Joshua 1:9

Letters to the Faithful - Joshua 1:9

Berean Standard Bible

Have I not commanded you to be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”

King James Bible

Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

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Brothers and sisters destined for promise, listen with fresh ears to the ancient charge that thundered across the Jordan’s edge: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not tremble, do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” This was no casual encouragement, no comforting cliché. It was a royal decree from the mouth of the eternal King to His newly appointed servant, Joshua—one that still reverberates over every wilderness pathway, every contested horizon, every heart that dares to follow God into uncharted territory.

Joshua had witnessed wonders in the wilderness: seas parted, manna fallen, mountains quaked with glory. Yet in that decisive hour none of yesterday’s miracles could substitute for today’s obedience. The people still faced swollen rivers, fortified cities, entrenched giants, and a terrain none of them had ever walked. Nostalgia could not build bridges, and memory could not topple walls. They needed present-tense courage for present-tense conquests, faith that was more than a monument to the past, strength that was more than sentiment. And so God Himself commanded it—three times in a single breath: “Be strong. Be courageous. Be not afraid.”

Why the repetition? Because courage in the kingdom is not a personality trait; it is a decision of allegiance. It arises not from temperament but from revelation—specifically, the revelation that the Almighty is “with you wherever you go.” Fear thrives on the illusion of isolation: I am alone in this conflict, abandoned in this diagnosis, outnumbered in this calling. But the Lord dismantles that lie with one sweeping promise: My presence will be your escort. Wherever your foot treads in obedience, I will stand beside you in sovereign authority.

Consider what that meant for Joshua. He was not inheriting Moses’ staff; he was inheriting Moses’ mandate. Yet the same Presence that blazed in the burning bush, thundered on Sinai, and filled the tabernacle would accompany him across the river. So the strength commanded was not an athletic flex of human resolve but the settled confidence that God’s companionship is a weapon mightier than Jericho’s walls.

Today, every follower of Christ hears this same command echo against personal Jerichos—marriages under siege, children wandering, minds tormented, communities fractured, cultures adrift. We do not conquer with swords of steel but with the sharper edge of truth, with the self-emptying love of the cross, with the relentless hope of resurrection. Yet the pattern remains: the ground God promises is often guarded by obstacles that mock our ability. At that border, two voices compete for our agreement—fear that rehearses all we lack, and faith that remembers who is with us. Agreement decides outcome. Fear tolerated is faith contaminated. Courage chosen is victory commissioned.

Notice how God grounds His command in His own word: “Have I not commanded you?” Courage is not first an emotion to feel; it is a command to obey. Feelings follow focus, and focus follows faith. When God’s voice becomes the loudest in your life, giants lose their volume. Anxiety may still knock, but it cannot dictate. Doubt may smolder, but it cannot rule. You are under orders from a higher throne, and that throne backs every step with unbreakable covenant.

Some imagine courage to be the absence of trembling, but biblically it is the refusal to bow to it. Courage is the fisherman stepping onto crashing waves at the call of “Come.” Courage is the farmer sowing seed during famine because the Word said, “In the morning sow your seed.” Courage is the prophet buying land in a nation under siege, believing exile is not the end of the story. Courage is Daniel opening his window to pray when legislation made devotion illegal. Courage is Mary’s yes to a mission that would pierce her own soul. Courage is Jesus, sweating blood yet setting His face like flint toward Golgotha. Courage asks no guarantee of ease—only the certainty that obedience will meet God’s presence on the road.

What, then, hinders courage? Often it is comparison. Joshua followed a legend. Some of you live under shadows of predecessors—parents, pastors, mentors, heroes. You fear your story cannot measure up. Hear the Lord: “Moses My servant is dead; now therefore arise.” The era of imitation is over; the era of incarnation has begun. God does not need another Moses; He needs a Joshua. He does not need you to replicate someone else’s grace; He needs you to release the grace resident in your own assignment. Courage flourishes when comparison dies.

Another thief is shame—rehearsed failure, recycled regret. But the same God who said “Be strong” later declared, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” Forsakenness is the root of shame. If God Himself refuses to abandon you, why rehearse what He has buried? Let the blood of Christ silence the accuser. Courage rises when condemnation is crushed beneath communion.

Finally, courage is strangled by forgetfulness—forgetting promises, victories, altars where God met you. That is why the Lord told Joshua to keep the Book of the Law on his lips day and night. Memory must be curated. Testimony must be rehearsed. Gratitude must be practiced. What you meditate on multiplies. Feed faith, starve fear.

So take inventory. What Jordan do you face? What fortified city looms? What calling remains dormant because dread has staked its claim? Lift your eyes. The Commander of Heaven’s armies stands at your side. His sword is drawn, not against you but for you. Align with Him, and walls will fall. Resist Him, and wilderness will linger.

Let us therefore respond as soldiers ready for campaign: God of Joshua, command and we will march. Speak and we will answer. Send and we will go. Our courage is not the roar of ego but the echo of Your promise. We renounce every agreement with fear. We break every alliance with despair. We say yes to territories of healing, reconciliation, justice, and holiness. We take our place in the lineage of the brave—not because bravery defines us, but because Your presence defends us.

Be strong, people of God. Be courageous, servants of Christ. Do not tremble at tomorrow’s headlines or yield to yesterday’s wounds. The Lord your God is with you—yes, with you—wherever you go. Advance in that assurance. Possess every promise His blood has purchased. And when the chronicles of faith record this generation, may they read: “They heard the command, obeyed the call, and their God made walls crumble underfoot.”

Amen.

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Almighty and Ever-Present God, Commander of Heaven’s armies and Shepherd of those who follow after Your call, we come before You now with hearts yielded and ears inclined to Your voice. We remember the charge that thundered from Your mouth in a moment of divine transition—when one chapter closed and another opened, when the days of wandering gave way to the days of war, when the leader You had raised stood before an unclaimed promise with trembling hands and uncertain steps. And yet You did not speak to his fear as a flaw to shame but as a moment to transform. You did not criticize his hesitation; You commanded his courage. And in that command, You revealed what You ask of every servant who walks under Your name: “Be strong. Be courageous. Do not be afraid. Do not be dismayed. For I, the Lord your God, am with you wherever you go.”

So now, Lord, speak that same word into the marrow of our bones. Not only into the air around us, not merely into our emotions that rise and fall, but into the substance of who we are. Let Your command pierce through every layer of human frailty and become the foundation on which we take our next step. For You have not called us to comfort but to conquest—not conquest for selfish gain, but conquest for Your kingdom, for the souls of men, for the transformation of nations, for the building of the Church, for the glorifying of Your name.

O Lord, we confess that we are a people too easily shaken by what we see and too easily dismayed by what we hear. We hear the roar of enemies, and we forget the whisper of Your presence. We see the walls of Jericho rising before us, and we forget the Red Sea You parted behind us. We weigh our own limitations more heavily than we honor Your limitless power. Forgive us. Cleanse us of every agreement we’ve made with fear, every partnership we’ve entered with anxiety, every counsel we’ve received from despair. Let them all be broken now under the authority of Your word.

Infuse us with strength—not the brittle kind born of pride or self-will, but the enduring strength that comes from abiding in You. The strength that has wept and still walks. The strength that has been betrayed and still believes. The strength that has waited long and yet remains faithful. Let this strength be our portion. Let it gird us like armor. Let it uphold us when we falter and root us when the winds of resistance howl around us.

Grant us courage, O God—not the reckless kind that runs without reverence, but the holy courage that moves at Your word even when reason resists. Courage to step into leadership we feel unqualified to bear. Courage to speak truth when silence is safer. Courage to love those who wound us. Courage to forgive where offense has taken root. Courage to confront evil with gentleness and to endure trial with joy. Give us the courage that remains when applause fades and when the spotlight turns dark. The courage that chooses obedience over convenience and sacrifice over applause.

Let not our eyes linger on the magnitude of our assignment but on the majesty of the One who assigned it. Let us not measure the difficulty of the path but the nearness of the God who walks it with us. Remind us again, Lord, that Your presence is not a theory—it is a promise sealed in blood, a presence that does not withdraw in hardship, that does not hesitate in battle, that does not grow weary when we stumble. You are with us when we feel it and when we do not. You are with us when the way is clear and when the fog surrounds us. You are with us when we celebrate and when we mourn, when we gain ground and when we stand still, when we feel strong and when we feel like nothing at all.

For every believer staring down the Jordan of transition, whisper to their hearts that Your presence goes before them. For every saint standing before a fortified city of impossibility, declare to them again that Your power is not deterred by man’s resistance. For the weary who are tempted to turn back, let Your voice thunder louder than fatigue. For the young who feel untested and afraid, let Your word be the fire in their bones. For the seasoned who fear their best days are behind them, let Your Spirit rekindle the vision and reignite the flame.

We ask now, Lord, that You would awaken Your Church with this command. Let pulpits thunder with it. Let households echo it in prayer. Let fathers speak it over sons. Let mothers declare it over daughters. Let friends remind one another when despair comes knocking: be strong, be courageous, do not be afraid. Let this command be written on the doorposts of our hearts, engraved in the memory of our minds, and sealed upon our spirits until it becomes the anthem of our lives.

We do not ask to be spared from every battle—but that You would be with us in every battle. We do not ask to avoid every valley—but that You would shepherd us through it. We do not ask for lives without trial—but that our trials would testify to the faithfulness of the God who stands beside us. Make us living monuments of this one truth: the Lord our God is with us wherever we go.

And so, Father, we rise in the strength of Your command. We walk in the courage of Your presence. We silence fear with the authority of Your voice. We will not turn back. We will not shrink. We will not delay. We go—not in our name, but in Yours. Not in our power, but in Your Spirit. Not for our glory, but for the everlasting praise of the King whose word still calls to His people: “Be strong and courageous… for I am with you.”

Amen.