At last the day arrives for us to leave the temporary encampment and move into our new home in what was formerly the city of Jericho. My heart pounds with anticipation as I join the others.

Once inside, I look around in shock and amazement. All vestiges of the Jericho I once knew are gone, down to the tiniest crumb. A vague feeling of melancholy settles over me. I feel the soft touch of a hand upon my own and turn to see Salmon at my side.

"It will not be like this for long," he tells me. "Already rebuilding efforts are underway, and soon it will be a thriving city once again."

"Tell me about your people, Salmon," I say. "Have they always been wanderers?"

"Oh, no." He smiles. "Long ago, in my grandfather's day, we were slaves in Egypt. The Pharaoh was a cruel man. Threatened by our numbers and fearing a revolt, he had all our male infants murdered at birth. All except one, the man Moses."

"Moses' mother saved him by hiding him in a basket in the bulrushes. Pharaoh's daughter found him and raised him as her own. When he was grown, he went before the Pharaoh to demand our freedom. Pharaoh refused, and our God sent ten plagues upon the people of Egypt. The final one was so horrific that at last he relented."

"What was it?"

"Moses commanded all the people of Israel to kill a lamb and smear its blood upon their doorpost. That night the angel of death swept over the land and took the firstborn of each family that did not have blood smeared on the doorpost."

"How terrible!" I gasp. Immediately my mind goes to the children of Jericho, all of them so recently perished, but in their case, with no one left to mourn them.

"Our God mourns them." It is as if Salmon has read my mind. "Any time one of His judgements involves the loss of innocent life, He mourns. He is a God of compassion as well as justice."

Another of the men shouts at Salmon at that point, telling him to stop dallying and get to work, no doubt.

"I must go," Salmon tells me. "When the day's work is done, I will tell you the rest of the story, lovely Rahab." I look forward eagerly to the continuation of the story of Salmon's people.

"The next part of the story is the most amazing of all," Salmon tells me. It is very late in the evening of the same day. I have just cleared away the remnants of the evening meal, and Salmon and I sit chatting comfortably around the fire. I feel as if I have known him for years.

"The Pharaoh changed his mind and sent his army to recapture the former slaves and bring them back. My people got as far as the Red Sea and thought that they were trapped, but God had a plan to save them. Moses stretched out his hand, and the sea parted to allow my people to pass. When the Egyptians tried to follow, the waves closed over their heads and they all drowned."

"That's incredible!" I exclaim. "Please tell me more about your God. How did you come to know Him?"

"He first spoke to Moses from a burning bush," Salmon tells me. "His name is represented by the letters 'YHWH', but it is too sacred to be pronounced. We call Him 'Adonai', which means 'Lord'."

"Many years ago, before the days of Moses even, Adonai made a covenant with our ancestor Abraham. He promised Abraham that his descendants would number as great as the sands of the sea, and that He would provide a land for them to be their permanent home. That's why our males are called 'sons of the covenant' and our females are called 'daughters of the covenant'."

"Then does Adonai care only for the Hebrews?" I ask him.

"Not at all," he tells me. "We are all His creation, and He loves us all, but He has chosen us, the children of Israel, to be His people, that the rest of the world may come to know him through us."

I ponder Salmon's words deep into the night. It is obvious that I have much to learn about these people who have accepted me as one of their own.