Read His Words Before Ours!
Joshua 2:1-24
Joshua 6:17-25
Matthew 1:5
Hebrews 11:31
James 2:25

I never meant to be a hero. I never thought I could even be deemed as one. For most of my life, I was the furthest thing from a hero. I was the woman who kept travelers happy while they were away from home. I was the woman who could keep men satisfied when their wives couldn’t. To some men, I am sure I was seen as heroic, but if you asked their wives, their mothers, their children, I was a villain and a destroyer. It began accidentally, but once I began, I didn’t know how to stop. Honestly, I usually didn’t even want to. My job gave me a unique niche. I heard things, information I could use to my benefit and sometimes even to turn a bigger profit.

Political tidbits, relationship frustrations, and gory battle stories would pass from the lips of men as they tried to get comfortable with me. At first I only half listened, as most stories were rather dull. However, the more the stories were told, the more I would listen. Some stories were from long before I was born, some were recent, and some were told with intensity or frustration or bravado, depending on the man who told it. I heard them enough to know which were true and which were exaggerations meant to impress me. But then men started talking about the Israelites. The more they talked, the more I felt their fear and heard it in their voices.

“Israelites were fleeing Egypt, while being chased by the Egyptian army, and in the blink of an eye, at the very last moment, the waters of the Red Sea rose to either side so the Israelites could pass through to safety.”

Or there was a tale of those same Israelites completely annihilating two kings and their kingdoms as if they were stepping on a hill of ants.

Every man who told these stories gave credit to the same Power – The Lord. As I listened, my heart grew heavy, as if it was completely melting away from my body, for I knew the Lord must be real. He must be a true God. The true God. The more I heard, the more I understood that the men were quaking in their boots not because of this desert-wandering-nation, but because of their God’s power to conquer every other god I had known.

I didn’t seek to be used by this Yahweh.
I didn’t even like thinking about this God.

My heart would grow heavy every time I thought of Him because I knew I was living in sin.
I was no match for Him.  But one day these two strange men came knocking at my door. That action, in particular, was nothing new, but there was something different about those men. They asked to stay with me, but they were noble and chivalrous, they were kind. They didn’t want my body, but were seeking shelter instead. My house was empty that night, so I allowed them to stay. It wasn’t long until I heard shouts and pounding at my door. My guests looked at me, frightened and unsure of what I was going to do. It was then, in that instant, that I knew Yahweh was with these men and they came from the Israelites I had heard so much about. The obviousness of their espionage became suddenly clear – they were here to scout Jericho in preparation for overtaking it.

My heart pounded harder and I wasn’t sure if I was more scared to be in the presence of these men, the beating at my door, or the realization that I was helpless before these people and their God. My decision came with swift clarity, I had no chance of survival without this Yahweh. My only hope was throwing myself at His mercy.

“Come with me!” I commanded, and quickly lead the men to the roof of my house to hide before sending the soldiers at my door on a false trail of these Israelite spies.

I couldn’t just save these men and send them on their way. No. I knew they were here for a reason, and I knew this city I had called home for my entire life would soon be no more. So I bargained with them, pleaded, really, to spare my life just as I did theirs. They promised me that my life and lives of any family who gather in my house on the day they would destroy Jericho, would be saved. They promised me kindness. They promised me faithfulness. But I knew it wasn’t these men who could protect me, it would be their God.

Well, that day of destruction came. My family and I huddled together inside of my home while we listened to the cries and crumbling walls coming from our city.

But nothing happened to us, even before the spies came for us.

When those two Israelites returned to escort us out of Jericho and into safety, I knew again with astounding assurance that Yahweh was faithful and I promised my life to serve Him only.

I sit here now, holding my precious newborn son, Boaz, and I am once again reminded of the faithfulness of my Lord. I was a woman who had devoted her life to the service of men. I had built false love and destroyed families in the process. But it was in the midst of my own certain destruction as my city literally crumbled around me that the Lord saved my family and saved me. Beyond my wildest dreams, this same God has given me my own family. The Lord is so kind. He is so faithful.

I didn’t mean to be a hero. I never meant to save a life or even value a life before my own. But Yahweh saw something in me that I never saw in myself. He didn’t see a destructor. He saw a builder, a fighter, and a woman who desperately needed grace. The Lord is kind and the Lord is faithful.
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As Rahab’s day of destruction came near, she desperately surrendered to the God who she had come to trust as the One True God. Because of her faith, her life was redeemed, both physically and spiritually. She was given an inheritance and a place in the lineage of Christ! In the midst of your own set of destructive circumstances and wayward heart, have you followed Rahab’s example of surrender? ​

Read His Words Before Ours!
1 Kings 16:29-34
1 Kings 19:1-8
1 Kings 21:1-16
2 Kings 9:30-37
Deuteronomy 7:1-12

My heart beats with haste as I hear the news. Joram is dead.
How can he be gone?
Didn’t I already lose the man I called husband for so many years?
Didn’t I already lose my firstborn son?
And now my second – murdered by his own army general. Traitor.
And that same man is coming for me now.
My breathing hastens as my hands grip the edge of the window and my eyes look over the horizon. I know my fate.

I walk over to my mirror and try to steady my shaking hand. I pick up the charcoal pencil that I have used many times over, and like a force of habit, I begin applying a thick line around my eyes.

These eyes have changed much over the years. My eyelid sags a little, so I lift my brow to stretch the skin and apply the makeup. My eyes are surrounded by wrinkles and my eyelashes aren’t quite as thick any more. Oh but these eyes have seen things. These eyes have known things.

With these eyes I saw the beautiful Mediterranean Sea every morning. I would see the boats headed out for trade, and I would watch the reflection of the sun set in the evenings. It was one of those evenings that my father came to tell me that I was to be married to the King of Israel. Sidon needed the support of Israel as Tyre continued to be a threat to our people.  I learned something that evening. To my father, I was nothing more than property. And with my eyes, as young and naive as they were, I saw a man who didn’t even know me, let alone love me. His stare was cold and icy and his voice bold and defensive. For the Sidonians, but definitely not for this man, I had agreed.

The next set of eyes I looked into were those of Ahab, as we vowed to be man and wife. Again, a man who neither knew nor loved me. His eyes held nothing.
No bond, no friendship, no love.
I had left my friends and family, my home, and everything I knew to be bound to a man who meant nothing to me. My eyes looked down at my hands and there they stayed until the wedding was over.
Not out of respect, for he hadn’t earned that, and not out of submission, but out of sorrow.

Shouts from the ground below jolt me back to reality. I walk back towards the window to check the horizon again. Nothing, yet. My hand goes to my hair where it catches in a knot, so I walk back to the mirror, pick up my brush, and begin brushing my graying hair. I used to wear my hair in such magnificent braids, but as my hair has changed, so have the styles.

I begin to think back again, to remember.
When I first moved to Israel, I knew nothing and no one.
All I knew was they worshiped one God.
I worshiped many.
One God for every single thing on this earth?
For every emotion, every season, every event?
I still think it is absurd to expect so much from one God.
I had a favorite god, Baal. I grew up worshiping him, and while I never saw much from my prayers, I always felt him. I knew that the only way I could find any sort of love would be if I taught Ahab the power that could come with worshipping the gods of my land and my people. I knew how to use myself to get Ahab’s attention, and to get what I wanted. I would look at him a certain way or not let him summon me in the night for some time, until he finally would give in. It never took long, and it was never very difficult. Shortly after we wed, he built a temple for Baal. Not long after, I convinced him to be rid of the prophets of “God”. As I tried to bring more knowledge of Baal to the Israelites, the prophets of God would stand in my way. I didn’t want to murder them, but I had to do whatever needed to be done. There were too many for prison, and really, death was the only way to shut them up.

My brush slips from my hands and I realize I haven’t been brushing for several minutes.
I supposed I didn’t lead a life of goodness.
But goodness was never offered to me.
If I didn’t demand love, I never would have received it.
But I know now that true love can’t be demanded.
Because I was never really loved, no matter how much I demanded it.

I tried, oh how I tried to make Ahab love me. He had a dream once, to have a vineyard next to our palace. His plan was perfect, for there was already a vineyard right where he wanted it. The only problem? It belonged to an Israelite man named Nabath. Ahab offered Nabath his pick of any other land, if only he would give the vineyard to us, but Nabath refused. What a simpleton!
For some reason, Ahab had so longed for this vineyard that he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t eat because he was so angry that Nabath wouldn’t relinquish the property. So, I did what any honorable wife would do, I figured out a way for Ahab to get that vineyard, even if it cost Nabath his life. He was stupid anyways, so it wasn’t much of a loss. After a letter to some elders in the city, and a plan to falsely accuse Nabath of blaspheming their God, he was stoned and the vineyard became ours.

I thought that would earn Ahab’s love.
But I know now that true love can’t be earned.
Because I was never really loved, no matter how much I tried to earn it.

I pick up my headpiece, my beautiful crown, and place it on top of my head and I look proudly in the mirror. No matter the hair turning on my head or the wrinkles covering my face, I always look beautiful in this crown.

Beautiful. Something I always strived to be. Ahab saw my beauty, I know from the way he lusted after me. Strangers saw and knew my beauty. And I knew my beauty.
Maybe that’s why I always hated Elijah. He was the one man who would never be swayed by my prowess and influence. He was constantly trying to prove that his God was better than any of mine. I tried to kill him, I tried to be rid of him many times. Instead, he killed 950 of my prophets, he threatened my husband, and he made my gods look like fools.
Fools.
Isn’t he the fool?

I hear shouts and commotion again and I walk back to the window. I see him now. Jehu. And he sees me. He shouts, “Who is on my side? Who?” I hear eunuchs running up to the window, and before I can even catch my breath, their hands are around my arms, squeezing so incredibly tight. They’re hurting me. I catch my breath in pain. I fight them, but they quickly overpower me. Fear fills me.

What is happening to me? What is going to come of me?
I fall from the window and see the ground getting closer and closer to my face.
I am going to die, never knowing love, never giving love. Not true love.
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Jezebel grasped at so many things during her life. She wished for love, sought control, tried to make others happy, but in the end, she held nothing of substance, only shadows. She died alone and lonely, despised and remembered for her wickedness. Her story makes us shiver at our own mortality, but prods us to grapple with the reality of eternity. Is trusting Jesus enough? What happens after death? Big questions deserve real answers and God is big enough to handle our doubts and nagging unknowns. He waits to offer us deep, abundant life, free from shadows and fear. Take time to wrestle out your questions with the Almighty and embrace the fullness He has for you! Want to chat about your questions with one of our GT partners? Send us an email, we’d love to walk with you!
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Jezebel was right about one thing, true love can’t be earned.
Which is exactly what makes the love of Jesus so lavish….because it’s offered freely without conditions! ​

This Bible Study first appeared on GracefullyTruthful.com and is property of Gracefully Truthful. Check out the website for more studies like this one! ​

Read His Words Before Ours!
Matthew 26:36-46
Luke 22:39-46
Ephesians 6:10-18
Joshua 1:9 

I was ten years old when I became Lucy, also known as Queen Lucy of Narnia. I say became because in my world, there was no pretend.
There was real and there was really real.
The real world was the world where I was Kendra, a blonde hair, blue eyed, American little girl. The really real world was the world where I was Lucy, or a mommy to seven children, or a homeless girl trying to care for her siblings. But when I was ten, I became Lucy. It helped that I was actually on a stage with people dressed in costume to go along with my world. It helped that “snow” fell from the catwalk and Mr. Tumnus wore real horns on his head. Everything about this world was really real. And so, when Father Christmas handed me my own little dagger, telling me it was to defend myself if the need arose, I looked deeply into his eyes and said, “I think I could be brave enough.” And I meant those words with every fiber of my little being. 
“I think I could be brave enough.”

The definition of “brave”, is: ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage.
And “courage” is defined as: the ability to do something that frightens someone.

As Lucy, I wasn’t sure I was brave enough, I didn’t even really feel brave. There are many times in life where I don’t feel brave. Getting ready to deliver my twin daughters six weeks before their due date, sleeping outside in the middle of Africa among a tribe I didn’t know and with a team I had known for just a few days, admitting to my parents that I had made some really big mistakes and needed some help from them, and many times before those, I didn’t feel brave.

But that isn’t a bad thing. Because, you see, even Jesus didn’t always feel brave. Jesus knew exactly the path that was laid out before Him.
He knew that the only way the people He loved so deeply would ever have a chance to live, 
was if He didn’t.

Just hours before soldiers would come to arrest Jesus, He took his disciples up to the Mount of Olives to pray. We aren’t told much detail of His prayer, or maybe we are. Maybe in this agonizing moment, the only words Jesus could muster were these,

“My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”
Close your eyes and imagine the weight of Jesus’ very real, very human feelings. Imagine the guilt you would carry as a person who murders their own child, the weight you would feel as a Nazi soldier over a concentration camp, and the depth of the pain you would endure as an ISIS terrorist. Sin on top of sin on top of sin was about to be placed on the shoulders of a man who had never sinned.

Such weight, such heaviness. Jesus knew that not only was he about to suffer the most painful form of death ever performed on an individual, but that it was also going to be coupled with the weight of the sins of the entire world on his shoulders. And then, there was the incomprehensible agony of complete and total separation from God the Father.
A breaking of unity.
The consequence of sin.
Torturous hell.
And in that moment, Jesus didn’t feel brave.
He asked the Father if that cup of agony could pass from Him.
With a passion so fiery, and an emotion so raw that he wept salty tears and sweat drops of blood, Jesus asked His Father if there was any other way to provide The Way for us to receive everlasting life. In the same moment he uttered the words “…if it is possible…”, He knew that it wasn’t. But He still didn’t feel brave.

Lack of brave feelings doesn’t mean we don’t follow through.
It doesn’t mean we are not courageous.
It just means that in that moment we aren’t humanly ready to face or endure pain.

Father God knew what Jesus needed, so He sent an angel to strengthen Him.
I imagine that angel embracing our precious Jesus and weeping with Him, then helping him rise from the ground. As Jesus walked to his disciples he told them that the hour had come.
Jesus was ready. Jesus was brave.
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We might not always feel brave.
In life, in love, in following Jesus, in making tough choices, in honoring others….
but it doesn’t mean we aren’t courageous.
Not feeling brave is okay!
But becoming crippled by our lack of bravery is wrong.
Jesus didn’t feel brave, but he didn’t let that debilitate Him from following through on His divine calling!

As Lucy, I didn’t feel very brave. I wasn’t even sure I could be brave enough.
Maybe that is you today.
Maybe you don’t feel like you have the courage to face the trials that lie in your path.
Don’t give in to fear!
Be reminded that the Lord is with you wherever you go and that the battle is won because of Jesus! 
Put on your armor, Warrior Daughter; grab your little dagger, and go, fight, and be brave!

This Bible Study was first posted on Gracefully Truthful and is property of Gracefully Truthful, as well! For more studies like this one, visit GracefullyTruthful.com