Messing With the Devoted Things

Once when I was in elementary school -- I forget which grade -- the teacher had to go down the hall for a minute. She'd given us the typical stringent instructions: Behave, I'll be right back. You need to be quiet. And then she left 25 children to their own devices for a very short span of time.

How much trouble could we have gotten in, really, in that short amount of time?

Turns out our class was fairly capable of exceeding expectations where that was concerned. It quickly got loud. I remember a projectile getting launched across the classroom (a spitball, maybe, but I can't remember for sure), then another and another. 

Before we knew it, our class was yelling across the room at each other, taking sides, still throwing things.

The thing was, the commotion had been started by a few and carried on by a few. Many sat quietly in our seats, determined to obey what the teacher had said. Some of the obedient kids tried to restore order: You guys, we're gonna get in trouble! Some made a loud: Shhhhh!!

In about two minutes, we heard the sharp tapping of our teacher's shoes on the tile floor in the hall outside of our classroom, and her angry face reappeared. Her hand switched off the lights, and immediate silence descended. 

She was furious, and she lit into us. I remember, in particular, one thing she said: "I had a conversation the other day with another teacher who asked me which students I had, and when I told him, he said, 'Oh, you have the bad class.' Do you have any idea how that made me, your teacher, feel? Did you know that you have the reputation of being 'the bad class'? Do you really want to be known as that?"

In elementary school, I was the stereotypical shy-flower-goodie-two-shoes who never ever ever made waves. So this little barb stuck deep in my heart. I was a part of 'the bad class.' I was at fault.

Even though I had not to that point ever stepped a toe out of line at school, I was to blame for being a part of that class.

We all missed recess that day -- the best part of every day. We spent it instead with our heads down on our desks and the lights out while the teacher sat at her desk doing work.

I hear you thinking: It's not fair. 

It wasn't fair; you're right. But because of our collective identity, we were all punished.

My little story is not a perfect parallel to what I want to write about today, but it's going to set you on the general track. So here we are in Joshua 7, where Joshua and the nation of Israel have just conquered their first city west of the Jordan River. It's the first stop on a campaign trail to take the entire land of Canaan, the Promised Land.

Because the Israelites are the covenant people of God, they have a collective identity. We will take this land in the Name of the God of Israel. We are the fulfillment of His promise.

The people of Canaan know this. They know that this incoming surge of people isn't a scattered ragtag groups of nations, or even a single nation with varying loyalties. They are one people, the people of the God of Israel.

And so, as it's mentioned several times in the first six chapters of Joshua, the people's hearts are "melting in fear" because of the Israelites, because the Israelites are the chosen people of God. 

So. Before the Israelites marched around Jericho's thick walls on the seventh and last day in Joshua 6, Joshua gives these instructions to the Israelites: "The city and all that is in it are to be devoted to the Lord. Only Rahab the prostitute and all who are with her in her house shall be spared, because she hid the spies we sent. But keep away from the devoted things, so that you will not bring about your own destructions by taking any of them. Otherwise you will make the camp of Israel liable to destruction and bring trouble on it. All the silver and gold and the articles of bronze and iron are sacred to the Lord and must go into His treasury" (Joshua 6:17-19).

Devoted things, in this context, are things not to be pursued for individual gain. They are set aside, devoted to God and no one else, so the taking of devoted materials is, in essence, stealing from the Lord.

Unbeknownst to anyone except the Lord, as the ransack of Jericho is occurring, there is one man, a man named Achan, who eyes a beautiful Babylonian cloak, a wedge of gold, and some silver. He looks around and sees that no physical eyes are watching him, and he takes those things, hurries to his tent, and buries them in the ground, so no one will ever know.

But the Lord knows, and He isn't having it. More on that in a second. 

The Israelites finish conquering Jericho, put aside the devoted things for the Lord, and they plan their next campaign -- an attack against a small city called Ai. Scouting it out, they realize there are very few fighting men in the city, so rather than create a massive entrenchment around the city with their whole army, they send three thousand fighting men to take it out.

The Israelites approach the city, comfortable in the knowledge that God has given them this land and the cities in it. They're strong and they're confident. Haven't they just routed Jericho in the Name of the Lord, by only marching around it? God has shown His power and His might; He will again here, too.

They approach the city gates, ready to fight... and the whole thing falls apart. The Scriptures don't say exactly what happened, except that the men of Ai "chased the Israelites from the city gate as far as the stone quarries and struck them down on the slopes."

While Israel "only" lost thirty-six men of their three-thousand, their "hearts melted and became like water."

Fear disrupts trust and turns it inside out, doesn't it? The Israelites had trusted that God would give them this land, and then they're routed. What just happened? You can practically feel the why?? exuding from this passage. We're Your chosen people, God. You promised us this land. What happened?

"Then Joshua tore his clothes and fell facedown to the ground before the Ark of the Lord, remaining there till evening. The elders of Israel did the same, and sprinkled dust on their heads" (Joshua 7:6).

Penitent, Joshua takes his Why?? before the Lord. And I think it's significant that God does not give him an immediate response. Joshua doesn't get his answer until evening.

Heads down on the desks in the dark room, they get a chance to thoroughly consider sin and consequences. Joshua doesn't yet know what has gone wrong, but obviously something has, and he's got to spend some purposeful time laying his heart before the Lord and taking inventory of what's in it. 

Here's something that came out of this for me: 

God's chosen people, God's covenant people, are a part of His promise. Since the Canaanites know this, and their hearts are melting in fear because of this, God has a reputation on the line. Joshua pulls this out when he prays: "Oh Lord, what can I say, now that Israel has been routed by its enemies? The Canaanites and the other people of the country will hear about this and they will surround us and wipe out our name from the earth. What then will You do for Your own great Name?" (Joshua 7:8-9).

So, God answers Joshua. First, He tells Joshua (who has not sinned): "Stand up! What are you doing down on your face? Israel has sinned; they have violated My covenant, which I commanded them to keep." He doesn't call out Achan individually yet; He names Israel, His people -- the whole, collective group of them. "They have violated My covenant..."

So even though Joshua hasn't sinned, nor thousands and thousands of Israelites, all of them are a part of the loss to Ai because of the sin of one single, little, tiny cog of this great machine. And even though Joshua is a great and God-fearing leader of God's chosen people, since he is a part of this machine with the faulty cog, he gets to experience the same awful realities that come with the sin of someone else. 

And none of this is going to be fixed until the problem is rooted out. So... the Lord shows Joshua who has taken the devoted things -- God's things -- for himself. 

It's a slow and tense process -- it reminds me of opening those nesting dolls. You have to keep opening each one to get to the smaller one inside. Likely using the Urim and the Thummin (see Exodus 28:30) given to the priests to cast lots, the tribe of Judah is brought forward and named as the guilty party. Then within the tribe of Judah, the clan of the Zerahites is brought forward. Within the clan of the Zerahites, the family of Zimri comes forward. And within the family of Zimri, each man of that family presents himself, and Achan is found to be the guilty one.

Achan confesses to what he did. He tells Joshua where he hid the devoted things, and Joshua sends men to make sure that what he said is true. The messengers bring out the cloak and the gold and the silver, and they spread them out before the Lord.

And this is the difficult part, and I really hate reading about it. Because of Achan's choice, because of his sin, he... and his family and all his livestock and animals are stoned to death, and then burned with all his possessions.

It's this collective identity that is really hard for me to grasp, but it's the nature of this covenant between God and an entire people group. Because Achan sinned, he brought dishonor, a tarnished reputation on the name of God's people and God himself. It wasn't only himself that he was harming; it was a whole people group, and it had serious consequences.

So the punishment, in turnabout fashion, did not only affect Achan, but it affected Achan's whole family, because of their collective identity. 

I spent some time this morning asking God -- the same God who did not turn from His fierce anger until Achan had paid the price -- where was Your famous grace in this story?

He showed me a picture in response: a beautiful field with rows and rows and rows of sprouting green plants. But as I watched, there was a flood. Water washed into the field and covered over not one plant, not two plants, but a multitude of plants. I was dismayed, because the plants would die if kept underwater. The ground -- thirsty as ground often is -- slowly saturated the water, but it was taking far too long for my internal time clock. Then I heard this word: My blessing is for the whole field.

Uh... blessing?

And this is where I had a slight perspective shift: the flood -- in my eyes -- seemed devastating to the plants, certainly not a blessing. But the plants needed that water to thrive. While the water came all at once, and while it seemed deadly, the plants actually needed it, though I couldn't see it at first.

In the larger picture, Achan's sin was like a splinter that needed to be rooted out in order to keep the infection from growing and spreading, and taken in that light -- that "rooting out" was the blessing. 

But still... so hard to read about.

This story makes me so intensely grateful for the truly amazing grace that tore the temple veil in two and brought salvation to each person, on their own, individually, presented before the Lord beneath the blood of the Lamb Who paid the redemptive price once and for all. No longer collectively identified by our part in a sinful people group and required to pay the price along with those who are also identified in that people group, the only identity we now carry -- if we choose -- is "bought, redeemed, ransomed." 

Amazing grace. 

"We all like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all" (Isaiah 53:6).