Tag: Canaan

“Get off the beach!”

We just returned from a visit to France, where we spent a few days in the Normandy region – the site of the D-Day invasion on June 6, 1944. A couple of weeks ago, I reflected on that pivotal moment in a post called Fortitude.

We stayed at L’Ormel Manor – now a charming Airbnb – in Vierville-sur-Mer, just a mile from the English Channel and right in the heart of Omaha Beach. Sections of these now-serene beaches were once codenamed Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno, and Sword as part of Operation Overlord. American troops landed at Omaha Beach, where the fighting was the fiercest and the casualty rate the highest.

After being dropped off by landing craft, soldiers had to cross a wide expanse of open beach under heavy German fire. A low seawall offered a degree of protection, along with a natural ridge of sand and pebbles known as a shingle bank. If a soldier made it to the seawall, he might have had a chance to survive – for a while.

But the protection was temporary

Thousands of soldiers clustered behind the seawall. It was better than open exposure, but it wasn’t a place to stay. German artillery could be repositioned at any time. The only way forward, the only chance at survival, and the only way for the invasion to succeed, was to get off the beach and push inland.

I remember reading The Longest Day as a 17-year-old, trying to imagine boys about my age crouched behind that seawall, knowing they couldn’t stay there. I wonder how many would’ve preferred to take their chances right where they were. It took bold leadership like that of Brigadier General Norm Cota to get them moving. But that was what had to take place. There was no Plan B.

The success of D-Day rested entirely on this reality: they had to get off the beach.

Once off the beach, they needed to drive inland and establish outposts from which to continue penetrating the enemy strongholds.

An Omaha Beach view from the bluff

In Fortitude, I reflected on another beachhead moment – when the Israelites crossed the Jordan and entered the land of Canaan. I suggested that this land wasn’t just a reward – it was a launching point. It was a beachhead for God’s people to re-engage in their calling: to be catalysts in the redemption and restoration of the world.

They were, in God’s words, a “kingdom of priests.” A people set apart to be agents of God’s presence and blessing. Their role wasn’t simply to enjoy the land, but to extend God’s goodness to the image-bearers around them. To bring God’s will to earth as it is in heaven. They were blessed to be a blessing.

At the time of their entry into Canaan (around 1400 BC), historians estimate the world population at 100–150 million. The Israelites? Maybe around three million, just 2–3% of the world’s population. For reference, Christians today make up about the same percentage of the population in Palestine.

The Israelites had a mission. But they didn’t follow through.

God’s original calling to Abraham couldn’t have been clearer:

2“I will make you into a great nation,
    and I will bless you;
I will make your name great,
    and you will be a blessing.
3 I will bless those who bless you,
    and whoever curses you I will curse;
and all peoples on earth
    will be blessed through you.” (Genesis 12)

They were blessed to be a blessing

But somewhere along the way, the people of Israel got stuck behind the seawall. They began to focus more on receiving God’s blessing than extending it. More on what God could do for them than on what God had called them to do through them. And if you know the story, you know it didn’t end well.

A Word for Us…

I wonder if we – particularly those of us in the Western Church – aren’t guilty of a similar hesitation. We talk a lot about God’s blessings, God’s provision, and God’s presence for us. And those things are real, but they aren’t the whole picture.

Jesus’ parting command wasn’t to bunker down and wait for heaven. It was this: “Go and make disciples of all nations…” (Matthew 28:19). In other words, get off the beach.

God didn’t save us so we could crouch behind a seawall of safety and spiritual satisfaction. He blessed us so we could move forward, take ground, and share that blessing with the world.

Something to think about.

I Almost Bought the Farm

Quite literally! Growing up, I loved farming – despite the inherent challenges of dairy farming in the ’50s and ’60s. We didn’t have much. I remember some bleak Christmases. We only made the 3-mile trip into town if it was absolutely necessary. Dairy farming is a 365-day-a-year commitment, so youth sports and weekend getaways were out of the question. Still, I wouldn’t have traded that upbringing for anything.

But I did – I went to college to be an engineer.

After a couple of years of college, I found myself unsure of what I really wanted to do with my life. I struggled in college. My grades were probably an indicator of my uncertainty. So I dropped out for a time, choosing to work for the local company that had hired me to work in their drafting department as a junior in high school. I had employment as long as I was in school, so I continued taking one or two evening engineering courses per semester at the University of Minnesota. Evening classes in the ’70s required an in-person commute, unlike online school today.

While working and commuting to the U, a dairy farm near my home became available for purchase. Because of my uncertainty about life, I decided to consider the possibility of buying the farm and becoming a dairy farmer. A high school classmate of mine was the realtor. We had many discussions as to how I might be able to purchase the farm. I was excited about the possibilities of becoming a landowner.

I almost bought that farm. I suppose I forgot how relentless dairy farming is. But when our future feels uncertain, we often retreat to what we know best. I wonder if that’s what happened with the Israelites in the wilderness when they formed the golden calf. Moses, their leader and the voice of Yahweh, had vanished up the mountain. Their future looked uncertain. So they defaulted to what was familiar: a tangible god, something they could control.

In time – forty years’ time – they learned to trust God. They followed Him through the desert, being shaped into a people ready to live in the land He had promised. That land wasn’t just a gift, but a launch point – a base from which they would fulfill their calling to be God’s covenant people, a blessing to the world. As kingdom people, they would participate in His redemption project – new creation and an “on earth as in heaven” type restoration.

But their desert journey came with hard lessons. The biggest one? God is sovereign. They were not. Yielding to His rule brought life. Resisting brought the opposite.

Eventually, they were ready. Joshua led them across the Jordan into Canaan. The land was apportioned according to their tribal lines – though the tribes of Reuben, Gad, and half of Manasseh chose to settle east of the river.

Before they entered, Yahweh made it abundantly clear how they were to live together in the land under his Kingship. This was the point of the Torah: for God to be their God, and they His people (cf. Exodus 6:6-7, Leviticus 25:38, Deuteronomy 29:13, Jeremiah 7:23, etc).

Theologically, we know this as the Covenant Formula*

As Creator, the land belonged to Him. “The land must not be sold permanently, because the land is mine and you reside in my land as foreigners and strangers (…)” (Leviticus 25:23-25). They were guests – stewards, not owners.

They were there at His pleasure, so to speak.

As landlord, God gave them instructions on how to treat the land and each other. Every seven years, the land was to rest. This not only rejuvenated the soil but also gave farmers, servants, and animals a Sabbath. This same principle was instituted by the United States Soil Conservation Service to combat the propensity for things like the Dust Bowl. We did something similar when I farmed, fallowing about one-seventh of our land each year. Good husbandry.

God also instituted the Year of the Jubilee. Every 50 years, property returned to its original family, debts were forgiven, and slaves were released. A full reset. A radical vision of liberty and justice.

But as far as we know, the Jubilee was never observed.

For a long time, I struggled with the fairness of Jubilee. But once I grasped that the land never truly belonged to them – it was God’s – the whole concept made sense. He was King. He owned everything. The people were simply stewards.

Somewhere along the way, they lost sight of that. Sometimes I wonder if we have too. God is still King. He still owns everything. We are still stewards – of our resources, our relationships, our work, even our time.

What would it look like if we lived more like that were true?

* A key element of the Covenant Formula is the people’s relationship with God and with each other. Jesus recapped the Formula with his infamous “Love God, love others” command (see Deuteronomy 6:4-5 and Leviticus 19:18).