The Jebusite in the Living Room Text: Joshua 15:63
Introduction: The High Cost of Almost
We live in a generation that loves the word "almost." We almost finished the project. We almost paid off the debt. We almost told the truth. In our therapeutic age, we have come to believe that good intentions are the same thing as obedience, and that trying hard is the same as finishing the race. But the Word of God is not a sentimental self-help book. It is a sharp, two-edged sword, and it makes a clean distinction between what is done and what is not done. The history of God's people is littered with the wreckage of "almost."
The book of Joshua is a record of God's faithfulness in giving His people the Promised Land. It is a book of conquest, victory, and inheritance. God had given them a clear, unequivocal command: drive out the inhabitants of the land completely. This was not a suggestion. It was not a guideline for their best life now. It was a command rooted in the holiness of God and the preservation of His covenant people. The Canaanites were not unfortunate victims of displacement; they were a cancer of idolatry, sexual perversion, and child sacrifice, and their cup of iniquity was full to the brim. God, in His justice, was using Israel as His scalpel to cut out the tumor.
But as we come to the end of this chapter detailing the inheritance of Judah, the preeminent tribe from which the Messiah would come, we find this jarring, almost off-hand, note of failure. It is a discordant note in a symphony of victory. It is a small crack in the foundation that will, in time, threaten the entire house. This single verse is a profound theological commentary on the nature of sin, the danger of compromise, and the long, slow burn of incomplete obedience. We are tempted to read it and move on, but we must not. This verse is a warning sign, flashing red for every generation of God's people. What you fail to conquer will eventually seek to conquer you. The pet sin you tolerate will one day demand to be master of the house.
The Text
Now as for the Jebusites, the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the sons of Judah could not dispossess them; so the Jebusites live with the sons of Judah at Jerusalem until this day.
(Joshua 15:63 LSB)
A Failure of Power or a Failure of Will?
Let's look at the first clause:
"Now as for the Jebusites, the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the sons of Judah could not dispossess them..." (Joshua 15:63a)
At first glance, this sounds like an excuse. It sounds reasonable. The Jebusites held a formidable fortress, a stronghold. The phrase "could not" seems to imply a limitation of ability. Perhaps their weapons were insufficient. Perhaps their numbers were too few. Perhaps the walls of Jerusalem were simply too high. This is how we often justify our own disobedience. "I couldn't help it." "The temptation was too strong." "I'm only human." We frame our sin as a problem of capacity, not a problem of character.
But this reading is impossible when set against the backdrop of the entire book of Joshua. Could not? This is the generation that saw the Jordan River pile up in a heap. This is the army that watched the walls of Jericho fall down flat after they shouted. This is the people for whom God made the sun stand still in the sky so they could finish a battle (Joshua 10:13). The God who can stop the rotation of the planet is certainly capable of dealing with a Canaanite hill-fort.
No, the phrase "could not" is not a statement about God's inability. It is a statement about Judah's infidelity. Their "could not" was a "would not." Their failure was not military; it was spiritual. It was a failure of faith. Somewhere between God's promise and the Jebusite wall, their nerve failed them. They looked at the strength of the enemy instead of the strength of their God. They calculated the cost of the battle and decided it was too high. They preferred a compromised peace to a costly obedience.
This is the anatomy of all spiritual compromise. We are not overpowered; we are unwilling. God has given us, in Christ, "all things that pertain to life and godliness" (2 Peter 1:3). He has promised that "sin shall not have dominion over you" (Romans 6:14). When we fail to drive out a particular sin from our lives, it is not because the sin is too strong, but because our faith is too weak, our will is too compromised, and our love for the world is too great. We do not lack the power; we lack the will to apply the power that is already ours in Christ.
The Treason of Cohabitation
The consequence of this failure of will is stated plainly in the second clause.
"...so the Jebusites live with the sons of Judah at Jerusalem until this day." (Joshua 15:63b)
Notice the insidious nature of this arrangement. They did not simply leave the Jebusites alone on their hill. They lived "with" them. This implies a settled arrangement. A treaty. A compromise. It suggests commerce, interaction, and eventually, ideological contamination. They decided that coexistence was easier than conquest. They traded the command of God for a measure of earthly peace and quiet.
This is precisely what God had forbidden. He had warned them that if they made any covenant with the inhabitants of the land, "they shall be a snare for you" (Exodus 34:12). He told them that these remaining nations would be "thorns in your sides, and their gods shall be a snare to you" (Judges 2:3). Judah thought they were being pragmatic. They were being fools. They invited the Trojan horse inside the gates. They left a cancer in the very city that was destined to be the holy city, the center of worship for the one true God.
This is the logic of all tolerated sin. We think we can manage it. We think we can live "with" our little idols. We can keep a little pride in this corner, a little lust in that one, a little bitterness on the shelf. We tell ourselves we have it contained. But sin is never static. It is always expansionistic. The Jebusite you allow to live in the guest room will eventually demand the master bedroom. The paganism you tolerate will eventually defile the temple. And this is exactly what happened. This failure was not an isolated incident. It was a pattern repeated by other tribes (Judges 1:21, 27-33). This spirit of compromise, this unwillingness to prosecute the war to its God-commanded conclusion, is what led directly to the spiritual and moral chaos of the book of Judges, where "everyone did what was right in his own eyes."
It was not until David, a man after God's own heart, that Jerusalem was finally taken (2 Samuel 5). But for centuries, that Jebusite stronghold remained, a monument to Judah's failure of faith and a constant source of spiritual infection. The sin you refuse to kill today will be a thorn in your children's side tomorrow.
The Unconquered Territory in Our Hearts
This verse, written thousands of years ago, is a diagnosis of the modern evangelical church. We have made our peace with the Jebusites. In the name of cultural engagement, relevance, and a misplaced sense of compassion, we have allowed the inhabitants of the land to live with us. We have adopted their vocabulary, their therapeutic assumptions, their sexual ethics, and their political idolatries. We have decided that driving them out is too costly, too controversial, too "unkind."
We have Jebusites in our pulpits who deny the authority of Scripture. We have Jebusites in our worship songs, full of sentimentalism but empty of theology. We have Jebusites in our homes, piped in through our screens, teaching our children to love the very things God hates. And we have Jebusites in our own hearts, those fortified areas of unbelief and rebellion that we have refused to surrender to the lordship of Jesus Christ.
We think we can manage this cohabitation. We think we can have Jerusalem and the Jebusites. We think we can have Christ and the world. But Jesus was clear: "No one can serve two masters" (Matthew 6:24). You will either hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. This verse in Joshua is a stark reminder that there is no neutrality. Cohabitation with the enemies of God is, in fact, treason against God.
The Greater David and the Final Conquest
The story does not end with Judah's failure. It is a great mercy that our ultimate inheritance does not depend on our faithfulness, but on God's. The failure of Judah necessitated the coming of a greater champion from the tribe of Judah. It took King David to finally drive the Jebusites from their stronghold and make Jerusalem the city of God.
And David's victory was itself a type and a shadow of the work of our Lord Jesus, the great Son of David. He came to conquer the ultimate stronghold, which is not a fortress of stone, but the fortress of sin and death in the human heart. On the cross, He disarmed the principalities and powers and made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them (Colossians 2:15). He has won the decisive victory.
And yet, we are still in the position of the tribe of Judah. The victory has been secured by our King, and the land has been given to us. But we are now tasked with the "mopping up" operation. We are called to possess our inheritance. We are commanded to "put to death" the sin that remains (Colossians 3:5). God does not do this for us, He does it through us. He gives us the victory, but we must fight the battles.
The question for us is the same question that confronted Judah before the walls of Jerusalem. Do we believe God? Will we take Him at His word and, by the power of His Spirit, drive out the remaining Jebusites from our hearts, our homes, and our churches? Or will we grow weary, pragmatic, and cowardly? Will we settle for a truce, and allow the enemy to live with us "until this day?"
Let us be a people who learn from Judah's failure. Let us not be content with "almost." By faith in our victorious King, let us lay siege to every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ. For He has not called us to coexist with darkness, but to conquer it with His glorious light.