Joshua 6 is one of those passages that many Christians have known since childhood. It is vivid, memorable, and almost ready-made for Sunday school lessons, children’s songs, and vacation Bible school crafts. Israel marches around Jericho for seven days. On the seventh day, they march around the city seven times. The priests blow the trumpets, the people shout, the walls fall down, and Jericho is conquered.
These are the basic details, and they are not hard to remember. In fact, for some of us, the children’s versions may come to mind faster than the text itself. VeggieTales may have lodged certain images in our imagination before we ever slowed down to read Joshua 6 carefully.
But familiarity can be dangerous, as familiar stories are often the easiest to flatten out. We know the broad strokes, and so we assume we know what the passage means. Jericho becomes a story about courage, obedience, and victory. These themes are present, but they are not the whole point—and they are not even the main point. If we do not read Joshua 6 within the whole story of Scripture, we can badly misunderstand what is happening.
This danger is not merely theoretical. In recent months some Christians have grown fond of martial language drawn from the Crusades. “Deus vult”—“God wills it”—gets thrown around as a slogan. Some speak as though what the church needs is a new crusade, a recovered militancy, a willingness to take up the sword in the name of a Christendom 2.0. And when stories like Jericho are read apart from their redemptive-historical place, they can be pressed into service for precisely that kind of vision.
But Joshua 6 does not authorize the church to imitate Israel’s conquest of Canaan. It does not give Christians a standing command to wage holy war, at least not according to the flesh. It does not tell us that the kingdom of Christ advances through the sword. To understand Jericho rightly, we need to remember who Israel was, what the land conquest was, and how Christ fulfills this story.
Israel’s Conquest Was Not a Standing Pattern
Israel was not merely one ancient nation among others. Israel was God’s son. When the Lord sent Moses to Pharaoh, he said, “Israel is my firstborn son” (Exod 4:22). This identity is key. Israel was called out of bondage, redeemed by blood, brought through the waters, led through the wilderness, and brought to the land God had promised. As God’s son, Israel was appointed to bear God’s name among the nations and to carry out God’s judgment at the appointed time (Exod 19:5–6; Deut 4:6–8; 7:1–6).
This judgment did not come out of nowhere. Long before Joshua or even Moses, the Lord had told Abraham that his descendants would be strangers in a land not their own, they would be afflicted for four hundred years, and afterward they would come out with great possessions. They would not inherit the land immediately, because “the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete” (Gen 15:13–16).
That sentence is crucial. The conquest was not an ordinary land grab. It was not ethnic ambition dressed up in religious clothing. It was not Israel deciding that God was on their side and therefore they could do whatever they wanted. The conquest was divine judgment, delayed by divine patience, carried out at the appointed time by divine command (Gen 15:16; Deut 9:4–5).
This means Joshua 6 must be handled with care. Israel is not acting as a generic model for how religious people should treat their enemies. Israel is functioning in a unique moment in the history of redemption. God had promised the land to Abraham. He had endured the wickedness of the Canaanites with patience. He had redeemed his covenant people from Egypt and had brought them to the land. And now, through Israel, God was bringing judgment.
This also explains the severity of the language in Joshua 6. Jericho is devoted to destruction. The city falls under the ban. It is a picture of judgment (Deut 7:1–2; 20:16–18; Josh 6:17–21). This is difficult for modern readers, but the difficulty should not lead us either to soften the text or to misuse it. The conquest is not a blank check for violence. It is a holy, limited, unrepeatable act of God’s judgment within the unfolding story of redemption.
And yet even in Jericho, judgment is not the only thing on display. Rahab is spared. The woman who had been a Canaanite prostitute is rescued because she believed the word of the Lord and received the spies in peace. Her household is brought out alive. She is not treated according to her bloodline but according to faith (Heb 11:31). So even at Jericho, the Lord shows that his purpose was never mere tribal triumph. Judgment falls, but mercy is extended. The nations are warned, but the nations are also invited to take refuge in the God of Israel.
This already begins to show us how badly the “new crusade” instinct misunderstands the Bible. The point of Jericho is not that Christians should go looking for Canaanites to destroy. The point is that God’s judgment is real, his promises are sure, and his salvation is found by faith alone, even for those who once stood outside the covenant people.
The Greater Joshua Conquers by the Cross
Still, Joshua 6 points beyond itself. Israel, as the son of God, points forward to the true Son of God (Matt 2:15; 3:17). The name Joshua, meaning “the Lord saves,” points us in that direction (Matt 1:21). Joshua leads the people into the land, but he cannot give them final rest (Heb 4:8–10). He can bring down Jericho, but he cannot bring down Satan, sin, and death. He can lead Israel in conquest, but he cannot bring the kingdom of God in its fullness (1 Cor 15:24–28). For that, we need the greater Joshua. We need Jesus Christ.
Christ comes as the true Israel, the faithful Son, the obedient servant, the King who does what Israel failed to do (Matt 4:1–11; 2:15; Isa 42:1; 49:3, 6). He comes to fulfill the calling of Israel in himself (Matt 5:17). Where Israel grumbled in the wilderness, Christ resisted temptation (Exod 16:2–3; 17:1–7). Where Israel failed to keep covenant, Christ obeyed perfectly (Rom 5:18–19; Phil 2:8). Where Israel’s kings fell into sin, Christ reigned in righteousness (2 Sam 11:1–27; Isa 9:6–7; Heb 1:8–9). He is everything God’s son was called to be.
And yet when Christ comes, his conquest looks strange to the world (1 Cor 1:18–25). He does not gather an army and march on Rome. He does not tell Peter to keep swinging the sword in Gethsemane (Matt 26:51–52). He does not call down legions of angels to overthrow His enemies (Matt 26:53–54). Instead, he goes to the cross (Heb 12:2). This is the great surprise of the gospel. Christ conquers by being crucified. He triumphs by suffering. He wins his victory by laying down His life (John 10:17–18; Col 2:13–15; Rev 5:5–6).
But this does not mean the cross is weakness. It is weakness in the eyes of the world, to be certain, but it is the power of God (1 Cor 1:24). At the cross, Christ crushes the serpent’s head (Gen 3:15; Heb 2:14–15; 1 John 3:8). At the cross, he disarms the rulers and authorities and puts them to open shame (Col 2:15). At the cross, he bears the curse for His people (Gal 3:13). At the cross, he breaks the power of sin (Rom 6:6–11). At the cross, he defeats death by entering into it and rising again on the third day (1 Cor 15:3–4, 54–57).
So when we ask how Joshua 6 fits the Christian life, we must not leap straight from Israel at Jericho to Christians seeking political or military conquest (John 18:36; 2 Cor 10:3–5). We must pass through Christ (Luke 24:27, 44–47). Israel’s conquest points forward not to the church taking up a physical sword but to Christ returning in judgment and conquering through his death and resurrection (Acts 17:31; 1 Cor 15:20–28). This gives us two directions at once.
First, Jericho points us forward to the final judgment. The fall of Jericho is a preview of the day when all the proud cities of man will fall (Rev 18:2, 21). Every kingdom raised against God will be brought low (Dan 2:44; Rev 11:15). Every wall built in defiance of the Lord will collapse (Heb 12:26–27). Every boast of human power will be silenced (Isa 2:11–17; 1 Cor 1:28–29). Christ will return, and when he does, he will judge the living and the dead (Acts 10:42; 2 Tim 4:1). No enemy will remain standing before him (1 Cor 15:25–28; Rev 19:11–21).
This is part of the meaning of the conquest. It teaches us that God’s patience should not be mistaken for indifference. The iniquity of the Amorites was not yet complete in Abraham’s day, but the day of judgment did come. So also now, the Lord is patient, not wishing that any should perish but that all should reach repentance (2 Pet 3:9–10). But His patience has an appointed end. The Judge will come (Jas 5:9; Rev 22:12).
Second, Jericho points us to Christ’s present conquest through the gospel (Matt 12:29; 28:18–20). Christ has already defeated Satan, sin, and death in his cross and resurrection (2 Tim 1:10). He has bound the strong man. He is plundering his house (Mark 3:27; Luke 11:21–22). He is gathering His people from every tribe and tongue and nation (Rev 5:9). He is building His church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it (Matt 16:18).
How does he do this? Not by putting a physical sword in the hand of the church (Matt 26:52). Not by commanding ministers to become warlords (1 Pet 5:1–4). Not by turning the sacraments into battle standards for earthly conquest. Christ conquers through His Word and Spirit (Zech 4:6; Eph 6:17; 2 Thess 2:8). He rules his people by his Word (Ps 110:1–2; Eph 1:20–23) and defends them by his power. He restrains and conquers all his and our enemies.
The Church Marches with the Gospel
The church marches with the gospel (Josh 6:20; Rom 10:14–15). This means the church does shout and conquer, but not in the way that some might imagine. Israel shouted at Jericho, and the walls fell. The church shouts, too, but our shout is the proclamation of the gospel (1 Cor 1:21–23). We announce that Christ has died, is risen, and will come again (Acts 1:11). We declare that sinners may be reconciled to God through the blood of the cross (Eph 2:13–16; Col 1:20–22). We call all people everywhere to repent and believe (Mark 1:15; Acts 17:30–31). We warn of judgment, hold forth mercy (2 Cor 5:18–21), and preach Christ crucified (1 Cor 1:23; 2:2).
And as that gospel is proclaimed, strongholds really do fall. Not stone walls, but proud arguments raised against the knowledge of God. Not Canaanite fortresses, but unbelief, idolatry, self-righteousness, and despair. The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but they are mighty through God. The church does not conquer by killing her enemies (Matt 5:44; Rom 12:14–21). The church conquers as Christ saves his enemies and makes them his friends (Rom 5:10; Col 1:21–22).
This is where a Christian imagination shaped by Joshua 6 must be disciplined by the New Testament. The apostles did not look at the Roman Empire and conclude that they needed to organize a Christian army. They preached, suffered, planted churches, prayed, and sang in prison. They loved their enemies. They honored the emperor while refusing to worship him. They bore witness to another King (Acts 5:40–42; 14:21–23; 16:25; 17:7; 1 Pet 2:17). And through that witness, the kingdom advanced (Acts 1:8; 28:30–31).
This does not mean civil government has no sword. Scripture gives the magistrate a real, though limited authority to punish evil and praise good (Rom 13:1–4; 1 Pet 2:13–14). Nor does it mean Christians must pretend that evil is harmless or that justice is unnecessary (Rom 12:17–13:4). But it does mean we must distinguish the calling of the state from the mission of the church. The state does not administer the gospel. The church advances only by the sword of the Spirit.
When those callings are confused, terrible things follow. The church begins to trust the weapons of the world. Political enemies are cast as Canaanites or descendants of Ham. Cultural conflict becomes holy war. The cross is replaced by the banner. The gospel becomes a tribal slogan. And before long, Christians may find themselves more animated by resentment than by faith, hope, and love (1 Cor 13:13; 1 Thess 1:3).
This is why we must be careful not only with crude calls for a new crusade but also with more sophisticated versions of the same instinct. Some versions of Christian dominion depict the church’s present calling as moving from wilderness witness to visible political conquest. But that is not how the New Testament describes the church’s victory in this age (Rev 14:12).
Meredith Kline put the matter sharply when he warned against the expectation of “political dominion of the church over the earth”1 during the present age of gospel mission. His point was not that Christ does not reign. Christ does reign. Nor was his point that the gospel is ineffective. The gospel is the power of God unto salvation (Rom 1:16). His point was that Scripture defines the church’s present triumph differently than the world does. The overcomers in Revelation are not those who seize worldly power but those who conquer “by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony” and who do not love their lives “even unto death” (Rev 12:11).
This matters for how we read about Jericho. If we measure victory by visible domination, then the apostolic church looks weak and defeated. Martyrs look like losers. Patient witness looks like failure. But heaven does not see it that way. Heaven sees the faithful witness of the saints as conquest because Christ is conquering through the Word, gathering His elect from every nation, and preserving His people through suffering until the final judgment comes (Matt 24:14, 31; John 10:27–29; Rev 7:9–14).
Joshua 6 will not let us go there if we read it rightly. The fall of Jericho reminds us that God judges. It reminds us that God saves, and his promises stand. No wall can keep him out, and no proud city can withstand his command. But it also reminds us that the conquest of Canaan belonged to a particular moment in the history of redemption. It was not handed to Christians as a permanent strategy.
The church’s mission is not to reenact Jericho with earthly weapons. Our mission is to bear witness to the greater Joshua. We preach the Christ who was crucified outside the city, who rose from the dead, who ascended to the Father’s right hand, and who will come again in glory (Heb 13:12; Acts 2:32–36; 1:9–11; 1 Thess 4:16, respectively).
Until that day, we live in the overlap of the ages. The decisive victory has already been won, but the final judgment has not yet come. Christ already reigns, but we do not yet see everything in subjection to him (Heb 2:8–9). Satan is defeated but still dangerous (1 Pet 5:8). Death is conquered but still grieves us (1 Cor 15:54–57; 1 Thess 4:13). The nations still rage, but the Lord’s Anointed is seated in heaven (Ps 2:1–6; Acts 4:25–28).
So we do not despair or panic. We do not take up the weapons of the flesh. We do not baptize vengeance and call it zeal. We do not confuse the wrath of man with the righteousness of God. We preach, pray, worship, suffer, love, warn, invite, wait. And we shout—not with the cry of a mob but with the clear proclamation of Christ crucified and risen. Not because our volume brings the walls down but because God has chosen the foolishness of preaching to save those who believe. Not because the church is strong in herself but because Christ is ruling over and defending his people.
The walls will fall. Every Jericho raised against God will come down. Every proud kingdom will be shaken. Every enemy of Christ will be put under his feet. But the timing belongs to God, the judgment belongs to Christ, and the mission given to the church is clear. We do not need a new crusade. We need faith in the crucified and risen King. We need confidence in the gospel. We need the courage to fight with the weapons Christ has actually given us. And we need to remember that the greater Joshua has already won the decisive battle. Now his church marches on, not with sword in hand but with good news on her lips.
Note
- Meredith G. Kline, Glory in Our Midst: A Biblical-Theological Reading of Zechariah’s Night Visions (Two Age Press, 2001), 53–54.
©Everett Henes. All Rights Reserved.
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Everett Henes
Everett Henes (MDiv, ThM, DMin) is pastor of Hillsdale Orthodox Presbyterian Church, where he has served since 2008. He is husband to Kimberly and father of five children and grandfather of five (and counting!). He teaches US History and Philosophy of History for Jackson College in Michigan. He is currently working towards a PhD in Humanities with a focus in US Religious History from Faulkner University. In his spare time, he enjoys competing in powerlifting and strongman and teaching homeschoolers Taekwondo.
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