There is no such thing, in the biblical imagination, as something that belongs to no one. Every person, every possession, every city in the conquest narratives of the Old Testament falls into one of two categories. It is either holy, set apart for God's use, or it is under the ban, set apart for His judgment. We are far more comfortable with a middle ground, a category of neutral things that are simply ours to do with as we please. Scripture does not offer that category, and the reason why is worth sitting with carefully.
When Israel takes the city of Jericho, God gives specific instructions that nothing from the city is to be kept for personal gain. The entire city is to be treated as devoted, some of it destroyed entirely and some of it set apart for the treasury of the Lord. The Hebrew word behind this idea is often translated as devoted or banned, and it describes something wholly given over, either to God's service or to His judgment. What matters is that the word applies in both directions. Holiness and destruction are two expressions of the same principle, that something has been removed from ordinary use and placed entirely under divine claim.
This is where the story of Achan becomes so illuminating. He takes a robe, silver, and gold from Jericho, items that had been declared devoted to God alone. In taking them for himself, he does not simply break a rule about looting. He attempts to create a third category that Scripture does not recognize, a middle space where something devoted to God can quietly become his own personal property instead. He tries to move an object from holy to ordinary without God's permission, and in doing so, he and his household move themselves from holy to devoted for destruction. The very categories he tried to blur end up defining his fate.
We are tempted to think this ancient framework has little to say to us, but the underlying principle runs straight through the whole of Scripture and into our own lives. We too are called holy, set apart for God's use rather than our own. Nothing about our time, our resources, our relationships, or our bodies exists in some neutral zone outside His claim. We can tell ourselves that certain areas of life are simply ours to manage as we see fit, unrelated to questions of devotion or discipleship, but that instinct is the same instinct Achan acted on. It assumes a middle category that does not actually exist.
The comfort in this teaching, if we are willing to receive it as comfort, is that being set apart for God's use is not a burden to escape but a status to embrace. To be holy is not primarily about restriction. It is about belonging entirely to the One who made us, the way the vessels of the tabernacle belonged entirely to the worship of God rather than to ordinary household use. There is a dignity in being devoted rather than a limitation. What is holy is treasured, protected, and used for purposes greater than itself.
The warning, though, is equally real. What refuses to be holy does not simply remain neutral. It moves toward the other category. This is why the text does not describe Achan's sin as a minor infraction against property rights. It describes the whole nation as unfaithful, as having crossed from one status to the other because one household refused to let something devoted to God remain devoted to God. There is no drifting into permanent neutrality. Every choice either confirms our devotion or erodes it, and there is no long-term parking space in between.
We would do well to ask ourselves where we have quietly tried to build that middle category in our own lives. Where have we told ourselves that this particular habit, this particular relationship, this particular use of our time belongs to us alone and has nothing to do with our devotion to Christ? The story of Achan suggests that such a category does not hold. What we refuse to surrender to holiness, we are, whether we intend it or not, allowing to drift toward the other end of the scale.
This is not meant to produce anxiety but clarity. We are not left guessing about our status. We are invited into the category of holy, set apart, treasured, and used for purposes far larger than our own comfort. The alternative is not a comfortable middle ground. It is the very thing Achan discovered too late, that what is not held out for God does not remain harmlessly ours. It moves, one way or the other, and Scripture calls us to choose which direction we want that movement to take.
Dr. William C.K. Yomes is the founding apologist of Faith Makes Sense and the Senior Pastor of Catalyst Community Church in Wilmington, Delaware. This article is part of his ongoing teaching ministry at Catalyst Community Church.