Day 104

Joshua 19–20 | Acts 5:17–42

He wasn’t guilty.

Not in the full sense.

But he wasn’t innocent either.

The one who killed someone unintentionally still took a life.

Still shattered a family.

Still carried blood on his hands.

So God, in His mercy, made a way.

A place he could run.

“Appoint the cities of refuge… so that anyone who kills a person unintentionally may flee there and find protection.” (Joshua 20:2–3)

A Place for the Not-Quite-Guilty—and the Not-Quite-Clean

These Cities of Refuge weren’t loopholes.

They were lifelines.

Not for the proud.

Not for the hardened.

But for the broken—the ones who never meant to cause the damage they did… and yet still did.

God’s justice demanded reckoning.

But His mercy provided a refuge.

And those cities weren’t just ancient legal solutions.

They were shadows.

Whispers.

Foreshadowings of something greater.

Someone greater.

Because ultimately, God doesn’t point us to a place.

He points us to a Person.

Christ: the Greater Refuge

I don’t need a stone wall or a gate to run through.

I need a Savior who knows my guilt and opens His arms anyway.

I need a High Priest who doesn’t wait for me to clean up before He covers me.

I need a refuge who doesn’t ask, “How bad was it?”—but says, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened.”

And that’s what Jesus is.

Not a hiding place from justice.

But the One who satisfied it.

Not an escape from truth.

But the only place truth and mercy kiss.

Where Do I Run?

That’s the question today raises.

Not just what did I do?

But where do I go with it?

When I lash out and then regret it.

When I parent out of impatience instead of grace.

When I say too much, or say nothing when courage was called for.

When I sin with full awareness, but hate it as soon as it’s done.

Where do I go?

I run to Him.

Not just once, but over and over and over again.

Because this refuge never closes.

The gate never locks.

The blood of the true High Priest covers more than unintentional harm.

It covers everything.

The Safety of Surrender

There’s a strange freedom in surrender.

Not because I’m ignoring the weight of what I’ve done.

But because I finally admit I can’t carry it anymore.

The men in Joshua 20 didn’t run because they were fearless.

They ran because they were desperate.

And I get that.

Some days I don’t need a strategy.

I just need shelter.

And the good news?

He is still a refuge for the weary. Still a place for the not-quite-clean. Still a Savior for the almost-ruined and the utterly exhausted.

⸻

Lord, thank You for being my refuge—not just once, but again and again. I run to You not because I’m good, but because I’m guilty and You are merciful. Teach me to stop hiding behind effort and excuses—and to hide in You instead. You are the only safe place I have. And You are enough.

Amen.