This is peculiarly solemn and searching. It most assuredly utters a loud voice in our ears, and conveys a holy lesson to our hearts. There were, so far as the narrative informs us, many hundreds of thousands, throughout the camp of Israel, as ignorant as Joshua himself seems to have been of the fact of Achan’s sin, and yet the word was, “_Israel_ hath sinned—transgressed—taken the accursed thing—stolen and dissembled.” How was this? The assembly was one. God’s presence in the midst of the congregation constituted it one—so one, that the sin of each was the sin of all. “A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.” Human reason may demur to this, as it is sure to demur to every thing that lies beyond its narrow range. But God says it, and this is enough for the believing mind. It doth not become us to ask, Why? How? or Wherefore? The testimony of God settles every thing, and we have only to believe and obey. It is enough for us to know that the fact of God’s presence demands holiness, purity, and the judgment of evil. Let us remember this. It is not upon the principle so justly repudiated by every lowly mind, “Stand by thyself; I am holier than thou.” No, no; it is entirely on the ground of what God is.—“Be ye holy, for I am holy.” God could not give the sanction of His holy presence to unjudged wickedness. What! give a victory at Ai with an Achan in the camp? Impossible! A victory under such circumstances would have been a dishonor to God, and the very worst thing that could have happened to Israel. It could not be. Israel must be chastised; they must be humbled and broken; they must be brought down to the valley of Achor—the place of trouble, for there alone can “a door of hope” be opened when evil has come in. Let not the reader misunderstand this great practical principle. It has, we fear, been greatly misunderstood by many of God’s people. Many there are who seem to think that it can never be right for those who are saved by grace, and who are themselves signal monuments of mercy, to exercise discipline in any form, or on any ground whatsoever. To such persons, Matthew vii. 1 seems to condemn utterly the thought of our undertaking to judge. “Are we not,” say they, “expressly told by our Lord not to judge? Are not these His own veritable words—‘Judge not, that ye be not judged’?” No doubt; but what do these words mean? Do they mean that we are not to judge the doctrine and manner of life of such as present themselves for Christian fellowship? Do they lend any support to the idea that no matter what a man holds, or what he teaches, or what he does, we are to receive him all the same? Can this be the force and meaning of our Lord’s words? Who could, for one moment, cede aught so monstrous as this? Does not our Lord, in this very same chapter, tell us to “beware of false prophets”? But how can we beware of any one if we are not to judge? If judgment is not to be exercised in any case, why tell us to beware?