The Day the Earth Stood Still

I'm in the midst of writing the second book in the series and Joshua 10 is one of those chapters that makes my brain short-circuit.

It tells us the sun stood still. The moon too. If you take it at face value, it means the earth itself stopped spinning. My modern mind can’t help but picture the disaster that would follow if that really happened—if the planet’s rotation suddenly stopped:

• Momentum catastrophe: Everything not anchored to bedrock (oceans, atmosphere, people, animals, buildings) would keep moving eastward at hundreds of miles per hour. At the equator, that speed is about 1,000 mph. It would be apocalyptic.

• Seismic upheaval: The crust would buckle, tectonic plates would shift violently, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions would ripple across the globe.

• Atmospheric chaos: Winds of unimaginable force would shear across continents.

• Ocean displacement: Tsunamis thousands of feet high would swamp coastal regions.

If the rotation restarted suddenly, the effects would repeat in reverse..

And yet here it is, recorded in Scripture.

What makes this verse even more striking is how it’s validated: “Is this not written in the Book of Jashar?” (Joshua 10:13). The Book of Jashar wasn’t inspired Scripture. It was a collection of Israel’s poems and songs, and it’s been lost to history. That means one of the Bible’s most debated miracles leans on a non-canonical poem in the very same breath.

I find that both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

Unsettling, because it forces me to admit I don’t have a neat explanation. Was this literal, cosmic intervention? Was it poetic shorthand for a day that seemed never to end? Was it the day the earth stood still? I don't have a pretty bow to put on that.

Reassuring, because it shows me God wasn’t afraid to let poetry preserve miracle. Just as we say “sunrise” and “sunset” even though the earth is the mass that's moving, the people of Joshua’s day used the language of appearance to describe what they saw. And God allowed that language — even from a non-inspired source — to echo inside His Word.

Here’s the part that steadies me: “There has been no day like it before or since, when the Lord heeded the voice of a man, for the Lord fought for Israel” (Joshua 10:14). That’s the miracle. Not that I can explain the mechanics, but that God listened. That He fought for His people.

And if He heard Joshua, He hears me too.

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What about you? When you read a story like this, do you lean toward literal miracle, or do you hear it through the poetry of memory? Share your wrestle in the comments below — your voice might help someone else who is struggling through the same questions.