Tag: Gideon

When Israel Rejected Their King

(A recap of the book of Judges and God’s Kingdom people)

A Kingdom with No Throne in Sight

The story of Judges doesn’t open in darkness. It begins with light. Israel had been rescued from slavery in Egypt, led through the wilderness, and brought into the land God promised their ancestors. Under Joshua, they had heard the call: Be faithful to the Torah so that all the nations will see what God is like. Yahweh Himself was their King, their Protector, their Lawgiver.

But the seeds of trouble were already in the soil. The tribes took possession of their territories, but they didn’t fully drive out the Canaanites as God had commanded. This wasn’t about ethnic rivalry — it was about worship. The Canaanites’ practices included idolatry, ritual prostitution, and even child sacrifice. Yahweh’s warning was clear: Do not learn their ways.

Instead, Israel settled alongside them… and eventually became just like them.

The Spiral: Pretty Good → OK → Bad → Worse1

From there, Judges traces a tragic downward spiral:

  • Pretty good — Leaders like Othniel, Ehud, and Deborah mostly trusted Yahweh, delivered Israel from enemies, and brought periods of peace.
  • OK — The fearful Gideon learned to trust God in battle. But he also had a bit of a temper that led to murder. He ended up fashioning a gold ephod that became an idolatrous snare for the nation.
  • Bad — Jephthah, a capable warrior, was so unfamiliar with Yahweh’s character that he made a vow, promising, if victorious in battle, to sacrifice “whatever comes out of the door of my house to meet me when I return.” He was victorious. And he kept his vow, sacrificing his own daughter!
  • Worse — Samson, though set apart from birth, had no regard for Yahweh. He chased women, picked fights, and acted out of arrogance. Though God used his strength to deliver Israel, Samson’s life reads more like a warning than a model.

This repeating pattern — disobedience, oppression, crying out, rescue — reveals something deeper: the judges were never the true solution. Even the best were flawed. And yet, God chose, as he always does, to work through flawed humanity. Although his Spirit empowered them, it’s good to remember that empowerment does not equal endorsement.

The Refrain that Says It All

By the end, the nation hit rock bottom. The last chapters are filled with moral collapse: a man named Micah sets up a private temple to an idol. A roving militia from Dan stole it. Violence erupted. Women were abused and treated as property. Civil war broke out.

Over it all, the writer of Judges hammers this refrain:

“In those days Israel had no king; everyone did what was right in their own eyes.” (cf., Judges 17:6; 21:25)

This isn’t just a lament over the lack of a political monarch — it’s a theological diagnosis. Israel did have a King: Yahweh. But they rejected His reign, replacing covenant obedience with self-rule. “What is right in our own eyes” is rarely right in God’s eyes.

Freedom or Chaos?

We like to think we’re free when no one tells us what to do. Judges shows the opposite: self-rule without God’s rule leads to chaos. The human heart untethered from its Creator drifts, not toward flourishing, but toward destruction.

“There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.”  (Proverbs 14:12, NKJV)

The chaos of Judges is not just ancient history — it is a mirror. Our culture prizes autonomy, but unchecked autonomy is just another name for rebellion.

A Ray of Hope in the Darkness

Judges closes with darkness — but not without hope. The next chapters of Israel’s story will bring a king after God’s own heart. The line of David will rise, and from that line will come the true King, Jesus Christ, who perfectly embodies justice, mercy, and covenant love.

The refrain that defined Israel’s chaos — “everyone did what was right in their own eyes” — still echoes today. But for those who acknowledge Jesus as King, there is another way: to do what is right in God’s eyes, even when it’s hard, even when the culture disagrees. That way leads not to ruin, but to life.

1Credit to Tim Mackie of The Bible Project

When the Trees Wanted a King

In the last post, I briefly mentioned the period in Israel’s history when they were led by judges appointed by God. This past week, I decided to re-read the book of Judges in the Hebrew Scriptures. To be honest, reading Judges is a bit messy – political chaos, cycles of rebellion, flawed leaders. Sound familiar?

One story tucked away in this chaos is a short fable – told not by a prophet or a priest, but by a guy named Jotham, the lone survivor of a political massacre.

Here’s the setup: the Israelite leader Gideon had died. Against the Israelites’ desire, he had refused to be made king during his lifetime. “I will not rule over you, nor will my son rule over you. The Lord will rule over you,” he told the people (Judges 8:23). But his son Abimelek had other ideas. Hungry for power, Abimelek orchestrated the murder of his seventy brothers to seize control. And the citizens of the city of Shechem went right along with it.

Jotham was the only brother who escaped. And what did he do? He climbed Mount Gerizim, lifted his voice, and told a story (Judges 9:7-15):

“One day, the trees went out to anoint a king over them…”

They asked the olive tree to rule. The olive tree said no, “Why would I stop producing what’s valuable to rule over trees?”

They asked the fig tree next. Same story. The fig tree declined – why give up sweet fruit for political power?

Then the vine, the source of wine and cheer, also said, “No thanks.”

Finally, the trees turn to the thornbush, the bramble, the kind of thing that tears clothes and starts brushfires. Like buckthorn in the Midwest regions of America.

And the bramble said, “Sure. Come sit in my shade (even though I don’t really have any). But if you don’t obey me, fire’s coming that will consume the great cedars of Lebanon.”

This fable is more than ancient storytelling. It’s a story for the ages.

The good, fruitful trees knew their role. They were content bearing what God made them to bear. But the thornbush – useless, prickly, fire-prone – was eager to rule. And the people went along with it.

Sound familiar?

We live in a world where ambition often overshadows virtue. Where fruitless voices shout the loudest. Where charisma trumps character, and we forget that who we follow shapes who we become.

Jotham’s fable isn’t just about Abimelek. It’s about us. About what kind of leaders we honor. About the way we confuse authority with fruitfulness. About how easily we trade substance for spectacle.

And here’s the kicker: Jotham ended his speech with a warning. If their choice of Abimelek was made in good faith, fine. But if it wasn’t – fire will come from the bramble. (Judges 9:16-20)

Spoiler alert: It does.

This fable was a cautionary tale to the Israelites and their desire for an earthly king to replace God as King (see Choosing Kings: The Anarchy of Rejecting God). It’s also a bit of a cautionary tale to us today about the temptation to look to thornbushes for shade.

Something ponder worthy…

If we turn to thornbushes for shade, we shouldn’t be surprised when things around us catch fire.