When the Walls Fall Down - Rahab's Story
/Turning tricks
I leaned against the windowsill and traced the cold, hard, stones with my fingertips, stretching out as far as I could to breathe in the cool night air. Even the glowing torches below, couldn’t snuff out the light of a thousand diamonds in the sky. Though my heart ached, I couldn’t cry a single tear. When had I become like those stones: cold, hard, impenetrable?
It has to be this way, I told myself. It’s a matter of survival. Giving up my body, night after night, taught me to tuck my heart out of reach. I used to look at the stars and dream of rescue. I wondered if someone would ever come for me and take me out of the prison which was my home. And my hope of rescue had all but faded.
As a child, I saw little girls with their mothers, being groomed for a trade in weaving or selling spices. I learned no marketable skills at my mother’s side. I’d learned to sell one thing only: my body. The women despised me for it. I could see venom in their eyes as they steered their sons far from me. The men took my body, used it, and gave no thought to the soul inside it.
At first, I thought the shame would kill me. Often, I wished it would. But days turned to months, and months to years, and I learned tricks of the trade. Stone by stone, I built a wall around my heart, as strong as the one that surrounded my city.
Jericho was the only home I’d known. I suppose I should’ve been thankful to be alive. Some children were burned as sacrifices to Molech, others groomed for bestiality. Some were left on the riverbanks to be devoured by the elements or wild beasts. I was just consigned to the life of a common whore.
Fear factor
Business had been heavy just before the attack. So many men sauntered in with their coin pouches jingling, and their chests puffed out in bravado. But beneath their posturing, there was fear. One after another, they tried to dull their angst with pleasure. It didn’t work. Their hearts were melting and I could see it in their eyes. Sometimes they took their fear and anger out on me.
I heard them talk of an approaching people group, the Israelites, whose meager resources could never stand against the mighty army of Jericho. Yet, somehow this obscure band of people had conquered Og and Sihon, powerful Amorite kings. I even heard stories of them walking across the Red Sea on dry ground.
They had an invisible force on their side. Rumors flew as to what their secret weapon was. I knew it wasn't a what, but a Who. I’m not sure how, or why, but I knew. Despite the word on the street, I knew there wasn’t one God for the stars and one for the rivers and one for the trees. But just one God. Most of the men spoke His name with fear or disdain, but when I heard it, something in my heart bowed. They called Him Jehovah.
Unlike the gods of my people, He didn’t require child sacrifice or temple prostitution. Jehovah wasn’t erratic and vindictive. He was near to His people, involved. He was a warrior fighting on their behalf, a rescuer. Something in my heart longed for Him before I ever knew His name.
I wanted to learn more about Him. But I only gathered fragments from conversations in the common room. The men raged about Him in their drunken reverie. They boasted of His coming defeat. “We have our walls! Let Him try to get past them!” They mocked and called down curses on His name.
But the nearer the Israelites came, the more their voices cracked and quivered. Never would they admit their fear. But I sensed it, I could almost smell it emanating from their skin when they slipped into my bed.
Risky business
One night, two strangers showed up at my place. I knew immediately they were Israelite spies. They weren’t looking for my services, but were anxious for a place to hide. With my home situated on the outer wall, they figured they could escape from my window if needed. As I led them up to my rooftop and moved aside stalks of flax, I calculated the risk. If the king found out I was harboring spies, I’d be imprisoned or killed, no questions asked.
I decided to take my chances.
The pounding on the door gave me a start, though I should’ve expected as much. The king’s eyes were everywhere. Even the house of a prostitute couldn’t hide foreign men. They came just before the city gate was about to be shut for the evening. Our conversation was short. They demanded I release the spies.
“Yes, they were here, but I didn’t know where they were from”, I said. “They already left. I don’t know which way they went, but if you hurry, you might catch them!” Without searching my house, they ran toward the river, and the gate locked behind them.
I went up to the roof and pleaded with the two young men. “I know the Lord has given you the land. The fear of you has fallen upon us, and all the inhabitants of our land melt away before you. We’ve heard how [Jehovah] dried up the water of the Red Sea before you when you came out of Egypt, and what you did to the two kings of the Amorites who were beyond the Jordan. As soon as we heard it, our hearts melted, and there was no spirit left in anyone because of you. For [Jehovah], your God, He is God in the heavens above and on the earth beneath.”
“Please swear to me by [Jehovah] that you will show kindness to my family because I’ve shown kindness to you. Spare the lives of my father and mother, my brothers and sisters, and all who belong to them. Save us from death!” (Taken from Josh 2: 9-13 NIV)
They were surprised to hear me, a pagan prostitute, speak as if I knew their God. Nonetheless, they promised, “Our lives for yours!” As long as I didn’t leak their secret to anyone, they agreed to spare me and my family on their day of conquest. They told me to hang a scarlet cord out my window so they could identify my house.
And the walls came tumbling down
In just a few days, the Israelites began their strange marches around our city. I stood at my window and scanned the army for my deliverers. I adjusted, and readjusted the scarlet cord a hundred times, making sure it was visible. It lay against the wall, like a trickle of blood, calling attention to my desperate cry for rescue.
Inside, I waited with my family. Our hearts trembled as we watched the army march around the city, day after day. On the morning of the seventh day, we heard a trumpet blast and loud shouts. Suddenly, walls crumbled and the earth trembled as stone fell upon stone. There had been no battering rams, no weapons, not even an earthquake. Jehovah was on the move.
The mighty walls of Jericho fell flat around us. People were crushed or fled for cover when the Israelite army poured into the streets. They carried out the order to destroy our city and everything in it. But before my home was touched, the spies came and brought me and my family to a safe place outside their camp.
I watched flames lick the sky, as everything I’d ever known turned to ash. It was over.
I wouldn’t have gone back, even if I could. As the charred remains of my city filled the blackened sky, I wondered, Why me? Of all the people, why me? I felt a rumbling in my heart and a stone toppled and turned to dust. My Rescuer had come. A single tear ran down my cheek. And then another. I fell to my knees and wept.
And the walls came tumbling down.