The Warrior: Caleb

  “Help him! Hurry!” Everyone cried out at once. His sons grabbed him by the arms and hauled him up. Mesha and Jesher supported him between them. He tried to walk, but his body betrayed him.

  “He can’t use his legs!”

  “He’s going to die!”

  “Lift him!”

  “Hurry!”

  Four of his sons carried him, shouting as they wove their way through the tents. It seemed to take them forever. Were they so far from the Tabernacle?

  “It’s Caleb!” people cried out in alarm.

  “Get back! Get out of our way!”

  Caleb struggled for air. “Lord, You promised . . .” He could say no more.

  “Father!” Mesha was crying.

  I have come too far, Lord, to die now. You promised.

  “Put him down!” someone said.

  His sons lowered him to his knees, but he couldn’t hold his head up. He couldn’t breathe to tell his sons how to help him.

  Oh, Lord, You know how many times we’ve broken our word to You, but You have never broken Your word to us. You said I would enter the land.

  Caleb crumpled face-first into the dust. Hands fell upon him again—so many hands, so many voices, shouting, crying.

  Pray. Someone, pray.

  “Caleb!” People surrounded them. “It’s Caleb!” They blocked the sun.

  “Get back!” Joshua’s voice this time. “Give him room to breathe.”

  “Lord, Lord . . .” Caleb recognized Hur’s voice, felt himself being rolled onto his back. “Don’t take him from us, Lord.”

  Caleb lay on his back, the cloud above him, anguished faces surrounding him. He couldn’t raise his head. He couldn’t raise his hand to grab hold of someone and pull himself up. His throat was closing, his lungs burning.

  He felt Hebron lift his shoulders and prop him up, bracing him. “Open your eyes, Grandfather. Look up. The pole is right before you.”

  “Breathe, Father! Breathe!”

  “He’s dead!” someone shrieked. “Caleb’s dead!”

  People wailed.

  With his last bit of strength, Caleb opened his eyes . . . but he could see nothing. Darkness closed in around him. “Look,” Moses had said. “Look and believe and you will live!” You are my salvation, Lord. You alone.

  Spears of light came, driving the darkness back. His vision cleared. Above him was the pole with the bronze snake.

  You are the Lord. You are Rapha, the Healer. Your Word is Truth.

  Caleb’s lungs unlocked and he drew in a deep breath. His heart slowed. His skin cooled. He came up through the shadow of death, shaking off the fettering hands until he was able to stand in the midst of the people. “Death, where is your sting?” he shouted.

  His sons laughed in relief and thanksgiving.

  Caleb raised his hands. “The Lord, He is God.”

  Shaken, tears in his eyes, Joshua cried out with him. “The Lord, He is God!”

  Those surrounding them joined in shouting praises to the Lord, who kept His word.

  They moved from Oboth to Iye-abarim in the desert facing Moab toward the sunrise. Then they moved on to Zered Valley and farther to camp along the Arnon River on the border between Moab and the Amorites. The Lord led them to Beer and gave them water so they could cross the desert to Mattanah and on to Nahaliel, Bamoth and the Valley of Moab where the top of Mount Pisgah overlooked the wasteland.

  Moses dispatched messengers to Sihon, king of the Amorites, requesting safe travel through his territory and also sent spies to Jazer. In response, Sihon mustered his entire army and marched out into the desert against Israel.

  This time, the Lord sent them out. “Put the Amorites to the sword and take over his land from the Arnon to the Jabbok!”

  At the blast of the shofar, Caleb raised his sword and let out a battle roar. Others joined in until the earth shook with the sound. Joshua led them into war. As they ran at the fortified city of Heshbon, Caleb shouted to his sons. “Destroy these people of Chemosh!” Chemosh, the false god who demanded the blood sacrifice of children.

  The Israelite boys and young men Caleb and Joshua had trained were now warriors eager to fight for the Lord their God. They overran Heshbon, breaking down its walls, smashing its idols and altars, and burning everything that was left. They did not withhold their hand, but cut down every citizen who remained to fight. From Heshbon, they moved on to the surrounding settlements, clearing out the Amorites from their towns and land. The vultures feasted.

  Survivors fled along the road to Bashan and enlisted the help of King Og, who marched his whole army out to meet Israel at Edrei.

  “Do not be afraid of them,” Moses shouted. “Fear not, for the Lord God has handed them over to you, Og and his whole army and his land!”

  When the day was over, not one Israelite had fallen, but Og, his sons, and his entire army lay dead upon the field of battle. Stained with blood, Caleb stood with his sons among the twisted, tangled bodies of the slain. He heard the jubilation of the men around him as they congratulated one another on their victory. Did they really believe their own strength had brought victory?

  Caleb looked at the young men he had trained and wanted to grab them by the throat. They now knew how to fight, and they had the will to destroy. But they were forgetting the most important lesson he had tried to drum into their thick heads every day from the time they began training: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength!

  Panting, Caleb drove his spear deep into the earth that now belonged to Israel. Thrusting his hands into the air, he shouted with all his might, “Lord! Lord! All praise to the Lord!”

  His sons were the first to join in. One by one, others took up the cry until the sound swelled by thousands.

  Make them remember, Lord. Write the truth upon their hearts.

  Israel camped on the plains of Moab along the Jordan across from Jericho. Caleb heard reports that Balak, king of Moab, was gathering forces and sending out messengers to Midian and other peoples of Canaan. “He intends to make an alliance with neighboring nations to keep us out.”

  “He won’t succeed,” Caleb vowed, pacing in front of his tent. He couldn’t put his worry into words, and Joshua would wait upon Moses to make a decision. “I don’t trust the Midianites. Something is wrong. I feel it.”

  “What?”

  “They’re too friendly.”

  “They are related to Moses’ family.”

  Caleb knew as well as everyone else that Moses’ wife Zipporah had been a Midianite, and her father, Jethro, had been a chieftain. When the Lord had brought the Israelites out of Egypt, Jethro had met Moses at the Mountain of God and returned to him Zipporah and Moses’ two sons. Jethro had even advised Moses on selecting men from among the tribes to help him judge the birthing nation. A wise man, Jethro.

  “Jethro was a man of honor, Joshua, but Jethro is long dead. Zipporah is not even a memory to these people, and Moses’ sons are trained up in the ways of the Lord. They have nothing in common with their relatives who bow down to Baal.”

  “You judge them harshly, Caleb. Moses says to treat them as brothers.”

  “The women do not act like sisters. Have you sent anyone to see what’s going on in Shittim?”

  Joshua frowned. “No.”

  “Perhaps you should. Perhaps you should discuss these concerns with Moses. Perhaps he should pray and ask God why these Midianites are so friendly and if we should have commerce with them.” He had failed to keep the impatience out of his voice.

  Joshua glowered. “Moses is our leader. Not I.”

  “Does that mean you can’t think for yourself?” Caleb watched the color surge into Joshua’s face and his eyes darken. “Some of the men are leaving camp and going over to the Midianite settlements. Did the Lord tell us to mingle with these people? At one time, a long time ago, Moses had reason to trust the Midianites. I am asking if they are trustworthy now.”

  “If an opportunity arises, I will ask.”


  “Make the opportunity!”

  Caleb left before he said harsher words. He called his sons together and their sons. “You will not talk with the Midianites or have anything to do with them.”

  “Has Moses ruled on the matter?”

  Caleb turned to Ardon. “I have ruled on this matter, and I am your father.”

  They had learned not to argue with him. No further questions were asked.

  But others training with Caleb’s sons did as they pleased, spending their leisure hours visiting with Midianites. They brought back stories of how friendly and how beautiful the young women of Midian were. Moses had married one, after all. Was it any wonder they were so attracted? And the feasting that went on beneath the spreading oaks was unlike anything they had experienced in their desert life. Caleb came upon young men gathered tightly, whispering, laughing, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “You should come and see for yourselves.”

  His sons wanted to go and pressed Caleb daily for permission.

  “Everyone is going. We’re the only ones who show such a lack of hospitality to Moses’ relatives.”

  “You will not go over to them.”

  “Carmi lets his son go.”

  “And Salu.”

  “Salu is a Simeonite. You answer to me. And I say no. If you ask again, I will find work to keep you so tired you won’t be able to stand, let alone think about Midianite women or their feasts!”

  Despite Caleb’s warning, some of the Judean men went to visit the Midianites. They didn’t return until late. Several missed morning worship. One collapsed during training exercises. Caleb had no sympathy or patience. “Get your face out of the dirt.”

  The young man struggled to his feet, sallow, trembling, unable to look Caleb in the eye.

  “Go back to your tent, Asriel.” Caleb glowered in disgust. “Go! Now! Before I beat you into the ground!” He watched the young man stumble away. Turning to the others, he pointed after Asriel. “Can any man in that condition stand against the enemy? That is what happens when you stay out all night. You are worse than useless. You will cost the lives of your brothers! Never forget we serve the Lord, the God of Israel. And we are preparing to enter Canaan at His command. Our inheritance is over there.” He stretched out his arm. “The Canaanites will not throw open their gates to welcome us. Balak is building a force against us. We do not have time to dance and sing and feast with Midianites.”

  “The Lord has sent a plague upon us!” the people cried out.

  The people wailed, mourning the young men who were dying. “Why?” a mother cried. “We have done everything God asked of us, and now He kills our children! Why?”

  Asriel died. He was the first of many. None of Caleb’s sons were sick, but he questioned them anyway, pressing until they told him what others had told them about the Midianites and their comely young women and the feasts that went on beneath the spreading oaks.

  “No wonder God is killing us.” Caleb wept. “We have sinned against him.” Caleb looked at Joshua, sitting beside Moses, with the other elders gathered to discuss the plague that was spreading through the camp. Hundreds had died, and hundreds more fell ill every day.

  “How have we sinned?” someone asked.

  “The Midianites.”

  “They are our friends,” another insisted.

  “What friendship do we have with those who worship idols? Remember Egypt!” Caleb had to remind himself that the men gathered here had no recollection of what had happened there other than what had been told to them. They were the sons of those who had come out of slavery. “The Moabites and Midianites know we belong to the God who destroyed Egypt with plagues. They know we serve Him. They are cunning enough to realize that they must drive a wedge between us and the God we serve. So they send their beautiful young women to entice our young men into Baal worship. These women were sent to turn the hearts and minds of our sons away from God! And God is judging us for our unfaithfulness.”

  “I’ve seen nothing of that sort in our camp.”

  “Or ours!”

  “Will we always be like this?” Caleb shouted, furious. Would they never understand? “Talking and talking. And still you fail to understand. God does not send a plague without cause. He does not punish without reason. We must examine ourselves so that we can repent!”

  Moses leaned close to Joshua and spoke to him. Joshua nodded his head and whispered back. Agitated, others began talking at once.

  “Salu,” Caleb said loudly, “my sons tell me that your son Zimri visits the Midianites.”

  Salu the Simeonite looked less than pleased to be the center of attention. “He goes to tell them of our God.”

  “He brought a girl back with him,” another added.

  Moses’ head came up. Joshua stared.

  Salu shook his head. “No. You’re wrong.”

  “I was on my way here when I saw your son with her,” the man said. “I stopped him and asked what he was doing. He said he wanted all his friends to join him in a celebration, and this woman, Cozbi, had come to encourage us. He said she is the daughter of one of the Midianite chieftains. Zur, I think is his name.”

  “Invite his friends to a celebration?” Men looked at one another. “What did he mean by that?”

  Abruptly, Phinehas rose and strode away from the gathering of elders. His father, Eleazar, high priest and son of Aaron, called after him. Phinehas didn’t answer. He went into his tent and came out with a spear in his hand.

  Caleb rose, staring after him. His heart raced. The son of the high priest looked neither to the right nor to the left as he strode toward the tents of Simeon. Caleb had never seen such an expression of wrath on a man’s face, even in battle.

  Moses’ eyes went wide. At a word, Joshua was on his feet and following the high priest’s son, Caleb right on his heels.

  “What’s the matter?” The others clamored to their feet. “What’s happening?”

  Phinehas broke into a run, spear high in his fist. He gave no battle cry as he charged. People scattered before him.

  Caleb and Joshua ran after him, others falling in behind them. Among the tents of Simeon rose sounds of celebration. A circle of men and women stood around the entrance of a tent, staring, restless, moving, pressing in and leaning forward to see more.

  “Get back!” At Joshua’s shout, the people parted like a sea, exposing the debauchery that had so excited them. Some ducked their heads and ran, diving into their tents to hide themselves.

  Phinehas entered the tent. With a loud cry, he planted his feet on either side of the couple writhing upon the mat, raised the spear in both hands, and brought it down with his full strength. The Midianite girl had seen him and screamed. Too late, she tried to kick back from beneath Salu’s son, still in the throes of violent passion. Phinehas bore down on the spear, driving it through them both, pinning them to the ground. Salu’s son died quickly, but Cozbi clawed and shoved, kicked and screamed, pressing her heels until blood spilled from her mouth. Phinehas held the spear until there was no movement, then let go and backed away, gasping for breath.

  Moses ordered the Israelite sons to stay away from the Midianite camp. No further contact was to be made with the Midianites. Eleazar made atonement for the people who stood silent in fear of the plague. How many more would die before the Lord took mercy upon them?

  “From this day forth,” Moses told the people, “treat the Midianites as enemies. Kill them! They treated us as enemies.” He called for a census. Twenty-four thousand had died in the plague. Still, Israel’s numbers had increased since the first census before the Mountain of God.

  Only two men remained from the generation of slaves who had been delivered from Egypt: Joshua from the tribe of Ephraim and Caleb of Judah.

  “The Lord has called for vengeance on the Midianites!” Moses told the people. “Arm one thousand men from each tribe and send them into battle.” Phinehas would lead them into battle, taking with him the holy items and the trumpets for signaling.

  Wh
ispers of alarm went through some ranks. Twelve thousand against hundreds of thousands? They would be slaughtered!

  Faithless. Even now, faithless. “The Lord is with us!” Caleb shouted.

  “Fear no man!” Joshua called out, raising his sword.

  After years of drilling and practicing, the young men were eager to fight and prove themselves in battle. Everyone wanted to go. Caleb called for a lottery to eliminate all but the one thousand men God would assign to fight for Judah. His sons were among them. They stood ready, dressed for battle, swords in hand, shielded by their faith in the living God they served. They had received the Lord’s instructions. Now it remained to be seen if they would obey and receive the victory.

  Caleb found himself left behind with the other leaders of the community, Joshua among them. Neither was at ease with the waiting.

  Caleb heard the shofar blast in the distance and then the war cries of twelve thousand men going into battle. He longed to run with those men, to wield his sword, to kill God’s enemies. But he waited with Joshua and the multitude. Let the younger men be tested.

  Hour after hour passed. Moses prayed. Joshua prayed. Caleb tried, but his mind was in the midst of that battle, hands clenched, and sweat pouring. His sons had gone out to battle. His sons!

  Don’t let them fail, Lord. Hold them to their word. Keep their minds fixed upon You. Keep them faithful.

  Forty years he had waited to enter the Promised Land. Forty years he had wandered with the sons of those who had refused to listen to his report about Canaan.

  Messengers arrived. The Midianites had been conquered; the five kings—Evi, Rekem, Zur, Hur, and Reba—killed, as well as Balaam, King Balak’s advisor. The men were returning in triumph.

  Caleb noticed Moses’ anger and joined Joshua and Eleazar, the high priest. “What’s wrong?”

  “The men are bringing back captives.”

  Fear gripped Caleb. Would the Lord send yet another plague upon them?

  Herds of cattle and flocks of sheep and goats were being driven toward the camp, and Caleb could see carts of plunder and men carrying all manner of goods they had taken from the Midianite cities and villages.