When asked to teach a junior high Sunday school class, I was hesitant, at best.

For years I had taught first and second graders. They were always so full of life, eager to hear the Bible stories because they were new. Their enthusiasm triggered creativity and every Sunday I'd bring in a special prop, a game, or costumes for them to wear as we studied the Bible lesson.

But early teens were another ballgame. I peaked in the classroom the week before I was to teach. The girls were slouched so far down in their chairs they looked like they were going to slide onto the floor.

The boys were punching each other in the arms, trying to determine who had the strongest biceps, and/or the strongest punch.

Clearly, my work was cut out for me. No typical Sunday school lesson would do; and judging by the paper airplanes made from their Sunday school papers that were stuck in the ceiling fan; I could toss the typical lesson booklet out the window.

The next Sunday I arrived early and carted in a heavy metal footlocker filled with supplies.

As each student drug themselves through the door they glanced at the footlocker with interest, but resumed their slouching and horseplay from the back of the room.

Without saying a word, I opened the footlocker and pulled out a Star Wars saber that sent laser beams across the room, complete with acoustics; courtesy of my son.

"We're going to war," I said, "I need volunteers to be responsible for weapons of mass destruction."

Instantly both boys and girls dashed to the front, eager to grab one of the cool props.

For the next five minutes they were given free-time to attack each other, laser-kill and handcuff their prisoners.

Taking my Bible, I said, "Wait a minute everyone, we need a change up. It says here that everyone was told by Joshua to put their weapons away, that God had a special way to fight this battle."

Reluctantly, everyone returned the props and sat down.

"So how are we supposed to fight the war without weapons?" One boy asked from the back of the room. (He couldn't have been more than 12, but was already nearly six feet tall and 200 pounds.)

Kazoos were handed out to every student and I moved the chairs to the center of the room and formed a square.

"We're going to march around the walls of this city seven times and then we're going to shout when the ram's horn sounds, and the priests who have the trumpets (kazoos) will blow on them and the walls will fall down."

"Gee, can I be the one who knocks the walls down?" The big kid asked.

"Go for it," I said, "but you have to wait until we march around the walls once a day for six days; and on the seventh day, we'll march seven times and then blow the horn, trumpets and shout."

Everyone was dizzy and giggling as they marched around "the walls."

When it came time to blow the trumpets and shout, they were so loud the pastor stepped into the classroom.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"It's the walls of Jericho, dude -- wasn't that the coolest way to destroy a city?" (This response came from the 'giant' who had just knocked over two dozen chairs with ease.)

"Jericho," I added, and the kids cheered.

"So what's our lesson about next week?" someone asked. "Is it going be the "Parting of the Red Sea?" If so -- I've got dibs on being Moses."

Sometimes God uses creative ways to fight our enemies. If you've got some walls that need to be knocked down and everything you've tried isn't working, maybe it's time to turn it over to the one who is the King of triumph and surprise attacks that win the battle.

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