The last words I remember hearing before I descended into the water were “You’re gonna regret it.” I waved away the warning without turning around. What was to regret? Everyone else was taking the long way; I took the shortcut. Let the others walk around the water; I would wade through it. After all, it was just the Everglades.

Of course, I had never been in the Everglades before. I’d never seen a Florida swamp. I’d seen creeks in Texas, lakes in New Mexico. Why, I’d even been trout fishing in a Colorado river. Water is water, right?

“Wrong,” my newfound Florida friends tried to tell me. They were taking me to a picnic. A welcome-to-Miami party. The tables sat on the other side of a marsh. The parks department had kindly constructed a bridge by which pedestrians could pass over the marsh. But who needed a bridge? I was fresh out of college, single, eager to impress, and undaunted at the sight of a few yards of water.

“I’ll wade across.”

Someone pointed at the sign. “Swamp water not recommended for recreation.”

I couldn’t be slowed by a warning, so I ventured in. The mud swallowed my feet. The brine was murky, smelly, and home to a million mosquitoes. Squiggly things swam past me. Scaly things brushed against me. I think I saw a set of eyeballs peering in my direction.

I backpedaled. Both flip-flops were sucked into the abyss, never to be seen again. I exited, mud covered, mosquito bitten, and red faced. I walked over the bridge and took my seat at the picnic table.

Everyone else enjoyed the picnic. I pretended to, but how could I? Sitting there covered in dried mud, mosquito welts, and regrets.

Made for a miserable picnic.

Makes for an apt proverb.

Life comes with voices. Voices lead to choices. Choices have consequences.

Why do some Christians grumble at the picnic? Why do some saints thrive while others scramble to survive? Why do some tackle Everest-size challenges and succeed while others walk seemingly downhill paths and stumble? Why are some people unquenchably content while others are inexplicably unhappy?

I’ve wondered this in my own life. Some seasons feel like a downhill, downwind bike ride. Others are like pedaling a flat-tired unicycle up Pikes Peak. Why?

The answer comes back to swamps, signs, and chosen paths.

Glory Days happen when we make good choices. Trouble happens when we don’t. This is the headline message delivered by Joshua in the nationwide assembly in the Valley of Shechem.

As you compile your list of key geographical touchstones in the book of Joshua, don’t overlook this one. The list includes

• the Jordan River (site of the crossing);

• the Gilgal encampment (the stones of remembrance and renewal of circumcision);

• Jericho (where Joshua saw the Commander and the walls fell);

• Ai (where Achan fell and Joshua rebounded);

• and now Shechem.

The pilgrimage to Shechem was Moses’ idea (Deut. 27:4–8). He had instructed Joshua to bring the invasion to a halt and every person to the Valley of Shechem. Shechem was a twenty-mile hike from the Hebrew encampment at Gilgal.¹ The Hebrews must have looked like an Amazon River of humanity as they marched.

Once they reached the valley, Joshua set about the task of building an altar.

Now Joshua built an altar to the LORD God of Israel in Mount Ebal, as Moses the servant of the LORD had commanded the children of Israel, as it is written in the Book of the Law of Moses: “an altar of whole stones over which no man has wielded an iron tool.” And they offered on it burnt offerings to the LORD, and sacrificed peace offerings. And there, in the presence of the children of Israel, he wrote on the stones a copy of the law of Moses, which he had written. (Josh. 8:30–32)

In the ancient Near East it was customary for kings to commemorate their military achievements by recording their conquests on huge stones covered with plaster. Joshua, however, didn’t memorialize his work. He celebrated God’s law. The secret to the successful campaign of the Hebrews was not the strength of the army but the resolve of the people to keep God’s commandments.

And then the best part:

Then all Israel, with their elders and officers and judges, stood on either side of the ark before the priests, the Levites, who bore the ark of the covenant of the LORD, the stranger as well as he who was born among them. Half of them were in front of Mount Gerizim and half of them in front of Mount Ebal, as Moses the servant of the LORD had commanded before, that they should bless the people of Israel. And afterward he read all the words of the law, the blessings and the cursings, according to all that is written in the Book of the Law. (vv. 33–34)

The meadows of Shechem sit between Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. Gardens, orchards, and olive groves grow throughout the valley. Limestone stratum sits in the deepest part of the crevice, broken into ledges “so as to present the appearance of a series of regular benches.”² The rock formation creates an amphitheater with acoustic properties that allow a sound originating on one side of the valley to be heard on the other.

The tribes were assigned their places: six on one side and six on the other. Midway between stood the priests, Levites, leaders, and the ark of the covenant. When Joshua and the Levites read the blessings, the tribes standing on Gerizim shouted, “Amen!” When the leaders read the curses, the million or so people on Ebal declared, “Amen!”³

Can you imagine the drama of the moment?

“If you listen obediently to the voice of God, he will . . .

“Defeat your enemies!”

“Amen!”

“Order a blessing on your barns!”

“Amen!”

“Lavish you with good things!”

“Amen!”

“Throw open the doors of his sky vaults and pour rain on your land” (see Deut. 28:1–13).

“Amen!”

The proclamation of the curses followed the same pattern. “Cursed is anyone who . . .

“Carves a god image!”

“Amen!”

“Demeans a parent!”

“Amen!”

“Takes a bribe to kill an innocent person.”

“Amen!” (see Deut. 27).

Back and forth, back and forth. Voices reverberated off the stone cliffs. All the people—children, immigrants, old-timers, everyone—in antiphonal rhythm proclaimed their values. “There was not a word of all that Moses had commanded which Joshua did not read before all the assembly of Israel, with the women, the little ones, and the strangers who were living among them” (Josh. 8:35).

Keep in mind the when and where of this assembly. When did this event happen? In the midst of an invasion. Where? Smack-dab in the middle of enemy territory. These desert-toughened people pressed the Pause button on the physical battle in order to fight the spiritual one.

Heeding God’s Word is more critical than fighting God’s war. Indeed, heeding God’s Word is fighting God’s war. Conquest happens as the covenant is honored.

Do you want a Promised Land life?

Desire the fullness of Glory Days?

Want to experience Canaan to the fullest?

Obey God’s commands.

What’s that? You expected something more mystical, exotic, intriguing? You thought that the Canaan-level life was birthed from ecstatic utterances or angelic visions, mountaintop moments or midnight messages from heaven?

Sorry to disappoint you. “Obedience,” wrote C. S. Lewis, “is the key to all doors.”⁴ Don’t think for a second that you can heed the wrong voice, make the wrong choice, and escape the consequences.

At the same time, obedience leads to a waterfall of goodness not just for you but for your children, children’s children, great-grandchildren, and the children of a thousand generations in the future. God promises to show “love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments” (Ex. 20:6 NIV).

As we obey God’s commands, we open the door for God’s favor.

Case in point? The remarkable change of Pitcairn Island. In the spring of 1789 a band of mutinous sailors settled on this tiny dot four thousand miles east of New Zealand in the South Pacific. Angered by the harsh rule of Captain Bligh, the mutineers had given him and his followers the boot and a boat and watched them float out to sea.

Captain Bligh made it to safety and eventually testified against the crew of the ship called HMS Bounty. But what became of those sailors who settled on Pitcairn? The men took Tahitian wives and recruited Tahitian workers. They had the opportunity to create a stable society, but instead they created a sinkhole of violence, adultery, and drunkenness. They elevated no standard, no morals, no laws. Within a decade they were dead from disease and attacks. Only one mutineer survived. Alexander Smith.

Left on the two-square-mile island, he began to read the Bible. He later testified, “When I came to the Life of Jesus, my heart began to open like doors swingin’ apart. Once I was sure God was a loving and merciful Father to them that repent, it seemed to me I could feel His very presence . . . and I grew more sure every day of His guiding hand.”

Smith convinced the islanders to follow the teachings of Scripture. When the British navy discovered Pitcairn Island in 1808, they were stunned by the order and decency. The island was transformed. Smith was pardoned, and Pitcairn became synonymous for piety in the nineteenth century.⁵

Obedience leads to blessing. Disobedience leads to trouble.

Remember Jesus’ parable about the two builders who each built a house? One built on cheap, easy-to-access sand. The other built on costly, difficult-to-reach rock. The second construction project demanded more time and expense, but when the spring rains turned the creek into a gulley washer, guess which builder enjoyed a blessing and which experienced trouble? Beachfront property doesn’t make for much if it can’t withstand the storm.

According to Jesus the wise builder is “whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them” (Matt. 7:24). Both builders heard the teachings. The difference between the two was not knowledge and ignorance but obedience and disobedience. Security comes as we put God’s precepts into practice. We’re only as strong as our obedience. “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves” (James 1:22).

A few months back I was in New York City on a ministry trip. I had spent the day in the company of coworkers and friends. The final engagement of the evening concluded around ten o’clock. As we entered the hotel lobby, my stomach growled. I was hungry. My colleagues weren’t. They had eaten during the banquet at which I spoke. I considered going to the room and ordering room service. But the hotel was busy, and the delivery would be late. I remembered a delicatessen nearby, so I told the team good night and headed down the street.

Within a few minutes I was on my way back, sandwich in hand. As I crossed the street, two women were standing on the corner near my hotel. I assumed they had just left the theater.

“Excuse me, sir,” one of them said. “Could you use some company tonight?”

I was taken aback. Young women don’t flirt with me. I’m sixty years old. My hair is falling out. I fight the battle of the belly bulge. I haven’t popped a bicep since Clinton was in office. Then it dawned on me; they weren’t interested in me. They were interested in what I might pay them. This verse popped into my thoughts: “Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap” (Gal. 6:7).

I didn’t even stop. I waved them off, hurried to my hotel room, and called my wife. Imagine if I hadn’t. Imagine the pain, the guilt, the shame I would have created. Talk about a swampland.

Voices await you today. Maybe not on a New York City avenue but at work, in your cul-de-sac, at school, on the Internet. They’re waiting for you. They stand on the intersections of your social life and family. You can’t eliminate their presence. But you can prepare for their invitation.

Remember who you are; you are God’s child. You’ve been bought by the most precious commodity in the history of the universe: the blood of Christ. You are indwelled by the Spirit of the living God. You are being equipped for an eternal assignment that will empower you to live in the very presence of God. You have been set apart for a holy calling. You are his.

Remember where you are; this is Canaan. You are in the Promised Land, not geographically but spiritually. This is the land of grace and hope and freedom and truth and love and life. The devil has no jurisdiction over you. He acts as if he does. He walks with a swagger and brings temptation, but as you resist him and turn to God, he must flee (James 4:7).

Decide now what you will say then.

Choose obedience. And, as you do, you can expect blessings: the blessing of a clean conscience, the blessing of a good night’s sleep, the blessing of God’s fellowship, the blessing of God’s favor. This is no guarantee of an easy life. It is the assurance of God’s help. “The good man does not escape all troubles—he has them too. But the Lord helps him in each and every one” (Ps. 34:19 TLB).

One final thought before we leave the Valley of Shechem. Take note of the altar’s location. The altar made with unhewed stone—where was it built? Not on Gerizim, the mount of blessing. Joshua built it on Ebal, the hill of the cursing. Even in the midst of poor choices, there is grace.

May we hear the right voice. May we make the right choice. May we enjoy blessing upon blessing.

But if we don’t, may we return to the altar on Ebal. It was built for people like us.