One, then seven

After Hebrews 11:29-31 

Strangest battle instruction

ever: march around the city

once each day for six days;

not a word to be spoken

during each day’s march.

Not a word. Silence rules.

Then march around the city

seven times on the seventh day.

When you hear the trumpets,

shout with a great noise.

 

In truth, this has less to do

with the physical effects

of a march and more to do

with obedience, even if it’s

obedience to strange commands.

And the people, having been

tested and refined for 40 years

of wilderness, obeyed.

The walls fell.

The battle was won.

The battle was won

before the walls fell.

 

Photograph by Hasan Almasi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

Where Does Mission Happen? – Seth Porch at Desiring God.

 

The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Poet Julie Stevens – Paul Brookes.

 

The Weeds – poem by Seth Lewis.

 

Walls collapse

After Hebrews 11:29-31

 

They are a laughingstock,

marching around the city;

no attack, no siege, just

a march around the walls.

After the first time,

the first day, the people

of the city begin to laugh,

and mock, taunting

the marchers, who ignore

them and keep marching. 

The fifth time around, 

the fifth day, the people

and the city are beyond 

their mocking; now they

are bored, wondering

when these fools will

give up and march away.

The seventh time, and

the seventh day, almost

no one is watching. And

then those inside the city

hear the trumpets blow,

the ground shakes,

a great cracking noise

is heard, the walls

collapse. 

No one mocks.

No one taunts.

No one is bored.

 

Photograph by Square Lab via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

A Distant Shore – poem by Mitch Chase at Biblical Theology.

 

What It Feels Like – Wes Bredenhof on clinical depression.

 

August – poem by Kathleen at The Course of Our Seasons.

 

Some Post-Animated Protestations of Goliath of Gath – poem by James Sales at Society of Classical Poets.

Drowning on dry land

After Hebrews 11:29-31 

Trapped, the water in front,

the army seeking vengeance 

behind, the terror and fear

overwhelming until the man

lifts his staff.

The water, the sea in front,

suddenly divides and parts,

the seabed dries, allowing

the people and escape, and

freedom. The crossing

finishes as the pursuing army

follows, chariots thundering

through the divided waters,

thundering on dry land,

until the man lowers 

his staff. The divided seas

converge. The pursuers

drown on what had been

dry land.

 

Photograph by Tim Marshall via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

Act of seeing – poem by Joy Lenton at Poetry Joy.

 

 Shades and Shadows of Sherwood – Joseph Pearce at The Imaginative Conservative.

 

In Our Chaotic Times, Some Atheists Are Rethinking Secularism – Carl Trueman at First Things Magazine.

 

There is Only One Great Book: The Bible – Samuel Klumpenhouwer at The Imaginative Conservative.