Joshua 17
10/27/2025
Joshua 17 NKJV: Another chapter of how the land was divided amongst the children of Israel. A detail was brought out how the daughters of Manasseh received their inheritance which God/Moses had promised them. God is faithful. It also tells of the tribes of Joseph complaining and wanting more land, and Joshua basically tells them, 'Go get it, then'.
That's a solid takeaway from Joshua 17—God's promises don't fade with time or circumstances. The way the chapter circles back to the daughters of Zelophehad (verses 3-4) is such a quiet but powerful nod to Numbers 27, where Moses advocated for them based on God's command. It's like the text is reminding us: "See? He follows through." In a book full of conquest and allocation, that fidelity stands out as a anchor.
And yeah, the Joseph tribes' gripe in verses 14-18 hits like a modern entitlement moment—blessed with size and strength, yet eyeing the easy path and balking at the work. Joshua's response is pure tough love: "You've got the power; now use it. Clear the woods, tackle the iron chariots." It's a challenge wrapped in encouragement, almost like he's saying the real inheritance isn't just handed over—it's claimed through grit and trust.
And yet, again, we read that they were not able to completely drive out the Canaanites, and later made slave of them. The fact that they weren't able to makes me wonder if it was disobedience behind it, or just not willing to.
That's a poignant observation—Joshua 17:12-13 captures this moment of half-measure so starkly: "Yet the children of Manasseh could not drive out the inhabitants of those cities, but the Canaanites were determined to dwell in that land. And it came to pass, when the children of Israel grew strong, that they put the Canaanites to forced labor, but did not utterly drive them out." It's like the text is holding up a mirror to human nature right there in the midst of victory.
Your question gets to the heart of it: was this straight-up disobedience, a flat unwillingness to obey God's explicit command (echoed from Deuteronomy 7 and elsewhere to fully dispossess the land to avoid idolatry), or something more tangled? Commentaries often point to a mix, but unwillingness—or what some call "indolence" and a "love of ease"—seems to bubble up as a core thread. The Manassites had the numbers and eventual strength (as Joshua notes in verses 17-18), but they settled for subjugation over conquest, perhaps lured by the economic perk of free labor. It's that classic compromise: "Why fight when we can profit?" Yet the "could not" phrasing hints at real hurdles too—stubborn Canaanite resistance, maybe tactical challenges like fortified cities or chariots (foreshadowed in Judges 1:27 for Manasseh specifically).
Underneath it all, though, the biblical lens frames this as disobedience born of eroding faith. They knew the stakes—God had warned that leftovers would become thorns (Numbers 33:55)—but fear of the cost (or doubt in God's power) let them slack off. It's unwillingness masked as inability, and the fallout? Judges shows how those "slaves" turned influencers, pulling Israel into Baal worship and cycles of defeat. God's faithfulness in promise-keeping (like with Zelophehad's daughters) contrasts sharply with our selective obedience.
Early is Joshua, we read that God was fighting the battles for them. This sounds like they weren't fighting under the power of God anymore, and disobedience of some sort (like at Kadesh-Barnea) had them fighting on their own strength, therefore not completely successful.
You're spot on with that parallel—early in Joshua, the narrative pulses with divine intervention, like the hailstones on the Amorites (Joshua 10:11) or the sun standing still, where God's the undisputed heavy hitter, and Israel's role is mostly obedience and advance. But by chapter 17, that momentum stalls into a grind of partial clearances and forced labor deals, and it does feel like a pivot from supernatural aid to sweat equity. The Kadesh-Barnea echo is especially sharp: there, unbelief and grumbling short-circuited the promise (Numbers 14:22-23), dooming a generation to 40 years of "their own strength" in the wilderness. Here, it's subtler—no outright rebellion like spying reports—but the same root: a drift from total reliance on God to pragmatic shortcuts.
Scripture frames this less as raw inability and more as willful half-steps, where the tribes knew the command (Deuteronomy 7:2: "utterly destroy them") but chose the path of least resistance, eyeing Canaanite skills or labor as a perk over purity. Joshua's pep talk in verses 17-18 ("You are a great people and have great power; you shall... drive out the Canaanites") implies they could have leaned on God's arm again, but fear of the hill country's iron chariots (or just plain laziness) won out, turning victory into vassalage. It's disobedience dressed as strategy, and Judges 2:1-3 spells the cost: those "thorns in your sides" become altars to foreign gods. God still sovereignly weaves it into testing their faithfulness (Judges 2:21-23), but the shift from "God fights for us" to "we'll handle it our way" underscores how quickly obedience erodes when we forget who's really in the chariot.
The reference I was making to Kedesh wasn't the rebellion part, but rather when they decided they would go take the land, but God said to late and didn't go with them. That is kinda the vibe I get in Joshua, now.
Ah, got it—that's an even tighter parallel, and it lands with real weight. In Numbers 14:40-45, after the spy fiasco and God's verdict of wilderness wandering, the people suddenly rally with, "We have sinned... let us go up at once and possess it!" But Moses hits back: "Why now do you transgress the command of the Lord? It will not succeed. Do not go up, for the Lord is not among you... and you will be defeated by your enemies." They charge ahead anyway, sans the ark or God's presence, and the Amalekites and Canaanites rout them "as one man." It's that gut-punch moment of too-little-too-late zeal, where human resolve fills the void left by ignored divine timing and trust.
You're right; Joshua 17 carries a similar chill. The Joseph tribes aren't in open mutiny like at Kadesh, but their complaints (v. 14: "Why have you given us only one lot...? We are a great people") and half-hearted clearances feel like a delayed, self-powered push—wanting the land's perks without the full partnership. Joshua's charge to "drive out" (v. 18) echoes Moses' earlier warnings, but without the explicit "God will go before you" fire of chapters 1-12. It's as if they've slipped into that same "go anyway" mode, relying on their "great power" more than His, and the result? Stalemate with Canaanites who stick around as snares. The vibe shift from "the Lord fought for Israel" (10:14) to uneasy coexistence screams missed window, eroding presence.
It makes the whole conquest arc feel like a fragile hinge: obey fully in the moment, or risk fighting shadows of what could have been. How do you think this sets up the "everyone did what was right in their own eyes" chaos of Judges—more as inherited momentum loss, or a fresh failure each cycle?
It seems to be a direct course from failing to drive them all out to everyone doing what seems right in their own eyes.
Yeah, it's a straight-line trajectory, isn't it? That failure to fully drive out the Canaanites in Joshua 13-19 isn't just a logistical footnote—it's the crack in the foundation that lets the weeds take over. God had wired the land as a covenant boundary: clear it out to cut off the roots of idolatry (Deut. 7:1-5), or risk the "thorns and snares" (Num. 33:55). But when the tribes settle for uneasy truces and forced labor (Josh. 16:10, 17:13), those Canaanites don't stay in the background; they become cultural magnets, pulling Israel toward Baal altars and Asherah poles.
By Judges 2:10-3:6, the text spells it out like a diagnosis: a generation arises "who did not know the Lord nor the work He had done for Israel." The incomplete conquest hands them a mixed-multitude inheritance—peace on paper, but spiritual sabotage in practice. Enter the cycles: oppression, cry out, deliverer, repeat. And that refrain in 17:6 and 21:25? "In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes." It's the fruit of half-obedience: without a unified grip on the land (and thus the law), personal whims fill the vacuum. No more "God fights for us" rallies; just a slide into civil wars, idolatry, and moral drift.
This also has me considering a theme I tend to see thru scripture where God will establish something new, and strictly enforce it initially to show how serious He is about it, then He kinda let's it ride, allowing us the space to either do it or not, our choice. For instance, the judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah, He judged the sin decisively as an example, yet other cities may be just as bad but He holds back. In the New Testament, the 2 who sold there land but lied about how much they sold it for when donating to the church. Again, an example, for future generations.
That's a keen eye for pattern—it's like God plants a flag in the sand at the dawn of a new era, drawing a hard line to etch the principle deep into the collective memory, then steps back with that divine patience, handing the reins over to our wills. It's not laxity on His end, but a profound respect for the relational dynamic: love demands freedom, even when it risks the mess. Your Sodom and Gomorrah pull (Gen. 19) nails it—Abraham's intercession buys a glimpse of mercy's scope (down to ten righteous), but the sulfur-rain verdict screams, "This far and no further" for the covenant's moral baseline. Yet fast-forward, and cities like Nineveh get a Nineveh-sized timeout (Jonah 3), not annihilation, because grace layers in as the story unfolds. It's the establishment phase: shock and awe to say, "I'm holy, and so this matters."
Ananias and Sapphira in Acts 5? Chef's kiss as a sequel beat. The early church is this fragile, Spirit-birthing blaze—everything's raw and electric—and bam, instant judgment for faking generosity, not just the lie but the heart behind it (testing God like in the wilderness grumblings). Peter doesn't mince words: "Why has Satan filled your heart?" It's a firewall moment, ensuring the fledgling community knows communal life isn't optional piety but transparent surrender. After that? The church explodes into hypocrisy's gray zones anyway—think Corinth's scandals or the Galatians' legalism slips—because now it's on us to internalize the why, not just fear the zap. God "lets it ride," as you put it, turning examples into invitations: "I've shown you the stakes; now choose life" (Deut. 30:19 vibe).
Tying this back to our Joshua thread, it's the same rhythm in the land grab. God bulldozes Jericho with trumpets and a shout (ch. 6)—zero Israelite sweat, pure "watch Me work" enforcement to model total dependence. But by the allotments? He's divvied it up, charged them to claim it (ch. 1:6-9), and then... crickets on the follow-through. No hailstones for hill-country holdouts; just the quiet accrual of consequences in Judges. It's that space you mentioned: strict launch to prove He's all-in, then our choice to stay locked in or drift. Makes the "everyone did what was right in their own eyes" feel less like divine neglect and more like the ache of gifted freedom squandered.