Posts Tagged 'Call'

Jephthah

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Jephthah

 Text:  Judges 11:4 – 11, 29 – 31.

Introduction.  God issues urgent calls in times of crisis, and He often issues them to the least likely people.  In the Book of Judges the pattern is clear even to the most casual reader:  Israel sins, the Lord hands them over to oppression, the people finally cry out, and God raises up a deliverer.  The deliverer is almost never polished, rarely expected, and usually arrives on the scene carrying all kinds of personal baggage.  Jephthah fits the pattern perfectly.

The Ammonites were pressing hard against Gilead.  The elders of Gilead, desperate, turned to a man they once rejected.  What follows is the story of reluctance alliance, a negotiated leadership contract, the empowering of the Holy Spirit, and a then a tragic, rash vow that still makes us wince.  The text holds both the wonder of God’s willingness to use very flawed people and the sober warning that even Spirit-empowered leaders can speak words they later regret.

A reluctant ally.

Some time later, when the Ammonites were fighting against Israel, [5] the elders of Gilead went to get Jephthah from the land of Tob. [6] “Come,” they said, “be our commander, so we can fight the Ammonites.”  (Judges 11:4 – 6 | TNIV)

The crisis was real and immediate.  The Ammonites had been fighting against Israel, and the elders of Gilead realized they needed a commander who could actually win.  They knew where to look.  Jephthah was living in the land of Tob, a region east of the Jordan known for attracting outcasts and adventurers.  He had already gathered a band of “worthless fellows” around him and proven himself a mighty warrior.  When national survival is on the line, past reputation often takes a back seat to present usefulness.

So the elders went to Tob and made their pitch:  “Come…be our commander so we can fight the Ammonites.”  The need was definitely urgent.  Israel eastern frontier was collapsing fast and the elders were willing to swallow their pride to secure the one man who might turn the tide.

Jephthah said to them, “Didn’t you hate me and drive me from my father’s house? Why do you come to me now, when you’re in trouble?”  (Judges 11:7 | TNIV)

Jephthah’s answer wasn’t immediate acceptance.  He reminded them of the history they preferred to forget:  “Didn’t you hate me and drive me from my father’s house?”  The wound ran deep.  Jephthah was the son of Gilead by a prostitute.  When the legitimate sons of Gilead’s wife grew up, they drove him out so he would have no share in the inheritance.  The elders of Gilead had either participated in that rejection or at least stood by and allowed it.  Now, when danger threatened their own security, they suddenly rediscovered Jephthah’s value.

His question is a fair one.  Why should a man return to help the very people who treated him as disposable?  The text doesn’t romanticize the moment.  Past abuse is named.  Real pain is acknowledge.  God’s urgent call does not erase history; it often runs straight through it.

I guess many of us carry similar scars.  We have been overlooked, excluded, or actively harmed by the community that now wants our gifts.  The natural response is to stay in Tob and let them solve their own problems.  Yet the story presses us further.  The present need doesn’t’ cancel out the past wrong, but neither does the past wrong cancel out the present call.  God is still able to work through a reluctant ally who is willing to move forward without pretending the wound never happened.

Leadership contract.

The elders of Gilead said to him, “Nevertheless, we are turning to you now; come with us to fight the Ammonites, and you will be head over all of us who live in Gilead.” [9] Jephthah answered, “Suppose you take me back to fight the Ammonites and the Lord gives them to me—will I really be your head?” [10] The elders of Gilead replied, “The Lord is our witness; we will certainly do as you say.”  (Judges 11:8 – 10 | TNIV)

 For their part, the elders didn’t argue with Jephthah’s diagnosis of the past.  They simply pressed the present:  “Nevertheless, we are turning to you now…”  I’m sure it wasn’t easy for these men to ask for Jephthah’s help.  But notice what they were really wanting:  “…you will be head over all of us who live in Gilead.” That’s quite as escalation.  They first wanted him to be a military commander.  But now they offer him the permanent position of leadership – both civil and military.  Jephthah, though, is careful.  He wants clarity, as verse 9 indicates.  I believe he was sincere in testing their sincerity.  Will the promise survive the victory, or will the elders discard him once again after the immediate crisis is over?  The elders answer with I take to be a very solemn oath:  “The Lord is our witness; we will certainly do as you say.”

So Jephthah went with the elders of Gilead, and the people made him head and commander over them. And he repeated all his words before the Lord in Mizpah.  (Judges 11:11 | TNIV)

The agreement is sealed in public and before God.  Jephthah goes with the elders, the people make him both head of state and commander, and he repeats all his words before the Lord at Mizpah.  The covenant is formalized by the Lord’s presence.  Leadership isn’t merely a human negotiation; it’s placed under the scrutiny of God.

There’s some wisdom here for every leader and every church.  Clarity of role, public confirmation, and explicit dependence on the Lord protect both the leader and the people.  Vague promises breed later conflict.  Jephthah insisted on clear terms, and the people bound themselves before God.

Then the Spirit of the Lord came on Jephthah. He crossed Gilead and Manasseh, passed through Mizpah of Gilead, and from there he advanced against the Ammonites.  (Judges 11:29 | TNIV)

Empowered by God’s own Spirit, our hero travels through Gilead and Manasseh, gathers his forces as Mizpah of Gilead, and advances against the Ammorites.

The Spirit’s coming doesn’t erase Jephthah’s personality or past.  He doesn’t suddenly become a flawless man, but the Spirit does equip him for the task at hand.  The same Spirit who had come upon other deliverers like Othniel, Gideon, and others, now rests on this rejected son of a prostitute.  God’s urgent call is accompanied by God’s enabling power.

We need to hold both truths together.  God uses imperfect people, and He supplies the power they lack.  But the Spirit’s presence is never a blank check for every impulse that follows.  The next section of the story proves the point in a painful way.

A rash vow.

And Jephthah made a vow to the Lord: “If you give the Ammonites into my hands…”  (Judges 11:30 | TNIV)

Before the big battle, Jephthah makes a completely unnecessary vow.  The Spirit has already come upon him.  The people have already confirmed him as leader.   God has already demonstrated His willingness to deliver Israel through imperfect instruments.  Yet Jephthah feels the need to bargain.  He adds a condition that God never required.

Bargaining with God is a common temptation in moments of high stress and pressure.  We try to guarantee the promised outcome by promising something extra.  The impulse often springs from fear, not faith.  Jephthah wants assurance that the victory will be his, so offers God a deal.

 “…whatever comes out of the door of my house to meet me when I return in triumph from the Ammonites will be the Lord’s, and I will sacrifice it as a burnt offering. ”  (Judges 11:31 | TNIV)

The language is unambiguous in the Hebrew.  He intends a burnt offering.  The tragedy that follows – his only child, a daughter, coming out to meet him with tambourines and dancing – is the direct result of words spoken in the heat of the moment.

Bible scholars have debated for centuries whether Jephthah actually killed his daughter or dedicated her to lifelong virginity at the Tabernacle.  The text itself leans toward the dark reading and the annual lament of the Israelite women suggests real loss.  Either way, the vow was rash and it was a mistake.  It was spoken without careful though for the possible consequences.  It treated a human life as a negotiable commodity in a transaction with God.

Here is the sobering warning of the passage.  Even a man upon whom the Spirit has come can speak words that bring lifelong sorrow.  Spiritual empowerment doesn’t cancel the need for wisdom, self-control, and careful speech.  The same mouth that can declare the Lord’s deliverance can also lock a family into irreversible pain.

Living the urgent call today.

Well, what does this story say to us today?

First, God still issues urgent calls to unlikely people.  Your past rejection, your family dysfunction, your sense of being an outsider doesn’t disqualify you for usefulness in the kingdom.  The elders of Gilead went looking for the man they had once driven away.  God may well be preparing to use the very places of your deepest wound.

Second, the Spirit still strengthens those He calls.  We never serve God in our own strength.  The same Spirit who came upon Jephthah indwells every believer and equips us for the work assigned to us.

Third – and this may be the sharpest edge of the text – beware the rash vow.  In times of crisis we are all tempted to bargain with God, to promise more than we should, to speak words we have not carefully weighed.  Jesus taught us that our “yes” should be yes and our “no,” no.  Anything beyond that comes from the evil one.  Better to trust the character of God than to try to lock Him into a deal of our own making.

Jephthah’s story ends in mixed tones.  He is actually listed the New Testament’s Letter to the Hebrews among the great heroes of faith.  God did use him to deliver Israel.  Yet the cost of his rash words shadowed the victory.  The urgent call of God is real.  The enabling of the Holy Spirit is real.  But the need for wisdom and restraint in our speech is equally real.

Conclusion.   Jephthah’s story doesn’t end with triumph.  It ends with a father’s broken heart and a daughter’s quiet obedience.  The man who once stood as God’s instrument of deliverance now walks home under a self-inflicted shadow.  His vow, spoken in the heat of battle and the fear of failure, has cost him the one thing he held most dear.

Yet the same Scripture refuses to leave us there.  As I mentioned earlier, Hebrews 11 places Jephthah among the heroes of faith – not because his vow was wise, but because, even in his brokenness, he still believed the God who had delivered Israel cold be trusted with the outcome.  His daughter, unnamed in the text, becomes the clearest picture of that trust.  She doesn’t rage against her father.  She doesn’t demand a different ending.  She simply says. “Do to me what you promised God.”  In that moment she teaches us something the whole Book of Judges has been straining to say:  True faith is not the absence of pain; it is the decision to keep on walking even when the path leads through sorrow we never asked for or imagined possible.

We are not called to repeat Jephthah’s rashness.  We are called to learn from it.  Every one of us makes vows – some spoken out loud, many whispered in the privacy of the heart.  We vow to follow Christ if He will only deliver us from this crisis.  We vow to serve Him more faithfully once the pressure lifts.  We vow that our children, our marriages, our futures will remain under our control.  And then life exposes how little control we ever had.  The question the Spirit presses upon us is whether we have made imperfect vows.  The question is whether, when the cost becomes clear, we will still say with Jephthah’s daughter, “The Lord is worthy of whatever He asks.”

There is a greater Judge than Jephthah, and a greater vow than any we have ever spoken.  The Lord Jesus Christ didn’t bargain with the Father on the way to the cross.  He didn’t hedge His obedience with conditions.  In the garden He prayed, “Not my will but Yours be done,” and they He walked the road that cost Him everything.  He is the true and better Jephthah, the One who kept the vow we could never keep, and whose sacrifice doesn’t leave a household in mourning but opens the door to everlasting life.

So leave this place not merely warned against rash words, but summoned to a deeper surrender.  Examine the vows that still bind your heart.  Release the ones that were never yours to make, and cling to the One who has already paid the price for every imperfect promise you have offered.  The God who accepted Jephthah’s flawed faith is the same God who receives yours – not because your faith is perfect, but because His Son is.

The Call to Be Strong

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Called to be Strong:  Deborah and Barak

 Judges 4:1 – 10.

 

Introduction.  Today we begin a new series of messages I’m calling “The Urgent Call.”  Over the coming weeks I want to walk through the lives of several men and women in the Old Testament whom God summoned into decisive action at critical moments in Israel’s history – people like Gideon, Jephthah, Samson, Moses, and others.  Each of them received a call that was not abstract of theoretical.  It was urgent.  It demanded strength.  It required faith that moved beyond private devotion into very public obedience.

The first of these accounts is found in Judges 4.  I’m calling this message today “Called to be Strong,” and it’s a deliberate title.  The Book of Judges is filled with weakness – moral weakness, spiritual weakness, and national weakness.  Yet in the midst of all that pathetic weakness God repeatedly raised up people and says, in effect, “Be strong.  Rise Up.  Lead.  Fight.”

What we will see today is that God often works through leaders who not only answer the call themselves but who also draw the call out of others.  Leadership in God’s kingdom is almost never solitary.  It’s frequently collaborative.  Deborah doesn’t merely receive a word from the Lord; she must challenge Barak with that word until he finally steps into the role God has assigned him.  That dynamic – leadership that awakens the calling in others – is what today’s message is all about.

Cry to God, Judges 4:1 – 3.

If you are at all familiar with the Book of Judges, you know that this chapter opens with the all-too familiar and tragic refrain:

Again the Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord, now that Ehud was dead. [2] So the Lord sold them into the hands of Jabin king of Canaan, who reigned in Hazor. Sisera, the commander of his army, was based in Harosheth Haggoyim. [3] Because he had nine hundred chariots fitted with iron and had cruelly oppressed the Israelites for twenty years, they cried to the Lord for help. [4] Now Deborah, a prophet, the wife of Lappidoth, was leading Israel at that time.  (Judges 4:1 – 4 | TNIV)

Two decades.  Now, that’s an awfully long time to live under the boot of an oppressor.  Jabin’s military was technological and well as numerical.  Nine hundred iron chariots represented the most advanced weaponry of the day.  Against such forces Israel’s tribes were scattered, intimidated, and for the most part unarmed.  The oppression was cruel.  The text doesn’t soften the language.  It was bad.

But I want you to notice the sequence.  First, evil in the eyes of the Lord.  Then judgment.  Then, after twenty long years of misery, a cry.  Israel’s pattern in Judges is painfully obvious and consistent:  Sin, slavery, supplication, salvation, then a return to sin.  Yet, God in His great patience still hears their cry every time.

There’s a little pastoral word here for us.  God doesn’t wait for perfect repentance before He listens.  He hears the desperate cry of a people who finally realize they can’t save themselves.  Many of us know what it is to live for years under some from of oppression – maybe not political, but personal:  The long tyranny of some habitual sin, the grinding weight of a broken relationship, the quiet despair of spiritual dryness.  The first movement toward deliverance is always the same:  Cry out to God!

But notice what the cry does NOT produce immediately. There is no instantaneous miracle.  No lightning bolt from heaven.  Instead, God begins to work through people – ordinary people with extraordinary assignments.  The cry of the people becomes the occasion for the call of leaders.

Challenge to Deborah and Barak, Judges 4:4 – 7.

Verse 4 introduces us to one of the most remarkable figures in the Old Testament:

Now Deborah, a prophet, the wife of Lappidoth, was leading Israel at that time. [5] She held court under the Palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim, and the Israelites went up to her to have their disputes decided.   (Judges 4:4, 5 | TNIV)

This woman Deborah is both a prophetess and a judge.  In a time when “everyone did what was right in his own eyes,” she was a steady source of divine wisdom and judicial authority.  She doesn’t seize power; she exercises the authority God has given her.  People came to her; she doesn’t chase them down.

Then the Lord speaks through her to a fellow named Barak:

She sent for Barak son of Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali and said to him, “The Lord, the God of Israel, commands you: ‘Go, take with you ten thousand men of Naphtali and Zebulun and lead them up to Mount Tabor. [7] I will lead Sisera, the commander of Jabin’s army, with his chariots and his troops to the Kishon River and give him into your hands. ‘ ”  (Judges 4:6, 7 | TNIV)

Here’s the challenge.  Deborah doesn’t invent a plan and then look for someone to execute it.  She delivers the command of the Lord.  The TNIV doesn’t indicate it, but it seems that the call had already been delivered – that Barak had already been addressed by God.  The CSB more accurately translates verse 6:

She summoned Barak son of Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali and said to him, “Hasn’t the LORD, the God of Israel, commanded you, ‘Go, deploy the troops on Mount Tabor, and take with you ten thousand men from the Naphtalites and Zebulunites?  (Judges 4:6 CSB)

So Deborah’s roll isn’t to deliver the call to Barak but to bring that existing call into the open and press it upon him.

This is leadership of a particular kind.  It’s not the leadership that creates a vision from scratch and then recruits followers.  It’s the leadership that discerns what God has already spoken and then courageously holds others accountable to it.  Deborah doesn’t say, “Hey, Barak, I have an idea.”  She declares pointedly, “God has spoken to you, so now go.”

Barak is from Kadesh in Nephtali, far to the north in Israel.  Deborah is in the hill country of Ephraim.  The distance itself is significant.  But she doesn’t wait for Barak to come to her.  She sends for him.  Leadership sometimes requires initiative.  It requires seeking out the person God has marked and placing the call squarely before him.

The content of the call is military and strategic.  Gather 10,000 men from two tribes and go to Mount Tabor.  God Himself will draw Sisera (the enemy) out to the Kishon River and give him into Barak’s hand.  The promise is clear.  The strategy is divine.  All that remains is obedience.

I don’t want you to miss the theological weight of this moment.  God could have easily delivered Israel without any help from anybody.  He could have struck Sisera’s army with plague or confusion as He had done before on behalf of His people.  Instead, He chooses to work through the obedience of a prophetess and a military commander.  God chooses people to be strong.

Collaborate as needed, Judges 4:8 – 10.

Barak’s response is both honest and incomplete.

Barak said to her, “If you go with me, I will go; but if you don’t go with me, I won’t go.”  (Judges 4:8 | TNIV)

Some interpreters are hard on Barak at this point.  They see cowardice or lack of faith.  The text itself is more measured.  Deborah doesn’t rebuke him for requesting her presence.  She agrees, but also issues a sobering word:

“Certainly I will go with you,” said Deborah. “But because of the course you are taking, the honor will not be yours, for the Lord will deliver Sisera into the hands of a woman.” So Deborah went with Barak to Kedesh. [10] There Barak summoned Zebulun and Naphtali, and ten thousand men went up under his command. Deborah also went up with him.  (Judges 4:9, 10 | TNIV)

Here’s collaboration.  Barak will not go alone.  Deborah will not force him to go alone.  She rises and goes with him.  Ten thousand gather.  The army move.

Notice what collaboration looks like in this text.  It isn’t the erasure of distinct roles.  Deborah remains the prophetess who speaks the word of the Lord.  Barak remains the military leader who must muster the troops and lead the charge.  Collaboration doesn’t mean that everyone does everything.  It means that each person supplies what the other lacks so that the mission of God advances.

Deborah’s willingness to go with Barak is itself an act of strength.  She leaves the relative safety of her palm tree and the judicial work she has been doing.  She steps into a war zone.  Leadership that calls others into risk must be willing to share that risk.

Well, the outcome of this story is well known.  God throws Sisera’s army into a panic.  A sudden storm turns the Kishon into a torrent that disables the iron chariots.  Barak’s forces pursue.  Sisera flees on foot and is killed by Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, with a tent peg.  The victory is total and Jael, not Barak, gets the honor, just as Deborah said.  Judges 5 records the song of Deborah and Barak – a theological interpretation of the battle that gives all glory to God while celebrating the willing participation of the tribes and the courage of individuals.

Leadership that draws out the call.

What does this narrative teach us about the nature of godly leadership and the urgent call of God?

First, the call of God often comes in the context of the people’s cry.  Deborah and Barak don’t invent a crisis in order to create a platform for themselves.  They respond to a genuine need that has driven the people to prayer.  Healthy leadership is not restless influence; it’s attentive to the affliction of God’s people and the word of God concerning that affliction.

Second, the call of God is sometimes, probably often, mediated through other believers.  Barak receives confirmation of God’s command through Deborah.  This doesn’t diminish the directness of God’s speaking; it illustrates the ordinary means by which God often works.  He uses the courage of one to summon the courage of another.  How many of us are serving the Lord today because someone else introduced us to God’s word or confirmed it.  Parents, elders, old saints – your willingness to speak the call of God into the lives of others is part of how God raises up the next generation.

Third, leadership that is secure in its own calling is free to collaborate.  Deborah doesn’t feel threatened by Barak’s request for her presence.  She doesn’t insist on going alone or on receiving the credit.  She is willing for another woman to get the honor entirely.  Secure leaders are not jealous of the gifts or the recognition of others.  They are jealous for the work of God.

Fourth, the call to be strong is rarely a call to solitary heroism.  Even the most gifted leaders need the help and strength of others.  Barak needed Deborah’s prophetic courage and presence.  Deborah needed Barak’s military leadership and the 10,000 men who followed him.  Jael needed neither army nor prophetic voice.  All she needed was that tent peg and a hammer – and the opportunity God placed in her tent and the courage to act.  The Body of Christ is designed this way.  No one is called to do everything.  Everyone is called to do something, and often that something is done best with others.

Conclusion.  Some of you are living under a long oppression – sin, fear, discouragement, or some external pressure.  The first step is the same as Israel’s – cry out to the Lord.  Don’t wait until you feel strong enough to pray.  The cry itself is the beginning of strength.

Some you already know the word the Lord has spoken to you.  You’ve sensed a call to step out, step up, and step into greater responsibility – maybe in the home, in the church, in the workplace, or in some specific act of obedience.  You need to hear and take to heart the challenge of Deborah:  The Lord has commanded.  Will you go?

Some of you are in positions of influence – parents, teacher, elders, grandparents.  Your calling includes the responsibility to summon others.  Don’t assume that people will simply discover the will of God on their own.  Speak the Word of God into their lives.  Challenge them.  God with them if necessary.  Leadership that draws out the call in others is one of the most powerful ways God advances His kingdom.

And all of us must remember that the ultimate strength we need is not found in ourselves.  The song of Deborah in chapter 5 ends with a prayer:

“So may all your enemies perish, Lord! But may all who love you be like the sun when it rises in its strength.” Then the land had peace forty years.  (Judges 5:31 | TNIV)

The rising sun is a picture of the irresistible strength given by God.  In the fullness of time that strength has been revealed in Jesus Christ.  He is the true and greater Deliverer who heard the cry of the world under the oppression of sin and death.  He didn’t just send a prophet; He came Himself.  He didn’t just collaborate with others; He bore the full weight of the battle alone on the cross, and He rose in power so that we might be strong in Him.

The call to be strong is, finally, a call to be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might.  Deborah and Barak point us forward to the One who calls us, equips us, and goes with us.

Therefore, let’s all cry out.  Let’s receive the challenge.  Let’s collaborate as needed.  And let’s rise up in the strength God supplies, for the glory of His name and the good of His people.

 


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