It was a trick. A trap. The men should have recognized it immediately. The Gileadites had password-protected the ford. The place where they used to cross the river and be on their way was now a snare for those attempting to run. Guards stood watch over the place. Armed guards. Demanding answers to rapidly fired questions. Who are you? Where have you come from? What is your lineage? Are you an Ephraimite? If it had been simply a litany of questions to answer, they could have easily lied their way across the Jordan. There was nothing conspicuously different about their faces, hair or robes to indicate their heritage. But it wasn’t just questions. Nor was it easy. Their enemies had instituted a test. A pronunciation password. A method by which they could suss out the Ephraimites attempting to pass over. A two-word command on which safe passage rested. “Say ‘Shibboleth’.”
They couldn’t do it. Couldn’t correctly repeat that simple word. Not for lack of trying. Each man put forth his best effort. It didn’t help. Didn’t happen. Try as they might, the word never came out right. Practice hadn’t helped. In the tension of the moment, they’d slip back into old habits, learned behaviors, the dialect of home. They would say, “Sibboleth.” In that moment, their true identity would be revealed. They couldn’t hide it or lie about it. They were Ephraimites. Everyone would know it. Not because they dressed differently. Not because they looked differently. Not because the guards were tricked by the answers to their previous questions. No. None of that mattered. What mattered in that exact moment was what came out of their mouths. It spoke the truth of who they were, where they had come from, to which tribe they belonged. In those fateful moments, at the ford of the Jordan, the future of every Ephraimite man attempting to cross was decided, based solely on the word that came out of his mouth. “Shibboleth” or death. (Judges 12:1-6)
Admittedly, the passage seems quite obscure and a bit insignificant in the grand scheme of the entire Bible. A handful of verses tucked between the glorious accounts of Gideon and Sampson are easy to miss. Gloss over. Skip entirely. But what if we paused there? What if we sit along the side of the Jordan River, by the ford the Ephraimites used for crossing, and try to pick them out before a word crosses their lips? Could we do it? Would we have been able to tell, based strictly on outward appearance and overhearing a brief conversation, who was Gileadite, who was Ephraimite, and who was just a sojourner passing through? And what would we learn from listening? What could we learn from sitting in the passage longer than the 60 seconds it takes to read the words?
I’d never actually done that. Stayed there. Sat in that moment. Pondered the words and possible implications. I’ve read the words more times than I remember, but I’ve never stayed there. And I wouldn’t have stayed there this time either. I wasn’t even reading Judges. I was reading Philippians. You know the letter. Four little chapters situated near the back of the Book. Authored by Paul. It’s an inspiring read from start to finish! An echoing challenge issued by Paul to truly know and walk in Christ. Advance the Gospel by exhibiting godly behaviors. Among fellow believers. Among non-believers. Reflect Jesus. Represent the kingdom. Because you are a citizen of heaven.
Somewhere, in the days following my reading of Philippians 1:27, where Paul calls the addressees “citizens of heaven,” God brought the Judges account to my mind. I spent days pondering it. Analyzing it. Overthinking it. Until I came to this conclusion, the account doesn’t stretch any other way for me. Just as the citizenship of those men was indicated by their speech, so is ours. Not our physical homeland. Our spiritual one. It’s a sobering thought. (Philippians 1:27)
You see, friends, you can do a lot of things to make people believe you are a citizen of heaven. Good things. Attend church. Give to the poor. Go on mission trips. Volunteer at a soup kitchen. You can eschew all manner of things you consider unsavory. Facial piercings. Tattoos. Imbibing. You can pontificate on Scripture, pretend to have special dispensation, preside over Bible studies and home groups. You can even speak “Christianese”, say all the right phrases, use all the right words, lift your hands at all the right places during the music, and be the loudest “Amen” resounding from the congregation. It doesn’t matter. What does matter, what counts the most, are the words that spring from your lips in less-than-desirable circumstances. Your co-worker botches a project. Your child doesn’t immediately respond to your request. Your spouse hasn’t had time to do the “one thing” you asked them to do. Your neighbor, fellow parishioner, friend, or acquaintance makes a less-than-stellar life decision. How you respond, what you say and to whom you say it, is a billboard sign depicting your citizenship. Not physically. Spiritually. The thought should shake you to your core. (James 1:26; Proverbs 6:16-19; Psalm 101:5; Leviticus 19:16)
It should stir you to action. That’s what Paul was trying to do to the Philippians. Stir them to action. He calls them to live as citizens of heaven. Live worthy of the gospel. His words echo those of John the Baptist. Well before Paul’s time, John encouraged the people to live lives that showed they had repented, been redeemed, were changed. Paul is saying the same thing. Live as citizens of heaven in a way the entire world will know who you are, not just in public displays of love and devotion, but in private words at times of disappointment, discouragement, aggravation, and loss. Keep your heart in such a way that, when things go pear-shaped, the words that come from your lips about the situation and the people involved reflect your citizenship. Essentially, remember Whose you are and Who you represent. Practice living like a citizen of heaven. (Matthew 3:8; Proverbs 12:18; James 3:5; I Peter 4:15)
Unfortunately, it is much easier said than done. In the heat of the moment, when frustration is rampant and tempers are high, we often have an enormous problem holding our tongues. We strike it off as human nature. Act like it’s no big deal. But it is. It’s not how we learned Christ. It’s not how we put on Him. It isn’t the appropriate way for a citizen of heaven to respond. Paul told us that, too. In Ephesians. He said those who had learned to be like Christ, true Christians, citizens of heaven, would speak truth. Their anger and upset would not be allowed to carry them into sin. Their words would not be useless and derogatory. They wouldn’t be given to angry outbursts or slanderous remarks. Instead, their carefully chosen words would build up, encourage, and extend grace to others. All others. Those you love. Those you don’t. Because words matter. They identify you. As citizens of earth or citizens of heaven. (Ephesians 4:20-31; Colossians 4:6; Proverbs 10:19; Psalm 141:3)
Jesus, in words leaving no room for confusion, speaks the truth of the matter for us. Whatever is in your heart comes out your mouth. Good. Evil. Love. Hate. In unguarded moments, flashes of anger, flares of irritation, the unfiltered verbiage that flows from your lips is a verbal eruption of what’s in your heart. It’s a sign to those around you. Your family at home. Your friends in the world. Your colleagues in the workplace. It tells them where your citizenship lies. In Heaven or on earth. (Luke 6:43-45; Matthew 15:18)
So. Citizens of Heaven. What do your words say about you? Are you guilty of gossip and slander, vile words, derogatory remarks? Do the words that spring from your lips in moments of upset, anger, and irritation ring of heaven or earth? Is your life an honest indication of where your citizenship lies or do you simply dress the part? When things go sideways, when hard times come, when unpleasantness blindsides you, what does your verbal response indicate about the abundance of your heart? Are you living like an inhabitant of earth or a citizen of heaven? Does your speech confirm or deny your response? (Matthew 12:36; Psalm 19:14; Ephesians 5:4; Proverbs 17:27-28; Titus 3:2)