If the Lord your God enlarges your territory, as he promised on oath to your ancestors, and gives you the whole land he promised them, because you carefully follow all these laws I command you today—to love the Lord your God and to walk always in obedience to him—then you are to set aside three more cities.
Deuteronomy 19:8-9 (NIV)
As Wendy and I sit in the morning and peruse the news of the day I’ve observed a distinct difference between us. Wendy regularly wades into the comments that readers make to the article or editorial she’s just read. She finds it interesting to gauge response to the topic or opinion. Wendy is an Enneagram Type Eight. For Eights, conflict is a form of intimacy.
I, on the other hand, rarely look at the comments. As an Enneagram Type Four, contention can quickly lead me to despair. When I read comments I find so many thoughtless words, hasty judgments, and seeds of anonymous hate spewed on the digital page. It leaves me desiring my morning shower.
I had the honor of delivering the message yesterday among our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. We’re launching a year-long theme that, looking back at my spiritual journey, I find doesn’t get much play these days.
Refuge. Specifically, Refuge Over Rejection.
Where do I run when I need mercy, grace, and a shelter from the storm?
I find it fascinating that thousands of years ago God made refuge a cornerstone of the community He designed and called for to be implemented among His people. In a moment of synchronicity, “refuge” appears once again in this morning’s chapter.
God through Moses reminds His children, just preparing to cross into the Promised Land, that they are to quickly establish three cities of refuge—spread equidistant across the geography. These cities must be accessible to everyone. They must be clearly marked. The roads leading to them must be clear and easily trodden.
God paves the way to grace.
Mercy has an address.
The chapter goes on to mention that accusations must be corroborated by two or three witnesses. These are not exclusionary sections of the chapter. There is a thread of thought God is weaving through His refuge design. As I meditated on the chapter I came to realize that this divine justice system allows for time.
Rage does not get the final word.
Truth must be corroborated.
Witnesses must agree.
The community must slow down before rendering judgment.
As I pondered this, my mind quickly returned to our digital age and all those comments. Instant news, trending topics, and billions of people with laptops, tablets, and smart phones. We can broadcast our momentary rage, venomous thought, hasty judgment, vengeance, and condemnation to the entire world 24/7/365. And it can all be done behind the anonymity of a username.
As I meditated on the stark contrast between God’s ancient design and our modern Twitter-esque technology, I found both wisdom and solace in the former. The latter strikes me as a modern day Tower of Babel constructed of server farms and cell towers – ending in confusion, chaos, division, and babbling voices that offer no peace, no mercy, no grace, no refuge.
Finally, my thoughts landed on the fact that God calls for three cities of refuge to be established, though the total number in God’s ultimate Promised Land blueprint was six. In other words, God is calling for phased mercy. He doesn’t want His people to wait until the land is completely settled. He wants them to quickly take the first step toward refuge.
Yesterday, as our worship concluded there was an unexpected outpouring among our local gathering. It appeared that everyone in the room was ready to take a step toward refuge. Perhaps I’m not the only one weary of our modern world and culture of Babel.
As our local gathering sets off on our year-long road to refuge. As I set off on this another work week at the beginning of a new year, my soul is mulling over the answers to a few questions surfaced in the quiet:
Is the road to mercy in my life clear—or cluttered?
Do people know how to reach grace through me, or do they hit barricades of judgment and suspicion?
Do my words shelter truth—or endanger it?
False witness isn’t just perjury. It’s gossip. Spin. Tweets. Convenient silence.
Do people find refuge in my presence?
Am I a safe place where people know they will be seen, heard, and loved?
I serve a God of refuge. This morning’s chapter reminds me that from ancient days, God has made being a refuge a priority for His people. I endeavor today, this week, this year, to take steps towards that calling.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
