He stumbled over it.
After scanning the riverbed for impressive boulders, he chooses the one that nearly caused him to fall.
It was wedged deep in the mud, and required no small effort to dig it out.
He wondered who might see Joshua’s rockpile in years to come, and he wondered if they would capture the significance of this day.
It wasn’t the Red Sea, but the river unquestionably stopped flowing.
It wasn’t deliverance FROM the oppression of the generation prior, but it was deliverance TO the promised land for generations to come.
Physical tiredness from his dig was soon overcome by his passion for the generation to come. He lifted it up, slowly carried it over the bank, and placed his stone at the feet of his leader. As he did, he glanced back at the priests stepping out and in a few moments the torrent reclaimed their walkway into their future.
He moved his gaze from the flowing river to the piece of dirt on which he stood, and tears of unimaginable hope began to flood his eyes.