Who Does Your Monument Point To?

If you've ever been to Washington, D.C., you know how the city is set up as a gigantic memorial. As the capital of a nation, it's the natural place for national reminders to be put into place, so the place is packed with them. If you stand at the base of the Washington Monument, you can see the White House in one direction, the Capitol Building in another, the Lincoln Memorial in yet another with its reflection pool spread in front of it, and the World War II area not far away. You don't have to walk very far to see the Jefferson Memorial or the Martin Luther King Memorial... or the Vietnam Memorial or, you know, Arlington Cemetery where you find the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (which is an incredibly moving experience, by the way).

History exudes from this place, and as both a history buff and as a semi-nearby resident of a city not too far away, I've had the opportunity to visit many, many times, and have truly appreciated seeing the monuments, the markers that remind me of what once was and of what is now as a result of what once was.

The city reminds me greatly of Athens during the time of Paul, when -- according to Acts 17:16, Paul is wandering around the city waiting for Silas and Timothy to join him. As he meanders through the city, he looks at allllll the statues, the idols... the monuments... set up as places of worship. Being Paul, he's preaching the gospel in the city, and he finds himself in the Areopagus where he stands up during the meeting and says: "Men of Athens! I see that in every way you are very religious. For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. Now what you worship as something unknown, I am going to proclaim to you" (Acts 17:22-23).

So anyway, today in Joshua 4, the Israelites have just crossed over the flood-stage Jordan River into their Promised Land, but they don't yet have possession of it. They've got a few battles to fight yet before they'll be able to settle down. But the first major hurdle is accomplished. They are no longer wandering in the desert; now the Lord has opened the gates for them to the land He's promised them.

In Joshua 4:1-3, it says: "When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua, 'Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight.'"

So... the whole time this crossing has been happening, four Levite priests are standing in the middle of the dry river bed with the poles that carry the Ark of the Covenant resting heavily on their shoulders...

Honestly, my back hurts just thinking of it. Maybe they had other priests who relieved them now and then, and they switched out shifts or something, I don't know. But still. Ouch. That's a long and strong vigil, reminiscent of the story of Moses holding up the staff of God in his arms while Aaron and Hur helped. I can still hear Bethel Camp's director calling out during our traditional "sword drills" where we held our Bibles above our heads in preparation to race to look up passages: No kinks in the elbows!!

What happens when a few have the courage to stand in the gap, to step aside from the melee of the many, the glory and the adrenaline of battle, and quietly raise our hands, quietly hold the weight of responsibility on our shoulders and feel it in our aching core?

Okay, that's a post for another day. 

Joshua 4:8-9 says: "So the Israelites did as Joshua commanded them. They took twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, as the Lord had told Joshua; and they carried them over with them to their camp, where they put them down. Joshua set up the twelve stones that had been in the middle of the Jordan at the spot where the priests who carried the Ark of the Covenant had stood. And they are there to this day." They probably aren't there to this day, May 12, 2021, but they were at least still there at the writing of this scroll that records the book of Joshua.

Joshua makes a monument. All around the Israelite nations are nations who have also set up monuments, altars, Asherah poles, high places, and all sorts of holy grounds where they can come and worship their gods. 

Joshua sets up a monument of twelve stones, one for each tribe of Israel. 

Why? In Joshua 4:21-24, Joshua tells the Israelites: "In the future when your descendants ask their fathers, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them, 'Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.' For the Lord your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over. The Lord your God did to the Jordan just what He had done to the Red Sea when He dried it up before us until we had crossed over. He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the Lord is powerful and so that you might always fear the Lord your God."

The monument Joshua set up pointed to the power and the glory of the Lord. The monument Joshua set up reminded the people to worship God.

Monuments remind us of a past, right? Often that past shapes our futures, if we let it. Like Paul in Athens, though, which monument will we stand in front of and allow to resonate with us? Have we set up monuments to fear? To doubt? To discouragement?

To be completely honest... *Raises hand.

Have we set up monuments to anger, division, pride?

*Raises hand.

What kinds of monuments should we be raising? 

Here's an idea: What if we were to step back into the middle of the Jordan River, back into the place of greatest fear, of greatest testing... and carry markers of the victory out with us?

Point to the stone. That. There. I walked through that only by the power of the Lord, "the Lord of all the earth" (Joshua 3:13), and here is my monument, my reminder that I did not do this by myself. Here is my monument, my reminder that God fought this battle for me. Here is my monument, my reminder, that the monument itself is not my salvation. 

This monument is made up of heavy stones, dragged from the battle, as a reminder that I. did. nothing. to deserve the victory. The only reason it exists is to point to God. It's not a monument to an unknown God -- it's a reminder of the God I know. The One I know personally.

...

I was thinking of writing some more about this... but I think this is enough. I think I'm going to push it to the back burner, put a lid over it, and let it simmer. We'll continue on toward Jericho tomorrow.