Scripture Reading: Joshua 5-8

In the eyes of the world, waving a white flag signals defeat—the moment a battle is lost and terms are surrendered to the stronger side. But in the Kingdom of God, the white flag means something entirely different. It’s not the end of the fight—it’s the beginning of freedom. It’s not about losing ground—it’s about gaining access to grace.

When we surrender to God, we’re not retreating—we’re releasing. We’re letting go of our need to control outcomes, our impulse to prove ourselves, our strategies, our strength, and even our shame. And what we receive in exchange is divine leadership, supernatural breakthrough, and covenant renewal.

“Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me” (Luke 9:23). In surrender, we don’t forfeit victory—we step into it.

In Joshua 5–8, the people of God wave their white flags in a thousand quiet ways—by stopping instead of striving, by walking instead of warring, by confessing what was hidden, and by rising again after failure. Their victories are not the result of flawless execution, but of faithful surrender. These are the battle lines of the surrendered life—the very ground where heaven meets obedience and walls fall down.

Surrendering Self-Reliance (Joshua 5)

The wilderness dust still clings to their feet. The taste of manna still lingers on their tongues. And yet, even as Israel crosses into promise, God calls them not to fight—but to pause.

Before a single trumpet sounds at Jericho, before any sword is lifted in defense, God commands something far more disarming: circumcision. It’s not a strategy session or battle preparation—it’s a deep act of surrender. After decades of delay, every male born in the wilderness is circumcised, cutting away the past and reestablishing covenant with the God who had carried them this far (Joshua 5:2–9). In this moment, God isn’t sharpening their weapons—He’s sharpening their hearts.

But the surrender doesn’t stop there. With their enemies watching and no walls fallen, the Israelites gather to observe the Passover. They stop to remember deliverance before ever experiencing conquest. “The manna stopped the day after they ate this food from the land…” (Joshua 5:12). One provision ends, and another begins. God is training them not to cling to the methods of the past but to trust Him for fresh supply.

Then comes the most unexpected encounter of all: Joshua sees a man with a drawn sword. Expecting allegiance or opposition, he asks, “Are you for us or for our enemies?” But the answer disarms him: “Neither. But as Commander of the army of the Lord I have now come” (Joshua 5:14). The ground beneath becomes holy. The battle ahead is not Joshua’s to lead—it’s God’s.

This moment echoes forward to a garden outside Jerusalem, where Jesus too would surrender—not to enemies, but to the will of the Father. “Not My will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42). Before every true victory lies surrender.

For us, surrendering self-reliance may not mean circumcision or wilderness rites, but it often means laying down control, trusting God in the unfamiliar, and removing what no longer belongs in covenant life. The sword is not ours to raise—it is His to carry.

And we, like Joshua, must learn the holy art of falling face down before we ever rise to lead.

Surrendering Traditional Warfare (Joshua 6)

The city of Jericho stood tall—its walls thick, impenetrable, ancient. To the natural eye, this was a place that would require tactical brilliance, battering rams, siege towers, and brute strength. But the strategy heaven delivered was unlike anything a military commander would devise.

God’s plan was silence. Circling. Trumpets. No weapons raised, no voices lifted, no battle cries released—just steps of obedience echoing around the city once a day for six days. And on the seventh day, they were to walk around it seven times, then shout. That was all. “See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands…” (Joshua 6:2). Not “I will”—I have. The victory was already written; they simply had to walk it out in surrender.

Imagine the internal war that must have raged in Joshua’s heart. He was a seasoned fighter. He knew strategy. But this time, obedience looked like foolishness. He had to surrender not only what he knew but what had worked before. And so did the people. For seven days, they swallowed questions and silenced doubts, choosing faith over familiarity.

And then, the seventh lap. The seventh day. The shout. The walls fell flat! (Joshua 6:20).

What crumbled wasn’t just stone—it was the last remnant of self-confidence. God had moved in a way that made it undeniably clear: victory belongs to the Lord. “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit…” (Zechariah 4:6).

But nestled within the rubble was a thread still hanging—scarlet and strong. Rahab, the woman who had surrendered her past for a promise, is rescued, along with her household (Joshua 6:22–25). Her faith, anchored in the unseen, becomes a living testimony of God’s mercy. The scarlet cord, once tied in secrecy, now prefigures another blood-stained sign of deliverance. As Hebrews later records, “By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient” (Hebrews 11:31).

In our lives, God often asks us to lay down the very tools we’re used to wielding—reason, experience, familiarity—because He’s not interested in partnering with our strength. He invites us into something greater: surrender that leads to supernatural breakthrough.

And when the walls fall, not by our hands but by His voice, we will know—this is what it means to win God’s way.

Surrendering Self-Righteousness (Joshua 7)

The dust of Jericho had barely settled when Israel tasted unexpected defeat. Ai was smaller, weaker, seemingly insignificant—yet it sent the army of God running. Hearts melted. Confidence shattered. Something was wrong.

Joshua, dismayed, falls facedown before the ark, crying out to the Lord. But God does not coddle the emotion. His response is direct: “Stand up! What are you doing down on your face? Israel has sinned…” (Joshua 7:10–11). The problem isn’t with Ai. The problem is hidden within the camp.

While the nation celebrated the victory at Jericho, one man—Achan—had buried what belonged to God beneath his tent. His silent rebellion contaminated the collective. What was done in secret demanded a public reckoning. No strategy could fix it. No prayer could bypass it. The only path forward was through surrender.

God brings the sin into the light with meticulous precision—tribe by tribe, family by family—until Achan stands exposed. And in that moment, he confesses: “It is true! I have sinned against the Lord, the God of Israel…” (Joshua 7:20). His confession does not cancel the consequence, but it opens the door to corporate cleansing and restored reverence.

This chapter presses on a tender truth: God is not after performance—He is after purity. And what we bury out of sight will eventually rise to the surface. Jesus, too, addressed this when He warned the religious elite: “You are like whitewashed tombs… on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness” (Matthew 23:27–28).

The real surrender here is not in warfare—it is in admitting we are not as clean as we appear. It’s laying down the facade of righteousness and bringing our whole selves—failures, pride, hidden faults—into the light of grace.

Because only when sin is surrendered can the people of God move forward with power.

Surrendering Doubt and Fear (Joshua 8)

Failure has a voice. It echoes in the chambers of our minds, reminding us of what went wrong and warning us not to try again. After the shame of defeat and the sobering cost of Achan’s sin, fear could have frozen Israel. But God, in mercy, speaks again: “Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged…” (Joshua 8:1).

This time, the instructions are different. God doesn’t repeat the method—He gives a new strategy. Joshua is told to set an ambush behind the city. The people obey with precision, and Ai falls into their hands. But the real victory is not in the cleverness of the tactic—it’s in the restoration of trust.

Joshua had to lead again after failing publicly. The people had to fight again after fleeing in fear. And they all had to believe that God had not withdrawn His promise because of their past mistake. Surrender here looked like courage—courage to obey again, to rise again, to follow again.

And once the victory is secured, Joshua does something unexpected. He builds an altar—not to celebrate military conquest, but to recenter the people around the Word. He writes the law of Moses on stones and reads it aloud—every word, every blessing, every curse—to the entire assembly, “including the women, the children and the foreigners”(Joshua 8:35). The victory ends not in pride, but in worship.

This moment foreshadows the heart of the New Covenant. Jesus doesn’t just lead us out of failure—He restores us into communion. Like Peter, who denied Him three times, we too are invited back into fellowship, not by proving ourselves, but by answering His question: “Do you love Me?” (John 21:17).

Surrendering doubt and fear doesn’t mean pretending we’re brave. It means trusting that even after loss and discipline, God is still writing forward movement into our story.

Reflection

Joshua 5–8 is a masterclass in surrender. Not once. Not briefly. But repeatedly, persistently, deeply.

The people of God surrender their self-reliance in consecration.
They surrender their assumptions in silence.
They surrender their secret sins in exposure.
They surrender their fear by stepping forward again.

And in every act of surrender, God doesn’t withdraw—He draws near. His presence leads, His mercy covers, His voice directs, and His power breaks through.

So the question remains: What are you still holding?

Is it a strategy that worked once but God is now asking you to release?
Is it a hidden weight, quietly poisoning your peace?
Is it fear of repeating what went wrong the last time you tried?

Victory in the Kingdom doesn’t come through force—it comes through surrender. And when we lay it all down, we discover what Israel learned on the edge of conquest: the ground God asks us to bow on is the same ground He invites us to conquer.

Prayer

Lord, teach me the art of surrender. Let me not lean on what feels safe or familiar. Where I’ve buried pride, uncover it. Where I’ve feared moving forward, embolden me. Make my heart responsive to Your voice, my steps obedient to Your Word, and my life an altar of worship. Anchor me not in outcomes, but in Your presence. 

In Jesus’ name, 

Amen.

What stood out to you today? Share your thoughts below!

Our Scripture reading schedule for the week ahead:

Day	Date	Scripture Reading
Tuesday	March 25	Joshua 9–11
Wednesday	March 26	Joshua 12–15
Thursday	March 27	Joshua 16–18
Friday	March 28	Joshua 19–21
Saturday	March 29	Joshua 22–24
Sunday	March 30	Judges 1–2

In Christ,

Mrs. O 🤍