The time has come to attack the disease. It has raged, untouched, too long. Infected, unhindered, too many. Misery bobs in its wake. Abandoned dreams, ravaged marriages, truncated hopes. Hasn’t the malady contaminated enough lives?

Time to declare war on the pestilence that goes by the name “I can’t.”

It attacks our self-control: “I can’t resist the bottle.” Careers: “I can’t keep a job.” Marriages: “I can’t forgive.” Our faith: “I can’t believe God cares for me.”

“I can’t.” The phrase loiters on the corner of Discouragement and Despair. Had Joshua mumbled those words, who would have blamed him? His book begins with bad news: “After the death of Moses the servant of the LORD” (Josh. 1:1).

There was no one like Moses. When the Hebrew people were enslaved, Moses confronted Pharaoh. When the Red Sea raged, Moses prayed for help. When the ex-slaves were hungry, thirsty, or confused, Moses intervened, and God provided food, water, and the Ten Commandments. Moses meant more to the Hebrews than Queen Victoria, Napoleon, and Alexander the Great meant to their people. Even George Washington shares Mount Rushmore with three other presidents. If Moses’ face were carved into Mount Sinai, the Hebrews would never let another share the honor with him. To lose Moses was to lose the cause.

And they lost him. Moses died.

Oh, the dismay, the grief, the fear. And yet, with the grass yet to grow over Moses’ grave, God told Joshua, “Moses . . . is dead. Now therefore, arise” (v. 2).

We would take a different tack. “Moses is dead. Now therefore, grieve . . . retreat . . . reorganize . . . find a therapist.” But God said, “Now therefore, arise.”

Already we are getting hints of a major theme in Joshua: God’s power alters the score. Moses may be dead, but God is alive. The leader has passed, but the Leader lives on.

Even so, Joshua had reason to say “I can’t.” Two million reasons. According to a census in the book of Numbers, there were 601,730 men aged twenty and older, not counting the Levites, who crossed into Canaan.¹ Assuming that two-thirds of these men had a wife and three children, the number was about two million Hebrews. Joshua was not leading a Boy Scout troop through Canaan. This population was the size of the city of Houston.

Two million inexperienced Hebrews. They had never passed this way before. They could fight snakes, leopards, and windstorms. But breach the walls of Jericho? Resist the iron-wheeled chariots of the Canaanites? Wage war on the bloodthirsty barbarians across the river?

Perizzites, Hittites, Canaanites, Amorites . . . just odd names to us. But names that struck fear in the hearts of the Hebrew people. These tribes were a cesspool of evil. They appear on the pages of Scripture as early as the promise of God to Abram:

Know certainly that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, and will serve them, and they will afflict them four hundred years . . . But . . . they shall return here, for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete. (Gen. 15:13, 16)

For eight centuries the Amorites had cultivated a culture of degradation. They sacrificed babies in worship. They practiced orgies in the city and dedicated themselves to witchcraft and idolatry. One scholar called the Canaan of thirteenth century BC a “snake pit of child sacrifice and sacred prostitution, . . . [people who were] ruthlessly devoted to using the most innocent and vulnerable members of the community (babies and virgins) to manipulate God or gods for gain.”² The Book of Jubilees, written probably in the second century BC, called the Amorites “an evil and sinful people whose wickedness surpasses that of any other, and whose life will be cut short on earth.”³

Yet another reason Joshua could have said “I can’t.”

Excuse #1: “Moses is dead.” Excuse #2: “My people are battlefield tenderfeet.” Excuse #3: “Canaanites eat folks like us for breakfast.”

But he never declared defeat. Before Joshua could assemble any fears, God gave him reason for faith. “Arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, to the land which I am giving to them” (Josh. 1:2).

Not “the land I might give them.”

Not “the land you must conquer.”

Not “the land of which you must prove worthy.”

Not “the land you must earn, confiscate, or purchase.”

But “the land which I am giving to them.”

The transaction had already happened. The land had already been transferred. The conquest was a fait accompli. Joshua wasn’t sent to take the land but to receive the land God had taken. Victory was certain because the victory was God’s.

Hmmm.

My dad said something similar to me when I was sixteen years old. Our family was seated at the dinner table when the oddest thing happened. Somewhere between the passing of the peas and the beans, a set of car keys appeared next to my plate.

The ensuing dialogue went something like this:

MAX: What are these keys?

DAD: Keys to a Plymouth Belvedere that is parked out front in the driveway.

MAX: Whose car is it?

DAD: Yours.

MAX: Are you serious?

DAD: As a heart attack.

MAX:  Gulp

I had asked my dad for a car every day of my life. In my sonogram picture I am holding up a sign that says “Car, please?” Most babies cry, “Mama!” I cried, “Mustang!”

My father’s stock reply to my pleading was “You’ll have a car once you earn it, qualify for it, save for it, take out a loan for it, receive a government grant for it, pay for it.” I had been led to believe that a car acquisition was my job.

But then came that wonderful, glorious night when Dad handed me the keys. The company for which he worked had a car auction, and he, in a moment of weakness, bought one for me. Consequently, he gave me not payment vouchers or requirements but keys. “Take the car I am giving you.”

I had a new car because he declared it.

The Hebrews had a new land because their Father did the same. About the time Joshua lifted his jaw off the ground, God explained the dimensions of the gift:

Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given you, as I said to Moses. From the wilderness and this Lebanon as far as the great river, the River Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites, and to the Great Sea toward the going down of the sun, shall be your territory. (Josh. 1:3–4)

Keep in mind, the Hebrews were gypsies. They didn’t even own a sandlot. Yet in one grand, divine fiat, they were given the deed to the land of their dreams. God dangled the keys of Canaan in front of Moses’ protégé and said, “Take it for a spin.” And in one of Israel’s finest moments, Joshua said, “Yes.” He received his inheritance.

The word inheritance is to Joshua’s book what delis are to Manhattan: everywhere. The word appears nearly sixty times. The command to possess the land is seen five times. The great accomplishment of the Hebrew people came down to this: “So Joshua let the people depart, each to his own inheritance” (Josh. 24:28).

Is it time for you to receive yours?

You have one. If you have given your heart to Christ, God has given Canaan to you. He “has blessed [you] with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ” (Eph. 1:3).⁴

Note the tense: “he has blessed.” Not “he will bless, might bless, or someday could possibly bless.” No, the Promised Land property has been placed in your name. The courthouse records in heaven have been changed. God has already given you Canaan. You already have everything you need to be everything God desires. You have access to “every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places.”

This well may be the best-kept secret in Christendom. We underestimate what happened to us upon conversion. As one writer observed, “Many Christians view their conversion as something like a car wash: You go in a filthy clunker; you come out with your sins washed away—a cleansed clunker.”⁵ But conversion is more than a removal of sin. It is a deposit of power. It is as if your high-mileage, two-cylinder engine was extracted and a brand-new Ferrari engine was mounted in your frame. God removed the old motor, caked and cracked and broken with rebellion and evil, and replaced it with a humming, roaring version of himself. He embedded within you the essence of Christ. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new” (2 Cor. 5:17).

You are fully equipped! Need more energy? You have it. More kindness? It’s yours. Could you use some self-control, self-discipline, or self-confidence? God will “equip you with all you need for doing his will” (Heb. 13:21 NLT). Just press the gas pedal. “God has given us everything we need for living a godly life” (2 Peter 1:3 NLT).

Glory Days begin with a paradigm shift.

In Canaan you do not fight for victory. You fight from victory. In the wilderness you strive. In Canaan you trust. In the wilderness you seek God’s attention. In Canaan you already have God’s favor. In the wilderness you doubt your salvation. In Canaan you know you are saved. You move from wanting-to-have to believing you already do.

When you were born into Christ, you were placed in God’s royal family. “As many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12). Since you are a part of the family, you have access to the family blessings. All of them. “In Him also we have obtained an inheritance” (Eph. 1:11).

Surprised? You ain’t heard nuttin’ yet. In another passage the apostle Paul described the value of your portfolio. “The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ” (Rom. 8:16–17).

We are joint heirs with Christ. The Greek term in this passage is sugkleronomos (sug—together; kleronomos—inheritance).⁶ We share the same inheritance as Christ! Our portion isn’t a pittance. We don’t inherit leftovers. We don’t wear hand-me-downs. We aren’t left out in the cold with the distant cousins. In the traditions of Paul’s day, the firstborn son received a double portion while the rest of the siblings divvied up the remainder. Not so with Christ. “Our standing in the world is identical with Christ’s” (1 John 4:17 MSG). Christ’s portion is our portion! Whatever he has, we have!

Think what this means. Jesus cashed checks out of a boundless account. Grudges didn’t corrode him. Despair didn’t control him. Mood swings couldn’t touch his joy. His conviction was bulletproof. He was the Fort Knox of faith. And when we give our hearts to him, he hands us his checkbook.

Then how do we explain the disconnect? If we are coheirs with Christ, why do we struggle through life? Our inheritance is perfect peace, yet we feel like a perfect mess. We have access to the joy level of Jesus yet plod along like dyspeptic donkeys. God promises to meet every need, yet we still worry and fret. Why?

I can think of a couple of reasons.

We don’t know about our inheritance. No one ever told us about “the exceeding greatness of His power toward us who believe” (Eph. 1:19). No one ever told us that we fight from victory, not for victory. No one told us that the land is already conquered. Some Christians never live out of their inheritance because they don’t know they have one.

But now you do. Now you know that you were made for more than the wilderness. God saved you from Egypt so that he could bless you in the Promised Land. Moses had to remind the people that “[God] brought us out from there, that He might bring us in [to Canaan]” (Deut. 6:23). There is a reason for our redemption too. God brought us out so he could lead us in. He set us free so he could raise us up.

The gift has been given. Will you trust it?

Ah, therein lies the second explanation for our weaknesses.

We don’t believe in our inheritance. That was the problem of Joshua’s ancestors. They didn’t really believe that God could give them the land. The Glory Days of the Hebrews could have begun four decades earlier, a point God alluded to in his promise to Joshua: “Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given you, as I said to Moses” (Josh. 1:3). The reminder? I made this offer to the people of Moses’ day, but they didn’t take it. They chose the wilderness. Don’t make the same mistake.

Joshua didn’t. Much to his credit he took God at his word and set about the task of inheriting the land.

Do the same. Receive yours. You are embedded with the presence of God. Don’t measure your life by your ability; measure it by God’s. Even though you can’t forgive, God can. And since he can, you can. You can’t break the habit, but God can. Since he can, you can. You can’t control your tongue, temper, or sexual urges, but God can. And since you have access to every blessing of heaven, you, in time, will find strength.

The car keys on the table are yours. The Promised Land life is yours for the taking. Make the mental shift from the wilderness to Canaan.

The wilderness mentality says, “I am weak, and I’ll always be weak.”

Canaan people say, “I was weak, but I am getting stronger.”

Wilderness people say, “I’m a victim of my environment.”

Promised Land people say, “I’m a victor in spite of my surroundings.”

Wilderness people say, “These are difficult days. I’ll never get through them.”

God’s people say, “These days are Glory Days. God will get me through.”

Imagine what would happen if a generation of Christians lived out of their inheritance. Men and women would turn off Internet porn. The lonely would find comfort in God, not the arms of strangers. Struggling couples would spend more time in prayer, less time in anger. Children would consider it a blessing to care for their aging parents.

A generation of Christians would vacate the wilderness.

“God’s power is very great for us who believe. That power is the same as the great strength God used to raise Christ from the dead” (Eph. 1:19–20 NCV).

The same steely, burly force that raised Christ from the dead will turn every “I can’t” into “I can.” “I can do all things through Christ, because he gives me strength” (Phil. 4:13 NCV).

A new day awaits you, my friend. A new season of accomplishment, discovery, and strength. Leave every “I can’t” behind you. Set your “God can” ahead of you. Get ready to cross the Jordan.