Seems I'm noticing stories in the Bible about grandmothers these days. Here is another one.
THEY CALLED ME A HARLOT
My city of Jericho was in a state of terror because of the Israelites
approaching. We had heard about their Lord drying up the Red Sea.
Frankly, our men lost their courage. I listened to these stories; one day
I realized that this God of Israel who saved his people from
the Egyptian army must surely be the God of heaven above and earth
below. When the two Hebrew men came to my inn to lodge, I was
willing. Just so you know, some people in my town called me
a harlot. Curious, isn’t it, the men pay for “love” and the women
get a bad name. Later, my God would claim my loyalty and I changed
my business practices. That night the Hebrew men needed only
a place to stay, and I welcomed them. Soon I heard that they
were in danger so we had a little talk. I offered to let them escape
from my window--my house was on the city wall--if they would
protect me and my family when they returned. They agreed.
“Tie this cord of scarlet thread in the window and when our men
come back, your family will be saved.” That’s exactly how it happened.
Israel became my new country and my people, and their God became
my God. I wish I could say that my new countrymen remained
faithful followers of Yahweh; many false gods competed with The One.
Over and over, Joshua called the people back. We had to decide, he said.
“Choose for yourselves today whom you will serve...as for me and my
house, we will serve the Lord.” I had made my choice.
Oh, when your scholars do the genealogy of the Messiah, look for myname: Rahab. I am a great great great grandmother of the baby Jesus