The Warrior: Caleb

by Francine Rivers

  “It is punishment.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Caleb grew impatient. “But it is also opportunity.” He had thought much about it over the past weeks. “Perhaps God always has more than one purpose. He judged us righteously, but He shows us mercy. He gives us the Law on which to fix our minds and hearts, a Law that sets me at war within myself. And God told us to sacrifice every morning and evening. The smell is a constant reminder. He knows us so well. He gives us food and water to sustain us. He directs our every step. When the Lord rises up, we strike our tents and follow. When He returns to the Tabernacle, we camp and wait. In Egypt, our taskmasters did our thinking for us and we responded like beasts of burden. Now, we must think as men. We are not animals that graze at whatever pasture is available to us. We are faced with choices. Do we grumble among ourselves, or walk the path God has given us?”

  Caleb pointed northeast. “That land is ours. Right now, it is filled with people who bow down to false gods and practice all manner of evil. Every man, woman, and child is corrupt and rotten with sin. You saw how they worshiped their gods, casting babies into fire and fornicating on altars in the middle of town and under every spreading oak. They practice worse abominations than Egypt all puffed up and spread out like a cobra. The Lord sent us into the land as scouts to see what we would be up against. We saw. We know. Now, we must prepare to do battle.”

  Joshua said nothing. Silence had never sat well upon Caleb. He had no reason to doubt Joshua’s courage, but he wished he knew what was going on in his mind. “We have fought battles before, Joshua. The Lord didn’t tell us to sit by and watch while He destroyed the Amalekites. He sent us into battle against them.”

  “Moses prayed.”

  “And God answered by giving us victory.”

  “Sometimes we are called to do nothing more than pray, Caleb.”

  “Yes. But is it wise to assume the Lord will destroy Canaan with plagues first and then send us into the land? Or wiser to train and prepare for whatever God asks of us?” Even if the Lord told them to stand and watch, the work would not be wasted if they were prepared to do whatever God asked of them.

  “You have already made up your mind about what we should do.”

  Caleb looked down at the camps spread upon the plain. Where the tents of Judah were positioned, youths fought mock battles. After each rally, they backed off and began again. “Are you trying to change it?”

  “Where is prayer in all this strife?”

  “Strife?” Caleb’s jaw tightened. “There is less strife among the Judean boys who train than I’ve witnessed among the other tribes who do little more than gather manna every morning, then sit on their haunches and talk the rest of the day. Aimless talk leads to whining and complaining and rebellion. And as to prayer, it comes first. No one lifts a hand or a weapon until after morning sacrifices and the reading of the Law.”

  Joshua’s mouth curved wryly. “But you are partial.”

  His temper bubbled. “Partial?”

  “You show particular attention to certain men.”

  Why was Joshua pressing him so? Why didn’t he just speak what was on his mind? “What are you getting at, Joshua?”

  “You train the sons of Judah.”

  “Of course.”

  “You have other allegiances.”

  Caleb felt the heat surge into his face. Did he mean Edom? Caleb stared hard at Joshua through narrowed eyes. “My only allegiance is to the Lord who told me I will go into the land. When that day comes, I want my sons beside me, ready to destroy anyone or anything that stands in the way of our inheritance.”

  Joshua put his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “But you are Hebrew, my friend. A son of Abraham, and all these others are our brothers.”

  “Why bait me? Speak your mind.”

  “What has been in your mind has been on mine as well. We must train for battle. What troubles me is the way we’re going about it. Scattered groups, scattered efforts. One day we may be at one another’s throats rather than set against the enemies of God.”

  The vision caught Caleb’s heart. He gripped Joshua’s arm. “Then unite us!”

  “It is not my place to do that.”

  “Then speak to Moses. The Lord brought twelve tribes together and brought them out of Egypt. Surely He wants us to be one flock and not twelve. Moses can also train us. He grew up in the Egyptian court among the princes. Much of his education must have centered on tactics and weaponry. And you are closer to him than his own sons, close enough to pose the question.”

  “You would have me be presumptuous?”

  “If you do not ask, you will not receive an answer.”

  “And what if he says no?”

  Caleb did not want to speak rashly. He looked out over the thousands of tents. He could see the banners of each tribe, the space between, boundaries. “Look at us. You are correct. We are scattered in our thinking. God is trying to bring us together through the Law—one mind, one heart, one promise that gives us hope. We cannot be twelve tribes encamped around the Tabernacle. We must become one nation under God! And every nation has an army. Let us build an army for the Lord.” He looked into Joshua’s solemn face. Joshua had aged greatly during the last months. Love for the people weighed heavily upon the younger man’s heart.

  “Speak to Moses, Joshua. Tell him what is on your mind and heart. I’m surprised you haven’t already done so.”

  “He is troubled in spirit and prays unceasingly for the people.”

  “Who are vain and bored and need something to occupy them. Ask! You know what Moses will do.”

  “He will go to the Lord.”

  Caleb laughed joyously. “Yes!” He slapped Joshua hard on the back. “And then we will know if the fire in our blood was placed there by our own pride or by God’s Spirit.”

  The years passed slowly as the Israelites moved from place to place in the wilderness. The slave generation died one by one as the children grew taller and more robust. Families were left without patriarchs and matriarchs, then without aunts and uncles.

  Caleb faced constant sorrow as he watched friends and family members die. Zimri was the first, followed soon after by Hezron. Some died embittered and unrepentant. Others grieved over their lack of faith and its cost to their children. Zimri’s son Carmi sat on the council now with Caleb. They became good, if not close, friends.

  When Caleb walked among the tents, those of his generation watched him pass. Some stared with resentment, others with burning envy, precious few with a respectful nod of greeting. The camp was in constant mourning, over loved ones dying as well as over the sin that kept them from the Promised Land.

  Boys clamored around Caleb wherever he went, eager to join in the training. He tested their knowledge of the Law first. “It is not enough to want to fight. All men have it in them to fight! You must know the One who leads you into battle.”

  “Moses!”

  “And Joshua!”

  Caleb knew what both men would say to that. “Go back to your tent. You’re not ready.” They came to him with the fire to fight, but without faith and knowledge. The Lord was their commander. They must prepare their hearts and minds to follow His will. Not a man’s. Not even his.

  The seventy elders died and were replaced by younger men who lived with the cost of their fathers’ sins. They listened to Moses’ counsel and acted upon it, choosing wise men who loved the Lord to judge the people. One by one, the men who grew up in the fear of Pharaoh died off and were replaced by men who grew up in the fear of the Lord.

  The camps moved with the precision of an army. When the cloud rose, so too did the people, often even before the shofar blasted. The people were learning day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year to keep watch and follow the Lord.

  The old moaned and mourned, grumbled and groaned, and died.

  The young praised and practiced, rejoiced in and reverenced God, and lived.

  During the thirty-eighth year of wandering, Caleb was called to the tent of Kenaz.
His brother lay dying. Caleb sat beside him, grieving this loss more than any other.

  Kenaz smiled weakly. “I thought, perhaps, the Lord had forgotten about me, and I might sneak into the Promised Land among my sons and grandsons. . . .”

  Caleb couldn’t speak. He gripped Kenaz’s hand between his own.

  “I have watched you, my brother.” Kenaz’s voice was barely a whisper. “You sit at the entrance of your tent and fix your eyes upon the pillar of fire. And God’s fire is reflected in your eyes, my brother.”

  Caleb bowed his head, tears flowing.

  “We should’ve listened . . .” Kenaz sighed. His hand went slack between Caleb’s.

  Two days later, Jerioth died, and a month later Caleb awakened to find Ephrathah dead beside him. A cry rose from his throat as he tore his clothing and went out to throw dust in the air. He didn’t speak a word to anyone for a month.

  Never had Caleb felt such a weight of grief upon him, and rebellion rose up with it, unbidden and unexpected. He ran to the Tabernacle and prostrated himself before the Lord. Kill the evil within me, Lord. Kill it before it takes root and grows. He did not leave the Tabernacle for three days. Still grieving, he rose with a peace beyond understanding. The Lord, the Lord is my strength. He is my high place, my comfort.

  The next morning, the cloud moved and Caleb had his tents struck, packed, and set out to follow. When the Lord stopped, the Tabernacle was set up and the tribes took positions around it, this time at an oasis with date palms. As Caleb returned to the courtyard of the Tabernacle, he rested in the Lord’s presence rather than warring within himself. Better was one day in the court of the Lord than a thousand elsewhere.

  He mourned for Ephrathah, but went back out to train the young men for battle. A new generation had come to manhood, with sons coming up behind them. Caleb felt renewed strength flood through his body, as though the Lord had given him back the time and strength the wilderness had taken from him.

  The forty years were almost over. Their wandering was almost at an end.

  The Lord led the Israelites to Kadesh a second time. Caleb gathered his sons and their sons around him. “This is where the people waited while Joshua and I went into Canaan. This is where the people rebelled against the Lord.” He made fists. “Listen this time. Listen and obey.”

  He awakened each morning, prepared to go on, to move closer, to have that which God had promised him. Land of his own, a place to plant crops, a place where he could rest beneath his own olive tree and sip the fruit of his vines.

  But the waiting wasn’t over.

  Moses’ sister, Miriam, died. Shocked, the entire camp mourned her death as they would a mother. Something broke within the ranks and a mob cried out against Moses, for once again there was no water.

  “The Lord will provide!” Caleb shouted, but no one listened. He went into his tent, and sat, head in hands.

  If I stay out there, Lord, I will kill someone. I will draw my sword and not stop until You strike me down! Will we never change? Are we destined to rebel against the Lord God Almighty all our lives. Israel! The name itself means to wrestle with You. Is that why You called them that? This generation is the same as the last. Rebellion against God is in the blood!

  Cries of jubilation came. He arose and went out to find water pouring from a rock. The people shouted and sang and splashed the water over themselves. The waters were called Meribah because this place was yet another where the Israelites had quarreled with the Lord. But after that day, Moses looked old and sick, and spoke hardly at all.

  Moses sent messengers to Edom requesting passage through their land, and Edom answered with the threat of war. Caleb was filled with shame. Were the Edomites not brothers? They—like Caleb—were descended from Esau. Caleb despised the blood that ran in his veins.

  Once again, Moses sent messengers with assurances that the people would stay to the King’s Highway and not tread upon any field or go through any vineyard or even drink water from any well, but merely pass through to the land God had given them. Not only did the Edomites refuse, they came out with an army ready for battle.

  “Tell Moses we are ready to fight!” Caleb told Joshua. “Send us out to deal with these people. Let none stand in the way of the Lord God of Israel!”

  “They are brothers, Caleb.”

  “They reject us. Let us annihilate them! They are betrayers and blasphemers.”

  “They are descendants of Abraham as we are.”

  “They are a wall between us and God’s promises!”

  “Caleb—”

  “Do not excuse them, Joshua. Men must choose. And they have chosen death!”

  “You are my brother and friend, Caleb. Remember the Law. Vengeance is the Lord’s.”

  The words pierced Caleb and cooled his anger. But his temper and impatience rose again when Moses prayed and then turned away from Edom and set out to return to Kadesh.

  “Kadesh!” Caleb ground his teeth. “Will our faith take us no farther than Kadesh?” When the people rested, he went to the Tabernacle and spent the night on his face in the dust. Why, Lord? Why must we show mercy?

  They moved on to Mount Hor and made camp. Moses, Aaron, and Aaron’s son Eleazar went up the mountain. Caleb’s impatience was eating him alive. He practiced with his sword. He paced. He pondered. Lord, Lord! When? The slaves are all dead! Your judgment has been fulfilled!

  Only Moses and Eleazar came down.

  When word spread that Aaron was dead, shock spread through the camp and the people went into mourning. No one had expected God to take Aaron. Thirty days passed before the cloud rose and the people followed Him along the road to Atharim.

  Shouts and screams came from the distance. Armed and ready to fight, Caleb shouted for his sons. But it was already too late. Canaanites living in the Negev, led by the king of Arad, had attacked and taken captives. The people mourned and raged. It had happened so quickly, no one had expected it.

  Caleb’s wrath boiled over. “Give us leave to destroy them.”

  “It is not my decision,” Joshua said.

  “Will you never stand and cry out to the Lord as Moses does?” Caleb strode into the courtyard of the Tabernacle. “Lord!” People stopped moving and stared. “Lord, send us.” No one spoke or even dared breathe. “Deliver these people into our hands and we will destroy their cities!”

  Moses rose from his knees and came toward him, face haggard. Caleb stood his ground. “Forty years we’ve wandered because we did not have the faith to go into the land. Will we lack faith again? The Lord said the land is ours. Don’t tell me the Lord wants us to be attacked and made slaves again. I won’t believe it!”

  Moses’ eyes caught fire. “The Lord has heard our plea and given the Canaanites over to us. ‘Go!’ saith the Lord. ‘Go and destroy them and their towns. Leave nothing standing and no one breathing! Go in the name of the Lord.’”

  And Caleb and Joshua did.

  The place came to be known as Hormah: “Destruction.”

  When Moses led the community back toward the Red Sea in order to take the route around Edom, Caleb had to turn his mind to daily training rather than give in to his growing tension and impatience to reach Canaan. When he heard grumbling, which came more often since the victory over the king of Arad, he reminded the people of what Moses had said: “The Edomites are sons of Esau, and therefore our brothers.”

  “Brothers who treat us like enemies!” Jesher was as eager to fight as his older half brothers Mesha and Mareshah.

  “It matters not how they treat us.” Caleb reined his sons in like young stallions. “We must do what is right.”

  “Anyone who stands in our way stands in the way of the Lord!”

  Caleb felt a prickling of apprehension. He grasped Mesha by the shoulder. “Who are you to presume you know the will of God?” He dug his fingers in until his son winced. “It is Moses who speaks God’s Word, and it is Moses who says we must go around Edom.” He let go of his son and looked around the tent at the fi
ve others. “You would all do well to remember that, whether we like it or not, Esau’s blood runs in our veins.”

  They couldn’t quibble about Edom, so they focused their anger and impatience elsewhere.

  “We never have enough water!”

  “I’m sick to death of this manna.”

  “When will we have something else to eat?”

  Beneath the surface of their complaints was a lusting for vengeance upon Edom and what they believed was a needless delay to the gratification of entering the Promised Land. The people coiled in small groups of malcontents, hissed and struck at Moses, forgetting how he had loved and prayed for them every day, all day, for forty years.

  Reaching for some firewood, Caleb felt a sharp sting. Sucking in his breath, he drew back his hand. A snake hung from his arm, fangs sunk deep into the tendons of Caleb’s wrist. Pain licked through his veins. Some women screamed.

  “Get back!” he cried out as he shook his arm. Rather than shaking free, the serpent’s tail curled around his arm and tightened.

  Caleb grasped the head and yanked the snake free, tossing it away from him. It coiled for another strike. Caleb’s grandson Hebron drew his dagger and sliced off the snake’s head. As its body writhed in the dust, Caleb crushed the head with his heel. Then, losing strength, he went to his knees.

  The poison worked quickly. Caleb felt his heart pounding faster and faster. Sweat broke out and a wave of nausea gripped him. Someone held him gently and laid him down. “No,” he rasped. “Get me up . . .”

  “Father!” Mesha grasped him. Jesher and Mareshah came running, Shobab just behind them. They were all talking at once, no one listening. He saw fear in their eyes. Confusion.

  “A snake bit him!” a woman sobbed. “It was in the wood. He—”

  Vision blurring, Caleb grasped Mesha’s belt. “Help me up . . .” He had to get to the Tabernacle. He had to see the pole with the replica of the poisonous snake attached to it. The Lord had promised that anyone who was bitten would live if he simply looked at it!