Caleb extend his muscular arm and raised the axe high above his head.

“Yes way.”

“How old are you again?” asked Joshua

“Eighty”

CHOP! Caleb landed a powerful blow straight down the middle of the log, sending both halves flying in opposite directions.

Joshua smiled and shook his head in astonishment. “Alright. You’ve got me. But tomorrow, I’ll race you around the camp.”

“Ha!” laughed Caleb. “And I’ll be robed in pure gold, riding a white horse.”

The Chopping Block

2010-03-09T17:56:00.004+11:00

The red desert sun glowed beyond the dusty eastern skyline early next morning. Dawn would break soon - the same as always, Joshua thought as he took his brisk morning walk through the camp. His world had changed last night in Moses‘ tent, but no one else seemed to mind.

The sound of roosters crowing, goats anxious to be milked, mothers tending to crying babies - he had heard it all before, every day for the last forty years.

But another familiar sound drew his attention. True to form as one of the few people awake who didn’t have to be, Caleb maintained his daily ritual of a grueling workout chopping firewood. It was a good excuse for Joshua to offload on an old friend.

CHOP! Caleb’s axe split the heavy log clean in two.
“Sounds like your head’s on the chopping block?” remarked Caleb.

Joshua bent over and picked up the split log that rolled towards his feet. “Not bad for an old woodcutter,” he laughed.

“Me? Old?” Caleb replied “You should talk, walking around the camp every morning like a headless chicken. People think your senile.”

“Keeps me young,” said Joshua.

Caleb placed a bigger log on the chopping block. “Let’s see how old you get leading this rabble.”

CHOP! The axe swung with a bit more gusto, splitting the log almost to its base. A little twist, and it surrendered.

“I didn’t ask for it,” replied Joshua, second guessing what Caleb might be thinking.

“Like you didn’t ask for this.” Caleb handed him the axe and placed another log on the chopping block. “Doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”

“Alright, its been a few years. You're on,” replied Joshua.
He sized up the log, holding the axe steady with both hands extended, then raised it slowly above his head.

“How old are you?”

“Seventy nine,” replied Joshua.

CHOP! It split like a dream.

“You look it,” Caleb chuckled. “Just kidding - not bad for an old scribe. So what’s the problem?”

“What problem?” replied Joshua.

“I’m not talking about wood cutting,” said Caleb. “Why don’t you want to lead?”

“You know the deal,” replied Joshua, “If it were up to us, we’d already be living in Canaan. I’ve no trouble believing God’s promise.”

“So what’s your problem,” asked Caleb.

“I’m surprised you’re even asking that question,” replied Joshua. “We trusted our people once, and we were hung out to dry. Heck, they even threw stones at us. Whose to say that’s not going to happen again?

‘We’re not young anymore, and frankly, I don’t know if I can take it again.”

“I hear you,” said Caleb. “There’s something to be said for being young and ignorant. Probably wouldn’t have left Egypt if I knew we had to put up with this nonsense.”

Be strong and courageous

2010-03-04T08:40:00.002+11:00

“Women and children?” asked Joshua. “You’re joking?”

“I don’t joke about such serious matters,” Moses sternly replied.

“Have you gone mad?” asked Joshua.

“Do I look mad? Joshua, you must destroy them all or they'll forever be a thorn in your flesh.”

"My flesh?” asked Joshua.

Moses's seemed to choke up as handed over a scroll.

“What’s this?” asked Joshua.

“A map,” replied Moses, “where you must bury Joseph’s remains.”

“Wait, you’re going too fast. What do you mean?”

“Joshua, the second thing God told me was the hardest of all. I'll only see the promised land from Mount Nebo, then I must leave this world.”

“I’m sorry,” said Joshua, “this is not how I imagined things would work out”

“I’m not allowed to enter Canaan,” Moses continued. “I’ll die on Mount Nebo.”

Joshua could hardly believe his ears. This is Moses, the prophet of God, he thought. The man who stood up to the most powerful ruler on earth. Moses who parted the Red Sea and talks directly with God himself.

“Just like that?” replied Joshua, “after all you've done? To come this far and not finish? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Remember Kadesh?”

“That?” replied Joshua, “that was just a mistake. They were stubborn and never stopped complaining of thirst.”

“I struck the rock twice,” Moses replied.

“But they’re always stubborn,” Joshua shouted, “why do you think we’ve been wasting the last forty years?
‘So you struck the rock twice? The water still came from it, right? If it were me, I would have...”

Moses placed his hand over Joshua’s mouth.
“Well it wasn’t you. It was me.”

Joshua got up and paced around the room, not grasping Moses’ resignation of failure.
“It doesn’t make sense. If you can't lead, who can?”

“Be strong Joshua. Be strong and courageous”, Moses replied, as if he was saying good bye.

“Me? What? You want me to lead? I didn't ask for this. What about Caleb? The tribes would follow him”.

“Caleb’s a good man,” Moses answered. “Stubborn as a mule, but as true and faithful as any leader could ever want. He’ll watch your back. When you divide up the land make sure he gets Hebron. That’s his dream, and nothing could make me happier than to see him plough those fields.”

“Yes but you wont,” Joshua replied angrily, “so what’s the point believing? You wont see him plough those fields.”

“Joshua, I already have. I’ve seen it in my heart,” answered Moses.

Joshua placed buried his head in his hands and cried. The comforting hand of Moses gripped his shoulder.

“I know how much you hurt,” said Moses, “I remember you tore your clothes in anguish. I was there too.”

Moses paused to hold back his own tears.
“But it's not my decision,” he continued. “You will lead our people into Canaan. You must.”

Joshua stood bolt upright and angrily paced the floor.
“But God is with us, right? Surely you can lead and he’ll give us victory over all our enemies? I mean He’s God, He parted the Red Sea. I saw it with my own eyes. He held back Pharaoh’s army with a wall of darkness. He can do anything.”

“He wont do what we’re supposed to do ourselves,” Moses replied. “The problem has always been our hearts, and it will be the same for you.”

“Well that’s even worse then. How can I be the guardian of their souls?” Joshua asked. “Our people are always going to sin. If you’re not worthy to enter the promised land then how can anyone? It’s impossible. And it seems totally unjust to expect us to do the impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” said Moses. “One thing is certain, you’ll come up against problems you could have never imagined. You can’t prepare for that, but you have to deal with it. Be courageous. Have faith and never give in to doubt. Fight it with all your strength, like it’s the Devil himself.”

Joshua stood quietly mortified in Moses’s fatherly embrace.
“I will.”

“And never question God’s goodness. He knows much more than us. He always has the bigger picture.”

“But it is unjust,” said Joshua.

Moses pulled back and wrapped his hands around Joshua’s face. “Unjust? By whose standards? God is God. You are not”.

Joshua digested that brutal truth. Although he still felt like a young man in an old body, he was too old to play games with God.

But the game was just beginning.

Kill them all

2010-03-04T08:38:00.002+11:00

Later that evening, Joshua entered Moses’ tent with a great deal of fear and trepidation. The events of that day had been so horrific he had no time to process them, let alone break the news to Moses.

The old prophet sat by the soft flickering light of a lamp, diligently transcribing a parchment scroll. It must have been something of such great importance for he didn’t even look up when Joshua entered.

His wrinkled hands were rough and gnarled, but still strong enough to meticulously etch the ancient Hebraic text. The room was cluttered with scrolls, both leather and papyrus, piled high on the chairs and table - so high in fact, that Joshua couldn’t even see Moses speak as he cautiously approached.

“King Hur's daughter, if the rumors are correct?” said Moses as he carefully lay his quill down on the desk.

“Yes, the Midianite”, replied Joshua, “apparently Phinehas didn't know who she was.”

“Would it matter?”

Joshua rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Unlikely.”

Moses nodded his head slowly. “And I guess they asked how you know her?”

“Yes,” replied Joshua.

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth. It’s better than rumors, though harder to believe sometimes.”

Moses stood up from his chair, cleared the table of several stacks of scrolls, then turned to face Joshua for the first time in the conversation.

“Phinehas did a great thing. To be honest, I’m not sure if I could do that myself, even in my younger years. Yes, it was brutal and savage. But more than that, he drew a line in the sand.”

“A line in the sand?” remarked Joshua. “Slaughtering Hebrews is something we normally leave for our enemies. God knows there are enough of them. Besides, he’s lucky he didn’t kill the wrong couple.”

Moses smiled as he embraced Joshua warmly. “Luck had nothing to do with it. This is a sign, don’t you see? Getting Israel out of Egypt was easy, but getting Egypt out of Israel - a nightmare.”

“Really? I wake up from nightmares,” Joshua replied, pulling himself away.

“I understand,” said Moses. “Forty years is too long to suffer for someone else’s sins, but that’s all gone now.”

“What?” asked Joshua.

“King Hur’s daughter wasn’t the only one who died today. You, me and Caleb are now the only old ones left.”

“Dear Lord!” exclaimed Joshua. His mind raced with so many thoughts, so many old hurts, he didn’t know what to say.

“You know what this means?” Moses asked.

“Yes, of course,” replied Joshua, and in an instant he felt the pain of an old festering wound suddenly re-opening in his soul.

Moses took a deep breath and finished off a goblet of wine on the table. He gently placed the cup back on the bench, wiped his old grey beard and cleared his throat.

“Joshua, a leader without followers is just a cranky old prophet.”

“Maybe that’s our only consolation,” Joshua replied, “the just outlive the wicked.”

“I wish it were always true,” Moses continued, as he rolled out a map on the table.

Joshua sensed there was more Moses wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to ask what it was.

Moses breathed a heavy sigh and continued. “Last night in the Tabernacle, God spoke to me about two things. Firstly...”

“What?” Joshua asked, almost fearful of the answer.

Moses placed small stones at each corner of the map to keep it flat on the table. Stretching out his bony index finger, he drew Joshua’s attention to the last east of the Jordan river.

“Five Midianite Kings stand between us and the promised land. By dawn, King Hur will hear of his daughter’s death and will undoubtedly assemble the largest army he can muster. I’ll ask Phinehas to take twelve thousand of our best troops and wipe them out”.

Joshua sat down to digest the moment. I knew this was coming, he thought, so why do I feel hopelessly unprepared? He resigned himself to the obvious.

“It’s begun. We're invading Canaan?”

Moses nodded. “Yes. This will be the first of many battles. Kill them all - men, women, and children.”

The Spear of Phinehas

2010-03-03T08:45:00.004+11:00

With a sudden flash of steel, the tent ripped open and dropped to the ground, exposing their sin to the entire camp. Phinehas raised his spear high above his head - poised to kill with fearsome eyes, and nostrils flaring like a raging bull.

The crowd of onlookers stepped aside as Salman and Othniel arrived on the scene with swords drawn.

In a moment of desperation, the whore embraced Zimri tightly to cover her nakedness, drawing drops of blood from his back with her painted black nails. The facade of modesty was merely a vain act of self preservation for fear of what might happen next.

And it did.

WHACK! Phinehas rammed his spear straight between her shoulder blades. The sheer force of impact threw the couple back to the ground.

“It's not my fault”, cried Zimri, “get her off me”.

Phinehas took one last sobering gaze into Zimri's drunken eyes, before glancing at the woman. Embedded deep in the whore’s back, his spear tip crushed the serpent’s head on her blasphemous tattoo. With a deep breath, Phinehas fastened his grip on the spear then rammed it through the whore’s chest and into Zimri’s lungs. If the thought of mercy ever crossed his mind, it vanished with the gruesome sound of cracking bones and cartillage.

It took a moment for Salman, Othniel and the entire crowd to realize exactly what Phinehas had done. Stunned silence gave way to gasps of shock and awe.

The two lovers lay skewered in a deathly shish kebab, drowning in their own blood. Phinehas leaned heavily down on the shaft forcing it through Zimri’s back and deep into the soil. Not even the convulsions of death could separate them.

Death was a fitting finale for the consummate act of sin.

Their gasping quickly turned to gurgling, as Salman grabbed a blanket to stem the flow of blood. It was too late to save them, but at least he could stop the blood from cursing the ground where they stood.

Joshua arrived out of breath and in complete shock at this barbaric sight.
“Good Lord! What have you done?

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Phinehas replied.

“Why don't you cut their heads off while you're at it?” said Joshua.

“It's not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” replied Joshua, “but a little discretion wouldn’t go astray.”

“Are you absolutely sure you found the right ones?” Othniel asked.

“Of course, stupid.”

“You don't do anything by halves, do you Phinehas?” Joshua continued. “You and Salman clean up this mess. Burn everything, their bodies, clothes, the tent - anything they touched.”

“Can I have my spear back?” Phinehas asked.

“Not here, wash it outside the camp. I don’t want any blood on the ground. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Sir,” they replied.

The gurgling stopped as Salman continued wrapping the bodies in the groundsheet and binding them to the spear.

“Wait”, said Joshua abruptly.

Looking all around the camp, in every direction he saw the sick getting up off their death beds completely healed.

“Just as I expected,” continued Joshua as he stepped forward to get a better look at the bodies.

He carefully turned the woman’s head with the tip of his sword to get a better look at her face.

“Good Lord!” Joshua exclaimed, “you know who she is?”

The others responded with puzzled expressions.

“Who?” asked Othniel.

“And how do you know her?” Salman asked.

They were fair and simple questions, but Joshua dreaded their frightening answers.

Seduction

2010-03-02T08:31:00.003+11:00

Aschar, the daughter of Caleb, was burdened with shyness and stunning beauty. Her long jet black hair and fine features drew so much attention, she couldn’t hide her embarrassment behind an innocent smile.

Each day she delivered water in a small cart for the guards at every entrance to the camp. This was her responsibility since turning sixteen, which probably explained why Othniel was so diligent with his guard duty and so thirsty all the time.

Unfortunately for Joshua, Othniel’s infatuation with Caleb’s daughter was just another distraction in the hunt for the Midianite woman.

“You'll need a miracle to win her hand”, said Joshua.

Othniel shook his head in frustration.

“Caleb is an old far...”

“...father in the faith,” interrupted Joshua, as he dragged Othniel away before he made a fool of himself gawking at Aschar.

“Come on, there’s no time for chit chat. Look, Phinehas is destroying the whole camp.”

Phinehas, was indeed crashing through tents like a bull on a rampage. With no regard for life or property, he blazed a path of destruction wherever he went.

Barging through bystanders, turning over bales of straw and sending chickens flying into the air - it was easy to see where he had been by the chaos he left behind.

“Why is he so angry?” Othniel asked, in between two rows of tents.

Joshua thought carefully about his answer, with everything going on he wasn’t in the mood to give a speech.

“You never knew his grandfather, did you?” said Joshua.

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know him.”

“You’ve lost me,” Othniel replied, looking completely dumbfounded.

“Don’t worry,” said Joshua, “there’s time for that later.”

In the secrecy of their tent, the naked Midianite woman rode her drunk companion like a wrangler taming a wild horse. The soft olive skin of her perfectly slender back was completely defaced with elaborate tattoos of mysterious symbols and demons.

One such marking, right between her shoulder blades, depicted a serpent devouring a newborn baby. It was so hideously offensive it would have shocked Zimri to his senses if he saw it, but he never did.

“What harm is it?” she softly whispered, like a black widow seducing her mate into the jaws of death.

“They'll kill me. This is bad idea, don’t you think?” replied Zimri, feeling particularly vulnerable where he lay pinned on the ground beneath her.

“It’s only bad if you get caught,” she replied, “besides, it's just a little baby. Why can’t I have our baby?”

Zimri's drunken stammering turned to sobbing as he realized the error of his ways. He sat up and struggled to squirm his way out from underneath her.

But it was too late.

Forbidden Fruit

2010-03-01T09:32:00.004+11:00

Othniel shot off like a flash, ducking and weaving in between tents - he could easily check two or three in the same time it took Joshua to check one.

Although Joshua was mindful Othniel wanted to redeem himself, his tired old legs couldn’t keep up with the seventeen year old. Every now and then he caught glimpses of Othniel looking back through the rows of tents, but he couldn’t catch him, let alone predict where he was going.

Before long, the boy ran completely out of sight and Joshua was left with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Othniel was an accident waiting to happen; where, when and what were questions he would have to deal with later.

Or sooner.

The sound of shouting and smashing pottery nearby confirmed Joshua’s suspicions. Othniel stumbled quickly out of a tent, chased by an angry man and his wife wearing nothing but bedsheets.

“Get out! This is our tent, get out of here!” the husband yelled furiously. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m so sorry,” replied Othniel, “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to. I mean feel free to continue...”

The husband charged and crash-tackled Othniel, down the path and onto the ground at Joshua’s feet.

“I think you have the wrong man,” remarked Joshua, extending his hand to lift Othniel up off the ground. “Please forgive the boy. We’re searching for a Midianite prostitute.”

“Alright,” the husband replied while hastily wrapping the bedsheet around his loins, “I suppose it was an honest mistake.”

“Honest and foolish”, said Joshua taking off cloak. “Please, take my robe as a gesture of good faith, and excuse us - we really must go.”

They continued their desperate search amongst rows of tents, occasionally intersecting paths with Phinehas and Salman (who were clearly covering more ground). With younger legs and a guilty conscience, Othniel often scurried ahead to check more tents, then dutifully doubled back to keep contact with Joshua.

“I don't understand”, Othniel exclaimed, “why would anyone want a foreigner”?

“Forbidden fruit”, Joshua replied.

“What”?

“We want what we can't have. It's been like that since Adam."

“Adam?”

“Adam and Eve; they chose the one tree that was forbidden.”

“What are you saying?”

“The Almighty doesn’t want us to starve.”

“But what if we could?” asked Othniel, as he stepped aside to avoid crashing into to Salman.

“What?” asked Salman - he couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

“Marry a foreign woman” explained Othniel.

“Ha! Now that’s funny,” Salman laughed, “No good Hebrew would bother. Foreign women are immoral.”

“So they’re forbidden because they’re immoral?” asked Othniel, “not because they’re foreign?”

“Well, it’s not as simple as that,” replied Joshua.

“Why?”

“It’s not impossible,” Salman replied, “but it’d be a miracle.”

And with that Salman hurried off to catch up with Phinehas, stepping cordially aside to make way for Caleb’s daughter coming the other way.

The Hunt

2010-02-26T08:34:00.005+11:00

Surprisingly, it was Othniel who first found the brazen couple. They were rolling around in a hay cart, completely oblivious to the chaos of panicky sheep and goats around them.

“Get up,” he yelled, holding the tip of his spear in their faces - but the couple just kept laughing.

“Stop it! Have you no shame? You want to get yourselves killed?”

“By who? You?” the woman laughed and continued on her merry way.

Othniel stood confused and double minded. He wanted to kill them but couldn’t bring himself to it. Furthermore, he was getting queasy at the sight of them making out.

“Phinehas! They’re here. I found them!” he yelled and ran off for reinforcements. Deep down in his heart, he hated himself for not finishing the job.

Of course, by the time Othniel returned with Joshua, Salman and Phinehas the naked couple had disappeared. In their absence, Othniel had nothing but excuses to offer.

“I’m sorry. I thought they ... they were just here. They really were, you have to believe me.”

“You idiot. Why didn’t you kill them?” yelled Phinehas, “you had them right there in front of you.”

“There’s no need to defile the camp with their blood,” Joshua added.

“What, just have them run riot?” Salman replied.

“Look, as long as we keep arguing they’re getting further away,” Joshua interjected, “Now let’s use our heads and find out where they went.”

The pillar of fire cast it’s omniscient glow over the camp as the four men searched frantically amongst the rows of tents. Finding the couple would be a daunting task in a refugee camp of several hundred thousand families, but they were hot on their trail and had the advantage of sober minds and plenty of witnesses.

“Did you see them? Where did they go?” Joshua asked a crowd of bystanders.

“My word,” replied an old lady “they were as fast as foxes, and stark naked too.”

“But where? Which direction?”

“Oh, over there I think,” she replied vaguely pointing her finger somewhere, “but I had to shut my eyes.”

“Oh that’s great! That’s real helpful” laughed Phinehas sarcastically.

“That’s fine Madam, thank you,” Joshua politely interjected. “Phinehas, search all these rows of tents on the left side with Othniel. No, come to think of it, Salman you go with Phinehas. I’ll take Othniel.”

Joshua decided to team up with young Othniel, for the search was turning into a hunt and the boy’s courage was still untested. He needed no reminder of where this was going - the hill outside the camp was dotted with a dozen or more adulterers hanging from makeshift gallows.

Sin

2010-02-25T08:52:00.006+11:00

Forty hard years had passed since crossing the Red Sea, and although Joshua kept a strong healthy frame for his age, the passage of time added lines to his face, subtracted hairs from his head, and multiplied the burdens on his soul.

All was not well in the Hebrew camp.

Walking briskly towards the tabernacle that evening, Joshua passed countless rows of people struck with the plague. Lying on mats outside waiting for a miracle, old men coughed up blood in between desperate gasps for air and young children screamed uncontrollably in the arms of loving parents.

The horrifying sights were almost too hard for Joshua to bear. He had to harden his heart and just keep walking, if only to convince himself that he was doing something to help.

Entering the tabernacle, he was encouraged to see hundreds of elders inside already down on bended knee praying fervently. Following behind, Salman and Phinehas planted their spears at the entrance and hurriedly caught up with Joshua inside.

“Where’s Othniel?” asked Joshua

“Still searching,” replied Phinehas, “You know the kid, always something to prove.”

“Don’t write him off,” Salman interrupted.

“Either way, I'll have to tell Moses the news,” said Joshua.

“Better you than me,” Salman murmured under his breath.

At the front of the meeting, the wise old prophet Moses prayed earnestly on his knees before the altar. Far older and more human than anyone dared to admit, his heartfelt prayers seemed too holy to be interrupted.

“Lord, remove this plague from us, as we have removed those joined to Baal. Lord forgive us. We have wandered from your ways, we have hardened our hearts and now we eat the fruit of our sins. Save us from ourselves.”

Joshua hesitated, looking back again at the entrance of tent just as Othniel arrived and planted his spear in the ground. The young baby-faced soldier was barely seventeen years of old, and what he lacked in height, he more than made up with his stocky frame. Unfortunately for Joshua, Othniel shook his head in disappointment. He was empty handed.

Joshua turned back again and reverently approach his mentor.

“Moses, we've searched everywhere. We can’t find the culprit. We don’t know who caused this plague. I don't understand”.

The old prophet slowly rose to his feet and turned around to face him. A chill raced down Joshua's spine as he saw the fire in Moses' eyes. But he was staring at someone else at the back of the meeting.

At the entrance of the Tabernacle two young lovers stumbled into the assembly - a young Hebrew man called Zimri and a pretty Moabite women wearing a lot of jewelry and not much else. Both were drunk with wine and lust.

She was strangely pretty, but it was an ugly sight. Much of her scantily clad body was covered in the idolatrous symbols of Baal. To make matters worse, despite hundreds of elders gasping with horror at this blasphemous spectacle, the two lovers burst into uncontrollable laughter and quickly ran away into the night.

“Murderer!” yelled Phinehas as he sprung to his feet in righteous zeal and ran to fetch his spear. “Come on, let's catch a whore,” he appealed to Salman and Othniel.

“Phinehas! Careful what you do with that spear!” Joshua yelled. But it was too late, he was off in a flash with the others not too far behind.

For Joshua’s old legs however, it took a little longer.

Salman's story

2010-02-25T08:49:00.004+11:00

“So why has it taken you so long to get here?” asked Rahab. “Your people left Egypt a lifetime ago.”

“True,” Salman replied. “I’ve never been to Egypt. I was born in the wilderness, but I remember the stories.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rahab.

“I don’t even know where to begin. We were our own worse enemy - so quick to forget the faith of our forefathers.”

“But God parted the Red Sea. How do you forget that?” Rahab replied.

“Quite easily. The heart is a strange thing. I’ve seen good people go bad, and bad people come good. Anyway, a couple of months ago, strange things started happening. People were getting sick and dying from a plague we’d never seen before.

We found out some of our men were sleeping with Moabite women and secretly worshiping Baal. Often their family died first, like the disease had a mind of its own. But eventually it caught up with them. It got out of control - thousands died.”

“How did it end?” asked Rahab.

Salam hesitated to give his reply. Is she ready for this? he thought. What the heck, after tonight I’ll never see her again.

“People had to choose between Jehovah or Baal, life or death - although some of us made that decision a little easier.”

Salman spent the next hour taking Rahab on a journey to another world. He told her everything that happened over the last few months, filling in so many gaps and answering questions about a life she had never known. There were all these strange customs she had heard of but had no idea what they meant.

The Tabernacle, for example, was a holy place for the Hebrews, shrouded in sacred mystery. From the outside the outer court looked rather plain, consisting of curtains made from all sorts of animal skins suspended from large wooden beams.

The inner court had more ornate fittings, hanging oil lamps and incense holders. Only males could enter this place of prayer. They had to be washed clean and in perfect condition to present their offerings, prayers, and animal sacrifices for the atonement of sins.

At the very centre was the holy of holies, where only the High Priest entered on rare occasions, and only after undertaking a strict cleansing ceremony. The room was so sacred that a rope was tied around the priest’s ankle to pull his body out just in case he dropped dead. Such was the tangible power of God’s presence.

The Tabernacle was no ordinary place. A pillar of cloud towered above it by day, and at night it transformed into a pillar of fire that lit the entire camp with a soft warm glow.

As holy and revered as it was, the entire structure was portable, which suited the nomadic lifestyle the Hebrews had suffered over the last forty years. Where the pillar of cloud moved, the Hebrews followed. Whenever it stopped, they pitched camp - some times for day, sometimes for weeks. It was God’s way of guiding his children through the wilderness, and a constant reminder of his everlasting love.

One evening two months ago (as Salman recounted to Rahab) the outer courts were filled with men from every household and every tribe. It was nightfall, and all the elders had been hastily assembled to prayer because a plague had broken out in the camp.

Rahab's story

2010-02-23T13:57:00.003+11:00

“Many centuries ago, God made a covenant with our forefather Abraham,” Salman began. “He promised this land to all his descendants.”

“He takes his time,” replied Rahab.

“It gets worse - believe me,” Salman continued. “Abraham's wife Sarah was too old to have children, so he tried to fix the problem himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he slept with Sarah's handmaiden.”

“Ha! Big mistake,” laughed Rahab.

“Yes, a very big mistake. He had a son called Ishmael, whom he loved dearly but Sarah never really accepted.”

“Was he the first slave?” asked Rahab.

“No, that was much later,” Salman replied.

Their eyes connected briefly over the candle on the table, but Salman didn't look away this time. There was so much he wanted to know about her.

“So what's your story?” he asked.

“Nothing special.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Really?”'

“Yes, really,” Salman wasn't going to let her get off that easy.

“My family disowned me. No one will marry me, at least none that I trust. I was defiled as a young girl.”

“Who? Was he the one who came looking for us, the one who hit you?” Salman asked.

“Yes. But there's more,” Rahab replied. “When crops fail or enemies attack, the King sacrifices newborns on the wall.

“I’ve heard about this,” said Salman, “it’s disgusting.”

Rahab nodded. “I only held him while they cut the cord, then they took him away.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Salman sensed Rahab felt awkward as she rushed the first batch of unleavened bread into the oven. He wanted to change the subject immediately. Thankfully, Rahab beat him to it.

Rahab's heart

2010-02-22T08:41:00.004+11:00

Rahab's habit of entertaining guests late into the night meant that the guards thought nothing of the smoke from her chimney when she began to prepare food for the spies journey home.

Phinehas stood watch by the window, looking out over the moonlit fields for sign of Giddel’s return while he repacked his leather satchel.

“Don't worry,” whispered Rahab. “He'll be gone for at least a day or two.”

“How do you know?” asked Phinehas.

“He’s as stubborn as a mule. Besides, the King doesn’t tolerate failure.”

Salman joined Rahab by the table, hastily mixing flour and water to form batch of dough.

“You seem to know a lot,” said Salman.

“That’s my business,” replied Rahab. “A shepherd knows his sheep, and I know men.”

“So why didn’t you hand us over to the guards?” asked Salman.

“You need a little more water,” answered Rahab, pointing to Salman’s batch of crumbling dough.

“I'm a Hebrew, I think I know how to make unleavened bread.”

“Doesn’t look like it. Your wife makes it for you, right?” Rahab asked.

“Nice try,” replied Salman, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

“What? So you have no wife?”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

“Ha, don’t flatter yourself,” Rahab joked, “maybe I should have handed you in.” Her smile barely covered a flashback of adolescent awkwardness. She hadn’t teased a boy she liked since she was fourteen.

“You’re avoiding the question!” said Salman.

“No I’m not.”

“So? Why did you save us?”

“Sit over here.” Rahab pulled up a chair and took Salman’s dough off him, “I'll do it.”
Salman obliged, if only because he was lost for words.

“You asked a fair question. The truth is, I knew I could save you.”

“But if the King finds out, you’ll die?” asked Salman.

“I already hate my life,” Rahab answered. “What’s there to lose?”

Salman looked at Rahab intensely. He never seen such courage, or was she just reckless?

“Anyway, enough about me. Your people left Egypt many years ago. Why has it taken so long to get here?

“Why do you want to know?” asked Phinehas, overhearing from the other room.

“If I was going to hand you over, I would have done it by now,” said Rahab.

“Maybe,” Phinehas replied.

“It's alright, we trust you,” said Salman.

“Well?” Rahab continued. “Tell me the story of your people, before they were slaves.”

“Alright, but you wont believe it.”

“Try me.”

Hiding in the hay

2010-02-19T17:38:00.003+11:00

Salman and Phinehas were hiding on Rahab’s roof for what seemed like forever. Thankfully it was harvest time, and large bales of flax were stored on the rooftops of many homes until they dried for threshing. It was the perfect cover to hide from guards passing frequently during the night along the narrow walkway nearby.

Motionless, tired and scared out of their wits, Salman silently prayed for protection under a bale of itchy straw. Strangely, he was glad the freshly cut barley made his skin crawl, at least that way he would stay awake and alert. The last thing he wanted was to doze off and wake up with a sword at his throat - or not wake up at all.

The whole commotion at Rahab’s house earlier in the evening made the entire guard quite jittery, and many times they stood just a few yards from the spies arguing how they might have escaped.

“No one leaves the city at night,” said an older guard, “not without someone noticing. Only spies and thieves travel in the dark.”

“Maybe they bribed Adin?” the younger one replied.

“Unlikely. I heard they had magic powers to make them invisible.”

“What?”

“How do you think they escaped Pharaoh?”

“No, that was because their god sent plagues and horrible... well stuff you... wouldn’t want to happen here.”

The conversation hit a brick wall of deathly silence.

“Mmm. Nice weather.”

“Yes, it is nice.”

Neither of the guards enjoyed contemplating the Hebrew god, so they pretended to be distracted and continued walking the wall as if they never had that conversation.

An hour or so later, after the sounds of barking dogs and crying babies had long since echoed across the city, Jericho returned to its slumber. In fact, Salman and Phinehas were half asleep when they were disturbed by the sound of the wooden hatch opening next to them. They barely had time to reach for their daggers (not knowing who was coming) before they were relieved to see it was Rahab – and she was alone.

“It's safe to come down now.”

Salman sheathed his dagger and started moving towards the hatch.

“Wait,” whispered Phinehas, “how can we be sure?”

“Hasn't she done enough?” said Salman

“Listen, everyone’s afraid,” Rahab interjected, “even the King. He's heard about your victories in battle. And though he wont admit it, God has given you this land. Who else can part the Red Sea?”

“Thank you for helping us,” replied Salman, “but how can we escape?”

“Over the wall,” she answered, “but later when the guards are asleep. Come now and I'll help you get ready.”

Rahab lowered herself back down inside onto the table in the dining room. Salman looked at Phinehas, who still seemed too shocked to follow.

“What are you waiting for?”

“She’s a ... it just doesn’t add up.”

“She’s a human,” Salman replied, “nothing does.”

"I never asked for this life"

2010-02-17T09:00:00.005+11:00

From the crack in the ceiling, Salman watched Rahab slowly rise to her feet in defiance. Who is this woman? He thought, and why does she risk her life for us? He felt humbled and ashamed as she wiped the blood from her mouth and turned to face her attacker. She’s coming back for more? Oh God! She’s pushing it too far. He’ll know.

Salman held his breath for what seemed like ages as Rahab stood there composing herself.

“I never asked for this life,” she forcefully replied, holding back her tears.

Rahab’s heart pounded visibly through her petite frame like a young deer frozen in a hunter’s sight.

Giddel stepped forward and clenched her face in his powerful hand, gazing fiercely into her eyes. The beast could not decipher such beauty.

“You'll get your reward. I’ll see to it myself.”

The soldiers stormed out of the room and down the staircase into the square.

Rahab watched from the window as Giddel marshaled his men and their horses - shouting orders left, right and centre, while cursing Adin for taking so long to open the gates. They charged out of the city down the moonlight road like a pack of ravenous wolves salivating on the scent of their prey. The gates closed behind them, and for that small mercy, Rahab was extremely grateful.

"Filthy whore"

2010-02-16T21:07:00.004+11:00

Under the cover of darkness, Giddel silently mobilized his troops across the square to storm Rahab’s house. Two were stationed at the base of the staircase, and six on the door. Hashum provided cover with the archers on the wall, in case the spies managed to escape the ambush.

With sword drawn, Giddel thumped loudly on Rahab’s door.

“Rahab, open up.”

No answer - but patience wasn’t Giddel’s forte. He knocked again, more aggressively this time.

“Open up.”

Just as he was about to knock again, Giddel heard footsteps approaching. The door opened slowly - it was Rahab, gathering a shawl around her shoulders to shield her from the cool night air.

“What's the problem?”

“Where are the Hebrew spies?” replied Giddel.

“Spies?”

“Yes, you heard me. Don’t play games.” Giddel and his soldiers burst through the door, dropping all civility as they shoved Rahab aside.

“But there's no one here.”

“Really?”

“Look for yourself. Its just me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Giddel motioned his troops to be quiet, while he carefully inspected the room. He placed his ear up against the walls and listened for suspicious sounds.

There was nothing but silence.

Bending down onto the floor, he scanned his eyes across the room under the furniture.

Nothing.

Walking into the corridor, he cautiously entered the bedrooms and checked behind doors and under beds. He even jumped up and down in the floorboards to see if any were loose. Again, there was nothing.

The frustration finally got to him. He angrily lashed out, stabbing the beds with his sword and tearing the curtains down on top of himself - much to the surprise of the other soldiers in the house.

“Damn it.”

“Are you alright?” asked Rahab.

“The curtain rod hit me,” he replied, nursing the bruise on forehead.

At his wit’s end, and somewhat embarrassed, Giddel leaned out the window to check if they jumped. There were no signs of disturbance, either on the window frame or on the ground below.

While all this was going on, Rahab calmly played her part - not too smug to arouse suspicion, but not too annoyed to provoke Giddel’s anger. Thankfully, Giddel didn’t notice a fine piece of straw fall slowly from the ceiling and land on the floorboards. Neither did he notice Rahab casually step forward to cover the straw with her foot.

“Two Egyptians came for a drink this afternoon,” said Rahab. “Well, I thought they were Egyptians. They left before the gate closed. If you hurry, you could probably catch them before they get to the crossing.”

Rahab stared innocently at Giddel with her beautiful brown eyes.

“How unfortunate,” said Giddel in a soft mocking tone, “the King was going to reward you with his bed.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist tightly and kissed her softly. Rahab had long since felt any feelings towards him, but went through the motions while she carefully considered her answer.

“Then you must catch them,” she said abruptly, “I could do with the money”.

“Filthy whore!”

Giddel swiftly slapped her to the ground with astonishing power.

Rahab reeled with pain on the floor boards as blood trickled from her nose and lip. But it was worth it, every bit of it. He had taken the decoy.

There is no God, just stories.

2010-02-11T20:17:00.006+11:00

The King thought deeply for a moment, then arose from his throne to proudly inspect the idols displayed around his walls.

“You know I’m one to ramble on with stories of my youth. I've studied all religions, the tribes of the upper Nile, the Chaldeans, even beyond the mountains of Persia.”

He held up a golden figurine and waved it like a toy.

“There is no God, just stories.”

Elam threw the idol to the floor, smashing it to a thousand pieces.

“See, I knew it was clay underneath. Don’t worry, I have many more.”

Hashum took his Father’s arm and drew him close.

“What if you're wrong?”

Elam despised the look of fear in Hashum’s eyes. “Faith is the deceitful cloak of conquest, and Joshua's is no exception.”

“So what do we do with the spies?” Giddel asked impatiently.

Elam pulled away and slowly paced the floor, circling his sons and stroking his beard. He relished in the theatrics of weighing up the moral implications of this decision. The spies were like a dangerous species approaching extinction.

“The Hebrews are the only people on earth without a king. They have only one god, with no name and no idol to worship.”

“And no land,” said Giddel. “So shall we arrest them or kill them?”

“Wouldn't it be better to keep them alive?” asked Hashum, “to trade them later.”

“Why?” asked Elam, “What do the Hebrews have that I need? Nothing more for my collections. They’ll vanish into the scrolls of history soon enough.”

“As you wish,” said Giddel, grateful to finally get the answer he wanted.

“Good, and be sure to tie their heads to a post at the crossing,” the King coldly remarked.

“Their heads?” asked Hashum.

“Let me put it like this. I could imagine more crude and offensive things we could tie to a post, but vultures steal them easily and they don’t identify the bodies.”

Elam’s matter-of-fact reply got the desired response. His two sons turned to leave the throne room.

“Oh, and I almost forgot, the whore should be rewarded; perhaps after your mother retires for the evening.”

Giddel scowled and barged out the door, with Hashum in his wake.

Elam chuckled to himself. He knew Giddel always had eyes for Rahab. Like most accomplished dictators, his manners were like fine silver cutlery - reserved only for special occasions.

King Elam of Jericho

2010-02-11T09:08:00.008+11:00

Elam, the King of Jericho, was an extremely wealthy man, which was hardly surprising considering he charged taxes like a wounded bull on the trade routes between Jerusalem, Damascus and Arabia (although some said he was more like a parasite fastened on the neck of a wounded bull).

His palace was made of the finest marble, and decorated with golden bird baths, polished cedar furniture, ivory door handles, and large statues of himself prominently displayed in every courtyard and fountain.

The walls and hallways were adorned with all sorts of treasures and tapestries from every corner of the globe. Ancient artifacts from Egypt, golden idols from Persia, tribal spears from Ethiopia and a stuffed tiger's head from India – all proudly catalogued the history of man and his notorious achievements.

In many respects, Elam was a collector of relics, particularly religious icons. He kept countless valuables on his middle aged body, like golden necklaces in his greying chest hair, and a belt studded with sacred Babylonian jewels that seemed a little too tight around his waist.

Some were even living, breathing treasures, like his tall African bodyguard who at the tender age of twenty had mastered the black arts of sorcery and knew a hundred ways to kill a man in ten seconds with his bare hands.

So Elam’s fascination with all things religious, however obsessive, made the arrival of his eldest son all the more distinguished given the contents of the scroll that he so proudly delivered.

“Hashum, my first born, you never fail to please me. Giddel take note, it takes a fine hunter to kill two wolves with one arrow.”

“He’s done well, no doubt about that,” Giddel replied, “but your jesting cannot provoke me to jealously. He deserves all the accolades.”

“Father, as always, it’s my pleasure to serve you,” said Hashum as handed over the scroll, “the spies are with Rahab as we speak.”

Elam unravelled it with the anticipation of a biologist discovering a new species. He would enjoy adding this to his collection. “How was the camel on your trip?”

“Not as fast or well mannered as my horse, though I can’t complain. It did the job.”

“Yes I can see,” replied the King as he read through the scroll. “Thou shalt not steal, ... kill, ... false witness, ...and so on.”

Elam looked up and smiled, “The usual diarrhea. Let me guess, they want my land, they'll murder my people, and then tell their little children stories about the evil King of Jericho.”

He handed the scroll to his African bodyguard and awaited Hashum's response. “Well? What do you think?”

“Father, With the Midianite's defeat, there's nothing in their way.”

“Mmm, tell me about this Joshua. You fear he'll replace Moses?”

“He already has,” said Hashum. “Moses is dead.”

“Dead?”

“Did Joshua murder him?” asked Giddel.

“No. Not that I know off,” replied Hashum, “but I'm more afraid of their god.”

Elam laughed, “What, the one who supposedly parted the Red Sea, then let his Prophet die in the wilderness? Now that’s your mother’s sense of humor.”

“No father,” replied Hashum. “If that’s how he judged his Prophet, how will he judge his enemies?”

Nowhere to run

2010-02-10T08:53:00.007+11:00

The moment Rahab left their room, Salman and Phinehas tried to have a quiet argument. The whispers, sign language, and charades eventually made Salman burst into laughter when he finally realized how ridiculous they looked.

Phinehas slapped his hand over Salman’s mouth as he rushed to check the window. It was a long way down.

“We're in danger,” Phinehas whispered.

Salman signaled for Phinehas to let go of his mouth.
“From a whore?” he replied, “Unlikely. She thinks we’re Egyptian. She doesn't know who we are.”

Phinehas paced the floor, thinking aloud in whispers. “What if she does? She sells her body, she might decide to sell us. We’d fetch a handsome reward. Or maybe she’s been in it all along and the whole thing’s an act?”

“You really think so?”

“You're falling for her,” answered Phinehas

“No I'm not.”

“Sure you are,” Phinehas continued, leaning out the window for a better look. “Everything’s adding up.”

“Well you were never good with numbers,” joked Salman.

“Its not a game. Deception starts with denial, and ends with death.”

Salman crossed his arms and paced the floor. “Alright, suppose you’re right and I actually do think she’s pretty. So what? It doesn’t change our situation.”

Phinehas grabbed Salman’s face “You don’t get it, do you? We can't use the well, so we’re told to come here. And what better way to keep us here, than her? There's no time.”

Salman’s heart sunk. He checked the window for himself. That’s too far to jump, he thought, the fall would kill us, or worse - break our legs and alert the guards. We’d be captured, tortured, and jeopardize the entire invasion.

“We're gonna to have to risk it,” Phinehas muttered as he gathered his belongings.

“Wait a minute,” Salman interrupted, “I hear what you’re saying, but I still think she's harmless. Now the man they let in after dark, he’s got me worried. He looks familiar. Remember that arms merchant a few months ago?”

“The one who said he was from Damascus?” replied Phinehas.

“Yes. He asked for a copy of the Ten Commandments, but I thought nothing of it at the time.”

Phinehas stopped pacing the floor and froze. “How could I forget? We were followed.”

A stranger in the night

2010-02-09T08:45:00.005+11:00

Surprised at his own embarrassment, Salman smiled boyishly and returned to the window, “Thank you, we do feel welcome. I'm curious though, that field is completely bare. Your King leaves no crops around the edges for the poor?”

“Hunger makes slaves of us all,” Rahab answered.

Salman considered her reply while observing something else out the window. In the distance, a lone dark figure rode towards the city on a camel.

“Indeed it does. Some people are sold into slavery, but others sell themselves.”

“Either way, they’re both slaves,” said Rahab.

“True,” Salman chuckled, enjoying the game of cat and mouse.

“Still, you've done well for yourself,” Phinehas interrupted, “to live so close to the gate?”

“Nothing comes cheaply for a woman,” she replied.

Salman sensed Phinehas overstepped the mark, and his suspicions were confirmed as Rahab dutifully cleared the half eaten meal. Quick, change the subject, he thought.

“Is it common to open the gate after sunset?”

“Sometimes,” Rahab cautiously replied.

Salman turned again to the window and watched the camel rider approach the gate. He looked athletic but slender, about thirty years of age and carrying a long thin sword over his shoulder. Although a headpiece covered most of his face, a rope burn scar was clearly visible around his neck. Strange, Salman thought, that face looks familiar. The rider’s whispered conversation with the Gatekeeper aroused even more suspicion.

The sound of the gate opening put a wet blanket on the conversation. Everyone knew they should keep talking but nobody wanted to. The silence was all the more disturbing as they strained to hear what the guards were saying (without admitting they were eavesdropping).

“So you're from Egypt?” asked Rahab.

“We're tired, sorry,” Phinehas replied, in a manner that was really asking her to leave.

“Too tired to answer questions, but not to ask? I should leave you alone then.”

“Wait,” Salman interrupted, “how could you tell?”

“Your accent, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Salman responded, strangely amused that for the first time in his life he was aware of this fact. How ironic.

Rahab politely bid the gentlemen good night and quietly moved to the other bedroom, by the window on the inner wall overlooking the city square. Through the wooden shutters, she watched the camel rider dismount and embrace Giddel like a brother returning from a long and dangerous journey. The two men walked off briskly into the palace, as the gate to the city shut with an ominous finality.

Rahab the prostitute

2010-02-08T23:14:00.002+11:00

Reaching bottom of the staircase, Salman looked up and noticed an attractive young woman opening the door of the inn. Two men were leaving; they weren’t the typically rough types he expected, in fact, one seemed vaguely familiar as he passed by on the staircase - but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Besides, it was the woman that really grabbed his attention.

Salman only caught a glimpse before she went back inside, but it enough to take his breath away. She was simply stunning, in her late teens or early twenties, with straight black hair, and deep beautiful brown eyes. Her clothing, headpiece and jewelry were lavishly feminine, but not so overdone as to appear gawdy.

On reaching the inn, Salman hesitated with his clenched fist poised to knock on the door.

“What is it?” whispered Phinehas.

“Nothing. It's fine,” replied Salman.

He knocked briskly, and within a few moments a peek hole in the door promptly slid open.

“Gentlemen, its too late in the day,” said the young woman, sizing them up, “Unless ...you want to stay for the night?”

“I do. We do.” Salman nervously replied, trying not to gaze into her gorgeous eyes. “We’d like a bed. Two actually, of our own. Two beds of our own... without you. I mean in your house, but just to sleep.”

She opened the door and laughed, “You’re not from around here, that’s for sure. I don’t bite. Come on in.”

The inn was fortuitously placed directly on top of the wall, with wooden shuttered windows overlooking both the fields outside and the city square. A large dining table occupied the centre of the inn, capable of seating twenty or more at a banquet, with a fireplace to the right and corridor leading to two bedrooms to the left.

The men were graciously ushered to their room, where they promptly dumped their belongings and quenched their thirst with a large jug of water. Within minutes, they were devouring an exquisite meal of lamb stew brought straight from the pot above the fireplace and served at their bedside table.

Tired and sore from a long day’s journey, the men finally kicked off their shoes and tried to relax with a modest portion of wine. But it was an impossible task, with their host scurrying in and out of the room, carrying dishes and topping up glasses. Indeed, Salman and Phinehas were so intrigued by her unquestionable beauty that they had completely forgotten to ask her name.

From the window on the outer wall, Salman pretended to absorb the magnificent view of the moonlit fields in the east towards the Jordan. Phinehas resigned himself to remain seated at the table and focus on his meal.

“Is there any...” Phinehas couldn't finish before the woman placed a large flask of water on the table.

“Water?” she interrupted, a little too close for Phinehas’ liking.

“Yes thank you, that’ll be all. You... you can leave us alone now.”

But she didn’t.

And neither Phinehas or Salman knew knew what to say.

“I am Rahab,” she replied.

They were three simple words, spoken like someone from a long forgotten dream. Her voice sounded so intriguing, Salman no longer pretended to look out the window.

“I'm Rahab, and this is my Inn.”

Both men were speechless, hanging on her every word.

“And you have names?”

“Forgive me, I'm Salman and this is my companion Phinehas.”

Rahab smiled. The ice was broken.

“Well gentlemen, welcome to Jericho.”

Trouble at the well

2010-02-05T13:11:00.007+11:00

Jericho echoed with the sound of the Gatekeeper’s horn. It was time to shut the city for the evening.

Salman casually turned around and observed Adin close the iron-plated gates in his customary routine. Too late to turn back now, he thought, even if I wanted to.

“So we sleep in the square, or take our chances with the locals?”

“Water first,” replied Phinehas as he unpacked a goatskin water bag, “because you never know...”

CRASH. The sudden noise caught them by surprise. A second gate made of solid iron bars slammed shut about twenty feet behind the main one underneath the stone archway.

“Well look at that!” Salman noted. “A clever trap don’t you think?”

“A cage for rats,” replied Phinehas. “Boiling oil from above, archers from behind. Eeesh! No thanks.”

“Come on, lets find somewhere for the night.” said Salman.

“Don’t you listen? Water first. We may have to leave in a hurry.”

It was difficult to disagree with Phinehas when Salman's own mouth was parched from the long walk.

The two men promptly headed towards the middle of the square, where an entire caravan of camels were drinking from several large troughs. One of the smelly beasts was pulled aside by its keeper as a matter of courtesy, to make room for the men to draw from the well.

It was an ancient but remarkably solid construction, with a circular stone wall, perfectly round and reaching up to waist height. A sturdy wooden beam across the top secured a large bucket suspended on a rope deep into the water underground. It’s clever builder had even thought to seal the mouth of the well with two wooden shutters, to stop small animals contaminating the water.

Just as Phinehas was about to draw water, Salman noticed the Gatekeeper pushing his way towards them through the camels, short tempered and ready to pick a fight.

“Hey! You filthy foreigners. That's not yours, its for locals. You have to pay for water at the Inn. You think we want your diseases?”

“What diseases?” Phinehas replied angrily.

Salman motioned for Phinehas to calm down. The Gatekeeper was either too stupid to consider the camels, or else he genuinely believed the men were inferior. Either way, it was pointless arguing.

“Where exactly is this Inn?” Salman asked.

”Over there.” Adin pointed towards a staircase on the right side of the wall beside the main entrance to the square. “Don’t worry, you’ll be well looked after.”

On closer inspection, Salman realized there were many houses built into the wall - three levels in fact. This meant the walls were hollow, and not nearly as strong as they first appeared.

“We don't want to cause any trouble,” said Salman casually. “Please excuse my brother, he's a bit slow. Thanks for your help.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Adin replied with a disturbing politeness that seemed out of character for such a coarse man.

Naturally, Salman didn’t wish to reveal his deep ceded suspicions, nor allow Phinehas the opportunity for more trouble. So he promptly grabbed his arm and forcefully ushered his “brother” towards towards the staircase.

“Ok this dumb brother trick is really getting to me,” whispered Phinehas.

“No, I think it suits you,” replied Salman cheekily.

Phinehas scowled with displeasure. “And I won’t be the guest of a whore.”

“He didn’t say she was a prostitute.”

“Oh come on, ‘you’ll be well looked after.’ Whats that supposed to mean?”

“Well even if she’s a lady of questionable character,” Salman whispered, “please don’t kill her. Knowing your luck, all Hell would break loose.”

“Very funny,” Phinehas replied, gritting his teeth. “I’m bursting with laughter.”

The Captain of Jericho

2010-02-04T09:24:00.009+11:00

The King of Jericho's youngest son was a superb fighter in his mid twenties by the name of Giddel. As Captain of the Guard, he conducted the daily training armed only with a wooden staff. Surprisingly, his opponent was barely sixteen years old, for on closer inspection Salman realized all his students were just boys.

Although the youth was armed with a real sword, Giddel seemed undisturbed by the threat of genuine harm. He carried no shield or armor, except for a large belt around his waist and a row of tough leather ribbing strapped along his powerful right arm. His strength and reflexes were something to admire, though Salman sensed he was merely toying with the teenager for he barely broke a sweat. Nevertheless, this was rookie training - brutal, fast and nasty.

Giddel swerved to sidestep an overhead strike, then tripped the boy and stole his sword while he fell to the ground.

“Get up,” Giddel shouted then tossed the sword back to the ground. “I carry my weapon in one hand, but I have three other limbs to strike you. I could have just as easily broken your jaw with my left arm.”

"It's not fair" replied the boy as he scrambled to his feet.

"Fair? Oh we can play fair. Shall I call for my sword?"

"No Sir."

Giddel looked over to the next boy waiting in line for a cruel initiation. “Lets make it easier. You, join him over here.”

A second boy stood by the first, bracing themselves for another round.

Giddel closed his eyes, threw his wooden staff away and turned his back to them. This was a lesson they'll never forget.

“Attack.”

Dropping to the ground, Giddell rolled to one side and dodged a wild strike from the first boy. A quick kick to the groin, and the lad was paralyzed with pain.

The second boy lunged aggressively with his sword, but Giddel was already on one knee. He grabbed the boy’s fighting arm and threw him over his shoulder like he was tossing a bale of hay.

Giddel sprung up, and stood over his bruised and battered opponents. They had barely enough time to swipe the dust from their faces before realizing that Giddel held both their swords an inch from their throats.

“I had nothing but my bare hands. Its what you do with what you have - thats what counts. Never forget it.”

“Yes Sir,” they replied as they returned to their positions.

Salman and Phinehas could not believe what they were seeing.

“If this is how they train boys...” Phinehas whispered.

“What about their men? I know.” Salman interrupted, “And by the way, the wall is twenty one paces thick.”

Phinehas looked at Salman with a hint of fear. “They expect Joshua to attack. They're getting ready.”

“Getting?” Salman replied “I’d say they’re well and truly ready.”

Jericho - the fortress city

2010-02-03T08:36:00.010+11:00

Forty years passed since the Red Sea crossing, and many sad stories filled the painful chapters of Israel’s wilderness wanderings. Difficult but important matters were left undone, while popular distractions occupied the Hebrews like a dog chasing its tail.

Except for Joshua and Caleb, an entire generation died without ever reaching the promised land of Canaan. But on one hot summer’s day, as the sun was setting over the bustling city of Jericho, something was finally happening, though no one seemed to notice.

The “City of Palms”, as it was known then, was surrounded by lush fertile fields bursting with crops, mostly barley, but also checkered with rows of dates, grapes, and olives. A long boulevard of palm trees lined the entrance to the fortress city, whose monstrous walls crowned a proud and prosperous kingdom. Its immense wealth drew traders of every description like bees to a honey pot, all hurrying to enter before the gates closed.

Approaching the large stone archway above the entrance, two such “traders” took careful notice of their surroundings. Phinehas, bearded and in his mid twenties, was tall and exceptionally strong, although modestly dressed in a plain brown robe to blend in with the crowd.

Alongside him was Salman, a slightly younger man of average build but blessed with such boyish charm that could barely hide beneath his scruffy unwashed appearance.

Along the road to Jericho, they had travelled with many merchants and farmers in a caravan trail of camels, cattle, and goats. Some made the short trip from Gilgal, a small town just near the Jordan river, to market their wares in the Jericho markets. Others travelled from distant exotic lands, bringing all manner of luscious fabrics, fragrances and spices .

There were numerous small conversations - answering questions about where they came from, what they were doing, and who they knew at Jericho. Salman did most of the talking, and enjoyed pretending to appear interested without really giving away any information. He particularly liked excusing his “dim-witted brother” from conversations because “he wouldn’t add any thing meaningful.”

Entering the city, they noticed the gates were constructed of large wooden beams plated with thick iron reinforcement. Enormous golden shields engraved with mysterious patterns hung from each interlocking cross beam. A cold shiver ran through Phinehas’ spine as he walked passed the sacred golden calf, the centerpiece of the stone archway above them.

What alarmed Salman the most were the walls - enormous stone mountains of defense, higher and thicker than anything they had ever seen. It made sense; a city guarding such fertile lands and reliable water would be too attractive for invading armies. He counted his steps through the archway, just to be guess the wall’s dimensons, although it was difficult to concentrate in the bustling crowd.

It was a strong and powerful kingdom. Phinehas could see it in the well crafted swords and bronze chest plates of the guards at the gate.

Salman saw it in the eyes of the traders lining the entrance to the city square. They were in it for money, and lots of it. Jericho was the place to set up business, and the city had grown rich by keeping things that way.

Across the bustling square, hundreds of soldiers marched out of the palace and marshalled in the forecourt. The King's palace towered over the whole city, casting a long shadow across all the people. Surrounding the square were countless narrow dusty streets lined with mud brick homes. It was the largest city Salman had ever seen.

But it was the soldiers that kept Phinehas' attention. They appeared to be combat training, although at first there was more shouting than actual fighting. But they seemed very disciplined, and that enticed Phinehas to press closer for a better look.

Walking further across the square, they came alongside dozens of Africans shackled in chains to large iron posts near the cattle yards. Salman tugged at Phinehas’ tunic.

“Look, slaves,” he whispered.
“What?” replied Phinehas, distracted by the soldiers.
“Poor souls,” Salman continued, “who knows where they’ll end up?”

The giant barrel-chested gatekeeper, Adin, rang the bell for the evening watch, sending traders packing up their stalls and heading home. He seemed to enjoy annoying everyone, barking orders and helping himself to whatever he wanted.

Salman observed the movement along the walls. Guards clamored to take their new positions as the day shift came down the narrow staircases. What type of soldiers were they? He would only know for certain in the heat of battle. Phinehas has the right idea, Salman thought. I should watch them train.

Freedom

2010-02-02T08:18:00.009+11:00

Pharaoh’s forces were indeed cursed.

Hundreds of his finest chariots suddenly stopped in their tracks with every problem imaginable. Perfectly crafted axles snapped in two, wheels fell off, and riders were thrown to the ground. Panic stricken horses with riderless chariots ran in every direction, crushing many of their own soldiers in the mayhem.

And still Pharaoh pursued the Hebrews, driven by wrath, and blinded to his own fate.

Not surprisingly, at the same time Moses raised his staff, Pharaoh drew his bow, for he was close enough to take a lucky shot. But with the old prophet in his sights, he failed to notice a large rock before his chariot smashed into a hundred pieces.

It didn’t stop him. Picking himself up from the ground Pharaoh grasped his bow and arrow to fire again. White hot rage could only focus on one thing; killing Moses.

Pharaoh was so close now, he could see exactly what Moses was doing.

He could see, but he paid no regard. When someone is consumed with rage, their senses are dulled. Pharaoh didn’t hear the the pain of men and horses breaking bones. He didn't see the terror of the ocean walls collapsing. He didn't feel the sorrow of his last breath.

He didn't care. All he felt was rage. Pure evil rage.

And that was the last thing he felt, at least in this life.

The titanic avalanche of water reigned down more destruction than a tsunami. For a tidal wave spreads it’s force over miles of coastline - but these two colossal walls of water collapsed into a narrow canyon just a few hundred yards wide.

Joshua waited till the monstrous waves died down before wading through the water for any signs of life. Every Hebrew had crossed safely, but Pharaoh and his army were no where to be seen.

Slowly as the churning waters returned to their slumber, Joshua walked further into the water to catch closer look. Far beyond the breaking waves he saw the bodies of thousands of men, stripped of their armor and clothing, floating on the surface.

They were all dead - laid out like a banquet for an army of birds to feast upon. Gulls and cormorants, ospreys and pelicans swarmed in a frenzy fighting each other for a seat at this table.

Soon enough, other guests arrived from the depths of the oceans. Swarms of sharks churned and thrashed a frenzy of bubbles and blood. The waters came alive with ravenous predators, like the hounds of hell devouring their prey. It was a feast fit for royalty – with a king, and all army on the menu.

Joshua quickly headed back to the shallow water, fearful for his own safety. When some thing suddenly brushed against his foot, he was relieved to discover it was only a dead body washed ashore. It was no one special, just an unknown soldier, but sword in his belt looked too beautiful to leave rusting on the beach forever.

It was a curious feeling. In all his years of slavery Joshua desperately wanted to fight. Now as a free man, it felt strange to hold such a magnificent weapon.

Naturally, it's owner no longer needed it. Joshua paused to admire the finely craftedblade in the morning sunlight. He was almost going to throw it back in the water when he changed his mind. It would no doubt prove a trusted companion in the coming days.

He carefully sheathed the sword in his belt, turned and joined Moses, with the rest of his people, safe on freedom's shores.

Run!

2010-02-01T13:11:00.009+11:00

Joshua felt sick in the stomach - looking over his shoulder, the distant lights of Pharaoh’s army could only mean one thing. They had taken the bait.

He had hoped the Egyptians would turn around and go home, but Pharaoh was just as stubborn as he was cruel. The more Joshua thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. What kind of man would fight against God?

Someone who thinks he IS God, thought Joshua.

With no children or elderly, the Egyptians were moving much faster than the Hebrews. Word of their chase soon spread amongst the crowds, and although everyone knew better, the more they panicked the slower they seemed to go.

“Why doesn’t God stop them?” someone shouted. “What happened to the pillar of fire?”

“Calm down, just move as fast as you can,” Joshua reassured. “Only a few miles to go. No need to look back.”

“Lord, deliver us from Pharaoh!“ cried a tiny old man, standing in Joshua’s way with arms raised to the heavens. “By your mighty hand, smite him with plagues, and fire and brimstone and send the Angel of Death to...”

“Excuse me sir,” Joshua interrupted.

“Send the Angel of Death to pour out your wrath on them...”

“Excuse me Sir! The Almighty is quite capable of all that and more, and I’m sure he appreciates your prayers - but please, move along. We’ve no time to spare. Really, no time at all.”

Easier said than done.

Even for Joshua, it was tempting to look back and despair at the very time when they needed the courage to run.

“Run! All of you, RUN!” shouted Joshua.

In those final hours of darkness, Joshua rounded up the last of the weary stragglers - hoisting children on the backs of smelly oxen, and nursing mothers onto carts of squashed grapes. Better to arrive safely in a mess, than suffer death at the hand of Pharaoh.

By the early light of dawn, the last Hebrew tribe reached the other side of the Red Sea. Tired and sore, vast columns of people staggered out from the ocean and onto the beach with tears of joy. But Joshua knew there was not a moment to spare. The Egyptians were hot on their heels, just a mile away, charging like men possessed.

Reaching safety of the beach, Joshua wearily climbed off his horse and was heartily greeted by Moses and Caleb.

“Well done!” said Moses embracing him.

“You’ve got everyone?” asked Caleb.

“Yes of course,” Joshua gasped, still catching his breath. “Moses, close back the waters. Quickly, please.”

“Do you know for sure?” Moses replied.

Joshua looked back towards the ocean, only to realize his deepest fears. A few hundred yards away, three terrified young children were so exhausted they could barely move.

“Good Lord,” gasped Caleb, “we can’t let the Egyptians reach us.”

Ignoring his tired body, Joshua scrambled back onto his horse and galloped to the rescue. He jumped off his saddle and grabbed the two smallest, a six year old girl and her little brother. Hoisting them up on his saddle, he slapped his horse soundly on the rump and sent it charging to safety.

Caleb arrived on horseback in the nick of time.

“Quickly, take him,” yelled Joshua lifting the last child up into the saddle.

“What about you?” replied Caleb.

“Don’t worry about me. Just go!” Joshua shouted.

The sound of the Egyptians cursing and cracking whips echoed loudly behind them.

Joshua sprinted towards the shore with all the strength he could muster. He dared not look back at the hideous sounds behind him, for fear of tripping and not having the strength to get back up. Gasping for air and quivering with exhaustion, he finally reached the beach and collapsed on the sand.

“They should have... should have...killed me.”

“Look at their chariots!” said Caleb, helping Joshua to his feet. “The wheels are falling off.”

Moses stepped forward and lifted his rod out over the water.

“The Almighty has done this. Our God is an awesome God.”

Pharaoh's Wrath

2010-01-29T08:31:00.009+11:00

Moving two million people off the beach wasn’t easy. People waited hours in line just to enter the ocean path.

It was nearly midnight before the last Hebrew tribe began to leave. Joshua rode at the back of the queue, keeping an eye on the stragglers - old people too tired to walk and youngsters half asleep.

With the beach much quieter and almost empty, he could hear strange noises from the Egyptian camp. Their horses were nervous and frightened. None of them could sleep so their masters kept whipping them in anger.

“Hurry up now,” urged Joshua like he was herding sheep. “Move along quickly. Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” replied a widow, “just not as young as I used to be. I’m not even sure if I can make it across.”

Joshua dismounted his horse to help her.

“If God can part the Red Sea, he can look after you,” he said helping her onto a hay cart. “I suggest you get some rest.”

“Thank you. You’re a fine young man. A good man.”

“Just doing my job, and I’m not that young.”

Joshua climbed back on his horse and galloped around to the southern dunes for a better view of the ocean. It was a sight he would never forget. The trail of lamps and torches stretched for miles across the dark ocean floor. Light danced and flickered along the watery walls with astonishing beauty.

They had a tough march to reach the other side before daylight, and who knew when Pharaoh would catch on to what was happening? Joshua didn’t want to wait to find out.

Farewell Egypt, he thought.

Farewell and good riddance.

He kicked his heels and galloped down into the ocean to catch up with the others.

The land bridge across the eastern arm of the Red Sea spanned some twelve miles across to the Arabian coast. Joshua kept watch at the rear of the march, keeping one eye on the deathly darkness behind him.

An hour after midnight, the first of the Hebrew tribes reached the other side with much celebration and relief. But even at the cracking pace Moses set for them, it was taking longer than expected. All the while, tiredness and fear gnawed away at Joshua’s will, like starving rats keeping him awake all night.

It was only a matter of time before death would pursue again.

By three in the morning, at the changing of the guard, the Egyptian night watchmen noticed the dark mist had lifted as quickly as it came the evening before. The beach was visibly empty in the dim moonlight, and all that was left were thousands of footprints heading out to the sea - or more accurately, where the sea once was.

Far in the distance, thousands of lights from the Hebrew slaves could be seen marking a trail right through the vast ocean canyon. Every twinkle of their glow mocked the Egyptians, almost daring them to follow.

Awakened from his listless slumber, Pharaoh immediately marched down to the beach and saw for himself the Hebrew’s way of escape. His white hot fury wrestled to overcome his better instincts.

If he followed the Hebrews into the canyon of water, what could stop him from drowning? If he allowed them to escape, could he live with the humiliation?

Almost anticipating his thoughts, Nemetha pulled up beside him.

“My Lord, stay here. I’ll chase after them. The victory will be the same, whether by my hands or yours. But if I die, Egypt will still have you on the throne.”

“Who do they think they are, making a fool of me?” Pharaoh replied.

His answer was more honest than intended. He despised both scenarios; a hollow victory or the shame of allowing the Hebrews to escape.

He quickly harnessed his chariot and charged down into the ocean road, with every Egyptian following in his wake.

Parting the Red Sea

2010-01-28T08:36:00.012+11:00

Joshua breathed a sigh of relief. The Egyptians’ hasty retreat from darkness brought tears of joy and gasps of amazement across the crowds. Fear and panic quickly gave way to a holy calm.

Things that were frightening just moments before - the wind and stormy ocean, now seemed comforting in the last glow of twilight.

Nobody could deny God was with them. And while Pharaoh and his men were holed up the ravine like a genie in a bottle, the Hebrews basked in the soothing light from the pillar of fire.

Joshua closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh night air. Soaking up the warmth of God’s bonfire on his face, he listened to his heart beating with the symphony of waves crashing behind him. The ocean didn’t seem so terrifying now. After all, it was the handiwork of his Creator.

The sensation of a solitary tear drop tingling his warm cheek arrested Joshua’s quiet moment of reflection. He opened his eyes and turned to see Moses looking out over the sea.

“What now?” Joshua asked.

“It’ll take all night to cross,” Moses replied. “We needed a head start. I just hadn’t worked out how.

Joshua smiled with amazement. “You had to trust Him with that?”

“Yes. He never explains everything,” replied Moses, stepping up onto a large rock to address the crowd.

“Caleb, go to the front.”

“The front?”

“When the waters open, take your torch and gallop across to the other side - fast as you can.” Moses urged. “Show everyone its safe.”

“Joshua, go to the rear and wait. See that no one is left behind”.

Joshua hesitated, thinking of something profound to say – but couldn't.

“You’ll be the last one to cross,” Moses continued. “Joshua, you hear me?”

Joshua nodded. The last. Why did I know he going to say that?

Moses climbed higher onto the rock so everyone could see him. Looking out over the ocean, the mighty prophet raised his staff to Heaven, with strength of stature that defied his eighty years.

“God of Abraham, by your mighty power you created the whole world. Nothing is impossible for you. The sun, stars and moon are all works of your hand.”

“And we, your people, remember the covenant you made to our father Abraham.”

“You promised him descendants, a land, and a messiah. Through Abraham’s Seed all the nations of the earth will be blessed.”

“There is no one greater than yourself, so you made this covenant by your own name. You are God Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth.”

“And so now, by the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, I command these waters to part. Make way for the Lord's people.”

And with those simple words, Joshua witnessed the greatest miracle he could possibly imagine.

A broad front of lightning stretched across to the opposite coast. The hot easterly wind rushed in like a tornado pushing down deep into the waters, like the hand of God carving a vast canyon into the sea.

To Joshua, it was simply awe inspiring.

A long straight road of dry land lay before them. The air inside the trench seemed quiet and still, and the ground surprisingly dry. The ocean walls were strangely solid, but wet like normal water. It still sloshed around, but any splashes fell straight back into the walls.

How fascinating, Joshua thought, the water falls into itself - not the ground.

Completely speechless, Joshua watched Caleb light a flaming torch and gallop down into the depths of the ocean. The further he rode, the darker it became - for the pillar of fire only lit the beach where they stood. Before long, all anyone could see was the flicker of Caleb’s torch half a mile away, bouncing light off the ocean walls.

“Sons of Abraham,” Moses continued, “remember this day when the Lord your God delivered you by his mighty hand. Nothing is impossible. Move quickly now and follow me to the other side, but leave no one behind in your haste.”

And with that, Joshua helped Moses down off the rock and bid him farewell. It seemed poetic for Moses to escort the bones of Joseph across. For the all the people would see the enduring power of hope.

But the important duties of a rear guard soon consumed Joshua’s thoughts. Mounting his horse, he turned and pressed against the fleeing crowds. With the Egyptians camped so close, waiting for everyone to cross was a test of nerves.

Pillar of fire

2010-01-26T14:16:00.012+11:00

Dark swirling thunder clouds were brooding over the Red Sea, drawing a hot dry wind from the east. It was fuel for the tempest, fanning the wrath of Almighty God.

Joshua charged ahead, past scattered groups of people jumping out of his way, ever closer to the crowds gathered along the shoreline.

He could see Moses now, walking purposefully beside a cart carrying the coffin of Joseph - bones that refused to be buried in slavery, bound for the promised land.

Pushing his way through the crush, Joshua finally reached the old prophet.

“They're coming”, he gasped, “Pharaoh, and all his army”.

“Good. Not a moment too soon,” Moses replied with unwavering faith.

“Moses. We need a...”

“...The Almighty knows what we need, even before we ask.”

Joshua wanted to bite his lip. The finality of the moment demanded he state the obvious.

“I trust you know what you’re doing - what He’s doing”

“God’s with us Joshua. Don’t be afraid.”

“I know,” Joshua nodded reassuringly, then turned to face the commotion behind him.

It was Caleb barging his way through the thronging crowd. He arrived breathing heavily and tired, but only half as tired as his horse.

“We don’t have long... before panic… Do your thing Moses.”

Joshua sensed the crowds were increasingly terrified at the sight of Pharaoh’s army swarming onto the peninsula. People were pressing in closer all around Moses, wanting answers, comfort - something. But why was he looking to the sky?

“Moses led us into the wilderness,” someone shouted, “because there were no graves in Egypt?”

“Like he dragged you here kicking and screaming!” Caleb replied.

“There’s nowhere to escape, we’ll all be butchered,” another lamented. “Better off slaves.”

“What’s happening?” said Joshua looking heavenward, now oblivious to the growing chorus of dissent. A massive pillar of cloud over the ocean looked like it was changing into fire. And the fire was moving towards them.

“You’d trade freedom for slavery?” Caleb shouted.

“There’s no freedom in death,” the angry mob cried.

“Freedom from your complaining.”

“Hey is anyone listening?” Joshua interrupted again.

“Silence!” Moses need only to say one word for all to pay attention. He slowly raised his hands to speak.

“No one is going to die. Don’t be afraid. Look, see for yourselves what God is doing.”

The pillar of fire moved steadily across the breaking waves, lifting high up over the Hebrews, then rested on the low sand dunes behind them.

Pharaoh’s path to attack was blocked. What’s more, the same pillar that appeared as fire to the Hebrews was nothing but a wall of darkness to the Egyptians. The blackest of nights shrouded the Hebrews like a curtain of invisibility.

There was nothing Pharaoh could do but order his troops to stand still. Even if they wanted to attack, they could barely see a hundred yards ahead.

“Is it moving toward us?” Pharaoh asked his captain Nemetha, whose hardened body looked chiseled from stone.

“Your Majesty, I think so. Shall I order the men back into the ravine?”

“This is the strangest darkness,” Pharaoh replied. “We can’t see them, but can they see us?”

“I don’t know Master, but we’re safer in the valley.”

Pharaoh pondered a moment longer, looking deeper into a darkness he could almost touch.

“Where could they go?”

“Nowhere your Majesty. Our fort blocks the coastal road. Even if it were captured, moving that many people would be like draining the Nile with a straw.”

“Nemetha, I’ve travelled long enough,” replied Pharaoh. “As much as I want to rid the earth of this Hebrew stench - the men are tired, and my horse is thirsty. Set up camp in the valley for the night. That makes sense, right?”

“Yes it does Sir.”

“We’ll kill the Hebrews after a good nights rest.”

Pharaoh resolutely terminated the conversation, keen to prove he could sleep well before a massacre.

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Race to the Red Sea

2010-01-25T05:57:00.010+11:00

It was an awe inspiring sight, galloping across the sandy peninsula at sunset, but Joshua had no time to reflect. The dust cloud of Pharaoh's mighty army rose ominously in the sky above the narrow ravine that wound its way along an ancient riverbed towards the ocean.

A mile in front, two million Hebrew slaves were trapped along the shores of the Red Sea. Joshua marveled at the wet sand between them, its pale luminescence clung to the last rays of sunlight. Such a shame, he thought, the beach would be red with blood by morning.

But whose blood?

Pharaoh led six hundred of his finest chariots in hot pursuit - his steely eyes blazed with unbridled rage. The gold rimmed wheels of his magnificently crafted vehicle barely touched the ground as he mercilessly whipped his horse to breakneck speeds. Further behind, fifty thousand horseman armed with spears heralded the true might of Egypt’s army; two hundred thousand foot soldiers jogging in tight formation through the canyon walls.

Pharaoh’s apocalyptic force amounted to well over a quarter of a million, some fifty men abreast stretching back for miles.

All that separated the Egyptians from the Hebrews was a narrow pass between two steep rocky hills some thousand feet high. The pass led out to a flat wide peninsula, semi circle in shape and three miles in diameter, jutting out in to the Red Sea. It was a flat broad area, with steep mountains jutting down to the water in the south. A narrow coastal road to the north was fiercely guarded by a garrison of Egyptian soldiers, permanently stationed to protect the trade routes.

After six days pursuing the Hebrews across the barren wilderness, Pharaoh finally had them cornered, or so it seemed.

Joshua turned back round and spotted another rider coming into to view a quarter mile in front. The other Hebrew signalman struggled to hold his speed on an older horse. Joshua smiled and raced ahead to catch up with him.

“Caleb,” Joshua laughed, “I feel sorry for your horse.”

“I’m all muscle,” he shouted. “You should be grateful I let you have the fast one.”

“Fast ‘cause my work’s dangerous,” Joshua replied overtaking him.

Caleb grunted in friendly rivalry and slapped his horses’ reins. “Well at least I know how to use a sword.”

Caleb glanced back at the sight of Pharaoh’s army flooding out of the narrow pass onto the peninsula. Archers in the chariots were drawing their bows to attack.

“Good Lord!” shouted Caleb. “Are we ready for this?”

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The trap is set

2010-01-24T14:51:00.007+11:00

Darkness.

All that man fears is revealed in darkness.

Ever since he was a child, Joshua feared the dark. He knew darkness itself had no real power, but rather those things that couldn’t be seen.

Running up the rocky hillside, Joshua raced against the darkness. Breathless, thirsty, tired and sore – every muscle in his athletic frame felt his age; forty hard years. Over the dusty barren landscape, the light was fading fast - both literally and metaphorically. Far on the horizon in the next valley to the west, the vast dust cloud of the Egyptian army blazed an ominous red in the fading light of day. The trap was set, but the bait had to be warned.

Scrambling over loose rocks and stones to the top of the hill, the sight of his own bloodied hands and knees reminded Joshua of what darkness can bring.

Darkness makes it hard to see friend from foe, and slave from master. Even life from death. Joshua knew of a darkness so great that a man could forget what he looked like. He could forget who he was, or worse still, who God was.

But the memory of light can be carried - like the smouldering coals Joshua unraveled from the bark envelope he carried in his satchel. Some hasty twigs and leaves, carefully laid around the coals would do the trick.

Joshua crouched down on his knees, a useful position for both prayer and blowing tiny glowing embers to life.

“God, I'm no use to you dead. Please, I've done this a thousand times.”

He fumbled around rearranging the twigs, took another deep breath and blew into the fragile nest of coals. The embers glowed in anticipation, but nothing took hold. His cradle of leaves and twigs lay dormant.

Sounds of murderous shouting echoed in the valley below.

He hastily blew again to resuscitate the tiny coals, like his life depended on it. All the while memories of those years of suffering flooded his mind - the hunger, sleep deprivation, and excruciating pain from the lash of his Egyptian master. Suffocating darkness can extinguish all hope. But not this time. Although Joshua had been captive all his life, he knew where he was going. It was written on his soul.

The voices were louder now. Four, maybe five of Pharoah's scouts - they knew his position.

He blew again, this time something caught alight. And then again, deeper and longer than before. The flicker turned into a flame; a flame into a fire; and then a fire into a pillar of smoke that could be seen for miles as it reached high to catch the golden rays of sunset.

Joshua paused to reflect in this brief moment of grace. Sadly, some men never see the light. Some see it from a distance, but prefer to hide their sin under the hideous cloak of darkness. Worse still, others know the light for a while, but are drawn back, where the darkness consumes them forever in the anguish of what they once knew.

SWOOSH! An arrow struck the rock behind him. Time to leave.

The Egyptians were coming, and so was nightfall. Joshua waited only for enough time to see another signal fire echo his message from the next hilltop. Moses would see that one.

Stoking the flames one last time, he scrambled back down to where his faithful horse was nervously waiting.

"The beach my friend," he whispered in its ear, "now or never."