No King in Israel (15)

The practice of “putting out a fleece” is not widespread among evangelicals these days, at least as far as I know. You’re probably familiar with the phrase though. We might call it the superstitious interpretation of events as divine guidance in an area where God has already revealed his will.

So you ask for a specific bit of circumstantial evidence, and if the thing you have prayed for happens, you interpret it as God’s direction to move forward with your plans. “Lord, if it rains tomorrow, then I will know you want me to go to Bible College even though my parents want me to go to university.” “Lord, if the phone rings in the next five minutes, I’ll know I should leave my husband.” That sort of thing.

This chapter is where some Christians get the mistaken notion that the fleece trick might actually work. It worked for Gideon.

No King in Israel (14)

The angel of the Lord called Gideon a mighty man of valor. Considering that he said it to a man hiding from the Midianites in a winepress, perhaps he meant it tongue in cheek. Then again, many centuries later he would make Simon the coward into a rock and Saul the persecutor of Christians into the foremost teacher and prophet in Christian history. The Lord’s choices invariably appear counterintuitive by human standards.

But even mighty men of valor are not invulnerable. Many have fallen before their time. The key to Gideon’s success was this: the Lord sent him, and the Lord promised to be with him. That’s all God’s servants ever need.

No King in Israel (13)

How would you feel if you had just seen God and escaped alive?

The modern believer has difficulty putting himself in the sandals of an oppressed Israelite whose family worshiped Baal, and whose only impressions of the God of Israel came from oral history: of his nation’s deliverance from Egyptian slavery, its sojourn in the wilderness and its miraculous conquest of Canaan. Gideon had stories of wonderful deeds recounted by the elders of his people. Meanwhile, Christians thousands of years later are habituated to platform messages in which the word “Abba” is alleged to give us license to crawl into Daddy’s lap for a good cuddle.

Ugh. It’s a frivolous and childish view of God, and it’s not the least bit like what Gideon experienced when the angel of the Lord appeared to him.

No King in Israel (12)

Last week, we looked at the historical circumstances in which God called Gideon to serve as his judge and deliverer of Israel. The Holy Spirit has given us ten verses of explanation to set up the situation, and I felt I would be unwise to ignore them.

This week, we look at Gideon’s call to service. Othniel judged because the Spirit of the Lord came upon him. Ehud judged because the Lord “raised him up” and Shamgar did his bit with the ox goad for reasons the writer of Judges does not disclose. Deborah judged because she was in touch with heaven and there was nobody else willing to do the job. The people came to her for guidance.

An Afterthought about an Afterthought

“As soon as Gideon heard the telling of the dream and its interpretation, he worshiped.”

By his own admission, Gideon was the least accomplished son in the household of a father whose clan was a mere afterthought within its tribe. Worse, in the latest recorded Israelite census, the tribe of Manasseh had finished dead last in the number of fighting men it was able to supply to Israel’s army, less than half the number available from Judah and well behind even small-but-pugnacious Benjamin.

To top things off, the tribe of Manasseh then voluntarily split itself in half.

On the Mount (22)

Towards the end of the children of Israel’s multi-century sojourn in Egypt, they were enslaved by a king with no appreciation for the history his people shared with the Hebrew minority living among them, and no understanding of how Israel’s presence in his land had been of unprecedented benefit to his nation. So Pharaoh used force to put God’s people to work, and they built him his legendary treasure cities, places where the king could store up his excess goods against the remote possibility of bad times.

The irony is that it was Joseph, a son of Israel, who had first taught the Pharaohs the principle of laying up excess wealth as insurance against those all-too-frequent “evil days”.