Not Every Rahab Is Dangerous. Not Every Christian Is Safe.

I think one of the hardest lessons God has been teaching me lately isn’t how to love people.

It’s how to discern them.

Those sound similar, but they’re worlds apart.

For years I believed being a good Christian meant giving everyone unlimited access to me. If someone needed me, I showed up. If someone crossed my boundaries, I explained them away. If someone hurt me repeatedly, I convinced myself grace meant pretending it didn’t happen.

I thought love meant saying yes.

Now I think wisdom sometimes says no.

That realization has been uncomfortable because I don’t ever want my heart to become hard. I don’t want discernment to become suspicion or boundaries to become bitterness.

But somewhere along the way, I also realized something else.

Everyone is equally valuable in the eyes of God.

Not everyone brings equal value to my life.

Those two statements can both be true.

The first reflects God’s heart.

The second requires wisdom.

Joshua opens with God preparing Israel to enter the Promised Land. Moses has died. Joshua has taken leadership, and before they move forward, he sends two spies into Jericho.

Joshua 2:1 says,

“Then Joshua son of Nun secretly sent two spies from Shittim. ‘Go, look over the land,’ he said, ‘especially Jericho.’ So they went and entered the house of a prostitute named Rahab and stayed there.”

If I had been writing the story, I probably would’ve skipped that detail.

A prostitute?

Really?

Surely there had to be a better person.

A more respectable person.

A cleaner person.

Someone whose résumé looked a little holier.

Yet God introduces one of Israel’s greatest assets wrapped inside one of society’s biggest scandals.

Rahab wasn’t just a prostitute.

She became the reason two spies lived.

She became part of the lineage of Jesus (Matthew 1:5).

She became an example of faith (Hebrews 11:31).

She became evidence that God sees something long before we do.

How many Rahabs have I rejected because I couldn’t get past their introduction?

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth.

The introduction to someone’s gift is often also the introduction to their imperfections.

People rarely arrive polished.

They arrive human.

Somewhere along the way, I started confusing discernment with preference.

I called people “red flags” simply because they made me uncomfortable.

I called my suspicion wisdom.

Sometimes it was.

Sometimes it absolutely wasn’t.

Discernment isn’t the ability to notice flaws.

Anybody can do that.

Discernment is the ability to recognize the asset without becoming blind to the liability.

That’s different.

Because there are liabilities.

Paul wasn’t shy about that.

In 1 Corinthians 15:33 he writes,

“Do not be misled: ‘Bad company corrupts good character.’”

Notice who Paul was writing to.

Believers.

Being saved doesn’t automatically make someone safe.

I’ve learned that the hard way.

I have invited people into places they never should’ve had access to.

I’ve ignored warning signs because I wanted to be liked.

I’ve confused potential with character.

I’ve mistaken chemistry for compatibility.

I’ve also been the unsafe person.

That’s the part we don’t like talking about.

There was a version of me who gossiped.

Who lied.

Who manipulated situations.

Who held onto offense.

Who wounded people with my words.

Who made everything about me.

Jesus loved me enough to die for me.

But I was dysfunctional enough to kill people.

Not physically.

But with my mouth.

With my pride.

With my selfishness.

With my assumptions.

With my inability to own my own brokenness.

Proverbs 13:20 says,

“Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.”

I’ve been both.

I’ve been the companion who pulled people closer to Jesus.

I’ve also been the fool someone should’ve had boundaries with.

That’s why I can’t write about discernment as though I’m the hero.

I’m not.

Sometimes I was the liability.

Grace didn’t erase that.

It transformed it.

Which makes me grateful that God looked beyond my own résumé.

When I think about Moses and Joshua, I see another lesson God has been quietly teaching me.

There was a season when Israel needed Moses.

Moses led people out.

Joshua led people in.

Moses confronted Pharaoh.

Joshua confronted fortified cities.

Both were necessary.

Both were faithful.

Both reflected different seasons.

For a long time, I lived like Moses.

Not the miracle-working Moses.

The apologizing-for-existing Moses.

The people-pleasing Moses.

The version of me who constantly questioned herself.

The woman who let everyone else decide what she deserved.

The doormat.

I confused humility with having no backbone.

I thought saying “yes” to everyone meant I was loving.

Really, I was afraid.

Joshua feels different.

Joshua was still dependent on God, but he was decisive.

He wasn’t passive.

He stepped into places Moses never did because the season required a different posture.

I think that’s where God has me now.

Not becoming harsh.

Not becoming arrogant.

Just becoming appropriately assertive.

There is a time to run from Egypt.

There is also a time to fight for Canaan.

Those are different seasons.

Both require obedience.

One requires leaving.

The other requires possessing.

Maybe that’s why Joshua 1 repeats over and over,

“Be strong and courageous.”

Not because Joshua lacked ability.

Because courage would be required for the next season.

I’ve realized something else.

Not everyone in my life serves the same purpose.

Some people are parasites.

They survive by consuming everything around them while contributing very little.

Some are partners.

They come alongside you, bringing their gifts to help you become who God has called you to be.

Some are promoters.

They open doors you could never open by yourself.

The wisdom isn’t learning to love one group more than another.

The wisdom is learning who is who.

Because love is unconditional.

Access isn’t.

The older I get, the more I ask God for spiritual eyes instead of critical eyes.

Help me recognize the asset hidden inside the imperfect vessel.

Help me separate dangerous people from merely broken people.

Help me see the Rahabs without becoming naïve.

Help me recognize when I’ve become the liability.

Because character still matters.

When gifts are equal…

Character is what makes the difference.

So how do we recognize the real?

Not by charisma.

Not by gifting.

Not by how loudly someone says they love Jesus.

I’ve learned to look for quieter things.

Do they show up when no one is watching?

Can they celebrate someone else’s success?

Do they own their mistakes without immediately defending themselves?

Can they receive correction?

Do they consistently bring peace instead of chaos?

Are they nurturing relationships or constantly collecting them?

Do they intercede for people or just talk about them?

Do they leave people lighter or heavier after every conversation?

Those things are rare.

When you find people like that…

Honor them.

Tell them they’re appreciated.

Pray for them.

Show up for them.

Protect those relationships.

Because relationships are one of God’s greatest gifts.

When God wanted to save the world, He didn’t send a strategy.

He sent a Person.

Jesus.

Incarnational ministry has always been God’s idea.

People matter.

Relationships matter.

Community matters.

God is still the Source.

People are simply one of the resources He chooses to use.

May I never reject a Rahab because of her past.

May I never embrace a fool because of my loneliness.

And may God continue giving me the discernment to know the difference.