The River That Held Its Breath

The people had walked a long, long time. Forty years of wilderness were behind them, and now, at last, they stood at the edge of the land God had promised them. Home was on the other side.

But something was in the way.

A river. The Jordan. It was not a gentle, splashing little stream. It was springtime, when the snow melts high in the mountains, and the river had grown deep and wide and fast. The water rushed and tumbled and roared.

You could not see the bottom. You could not tell how deep it went. And on the far side, where home was waiting, the water just kept rushing by.

When you stand at the edge of deep water and cannot see what is underneath, your tummy goes tight. When you don't know if it's safe, it is hard to put your foot in.

The people felt that too.

But God told them something. Watch the ark, he said. Watch the golden chest that carries my Promise. The priests will lift it onto their shoulders, and they will go first. They will step into the water before any of you do.

So the priests came. They carried the ark down to the rushing river. And they did not stop at the edge.

They stepped in.

The very moment their feet touched the water, the river stopped. Far upstream, the rushing water piled up into a tall, still wall. And the riverbed went dry. Dry ground, right through the middle, where deep water had been roaring just a heartbeat before. It was as if the river held its breath and waited.

The priests carried the ark to the very middle and stood there. They stood, and they held, while every single person walked across. Mothers and fathers crossed, and wobbly old grandfathers, and children no bigger than you, who could never have swum that water. All of them came through safe and dry, with the deep held back on either side.

And not one was missing. God brought his whole family home, every last one.

Only when the last child was safely across did the priests step out. Then the river let out its breath, and the water came rushing back, deep as ever.

Hidden inside this story, like a seed inside an apple, is a picture of something bigger.

The ark went first into the deep, frightening water. It went ahead, and it held back everything that should have swept the people away, so they could pass through to the other side.

One day someone better than a golden chest would do that. Jesus himself. He would walk ahead of you, right into the deepest, darkest water there is, the water of death that no one can swim. He would go in first. He would hold it back, and stand there, until you were all the way across.

So you would never have to step into the deep alone.

The people stood on the far bank, dry from head to toe, and looked up. There ahead of them rose the walls of Jericho, tall and shut tight. And behind those walls, Rahab was watching from her window, her scarlet rope hanging where the spies had told her, waiting for the God who stops rivers.