I have received feedback about my last post, which tells me at least some of you are reading carefully 😊. Do not worry. The details of the Asherahs, the Baals, the memorial stones, and yes, even the mysterious “things in the fire,” are still coming. This season has layers. We are not done.
But before we tear down ancient idols and light metaphorical fires, allow me to tell you how my attempt at a profound family devotion was dramatically derailed by a small, confident human being who believes spiritual warfare requires immediate access to a sword.
I asked my children, quite innocently, “Do you know what a battle is?” Without hesitation, our resident extrovert stood up and declared, “A battle is when you need swords to fight Amorites and Canaanites and Girgashites. Mummy, I need a sword because I know some Amalekites.” I paused. Needless to say, the devotion pivoted, and we abandoned live theology and enlisted the Good News Guys on YouTube for animated assistance, the Battle of Jericho. Somewhere between animated priests and collapsing walls, I realized that to my children, battles are cinematic, with plastic swords and dramatic shouting, with the walls of Jericho collapsing on cue. But to us adults with responsibilities, battles look very different. They are quieter. They are fought in prayer or in conversations. They sit inside difficult decisions. They stare at you in a hospital bed. They are often fought at the edge of rivers that look far too wild to cross.
My children are ready for Jericho. Trumpets. Walls. Drama. But God often starts with the Jordan......
By the time we arrive at Joshua 3, Moses is no longer in the picture. The voice that unsettled Pharaoh. The staff that stretched over the Red Sea. The steady presence they had leaned on for decades. Gone. The leader they trusted. Grief was in the camp, and yet movement was required. God had already spoken. “I have given you the land.” The spies had walked through Jericho and had seen the fear in the city. The promise was not vague; it was vivid, tangible, and within reach. But, between the promise and possession was a river at its worst. It was springtime, and snow from Mount Hermon was melting. The Jordan was swollen, loud, overflowing its banks. It was a raging and unapologetic flood, yet God placed them there deliberately. He led a grieving people, carrying fresh loss and fragile faith, and parked them right in front of something that looked impossible.
I wrestle with this. Why does a good God show us Jericho, the promotion, the expansion, the answered prayer, the breakthrough we’ve been journaling about for 7 years, and then say, “Great. Now camp right here… in front of this impossible situation”? Why give us destiny in 4K resolution and then buffer the loading screen? Why call so clearly, speak so loudly, confirm it through sermons, random aunties, and three different Scriptures… and then lead us straight to what feels like a foggy, dead end with a roaring river?
And here is the part of the Christian walk I struggle with: I do not want my body “wasting away outwardly” like Paul described, I would very much prefer abs, biceps, quads, good lighting, and excellent makeup while still gaining inwardly, thank you very much. If we are being honest, I want visible flourishing and invisible depth at the same time. I want a soft life on this side of eternity — and in the real eternity too. Boarding passes, not wilderness treks. Cruise ships, not flood-stage rivers. Celebration dinners, not tables prepared in the presence of enemies. I want comfort. I want ease. I want the blessings in Deuteronomy 28 without the refining that so often precedes them. I know suffering is part of the Christian faith; I simply do not volunteer for it enthusiastically. Yet Scripture stubbornly refuses to cooperate with my soft-life theology, and I, mostly, stubbornly submit.
God is more committed to formation than comfort. More invested in depth than ease. More concerned with who we are becoming than how smooth the journey feels. And that tension? That’s where the real battle lives. If this is your camping season, camp well. The Jordan will not sweep you away. When Israel stopped at its banks, after days of trekking from Shittim, dusty and probably exhausted, God spoke. He gave instructions. He reassured them of His presence. He told them exactly what would happen to the river. He did not leave them guessing, and the camping place became a place of clarity.
It became a space for recalibration, for intimacy, for courage to be rebuilt. It was not punishment, but it was preparation. It was not abandonment, but alignment. Sometimes, the bank of the Jordan is where God slows us down long enough to remind us who He is. It is where striving softens into listening. Where anxiety is interrupted by assurance. Where He whispers, “I am still with you. And this will not end the way you fear.”
Until next time, please take heart because this is not where the story stalls; it is where faith grows roots. And when it is time to step, because that time will come, may you move with quiet courage. May you remember that grace meets you in the water, and promise is waiting on the other side.
And no, you probably will not need a sword!!!!
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