To All the Rahabs in the World

I’ve blogged about Rahab before. Maybe because she’s got such a beautiful story. Maybe because I can relate to her brokenness so well. Or maybe it’s because it shows God at his redemptive best.

Rahab was a prostitute who hid the Israelite spies and lied about their whereabouts to the local police. She led them to safety on the promise that they take care of her family when they come to invade the city. Note: she didn’t ask for herself, just her family.

Rahab’s past is synonymous with shame. She had seen her life spiral downward into something she could never have imagined as a little girl. Anyone else in her position could have turned hard and cold and not even let those foreign spies in.

But there was something about them that got her attention. Something about those stories of their god who had led them through the desert and defeated their enemies. All her own gods had failed her. Maybe there was something different about this Yahweh.

When people look at people like her, all they see is something broken. Something to discard, to throw away. God sees the perfect piece that will fit into his master plan of redemption. He sees the mother of Boaz, the father of Jesse, the father of King David, out of whose line came Jesus.

I love the saying that broken pieces make the best stained glass windows. It’s true. The best testimonies come from the worst moment of your life when you saw that God could stoop low enough to find you in your filth and raise you up. That he could save anyone, even you.

So to all the Rahabs in the world, just remember this. You have a place in God’s story. You have a place in God’s heart. You are not a dirty whore. You are a beloved daughter, a beloved son, a beloved child of God.

Your Abba is indeed very fond of you.

 

I Am Rahab

I am Rahab. I am what is known as a prostitute. A hooker. To put it bluntly, a whore. I make my living on my back. It’s a profession as old as time, but also a way of living that fills me with shame.

Then I meet two strange men. Something in me compels me to let them in. Right away, I can tell they’re not looking for a companion for the night. They don’t look and sound like people from the town I live in.

I ask them where they’re from and what they’re doing here and they start talking about being a people chosen by this god they call Yahweh. It’s so unlike all the other stories about gods that I’ve ever heard that I am instantly hooked. Right away, I know that if trouble comes, I want to be on their side.

The more they talk, the more I think that maybe this God who turned a bunch of ragtags into a nation can somehow turn my life around. Maybe this God of Israel is God. Period.

So I agree to their plans and hide them. I even lie to the soldiers about them. Surely this God will forgive me if He knows I’m doing it to save His people. I’ve agreed to help them and to let them out by a secret way from my window on the outer part of the city wall by a scarlet rope.

I know why they’re here. They’re here because Jericho is a wicked city and God has told His people to destroy it. I know that they will bring death. So I plead for my life. I plead for the life of my family.

They tell me that if I hang a scarlet cord from my window, the same one I used to save them, they will spare me and all my family who are inside. Me and my family will be spared.

I’m telling you this because I am a part of a famous genealogy. You may not know this, but from my line will come David, King of Israel, and later (and best of all) the Messiah Jesus. Because of my small acts of courage, I get to be a part of bringing the Savior of the world to the world.

If you look in the book of Hebrews, you will find my name. Specifically in the 11th chapter, better known as the Faith Hall of Fame. I’m living proof that God can save the lowest of the low. Not even a common whore is beneath the reach of God’s love.

If God could save me, He can save anyone. And that includes you.

I am Rahab, and I am the beloved of my Abba.