A Different Kind of Army — Modern Paraphrase | fresh.bible
A Different Kind of Army.
Deuteronomy 20 — Laws of war that look nothing like what anyone expected
8 min read
fresh.bible editorial
Key Takeaways
Soldiers with new homes, new vineyards, new engagements, or genuine fear were sent home — God valued their futures more than maximizing troop numbers.
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The pre-battle speech came from a priest, not a general — Israel's confidence was supposed to rest in whose army they were, not how big it was.
Peace was always offered first, and war was the response when diplomacy failed — remarkably restrained for the ancient world.
The command to destroy Canaanite nations targeted religious systems built on child sacrifice, not ethnic groups — and the text gives the reason explicitly.
Fruit trees were protected during sieges, with God asking, 'Are the trees human, that they should be besieged?' — one of the earliest stewardship principles on record.
📢 Chapter 20 — A Different Kind of Army ⚔️
was standing on the edge of the , and was giving his final instructions. is essentially his farewell address — everything the people needed to know before he was gone and they were on their own. And some of what they needed to know involved war. There would be walled cities ahead. Armies with horses and chariots. Nations that weren't going to step aside peacefully.
So Moses laid out God's rules for how should fight. And these rules are fascinating — not because they're what you'd expect from an ancient military code, but because they're almost the opposite. Soldiers get sent home. gets offered first. Fruit trees are off-limits. Every detail reveals something about the kind of nation God was building — and the kind of God who was building it.
The Speech Before the Battle 🛡️
started with the scenario every soldier dreads — you're about to face an army that outguns you in every measurable way. More men. Better equipment. Horses and chariots when all you've got is sandals and spears. Moses told them:
"When you go out to war and see horses, chariots, and an army larger than yours — don't be afraid of them. The LORD your God is with you. He's the one who brought you up out of Egypt."
Then he described what should happen before every single battle. Not a strategy session. Not a weapons check. A sermon. A — not a general — would step forward and address the troops:
"Listen, Israel. Today you're heading into battle against your enemies. Don't lose heart. Don't be afraid. Don't panic. Don't be terrified by them. The LORD your God is the one going with you — to fight for you against your enemies, to give you the victory."
Think about what's happening here. The pre-battle speech in every other ancient army was about how fierce your warriors are, how you're going to crush the opposition, how your enemies should be the ones afraid. pre-battle speech was a Priest reminding them that the outcome doesn't depend on them. The God who walked them out of — the most powerful empire on earth — is the same God walking with them now. Your confidence isn't in your army. It's in whose army you are.
Who Gets to Go Home 🏠
Here's where it gets really interesting. After the spoke, the officers would step forward — and start sending people home. listed the exemptions:
"Is there anyone here who built a new house but hasn't dedicated it yet? Go home — so you don't die in battle and someone else gets to dedicate it.
Is there anyone who planted a vineyard but hasn't enjoyed its fruit yet? Go home — so you don't die in battle and someone else enjoys the harvest.
Is there anyone who's gotten engaged but hasn't married yet? Go home — so you don't die in battle and someone else marries her."
Then one more:
"Is there anyone who is afraid? Anyone whose heart is failing? Go home — so you don't make everyone else lose their nerve too."
After all of that, they'd appoint commanders and head out.
Read that list again. New house. New vineyard. New fiancée. Fear. In most armies — ancient or modern — those reasons would get you laughed out of the room. Or court-martialed. But God's military code said: your life matters more than the headcount. That house you built? Enjoy it. That vineyard you planted? See the harvest. That person you ? Be there for the wedding. God would rather fight with a smaller, committed force than drag reluctant people into something that costs them everything they'd been building.
And that last exemption — the one about fear — is remarkably honest. Fear is contagious. One person spiraling can take a whole unit with them. Better to let someone go home with dignity than watch their anxiety spread through the ranks. God wasn't shaming anyone. He was being practical about human nature.
Peace First 🕊️
Now turned to what happens when approaches an enemy city. And the very first instruction might catch you off guard:
"When you march up to a city to fight against it — offer terms of Peace first. If they respond peacefully and open their gates, the people in the city will serve you through forced labor.
But if they refuse Peace and choose war instead, lay siege to the city. When the LORD your God gives it into your hands, put every male to the sword. But the women, the children, the livestock, and everything else in the city — all its plunder — you may keep for yourselves. You may use the spoil of your enemies, which the LORD your God has given you."
Then the clarification:
"This is how you treat all the cities that are far away — the ones that don't belong to the nations here in your land."
The default position was . Not war. The first move was an open hand, not a drawn sword. War was the response when Peace was refused — not the starting point. In the ancient Near East, that was unusual. Most armies showed up to conquer, full stop. And yes — even the Peaceful outcome here involved subjugation, which is hard for modern ears. But in a world where total annihilation was the standard practice of warfare, these rules represented real restraint. Women and children were spared. The option for a non-violent resolution was always on the table first. Even in military , God built in a path toward .
The Hardest Command in the Chapter ⚖️
This is the passage that makes modern readers stop. It should. It's heavy, and it deserves to be sat with honestly.
For the nations living inside the itself — the land God was giving as their — the rules were completely different. said:
"In the cities of these peoples that the LORD your God is giving you as an inheritance, you shall leave nothing alive that breathes. You must completely destroy them — the Hittites and the Amorites, the Canaanites and the Perizzites, the Hivites and the Jebusites — just as the LORD your God has commanded."
And then the reason:
"So that they don't teach you to follow their detestable practices — the things they have done for their gods — and you end up sinning against the LORD your God."
There's no way to make this comfortable. Trying to would be dishonest.
Here's what we can say. These weren't random nations targeted without cause. Archaeological evidence confirms that religious practices included child , ritual prostitution, and forms of designed to normalize what God called . God had given these nations centuries to change course — and they hadn't. The command wasn't ethnic hatred. It was the removal of a religious system so deeply destructive that any exposure to it would corrode from the inside out.
The text itself gives you the stated reason: protection from spiritual contamination. God knew that if those practices survived, his people would eventually adopt them. And history proved him exactly right — every time compromised on this, they ended up doing precisely what they were warned about. The very God was trying to prevent became the thing that eventually tore the nation apart.
This passage doesn't get easier the more you read it. But it does get clearer. The severity of the command reflects the severity of the threat. God wasn't being casual about destruction — he was being deadly serious about what would happen if he wasn't.
Even the Trees Have Rights 🌳
After all that weight, the chapter closes with something unexpectedly tender. turned to a detail most military commanders wouldn't think twice about — the trees:
"When you besiege a city for a long time, fighting to capture it, don't destroy its trees. Don't take an axe to them. You can eat from them, but don't cut them down. Are the trees in the field human, that they should be besieged by you?
Only the trees you know don't produce food — those you may cut down and use for building siege works against the city, until it falls."
There's something almost startlingly modern about this. In the ancient world, scorched-earth warfare was standard. You burned the orchards, poisoned the wells, salted the fields. Total destruction was the norm. But God said: the trees didn't start this war. The fruit trees feed people — including the people who will live there after the fighting is over. Don't punish the land for what the people did.
That rhetorical question — "Are the trees human, that they should be besieged by you?" — is one of the earliest principles in recorded literature. Even in the middle of war, you don't have the right to destroy everything. You're a steward of creation, not a consumer of it. The land isn't yours to ruin — it's yours to tend.
And honestly, it's a fitting way to end this chapter. God's rules of war weren't just about winning battles. They were about building a nation that fought differently — with instead of fear, with before the sword, and with an awareness that even in the hardest moments, there are things worth protecting. The kind of army God was building wasn't the strongest or the biggest. It was the kind that reflected something about the God who led it.