Now therefore give me this mountain, whereof the Lord spoke in that day" (Joshua 14:12).
This mountain was a difficult assignment, an insoluble problem. "The Anakims were there," "the cities were great and fenced." And it might be added, the Israelite invaders were lightly armed and unskilled, hence little prepared to challenge the inhabitants of this mountain stronghold.
No less impossible is the task assigned the church by its Lord and Founder. "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature" (Mark 16:15). This is the modern minister's mountain. The ratio between the present world population and the few possessing the eternal truth of God, is so unbalanced that many have lost faith in the ultimate triumph of the Master's commission. How can a few thousand ever reach more than 2.7 billions of people with the everlasting gospel? To this question there is but one answer, With man it is impossible to negotiate this mountain. Present plans are too narrow, equipment too meager, and faith too small.
The mountain of our mission towers over us like a giant colossus, while ministers like tiny ants creep all too slowly toward its summit. Thousands are Christ-less in the teeming cities that are at our finger tips. Dark counties, dark cities, dark streets, dark homes, are the minister's nightmare. How to reach them with the Light of the world, is the problem. Add to this the millions of Africa, Asia, and Europe, insulated against Christianity by their own religious "isms," and we face again the high mountain, fenced cities, and heavily armed giants of Caleb's day.
This Man
Caleb did not deny the height of the mountain, the impregnability of the cities that graced its top. Nor could he discount the famed warriors that guarded the dizzy heights. This eighty-five-year-old veteran sought merely the privilege of attack. He would act in concert with the brethren. He submitted his request for the approval or disapproval of his colleagues. In this he revealed not weakness but meekness. It is difficult to imagine Caleb sulking in a corner had his request not been granted. It is this writer's opinion that he would have accepted his assignment as Heaven sent and made the best of it. This man had measured well the delicate fine line separating a request and a recommendation—the former originating with the individual, the latter with a group. The unity of the body meant more to him than personal achievement. He therefore declined to "go it alone." Nor did he consider "being sent" a personal affront or evidence of disrespect. "Moses sent me" (Joshua 14:11), he declared. And forty years after that mission he could say, in effect, to Joshua, "Send me." One must admire the spirit of the man.
This man had confidence in the sacredness of his mission. His was a holy war. "If so be the Lord will be with me, then I shall be able to drive them out, as the Lord said" (verse 12). He was on the King's business. To him nothing else mattered. The difficulty of the task lost its awesome portent if the Lord was at his side. For Caleb, this was enough. Should it not be so for us? Our Hebron is a lost world. Hath not God ordered that the heights be scaled? Has He not promised to participate on the side of His commissioned sons? It is enough. Let the advance be ordered and the battle joined. Too long have honest men died in ignorance for want of a messenger. Too long have heavenly agencies withheld their power for want of a yielded instrument. Too long has our world lain wrapped in midnight darkness. "Let there be light!"
This man, facing the supreme test of his life, had a faith fed by personal experience. "I wholly followed the Lord," he testifies in verse eight. His was a life totally committed. Caleb was a man with an eye "single to the glory of God." His calling received his undivided attention. He refused to be swayed from his chosen course by sin or sideline. The mountain was his consuming passion. He gave all that he had to it. He gave himself to it—and he mastered it. Total commitment is not an act of today that lasts forever. Rather it is a decision that requires daily renewal. Economic, social, and academic pressures threaten to do to us what the naked sword could not do to the early disciples—namely, strip us of our power, and nullify our spiritual influence with the world. "This one thing I do," said the apostle Paul, then he added, "Woe is me if I preach not!" The mountain required the whole man. Caleb gave himself to it and it was his.
This man's experience is proof of the adage, "What we are to be, we are becoming." "As my strength was then, even so is my strength now" (Joshua 14:11). Not a few among us dream of brighter days and greater opportunities in the future, and neglect our present duties. To the dreamer
the future is always more glorious than the drab present. But the present is drab only when neglected. Caleb had proved himself forty years earlier, as a mere "spy," a man without a "district." While a spy he lost himself in spying. It was his one interest. There is no evidence that this man envied Moses or sought his job. There is no record of jealousy when Joshua was chosen to succeed Moses. He probably realized that being a good spy was just as important as being a leader, for without his services the organization might be cut to pieces. "The eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you. Nay, much more those members of the body, which seem to be more feeble, are necessary."
It is a privilege to be a worker in the cause of God on whatever organizational level. Though it is true that some have, in their weaker moments, placed a halo around certain responsibilities, we are all necessary to one another. For those who emulate and envy we pray, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Every man of God should pray for the doorkeeper complex. One Adventist minister said: "If I should die a district pastor, I would die happy." This man has achieved the spirit of Caleb. Uncorrupted by pride or ambition, content to serve where sent, he goes his busy, faithful, and happy way.
Finally, this blessed man was a blessing to others. "And Joshua blessed him" (Joshua 14:13). Later Caleb's daughter requested, "Give me a blessing." Her request was granted. We are blessed that we might be a blessing to others. That we are a blessed people few will deny. Like Israel of old, we possess in total the oracles of God. We know the truth of God from the genesis of life to the destruction of death. We know transformation and reformation, prophecy and protest. "Such as I have," said Peter, "give I thee." Adventism lives as long as she expands. She must spread or die. Her present good health, under God, is due to her willingness to share herself with the world. From the busy centers of the civilized world to the remotest heathen outpost, the truth of God is taught and heard. Hospitals, schools, and dispensaries belt the globe, bringing physical and mental relief to stricken thousands. This spirit must not die, it must grow. The age of public evangelism is not passing. Opportunities are ours today that we have never before enjoyed. True, there are new difficulties, but these merely require new study and renewed attack. "He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap" (Eccl. 11:4). Christianity began with men who regarded neither wind nor rain—men who by doing made the impossible possible. So shall it be in the end of the age. The church militant will soon be charged with new vitality. The ends of the earth will soon echo with truth preached with new power, and the lives and acts of latter-day apostles will give added luster to a cause that is already bathed in light.
E. E. C.