Does This Apply?

This is an old Bible story, with a contemporary twist.

God's people, the Israelites, are encamped on the east side of the stormy Jordan River, swollen with the spring rains. They are commanded by God to cross, in order to take possession of the land promised them. The priests are in the advance guard, carrying the sacred Ark of the Covenant, with the 2 tablets of stone, God's 10-commandments, nestled inside. As the people approach the river, all breath is bated. It is not until, by faith, the priests gingerly dip their feet in the mighty waters that these waters are summarily sucked up into suspension by the hand of God. Men, women and children pass on safely to the western bank. They make camp at Gilgal.

Soon they must begin the conquest of the land. The first city they must capture is Jericho, a heavily-fortified stronghold. Its idolatrous inhabitants watch with amazement and terror at the strange movements of the Israelites, who daily make a march around the city. The warriors come first, then the priests, followed by the tribes. Everything is orderly and quiet, except for the rhythmic tread of their feet, and the mighty, single blast of the trumpet as the Israelites complete their first round of the city. They retreat to Gilgal for the night. The next day, the strange, surreal scene is repeated. This happens for six days, and on the seventh, after 7 marches around the city, the walls crumble and fall. Jericho is taken, with only the family of the prostitute, Rahab, saved alive because she had hidden God's spies who had earlier cased the city.

The victors are to take nothing for loot. The battle has been won by God. He alone is to get the credit. But among those millions of Israelites there is one man who in that solemn hour of triumph and judgment, dares to transgress the command of God. He took a "goodly Babylonish garment," and some money, and hid these in the ground under his tent. Sick, sick: to exchange the glory of the victory of God for a paltry sum of money and a fashionable outfit. Would this matter to God, that one out of millions had defied His command? None in the camp knew of Achan's disobedience.

Rejoicing in the glorious victory that God has accomplished for them, His people feel they are now ready to take the next city, Ai. But here they are thoroughly routed by the enemy. The wasted survivors creep back with shame and dread to their Gilgal camp. Through the use of "the lot," an investigation is made to determine with who the fault lays, and the lot falls upon Achan. "Why hast thou troubled us?" Joshua, the God-appointed commander demands to know of the now-cowering petty thief. Since the people had been held responsible for Achan's sin and had suffered its consequences, through the tragic loss of life when they stormed Ai, they are now to take part in his punishment. "All Israel stoned him with stones."

Achan's sin is the same sin as that of Judas, paying 30 pieces of silver for the precious body of Christ; the same sin as that of Ananias and Sapphira, as they lied about the size of the estate that they pledged to God's work; the same sin as that of Lucifer who, desiring a higher position than that which was appointed him, tried to entrench himself in the place reserved for Christ alone. What a horrid doom these all suffered. Should we not learn from their example?

And yet covetousness abounds. Rarely does the violation of the 10th commandment even cause a ripple of censure. The enormity of this sin is not realized. It is tolerated and touted in the world. It is a hidden plague in the church itself. Riches are pilfered through waste and selfishness for the indulgence of sinful pleasure. The cries of the suffering flock in the church, and the torment and loneliness of the poor outside the church, is unheeded. The gospel light is hindered in its course, and the scorn and ridicule of the world is ignited by practices that make a lie of Christian profession. We are standing on the borders of the Promised Land. With humiliation and deep searching of heart, let each seek to discover the hidden sins that shut out God's presence.

Chris Hasse was raised in Michigan, but spent most of her adult life in a "traveling" mode. In 1992, she and her husband, John, moved to Chloe, in Calhoun County, where they currently reside. Her vocations are gardening, writing, and "fishing." (See Matthew 4:19)