I’ve been a Christian for a while now. I’ve read the Bible front to back more than once, and I know it reasonably well.
This morning, as I was studying Joshua 20, I discovered something I had never noticed. God had Joshua establish six cities of refuge for people who had nowhere else to run.
It made me realize that God has always had a plan for people like me.
If a person accidentally killed someone, the law of Israel gave the victim’s family the right to appoint an avenger of blood. This person had legal authority to pursue the killer and deliver him to justice. He was not acting out of private vengeance. He was executing the law.
For the person who killed without intent, this was a terrifying reality. He had done nothing out of malice, but the consequences were coming for him anyway. He needed somewhere to go.
God’s solution was specific. Six cities, strategically placed throughout the land so that no one was more than a day’s journey from one. The accused had to reach the city, stand at the gate, and present his case to the elders. If they accepted his account, they took him in. They gave him a place to live. They protected him.
His safety was guaranteed for as long as he remained within the city walls. The moment he stepped outside, that protection ended.
Here is what it means for me.
We tend to describe God in comfortable terms. Loving. Patient. Kind. Merciful. All of that is true.
But Scripture also calls Him a consuming fire. A jealous God. One whose wrath against sin is real and is coming.
The avenger of blood in Joshua 20 was not a villain. He was the rightful execution of the law against those who had broken it. That is who God is toward my sin. Towards anyone who has broken His law. And every one of us has broken His law.
The accidental killer had a defense. He did not intend the death. He did not hate his neighbor. But even he needed a city of refuge, because the law still applied to him and the consequences were still real.
I don’t have his defense. The things I carry are not accidents. Decisions I made that hurt people. Moments of weakness that left marks on my life and the lives of others. Shameful things. Only God and I know the full extent of them. That makes my need for refuge more desperate.
As I was uncovering the benefits these cities of refuge provided to the accused, I started comparing them with what Christ offers me.
The cities were strategically placed throughout the land. No one was more than a day’s journey from one. Christ is no different. He is near to all who call on Him.
The cities were open to everyone, including the stranger who lived among Israel. Not just the insider. Not just the deserving. Christ is available to all, regardless of where you come from or what you have done.
To benefit from a city of refuge, you had to enter, remain, and live within its walls. You could not benefit from a city you only acknowledged from a distance. Coming to Christ works the same way. Knowing He exists is not enough. You have to live within His protection.
And these cities were the only alternative. There was no other provision in Israel’s law that covered this situation. There is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved, but the name of Jesus Christ.
Tucked away in the details of Joshua 20 is something easy to read past, but too important to miss.
The accused had to remain in the city until the standing high priest died. Not until he was declared innocent. Not until a certain amount of time had passed. Until the high priest died.
The high priest was the centerpiece of Israel’s entire sacrificial system. He stood between the people and God. Once a year, he entered the Holy of Holies with blood to atone for the sins of the nation. His life was intertwined with the covering of guilt.
When the high priest died, the manslayer was free. He could return home. The avenger of blood had no further claim on him.
I could not read that without thinking of Jesus.
The book of Hebrews tells us that Jesus is our High Priest, in the order of Melchizedek. A priesthood that does not pass from one generation to the next, but rests on one person permanently. And that High Priest died as a sacrifice. As the final atonement for my sin.
It was only after His death that I was freed from God’s condemnation. We will all still stand before God in judgment. But for those who are in Christ, that judgment will not end in condemnation.
There is one clear distinction. The cities of refuge had a limitation that Christ does not.
They only protected the innocent. A person guilty of deliberate murder had no claim on their protection. The refuge was designed for those who could demonstrate that malice was not in their heart.
I cannot make that claim. The things I carry are not accidents. I have no defense to present at the city gate.
By His grace, Christ receives the guilty. He does not wait for me to establish my innocence before taking me in. He opens the gate to people who know exactly what they did, who cannot defend it, who have no legal ground to stand on. His sacrifice extends to people the cities of refuge were never designed to protect.
The only protection I have from the shameful things in my past, the things I cannot undo, is the refuge I find in Christ.
I arrived at His gate without a clean record or a convincing defense. Pursued by the consequences of my own decisions. What I found was a city that had room for me anyway.
God has always been providing a place where the pursued could find protection, where the guilty could find grace, and where the one who has nowhere else to run could finally stop running.
His gate is still open.
You do not have to qualify. You do not have to clean yourself up before you approach. You only have to come, explain your case, and stay within His walls.
The avenger of blood has no claim on those who remain there.