A chest of acacia wood and hammered gold shouldn’t scare an army. But the record treats the Ark of the Covenant like a live device, not a relic. It comes with safety distances, strict handling rules, and a body count that starts the moment people get casual.
From the Jordan River to Jericho’s walls, from Dagon’s temple to a threshing floor where one touch meant instant death, the Ark moves through history like concentrated holiness made physical. Then, at the moment the world should have cataloged its capture or destruction, the trail goes silent.
