A City for the Careless: Justice, Mercy, and the Refuge of God Text: Joshua 20:1-6
Introduction: The Grammar of Justice
We live in an age that is drowning in sentimentality and starving for justice. Our culture speaks endlessly of compassion, but it is a compassion untethered from righteousness, a mercy that has forgotten what sin is. The result is a society that alternates between a limp-wristed tolerance for genuine evil and a shrill, vindictive rage against manufactured offenses. We have lost the grammar of justice. We cannot distinguish between a crime and a mistake, between malice and misfortune, between murder and manslaughter. And when a society loses its moral vocabulary, it loses its soul.
The modern world, in its secular arrogance, believes it invented concepts like due process and sanctuary. It prides itself on a legal system that is, in its own mind, the pinnacle of enlightened thought. But as is so often the case, the world is simply living off the faded memory and borrowed capital of a Christian past. It is using words and concepts that it no longer understands, like a savage playing with a smartphone. Long before the Magna Carta, long before modern jurisprudence, God was embedding the principles of true justice into the very fabric of His people's lives.
The establishment of the cities of refuge in Joshua 20 is a profound demonstration of God's character. It is a rebuke to two opposite errors. First, it rebukes the pagan world's cycle of blood feuds and endless, personal vengeance. Vengeance belongs to the Lord, and He delegates its execution to the civil magistrate, not to the hot-headed passions of aggrieved families. Second, it rebukes our modern world's mushy-headed refusal to take bloodshed seriously. The Bible is clear: when a man sheds the blood of another, his blood shall be shed. The death penalty for murder is not a suggestion; it is a foundational ordinance of God for the preservation of human society (Gen. 9:6). But God, in His infinite wisdom, also makes a sharp distinction, a distinction our own legal system is increasingly blurring. He distinguishes between the clenched fist and the careless hand.
This chapter is not some dusty legal appendix to the story of the conquest. It is a living portrait of the gospel. It reveals a God who is both inflexibly just and astonishingly merciful. He provides a refuge for the guilty, but He does so without compromising His law. And in this provision, we see a glorious, living blueprint of the refuge that God has provided for all of us in the person of His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.
The Text
Then Yahweh spoke to Joshua, saying, "Speak to the sons of Israel, saying, ‘Designate the cities of refuge, of which I spoke to you by the hand of Moses, that the manslayer who strikes down any person unintentionally, without premeditation, may flee there, and they shall become for you as a refuge from the avenger of blood. And he shall flee to one of these cities and shall stand at the entrance of the gate of the city and speak his case in the hearing of the elders of that city; and they shall take him into the city to them and give him a place, so that he may live among them. Now if the avenger of blood pursues him, then they shall not surrender the manslayer into his hand because he struck his neighbor without premeditation and did not hate him beforehand. And he shall live in that city until he stands before the congregation for judgment, until the death of the one who is high priest in those days. Then the manslayer shall return and come to his own city and to his own house, to the city from which he fled.’"
(Joshua 20:1-6 LSB)
Divine Command and Moral Distinction (vv. 1-3)
The instructions begin with the ultimate authority:
"Then Yahweh spoke to Joshua, saying, 'Speak to the sons of Israel, saying, ‘Designate the cities of refuge, of which I spoke to you by the hand of Moses...'" (Joshua 20:1-2)
Notice the chain of command. God speaks to Joshua, who is to speak to the sons of Israel, reminding them of what God had already spoken through Moses (cf. Numbers 35). This is not a new idea. God is bringing to fulfillment a promise and a provision that was established in the law years before. This is how God works. He is faithful to His Word, and He governs His people through that Word. The conquest of the land is not complete until the moral and judicial framework for living in that land is also established. A nation is not just a plot of ground; it is a people living under law, and for Israel, that meant God's law.
The purpose of these cities is laid out with absolute clarity:
"...that the manslayer who strikes down any person unintentionally, without premeditation, may flee there, and they shall become for you as a refuge from the avenger of blood." (Joshua 20:3)
Here we have the fundamental distinction. The Hebrew makes a clear difference between a murderer (rotzeach) and a manslayer. Murder involves premeditation, malice, and hatred. It is an intentional act of rebellion against the image of God. Manslaughter, as defined here, is unintentional and without premeditation. It is the tragic result of an accident. Think of a man chopping wood, and the axe head flies off the handle and strikes his neighbor dead (Deut. 19:5). The result is the same, a man is dead, but the culpability is entirely different. One is an act of a wicked heart; the other is an act of a careless hand.
Our modern world is losing this distinction. We want to treat hardened criminals like victims of circumstance, while simultaneously treating careless words as acts of violent aggression. But God's law is precise. It deals with reality, not with our emotional reactions. The law protects the manslayer from the "avenger of blood." This was typically the nearest male relative of the deceased, who had a legal, God-given duty to execute justice upon the murderer. This was not vigilantism; it was an office. But in a case of accidental death, the avenger's passions might be running high. He might not be able to see the difference between malice and mistake. The city of refuge, therefore, was a cooling-off mechanism. It was a divinely instituted barrier between raw vengeance and sober justice.
Due Process at the Gate (vv. 4-5)
The procedure for seeking asylum is specific and public.
"And he shall flee to one of these cities and shall stand at the entrance of the gate of the city and speak his case in the hearing of the elders of that city; and they shall take him into the city to them and give him a place, so that he may live among them." (Joshua 20:4)
The gate of the city was the ancient courtroom, the place of public business and legal rulings. The fugitive does not sneak in the back way. He must stand and publicly state his case. He is claiming sanctuary under God's law. The elders of the city conduct a preliminary hearing. They are not determining ultimate guilt or innocence at this point, but rather whether his claim is credible on its face. Is this a case of accident, or is it a murderer trying to game the system? If his story holds up, they are commanded to take him in and give him a place to live. This is provisional asylum.
This provision is then tested.
"Now if the avenger of blood pursues him, then they shall not surrender the manslayer into his hand because he struck his neighbor without premeditation and did not hate him beforehand." (Joshua 20:5)
The elders of the refuge city become the protectors of the accused. They are to stand against the avenger of blood, not to thwart justice, but to ensure it. They are to shield the man from mob violence. The principle is stated twice for emphasis: the death was "without premeditation" and he "did not hate him beforehand." The heart is the issue. God's law, unlike man's law, can and does judge the heart. This is the foundation of due process. A man is not to be handed over to his accuser on demand. There must be a trial, an examination of the facts. This is God's justice, and it is a world away from the arbitrary tyranny of pagan kings or the emotional spasms of a Twitter mob.
Judgment, Atonement, and Return (v. 6)
The final verse of our text outlines the duration of his stay and the conditions for his release.
"And he shall live in that city until he stands before the congregation for judgment, until the death of the one who is high priest in those days. Then the manslayer shall return and come to his own city and to his own house, to the city from which he fled.’" (Joshua 20:6)
Two things must happen. First, he must stand "before the congregation for judgment." This was a formal trial, likely back in his home territory, where witnesses could be called and the case could be fully adjudicated. If he was found guilty of premeditated murder, he would be handed over to the avenger of blood. The city of refuge was no sanctuary for murderers (Deut. 19:11-13). But if he was found innocent of murder, he was to be returned to the city of refuge.
He was acquitted of murder, but he was not entirely without fault. His carelessness had still resulted in the death of a man made in God's image. Blood had been shed, and the land was polluted by it (Num. 35:33). Therefore, he was not free to simply go home. He had to live in exile within the city of refuge. He lost his inheritance, his home, his former life. This was a real, tangible consequence. It taught Israel that life is sacred and that even accidental death is a grievous tear in the fabric of the community.
His exile had an end point: "until the death of the one who is high priest in those days." This is a startling provision. Why should the death of the high priest secure his release? It makes no sense from a modern, secular legal perspective. But from a covenantal perspective, it is everything. The high priest was the nation's representative before God. He stood for the people. His life was bound up with theirs. His death, therefore, had a representative, atoning significance. It served as a kind of reset button for the nation's unintentional sins. It closed a chapter. The death of this great public figure symbolically paid the debt and cleansed the land, allowing the manslayer to return home, fully pardoned, with the avenger of blood having no further claim on him.
Christ, Our City of Refuge
As with all such Old Testament institutions, this one throws a long shadow forward, and that shadow has the distinct shape of a cross. This entire chapter is a magnificent type, a living parable of our salvation in Jesus Christ.
First, we are all fugitives. We are not innocent manslayers. The Bible is clear that we are murderers at heart. We have all hated our brother, which makes us murderers in the sight of God (1 John 3:15). We are guilty of high treason against the King of heaven. We have acted with premeditation and malice against His law. And because of this, the avenger of blood is hot on our trail. That avenger is the holy law of God itself, which demands perfect justice. "The soul who sins shall die" (Ezek. 18:20). The law pursues us, and it will not tire, and it will not give up. It demands our life.
In our desperation, we hear of a refuge. We are told to flee, to run for our lives to the safe city that God has designated. That city is the Lord Jesus Christ. "The name of Yahweh is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe" (Prov. 18:10). We do not saunter to Christ. We do not weigh our options. We flee to Him. We come to the gate, as it were, and we plead our case. But our case is not one of innocence. We do not claim that it was all a mistake. We come to the gate and confess our guilt. We plead the mercy of the court. And the elders, the ministers of the gospel, receive us in His name.
Once inside this refuge, we are safe. When the avenger, the law, comes demanding our life, our Lord does not surrender us. He stands in our place. He says, "This one is mine. I have taken his guilt." We are safe not because the law is ignored, but because the law has been satisfied. We are declared righteous in Him.
And how is our final release secured? We are told the manslayer was set free by the death of the high priest. Do you see it? We have a great High Priest, Jesus Christ. And His death was not a symbolic atonement for unintentional sins. His death was the real, once-for-all, substitutionary atonement for the treasonous, murderous sins of His people. When our High Priest died on that cross, He secured an eternal release for all who take refuge in Him. His death was the death that paid for it all. And because He did not remain dead, but was raised to life, our exile is over. We are not just pardoned; we are invited to return to our inheritance, to our Father's house, not as former exiles, but as beloved sons. The refuge is not a prison; it is the entrance to the kingdom. Flee to Him.