Carried from Jericho

The story of Achan is a story of guilt and failure. It’s not, however, the story of Achan. He’s a void at the center of the story of his own destruction. A problem for Joshua to overcome so the Israelites can continue conquering the promised land. Achan bears the guilt so Joshua and the nation of Israel suffer the failure.

But Achan’s guilt, more than Joshua’s failure, has always been the more relatable of the two emotions. Failure visits us all; it nags and lingers and weighs us down; but it never crushes as abjectly as it does for Joshua, because we are never so certain as he is of his divinely ordained victory.

Achan knows the leaders of Israel are searching for the devoted things. Joshua announces it publicly. He participates in the consecration. Still, he holds on to the proof of his crime. And he does nothing as they choose his tribe, his clan, his family.

Guilt is universal. Nothing turns hearts to water like watching a lie unravel, seeing the things we hide rising into view, feeling the reckoning slowly arrive. Step by step, one revelation at a time, until we stand alone facing the thing we’ve done.

In this film, I wanted to focus on Achan, the man forgotten in his own story, to feel the noose slowly tightening around his neck. And I wanted to remember that I am just like him, something forbidden hidden in my tent, hoping that somehow, some way, it will stay uncovered just one more day.