Synopsis

‘Are you for us, or against us?’
Joshua stood his ground, poised to strike. Though he was ready to meet his maker, at least he would die fighting.

‘Neither,’ the mighty warrior calmly replied.

Neither? He thought, refusing to lower his sword. What kind of answer is that?

‘I am here as Commander of the Lord's army.’

Joshua trembled with fear. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or was he standing in the presence of the Almighty? Dropping his sword, he fell to his knees and bowed his head. ‘I am your servant. What do you want me to do?’

‘Take off your sandals,’ the Commander replied. ‘You are on holy ground.’


In Israel’s darkest hour, an aging warrior must fight for all he believes; a promised land, a chosen people, and a messiah.

But Jericho stands in Joshua’s way. Sending spies into the fortress city, he strikes an unlikely alliance with Rahab, a whore who risks everything to save them.

The real enemy lies within. Facing humiliating defeat and betrayal, Joshua’s faith in a loving God must endure its ultimate test. Though his darkest fears are realized, he must find the courage to believe.

Again.

Update - 5th draft

OK... I haven't posted for a while. I've been too busy writing my 5th draft. I get back here sooner or later.

Battle Speeches

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

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?

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

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"

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

“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

“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

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

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

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

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

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

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.