Sermon Tone Analysis

Joshua 4:1-9

Twelve River Rocks On the Bank

 

/When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, “Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight.”/

/So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed from the Israelites, one from each tribe, and said to them, “Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan.

Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, to serve as a sign among you.

In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the Ark of the Covenant of the LORD.

When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.

These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”/

/So the Israelites did as Joshua commanded them.

They took twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, as the LORD had told Joshua; and they carried them over with them to their camp, where they put them down.

Joshua set up the twelve stones that had been in the middle of the Jordan at the spot where the priests who carried the Ark of the Covenant had stood.

And they are there to this day/.

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he ancient church building was surrounded by the cemetery, as was the common practise in former days.

Lynda, Rochelle and I were touring the old Anglican Church in Williamsburg, Virginia, an old building where George Washington had worshipped, where Patrick Henry had sat, and where the patriots of the American Revolution had drawn strength for their defiance of King George.

I confess that I am intrigued by old churches; each is an invitation to detour out of my way, even for considerable distances just to view them.

A spire reaching up to the sky above the surrounding residences is an invitation to drive out of my way to see the building and to muse about what once was and what might yet be.

Therefore, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tour this old church building.

What especially attracted my attention in this instance, however, was the cemetery.

I could not resist trying to read the inscriptions on the tombstones.

Many were so worn that the wording was virtually impossible to read, but I found it worth the effort when I had finally deciphered the eroded words carved in the stone.

Each spoke of faith in the resurrection, faith in the mercies of God, faith in the righteousness of the Saviour – something which seems gauche in this modern day of exalted human reason.

As I viewed the memorials and read the words of faith, my mind engaged in a reverie.

Frequently, as I preach funeral services, I make mention of the fact that we each build memorials during our lifetimes – memorials made not of stone or wood, but vital memorials composed of memories and of influence.

These memorials will fade quickly in the earthly scheme of things; but they will have eternal impact as they either bless or curse.

What sort of memorials was I erecting?

What impact would my life have?

What changes, either for good or for evil would my presence in this life make?

Any memorials of stone or steel, or wood or plastic, would be all too soon corroded and ignored.

My thoughts turn now to this church.

What will it matter that a congregation once worshipped here?

Will it matter that a people once believed God?

That a people once met here on a regular basis?

That the Gospel was once proclaimed from this pulpit?

The church building is a memorial to the faith of men and women, many of whom are now passed from this life.

Under the best of conditions this building is destined for dust.

It will continue to crumble and decay, and all the efforts will not halt the effects of time on this building.

A day will come when this memorial will no longer stand.

What, then, will last?

What will continue to speak to a coming generation of the Faith we profess?

What will matter in a hundred years?

In fifty years?

In twenty years?

In another year?

What will continue as a blessing to people yet to come?

That is the question which Joshua encountered as the people of Israel crossed over the Jordan and into the land God had long promised.

The account of the erection of a simple memorial is worthy of our careful study, so that together we may discover what really matters.

*Erecting Memorials that Last* (*verses 1-3*) – /When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, “Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight.”/

Refresh your memory concerning what had occurred before the incident recorded in our text.

The people of Israel were poised on the boundary of the Promised Land.

Long years wandering in the wilderness would soon find justification as they actually took possession of that which God had promised.

The land had been spied out and the first city, Jericho, was marked for destruction.

God now commanded the people to approach the last barrier to fulfilment of His promise of a home for His people.

He said He would sweep back the waters of that raging river, then in full flood, permitting His people to cross over dry-shod into the land they were to receive as their inheritance.

The priests, carrying the Ark of the Covenant, trod steadily toward the flood; no civic leader was with them.

The people, following at a distance of nearly a kilometre, watched the priests bearing the symbol of God’s presence.

They saw the priests of God move steadily toward … destruction or deliverance.

Nearer, nearer, ever nearer the swirling waters marched the priests carrying the ark.

What must have raced through their minds?

Perhaps they were remembering how Moses had parted the Red Sea.

Then, God had commanded Moses to lift his hand out over the sea, and the sea had parted to either side permitting the people to pass through.

There had been no demand that any of the people exercise faith to see God work His will.

The command was different now; there would be no dramatic action by one individual, no words spoken by one man, no solitary stance to steady the watching people.

This time there would be the only the steady stamp of the feet of the priests muffled by the roar of the raging river.

They dared not falter as together they bore the load of the ark.

Each step carried them nearer to … fulfilment or failure.

It was only as the feet of the lead priests actually touched the water that any change in the waters was witnessed.

As soon as the feet of the priests who carried the ark /touched the water’s edge/, faith was fulfilled.

The water from upstream stopped flowing.

It piled up in a heap a great distance away … while the water flowing down to the Sea of the Arabah (the Salt Sea) was completely cut off [*Joshua 3:15,16*].

God demonstrated that He was not constrained to work by one method only.

God encouraged His people to walk by faith and not by sight, teaching the people that what was important was that He was with them.

God was glorified in the revelation of His power and might.

He ruled over nature; and He ruled for the welfare of His own people.

No one who witnessed this mighty intervention could ever again casually ignore God’s command; but how would their children and their children after them view God?

As the nation passed through the stream bed, stepping gingerly over and around the dry rocks, the priests stood in the midst of the dry river, the ark of the Lord God borne patiently on their shoulders all the while.

The people, hundreds of thousands in number, quickly passed across and into the land promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; all the while the priests stood in full view in the middle of the dry bed awaiting the order to again move.

When the last Israelite had crossed over, the Lord commanded Joshua to care for one last detail before he called the priests out and onto the banks with the rest of the nation.

Joshua was instructed to select twelve men, one from each tribe, commanding them to return to the dry waterway where they were to retrieve twelve stones from the spot where the priests were standing.

These stones, each sufficiently large that one man could carry but one on his shoulder [*verse 5*] were to be arranged on the bank of the river so that in days to come anyone passing that way would see the rude monument.

Twelve river rocks on the bank would last a long time.

This would be a memorial which would endure; but it was not a permanent memorial.

The most lasting memorial was also the most fragile memorial – the faithfulness of the people of God to reach the next generation.

Where did Israel cross the Jordan?

Where are the twelve stones today?

No one can find the precise spot where Israel crossed over the Jordan.

No one can point out twelve stones to identify them as the stones fetched up out of the Jordan River when Israel crossed over the flooded river and into the Promised Land.

The memorial which was to last for generations to come is lost to this generation; and in light of the paucity of information concerning this memorial throughout the remainder of the Word we might well conclude that it was forgotten soon after the event.

When we place our hope in the materials of this world to remind generations to come of what we have witnessed we will be disappointed.

Nothing of this world shall long endure.

Those are strong words, arresting words, which Peter penned so long ago:/ the present heavens and earth are reserved for fire/ [*2 Peter 3:7*].

On that day, He declares that /the elements will be destroyed by fire/, and the earth and everything in it will be utterly exposed [*2 Peter 3:10*].

Just as my treasures in this life are uncertain, subject to moth and rust and thievery [see *Matthew 6:19*], so the memorials I erect are subject to decay and destruction.

I encourage the exploration of gifts, and in a former church was a young man struggled to determine whether God might have called him to preach the Word.

He tested the call by delivering a message before the congregation one Sunday evening.

The message confirmed that he was not called to the pulpit ministry, but it did reveal his considerable insight into the Word.

I don’t remember the particulars of his effort at exposition that evening, but I do recall the title and the thrust of the message he gave.

He titled his effort: *It’s All Gonna’ Burn*.

He went ahead to caution against placing trust in the goods of this life and against becoming too enamoured of the accoutrements of this world since they were impermanent.

He spoke the truth in that observation.