Seven Times

Last night, amid the raging inner storm that has become my constant companion, I remembered a story that is told fairly frequently at our church.  When they were trying to buy the current Oakley site, they knew their bid was low…probably too low, and they followed the lead of Joshua and marched around the property seven times, praying that God would deliver it to them while stumbling over weeds and setting off the automatic doors over and over again.  Lo and behold, all the higher bidders encountered unheard of obstacles and missed the auction, and now we have a thriving urban church.  Well, that thought popped into my head, and I thought I felt a nudging to march around James’ work seven times and pray that God would knock down walls preventing him from reaching his goals for himself and our family.  I went back and forth with that idea, questioning whether that was really God or maybe just sleep deprivation I heard, but in the end I felt that I should go. 

                And so today, I loaded the kiddos into the minivan and we headed to Daddy’s work.  It took a few minutes to find a route that allowed me to actually circle the building.  And yes, I drove.  The Israelites would have driven if they had minivans, too.  I gave the kids a quick recap of the Joshua and Jericho story as we started our journey, and they asked if they could get out and eat dinner with Daddy.  Clearly they understood what we were trying to do.  Trip #1 revealed that the grounds crew was out mowing and clearing the side of the road.  So, great.  Witnesses.  I kept my sunglasses on.  It took exactly four minutes and felt like forty.  I asked God to break down walls and open doors for James.  Eli was very concerned because he did not want the building to fall down with Daddy in it.  I tried to explain the concept of a metaphor.  You can guess how that went.

                Trip #2.  I took my sunglasses off so the grounds crew would think it was perhaps just ANOTHER white Kia minivan.  I asked God to be big.  To provide for us in a way that could only be him.  The back seat crew started to whine.  It all felt very unspiritual.  And ridiculous.  And I was running out of things to say. 

                Trip #3.  Sunglasses back on.  I am quite certain I got several weird looks, and I thought I saw one guy reaching for his phone.  Probably to call the cops.  I concocted a totally false explanation in case we got arrested.  Does lying during a spiritual exercise negate the effectiveness?  The whining in the back seat escalated to include potential starvation and extreme thirst.  Never mind that they had half a bag of pretzels and two glasses of water at their great-grandparents’ house thirty minutes before.  I tried again to remind them of what the Israelites did and why this matters to our family.  And then I asked the Holy Spirit to intercede for me because I flat-out ran out of things to say.  There’s only so many ways you can ask for the same thing. 

                Trip #4.  We were over half way, and thank goodness because the backseat was losing patience.  If nothing else comes of this activity, I have a new appreciation for what the Israelites endured.  You know they had whiners, too…and probably a lot of people talking loudly about what a ridiculous idea this was.  I felt completely and totally ridiculous myself.  I mean, I drove in the same circle SEVEN times and tried not to get caught.  Sunglasses were off this time, by the way. 

                Trip #5.  Caleb wanted to go HOOOOOOME.  Eli was too desperately exhausted to sit up straight in his seat.  I asked God if perhaps I had misunderstood, and if he would accept 4.5 trips instead of seven.  And then we buckled down and did it.

                Trip 6.  Sunglasses back on.  I am sure several people recognized me this time.  I tried to look away and act like I was singing.  Weeping and gnashing of teeth in the back seat.  Prayed the same prayer over and over, and then spent some time being silent.  Noted that my devotional asked me to spend some time being quiet with God, and wondered if being quiet in a car full of screaming kids would count.  Violet pooped.  Loudly.

                Trip 7.  Things improved dramatically because everyone in the car knew this was it.  Plus, I asked the boys to scream at the top of their lungs when we passed seven, because that’s what the Israelites did.  I suspect that there were some young people in the mix that marched around Jericho, and probably like my kiddos, they were screaming their heads off because they.were.so.over.the.marching.  Anyway, the promise of screaming and yelling without consequence improved everyone’s mood.  And just like that, we were done.  War woops, hollering, squealing, and as we turned to head home, Eli said, “Mommy, the building is still standing up.”  I know buddy.  We don’t actually want the building to fall down.  But maybe some walls are coming down that we can’t see…oh, never mind.  Don’t think about walls.  Tell yourself that God is working, and He is for us, not against us.

                So we shall see what happens.  And if nothing else, I will never look at the story of Jericho the same way again.  Poor Joshua.  I hope he had ear plugs.