Behold Him, Not Me: Part Seven

When Israel Became Sodom

Judges 19

Content note: This study discusses sexual violence, physical abuse, and trauma in the context of Judges 19 and includes a personal testimony of surviving abuse.

There are chapters of Scripture that comfort us.

There are chapters that encourage us.

There are chapters that strengthen our hope, remind us of God’s faithfulness, and give us words to pray when our own words fail.

Judges 19 is not one of those chapters.

Judges 19 is meant to horrify us.

There is no deliverer.

There is no victory.

There is no miraculous rescue.

There is no repentance.

There is only a Levite, his concubine, an old man, a violent mob, a night of unspeakable abuse, the death of an unnamed woman, and a nation about to tear itself apart.

Judges 19 is one of the darkest chapters in all of Scripture.

And we should not rush through the darkness.

We should not soften the violence.

We should not turn the suffering of this woman into a convenient illustration.

We should not search so quickly for an encouraging application that we fail to sit beneath the weight of what the text is showing us.

Because Judges 19 is here for a reason.

The book of Judges has been showing us what happens when the people of God reject the rule of God.

Again and again, Israel has done what is right in their own eyes.

They have compromised.

They have worshiped idols.

They have reshaped God according to their preferences.

They have pursued comfort.

They have sought blessing without obedience.

They have built religions they could control.

And now, at the end of the book, we are shown where that road leads.

Israel has become indistinguishable from the nations around them.

Worse still, Israel has become like Sodom.

Before We Read

Before going any further, we need to acknowledge what this chapter contains.

Judges 19 describes sexual violence, abuse, dehumanization, and death.

The Bible records these events.

It does not approve of them.

Scripture is painfully honest about the evil human beings are capable of committing. The Bible does not hide the consequences of sin. It does not sanitize human depravity. It does not pretend that rebellion against God remains private, harmless, or contained.

Sin spreads.

Sin corrupts.

Sin dehumanizes.

And when people persistently reject the authority of God, other human beings bear the consequences.

The unnamed woman at the center of Judges 19 is not merely a literary device.

She is a human being made in the image of God.

She is sinned against.

She is abandoned.

She is violated.

She dies.

And the men surrounding her repeatedly treat her as though her life exists for their convenience.

We should allow the horror of that reality to trouble us.

The text intends for us to be troubled.

In Those Days There Was No King

Judges 19 begins with words we have heard before:

“In those days, when there was no king in Israel…”

This statement has become the theological backdrop of the final chapters of Judges.

Israel’s problem is not merely political.

Their deepest problem is spiritual.

There is no human king, but more importantly, Israel is living as though there is no divine King.

God has spoken.

God has given His law.

God has established His covenant.

God has told His people how to worship, how to pursue justice, how to treat the vulnerable, how to order their families, and how to live together as His holy people.

Yet everyone continues doing what is right in his own eyes.

Judges 19 shows us what happens when subjective morality reaches its logical conclusion.

When everyone becomes his own authority, the strong eventually decide what happens to the weak.

When personal desire becomes the highest standard, other people become objects to be used.

When God’s authority is rejected, human dignity does not increase.

It collapses.

A Levite Who Should Have Known Better

Once again, a Levite stands near the center of the story.

That should trouble us.

The Levites had been set apart for service connected to the worship of God.

If anyone should have known the Word of God, it was a Levite.

If anyone should have understood covenant faithfulness, justice, holiness, and the value of belonging to God, it was a Levite.

Yet the Levite in Judges 19 is not presented as a faithful spiritual leader.

He is part of the problem.

The chapter begins by introducing his concubine, who leaves him and returns to her father’s house in Bethlehem.

After four months, the Levite travels to persuade her to return.

Her father welcomes him enthusiastically.

For several days, the men eat, drink, and delay the journey.

Eventually, the Levite insists on leaving.

The decision is made late in the day.

As darkness approaches, the servant suggests that they stop in Jebus, the city that would later become Jerusalem.

But the Levite refuses.

Jebus is inhabited by foreigners.

He does not want to spend the night among people who are not Israelites.

Instead, he chooses to continue to Gibeah.

Surely they will be safer among the people of God.

They are not.

When Israel Became Sodom

The travelers arrive in Gibeah, a city belonging to the tribe of Benjamin.

They sit in the town square.

No one welcomes them.

Eventually, an old man returning from his work in the fields sees them and offers hospitality.

Then the story begins to sound disturbingly familiar.

The men of the city surround the house.

They demand that the Levite be brought outside so that they can sexually assault him.

The deliberate connection to Genesis 19 is difficult to miss.

In Genesis, the men of Sodom surround Lot’s house.

In Judges, the men of Gibeah surround the old man’s house.

In Genesis, the mob demands the male visitors.

In Judges, the mob demands the Levite.

The language is similar.

The circumstances are similar.

The depravity is similar.

But there is one devastating difference.

Gibeah is not a Canaanite city.

Gibeah belongs to Israel.

God had called Israel to be holy.

God had separated them from the nations.

God had given them His Word.

God had placed His name among them.

God had called them to display His character to the world.

But now the people who were supposed to be different have become indistinguishable from the people they were commanded not to imitate.

Israel has become Sodom.

This may be one of the most terrifying warnings in the entire book of Judges.

The people of God can live among the things of God, possess the Word of God, use the name of God, and still become increasingly unlike God.

Spiritual privilege does not make anyone immune to spiritual decay.

A people who repeatedly refuse to listen to God can eventually become unrecognizable as His people.

The Failure of Every Man in the Story

There are no heroes in Judges 19.

The men of Gibeah are wicked.

But they are not the only men who fail.

The old man offers the women of the household to the mob.

The Levite sends his concubine outside.

The men abuse her throughout the night.

In the morning, she collapses at the doorway of the house.

And when the Levite opens the door, he says:

“Get up, let us be going.”

There is no recorded grief.

No tenderness.

No attempt to help her.

No acknowledgment of what she has suffered.

When she does not respond, he places her body on his donkey and returns home.

The woman at the center of the story is repeatedly acted upon.

Men decide where she will go.

Men decide what will happen to her.

Men sacrifice her safety to protect themselves.

Men violate her.

Men speak over her.

Men use her death for their own purposes.

She is never given a voice.

And that silence is part of the horror.

The further Israel moves from the rule of God, the more vulnerable people suffer.

Throughout Scripture, the treatment of the vulnerable is repeatedly connected to the spiritual condition of God’s people.

When people love God, they are commanded to love their neighbor.

When people fear God, they are forbidden from using power merely for their own advantage.

When people reject God’s authority, power becomes something to seize, protect, and use.

Judges 19 shows us a society in which nearly everyone is protecting himself.

And the person with the least power pays the highest price.

The Banality of Evil

One of the most disturbing things about the final chapters of Judges is how ordinary everyone seems.

These are not monsters from another world.

They travel.

They eat meals.

They extend hospitality.

They have families.

They speak about God.

They belong to tribes.

They participate in religious life.

And yet beneath the ordinary surface lies profound moral corruption.

Evil does not always announce itself dramatically.

Sometimes it grows quietly.

Compromise after compromise.

Excuse after excuse.

Desire after desire.

People gradually become accustomed to what once would have horrified them.

Sin becomes normal.

Consciences become dull.

People learn to live with contradictions.

They speak the language of faith while living according to their own desires.

The final chapters of Judges show us what happens when rebellion becomes ordinary.

The people do not merely commit isolated acts of sin.

They inhabit an entire moral world in which everyone is doing what is right in his own eyes.

The Woman at the Door

There is an image near the end of the chapter that is difficult to forget.

Morning comes.

The door opens.

And the woman is lying at the threshold with her hands on the doorway.

She had almost reached shelter.

But the door remained closed.

There are times when careful Bible study requires us to resist the urge to turn every detail into a metaphor.

This woman does not need to become a symbol before we are willing to grieve what happened to her.

She was a person made in the image of God.

And she was treated as disposable.

The text does not give us her name.

But God saw her.

The men in this chapter use her.

Ignore her.

Abandon her.

Violate her.

Dismember her.

But the God who inspired Scripture does not allow Israel to forget her.

Her suffering becomes part of the testimony against a nation that has rejected its King.

Her presence in Scripture reminds us that God does not look away from the suffering human beings would prefer to ignore.

The Bible bears witness to victims whom powerful people would rather leave unnamed.

The God Who Saw Me Too

There is a reason I cannot read Judges 19 from a safe distance.

I know what it is like to be sexually abused.

For a long period of my life, I was sexually abused by my father. I was also sexually and physically abused by other men.

I know something of the deep wounds these kinds of sins leave behind.

I know what it is like to carry questions you do not know how to ask.

Does God see me?

Does He care about what happened?

Will there ever be justice?

Am I still worthy of being loved?

For many years, I did not know how to bring those questions to God. I did not know how to process what had happened to me within my theology.

Then I began learning to slow down when I read Scripture.

I stopped rushing past difficult passages.

I stopped assuming that the darkest stories in the Bible were obstacles to faith that needed to be explained away as quickly as possible.

And I began to see something I had missed.

God does not hide what evil does to people.

He does not call evil good.

He does not ask us to pretend that suffering does not matter.

He does not look away from the people others would prefer to forget.

Judges 19 does not allow us to forget this woman.

The text does not give us her name, but God preserved the testimony of what was done to her.

Her suffering is not hidden.

The evil committed against her is not erased.

Generation after generation has been forced to reckon with what happened in Gibeah because God allowed her story to remain in His Word.

And as I learned to see her, I began to understand more deeply that God saw me too.

I thought about Hagar.

She was a woman caught within the sinful decisions and abuses of power of other people.

She fled into the wilderness.

And there, the angel of the LORD found her.

He called her by name.

“Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?”

— Genesis 16:8

Hagar responded by giving God a name:

“You are a God of seeing.”

She said:

“Truly here I have seen Him who looks after me.”

— Genesis 16:13

Later, Hagar would find herself in the wilderness again, believing she was about to watch her son die.

She wept.

God heard.

And the angel of God called to her from heaven.

These passages began changing the way I understood God.

The God of Scripture is not the author of evil.

He is good.

He is just.

He sees.

He hears.

He knows.

And because He is faithful, He will keep every promise He has made.

That means evil will not be ignored forever.

Those who have harmed others will answer to God’s perfect justice.

Some of us may see justice in this life.

Some of us may not.

Human courts may fail.

People may refuse to believe us.

Those who committed evil may never acknowledge what they have done.

But there is no hidden thing that will remain hidden before the judgment of God.

The Judge of all the earth will do what is just.

For me, that truth did not make forgiveness unnecessary.

It made forgiveness possible.

I began to understand that forgiveness does not require me to call evil good.

It does not require me to pretend that justice does not matter.

It does not require me to deny what happened.

I can entrust final judgment to the God who sees perfectly, knows completely, and judges righteously.

And I can bring my wounds to Jesus.

The One who sees Hagar in the wilderness is the same God who came near to us in Christ.

Jesus saw women others ignored.

He welcomed people others rejected.

He touched those others considered unclean.

He drew near to the suffering.

He was betrayed.

He was stripped.

He was mocked.

He was beaten.

He was crucified.

And He willingly bore the judgment for sin so that sinners could be reconciled to God.

The cross taught me that God does not minimize evil.

Sin is so serious that the Son of God gave His life to save sinners from it.

And the resurrection taught me that evil, suffering, and death will not have the final word.

Slowly, the Old Testament and the New Testament began coming together for me.

The God who saw Hagar is the God who saw me.

The God who refused to let Israel forget the unnamed woman of Judges 19 had not forgotten me.

The righteous Judge before whom every evil will one day be exposed is also the Father who received me through His Son.

I began to understand that Jesus loved me deeply.

I began to receive the love of God instead of believing that what had been done to me determined my worth.

I began to seek forgiveness for my own sins.

I began learning to forgive others.

And I began trusting God with the justice I could not accomplish for myself.

These passages did not destroy my faith.

They deepened it.

They taught me that I do not need a Bible that looks away from evil.

I need a God who sees it more clearly than I ever could.

I do not need a God who offers shallow explanations for suffering.

I need the God who enters our suffering, judges with perfect justice, saves sinners through the blood of His Son, and promises that one day He will make all things new.

If you have experienced sexual violence, physical abuse, or other deep wounds, or if you love someone who has, I want you to know why I am willing to remain in difficult passages like Judges 19.

It is because I have found that slowing down in these passages has helped me know God more deeply.

You do not have to pretend that evil is less evil in order to trust Him.

You do not have to silence your grief.

You do not have to be afraid of your questions.

Bring them into the light of Scripture.

Learn the character of the God who sees.

Learn the justice of the God who will judge rightly.

Learn the mercy of the Savior who receives sinners.

Learn the love of the Father who gave His Son so that all who trust in Him might be reconciled to God.

My prayer is not merely that you will make it through the difficult chapters of the Bible with your faith intact.

My prayer is that, as you slow down and see the God who has revealed Himself there, your faith will deepen too.

The God who saw Hagar sees.

The God who preserved the testimony of the unnamed woman remembers.

The God who gave His Son saves.

And the King who is coming will judge the world in righteousness.

Come and see the God who sees.

Where Is God?

One of the unsettling realities of Judges 19 is the apparent silence of God.

There is no divine speech.

No angel appears.

No miracle interrupts the violence.

No deliverer arrives.

Where is God?

The answer is not that God has disappeared.

The entire book has shown us a people repeatedly refusing to listen to Him.

God has spoken.

Israel possesses His covenant.

Israel has His law.

Israel knows His commands.

The tragedy is not that God failed to reveal what righteousness looks like.

The tragedy is that Israel has rejected what God has revealed.

We must also be careful not to confuse God’s silence in the narrative with God’s indifference to suffering.

The chapter itself stands as testimony against Israel.

God has preserved the record of what happened.

The evil in Gibeah is not hidden from Him.

The suffering of the woman is not forgotten.

Judges 19 shows us what life looks like when human beings insist upon doing what is right in their own eyes.

And it leaves us longing for judgment, rescue, and a righteous King.

Outrage Is Not Repentance

The Levite takes the woman’s body and divides it into twelve pieces.

He sends the pieces throughout the territory of Israel.

The act is horrifying.

The response is immediate.

The people of Israel say:

“Such a thing has never happened or been seen from the day that the people of Israel came up out of the land of Egypt until this day; consider it, take counsel, and speak.”

Israel is finally shocked.

After years of idolatry.

After generations of compromise.

After repeated rejection of God’s covenant.

After everyone has done what is right in his own eyes.

Israel has finally found a sin terrible enough to produce national outrage.

But outrage is not the same thing as repentance.

It is possible to be horrified by the sins of others while remaining blind to the sin within ourselves.

It is possible to correctly identify evil and still respond to evil in ways that reveal our own estrangement from God.

That is where Judges 20 will take us.

The nation will gather.

The people will demand justice.

A civil war will begin.

Thousands will die.

And the people who are outraged by Gibeah will continue demonstrating that the deepest problem in Israel cannot be contained within one city.

The problem is everywhere.

The Road to Gibeah Was Longer Than One Night

Israel did not become Sodom overnight.

The violence of Judges 19 is the fruit of seeds planted throughout the entire book.

Israel compromised with the Canaanites.

Israel tolerated idolatry.

Israel abandoned covenant faithfulness.

Israel repeatedly cried out to God when suffering became unbearable, only to return to rebellion when relief arrived.

Israel treated God as a means of obtaining blessing rather than as their King.

By Judges 17, Micah has created his own religion.

By Judges 18, the tribe of Dan has established institutionalized idolatry.

By Judges 19, Israel has become Sodom.

This is the trajectory of sin.

Sin rarely tells us where it intends to take us.

It asks only for the next compromise.

The next excuse.

The next small act of disobedience.

The next moment when we decide that what seems right in our own eyes matters more than what God has said.

Judges 19 forces us to see the destination.

We Need a Righteous King

The book of Judges has shown us judge after judge.

Some were faithful.

Some were deeply flawed.

Some delivered Israel from external enemies while remaining unable to change the hearts of God’s people.

But now there is no judge.

There is no deliverer.

There is no faithful leader standing between the vulnerable and those who would destroy them.

The repeated refrain tells us what Israel lacks:

“In those days there was no king in Israel.”

But Israel does not merely need someone wearing a crown.

Israel needs a righteous King.

A King who will not exploit the weak.

A King who will not sacrifice others to save Himself.

A King who knows the Word of God and obeys it perfectly.

A King who sees the forgotten.

A King who defends the vulnerable.

A King who judges evil without becoming evil.

A King who can deal not only with the enemies surrounding God’s people, but with the sin dwelling within them.

Judges leaves us longing for such a King.

The gospel tells us His name.

The King Who Gave Himself

The men in Judges 19 preserve themselves by giving up someone else.

Jesus does the opposite.

Christ does not sacrifice the vulnerable to save Himself.

He gives Himself to save sinners.

The Good Shepherd does not abandon the sheep when the wolves come.

He lays down His life for the sheep.

Jesus does not use His power to protect Himself from suffering.

He willingly enters suffering.

He is betrayed.

He is mocked.

He is beaten.

He is condemned.

He is crucified.

Not because humanity is innocent.

But because humanity is guilty.

At the cross, we see both the horror of human sin and the holiness of God.

The cross does not minimize evil.

It reveals how serious sin truly is.

The righteous King bears judgment in the place of His people.

Judges 19 shows us human beings sacrificing others to save themselves.

The gospel shows us the Son of God giving Himself to save sinners.

Jesus Christ is the King Israel needed.

And He is the King we need.

The King Who Sees

Judges 19 reminds us that human beings can overlook suffering.

Communities can normalize injustice.

Religious people can become indifferent.

Powerful people can protect themselves.

Victims can remain unnamed.

But God sees.

God hears.

God knows.

And God will judge rightly.

The gospel does not ask us to pretend evil is less terrible than it is.

The gospel tells us that evil will not have the final word.

Jesus Christ was crucified.

Jesus Christ was buried.

Jesus Christ rose from the dead.

Jesus Christ reigns.

And one day the King who sees every injustice will judge the world in righteousness.

Every hidden thing will be brought into the light.

Every wrong will be answered according to perfect justice.

For those who belong to Christ, the promise of His kingdom means that suffering, violence, injustice, and death will not endure forever.

The King is coming.

Behold Him, Not Me

Judges 19 is difficult to read because it shows us what human beings become when we reject the rule of God.

Israel was called to be holy.

Israel was called to be different.

Israel was called to display the character of God among the nations.

Instead, Israel became Sodom.

The warning should humble us.

We should never assume that religious language, biblical knowledge, church attendance, ministry involvement, or spiritual heritage makes us immune to compromise.

We need more than outrage over the sins of the world.

We need more than moral reform.

We need more than better circumstances.

We need new hearts.

We need forgiveness.

We need righteousness we cannot produce for ourselves.

We need a King.

Judges leaves us searching for Him.

The rest of Scripture tells us His name.

Jesus Christ.

The righteous King.

The faithful Shepherd.

The One who sees the forgotten.

The One who judges with perfect justice.

The One who gave Himself to save sinners.

When everyone does what is right in his own eyes, look to the King.

When the world becomes accustomed to evil, look to the King.

When religious people fail, look to the King.

When human justice proves insufficient, look to the King.

When the darkness seems unbearable, look to the King.

Behold Him.

Heart Check

Am I more skilled at identifying the sins of others than examining the compromises within my own heart?

Have I become comfortable with things that Scripture calls evil?

Are there areas of my life where personal preference has become more authoritative than the Word of God?

Do I assume that being surrounded by Christian things is the same as faithfully following Christ?

How do I respond when obedience to Jesus requires me to protect, serve, or speak for people who have less power than I do?

Do I merely feel outrage over evil, or does the reality of sin lead me toward repentance, prayer, obedience, and trust in Christ?

Where am I tempted to protect myself at the expense of others?

Do I truly believe that Jesus is the righteous King I need—not only to judge the evil around me, but to save me from the sin within me?

Prayer

Father,

Judges 19 is difficult to read.

The violence is horrifying. The suffering is real. The depth of human sin is difficult to comprehend.

Yet Your Word refuses to hide what happens when people reject Your rule and do what is right in their own eyes.

Search my heart.

Show me where I have become comfortable with compromise.

Show me where I am quicker to condemn the sins of others than to repent of my own.

Guard me from a faith that knows Your Word but refuses to submit to it.

Teach me to see people as those made in Your image.

Give me courage to protect the vulnerable, speak truth, pursue justice, and refuse to make peace with evil.

For those reading who carry wounds caused by the evil of others, draw near to them.

Help them know that You see.

Help them know that You hear.

Help them know that evil is not hidden from You and that Your justice will not fail.

Lead them to the Savior who receives sinners, binds up the brokenhearted, and will one day make all things new.

And when the darkness of human sin feels overwhelming, turn our eyes toward Christ.

Thank You for giving us the King we could never produce for ourselves.

Thank You that Jesus did not sacrifice others to save Himself, but willingly gave Himself to save sinners.

Thank You that He sees the forgotten, receives the repentant, judges rightly, and reigns forever.

Teach us to trust Him.

Teach us to follow Him.

Teach us to behold Him.

Not us.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

July 25, 2026 0

Sea Creatures, Small Victories & the Kindness of God

Finding joy in the creatures God made, celebrating progress that doesn’t always look big, and learning to recognize His kindness in the middle of ordinary family life.

There are some family trips where you come home rested.

This was not one of those trips. 😂

This past weekend, our family headed down to Newport for two full days at the Oregon Coast Aquarium. By the time we came home, our feet hurt, our bodies were tired, and according to how my legs felt, we had walked approximately 100,000 steps.

Okay, maybe that number is slightly dramatic.

But my feet would like it entered into the official record anyway.

And if you know Jackson, you already know exactly why we went:

Sea creatures. Allllll the sea creatures.

Sharks. Rays. Fish. Tide pools. Anything swimming, crawling, floating, or lurking beneath the surface—Jackson wants to see it, learn about it, and probably tell you something about it that you didn’t know.

Seeing It Through His Eyes

One of my favorite things about being Jackson’s mom is getting to experience the world through the lens of whatever has captured his attention.

And sea creatures have certainly captured his… for the last 7 years.

There is something special about watching your child stand completely captivated by an animal God created—studying how it moves, noticing tiny details the rest of us might walk right past, and wanting to soak in every bit of it.

As we walked through the aquarium, I found myself thinking about just how wildly creative our God is.

The strange ones.

The beautiful ones.

The tiny ones we almost miss.

And the ones with enough teeth that we are perfectly content admiring them through very thick glass. 😂

Every single one displays something of the creativity, wisdom, and imagination of its Creator.

“O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” — Psalm 104:24

What a gift that God did not simply create a functional world.

He created one overflowing with wonder.

And what a gift to experience some of that wonder through the eyes of our son.

But This Trip, We Noticed Something Else: Growth

We visited the aquarium last fall, so Zac and I had a pretty recent trip to compare this one to.

And this time, we could see it.

Jackson has grown.

Not just physically—although somehow these children insist on doing that no matter how many times we tell them to stop.

We saw growth in things that might seem incredibly ordinary to another family but felt huge to ours.

Jackson ate really well throughout the entire trip.

He was able to sit down and take breaks.

He handled two very full days of walking, stimulation, excitement, transitions, and activity in ways he simply could not have before.

Were there still meltdowns?

Yep.

Were there still struggles?

Absolutely.

Did all three of us have moments when we were tired, overstimulated, frustrated, or just plain done?

Oh yes.

This wasn’t one of those magical family vacations where everyone smiled peacefully at one another for 48 consecutive hours while inspirational music played softly in the background.

We are still us. 😂

There were hard moments tucked between the smiles in these pictures.

But this weekend reminded me of something I don’t want to forget:

The presence of struggle does not mean there hasn’t been progress.

Sometimes growth doesn’t mean the hard things disappear.

Sometimes growth means something that was impossible six months ago is now possible for ten minutes.

Then twenty.

Sometimes it looks like sitting down long enough to eat a good meal.

Sometimes it’s being able to take a break in the middle of an exciting day.

Sometimes it’s recovering from a hard moment just a little faster.

Sometimes it’s tolerating one more transition.

And sometimes, it’s watching your child’s world get a little bigger.

A Little Detour That Was Actually a Really Big Deal

One of my favorite examples of that happened when we decided to fit in an extra stop at Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

On paper, it wasn’t anything extraordinary.

It was just a little one-hour excursion squeezed into an already very full weekend before heading back to the aquarium.

But for our family?

It was a really big deal.

Jackson was nervous and hesitant at first.

He wasn’t particularly excited about going in. This wasn’t what he had come to Newport for. The aquarium and his beloved sea creatures were familiar territory; this was something different, unexpected, and full of unknowns.

There was a time when that alone would have made an extra stop like this impossible.

But he went in.

And little by little, we watched something change.

There were so many hands-on and sensory experiences inside that his hesitation began to give way to curiosity.

He started exploring.

He engaged.

He let go.

He had fun.

He was nervous—and he was brave enough to push through that nervousness and discover something new on the other side of it.

And then came something equally significant:

When our little adventure was finished, we transitioned back to the aquarium and continued our day.

An unfamiliar place.

An unexpected addition to the plan.

A completely different sensory environment.

Walking into it despite being unsure.

Enjoying it.

Leaving it.

And then transitioning back to the original plan.

To someone looking from the outside, it might simply look like:

We went somewhere for an hour.

But we knew.

This little one-hour excursion would have been impossible before.

Not difficult.

Not inconvenient.

Impossible.

And this weekend, it was possible.

Not necessarily easy.

But possible.

And there is something incredibly beautiful about realizing that something that once felt impossible has quietly become possible.

When His World Gets a Little Bigger

I think this may be one of the ways I want to remember Jackson’s growth:

His world is getting a little bigger.

We aren’t measuring progress by whether everything suddenly becomes easy.

We aren’t measuring it by whether meltdowns disappear.

They haven’t.

We aren’t pretending that autism somehow becomes less real simply because we had a wonderful weekend.

There are still hard moments.

There are still accommodations.

There are still things we navigate differently than other families might.

But those realities do not cancel out progress.

Instead, we are learning to notice when Jackson’s capacity to experience the world expands just a little more.

When something that once felt impossible becomes possible.

When uncertainty doesn’t completely prevent curiosity.

When he can experience nervousness and still be brave.

When he can try something unfamiliar and discover that he actually enjoys it.

When we can add one more experience to the day.

When we can transition away—and then transition back.

These things may look small from the outside.

But when you remember when they weren’t possible?

They don’t feel small at all.

Sometimes you don’t realize just how far your child has come until you suddenly find yourself standing in the middle of something you once couldn’t do.

And you think:

Wait.

We’re doing it.

Don’t Let Today’s Hard Moment Make You Forget How Far You’ve Come

There were still difficult moments this weekend.

And when you are in one of those moments, it can be easy to feel as though nothing has changed.

A meltdown can feel very big while you’re standing in the middle of it.

A difficult transition can temporarily overshadow everything that went beautifully before it.

But then I remembered last fall.

And suddenly, I could see it.

Progress.

Growth.

Maturity.

Capacity.

Grace.

Not perfection.

Growth.

And isn’t that so often how God works in all of us?

We tend to want transformation to happen in giant, unmistakable leaps.

We want to wake up one morning and discover that the difficult things are no longer difficult.

But so often, the Lord faithfully works through thousands of tiny moments that don’t seem remarkable while we’re living them.

A little more endurance.

A little more courage.

A little more patience.

One more thing that becomes possible.

And then one day, we look backward and realize:

We aren’t where we used to be.

Sometimes we have to look back to see just how faithfully God has carried us forward.

Sea Creatures, Small Victories & a Very Full Two Days

So we explored.

We walked.

And walked.

And walked some more.

We watched sharks glide through the water.

We admired creatures from the deep.

We learned.

We laughed.

We ate.

We rested when we needed to.

We tried something new.

We navigated meltdowns.

We regrouped.

And then we kept going.

By the end of our two days, our feet hurt, our bodies were tired, and I think we had collectively seen enough fish to qualify for honorary marine biology degrees.

But our hearts were full.

Because tucked inside an ordinary family weekend at the aquarium were a hundred little reminders of God’s kindness.

The kindness of watching our son experience something he genuinely loves.

The kindness of seeing his face light up over creatures God made.

The kindness of noticing growth that can be difficult to recognize when you are living life one day at a time.

The kindness of realizing his world is getting a little bigger.

The kindness of getting another adventure together—even when adventures with our family don’t always look effortless.

And the kindness of a Creator who filled His world with creatures so strange, beautiful, intricate, and fascinating that we could spend a lifetime discovering them and still have more to see.

Praise the Lord for Progress—and for Really Cool Sharks

I’m learning not to wait until everything is easy before calling something good.

This weekend was good.

It was also tiring.

There were meltdowns.

There were struggles.

There were probably moments when all three of us needed a timeout.

And there was so much joy.

Those things can exist together.

The hard does not erase the good.

And the presence of struggle does not mean there hasn’t been progress.

So today, I’m thanking God for two days in Newport.

For a little boy who loves all things sea creatures.

For a daddy who explores alongside him.

For sharks swimming overhead.

For meals eaten well and breaks successfully taken.

For an unexpected one-hour adventure.

For the courage to walk into something unfamiliar.

For transitions that once would have been impossible.

For tired feet.

For small victories that really aren’t so small.

And for growth that sometimes can only be seen when we turn around and look at how far we’ve come.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the beautiful, bizarre, magnificent creatures our God dreamed up and spoke into existence for His glory—and that He graciously allows us to enjoy.

Praise the Lord for making such a wonderfully wild world.

And praise Him that, little by little, Jackson’s world is getting bigger—and we get the privilege of watching him discover it.

July 24, 2026 0

Behold Him, Not Me: Part Six

You Took My Gods

Judges 18:21–31

One of the most revealing moments in the entire book of Judges comes from the mouth of a man who had spent chapters building a religion of his own making.

As the tribe of Dan carries away Micah’s idols, shrine, household gods, and priest, Micah chases after them in desperation.

When he finally catches up, he cries out:

“You take my gods that I made, and the priest, and go away, and what have I left?” (Judges 18:24)

At first, the statement almost sounds absurd.

Micah’s gods have been stolen.

His religion has been carried away.

His source of blessing has disappeared.

Yet beneath the irony lies one of the most penetrating questions in Scripture:

What would happen if the thing you trust most was taken away?

Because that is exactly what happens to Micah.

And in many ways, it is exactly what happens to every idol.

The God Who Could Be Stolen

There is something almost tragic about Micah’s complaint.

He had spent years constructing a system of worship.

A shrine.

An ephod.

Household gods.

A Levite priest.

He believed these things would bring blessing.

He believed these things would secure God’s favor.

He believed these things would protect him.

And now they are gone.

The Danites simply take them.

And Micah is powerless to stop them.

That is the nature of every false god.

Every idol can be taken.

Money can disappear.

Health can fail.

Relationships can end.

Careers can collapse.

Beauty fades.

Influence diminishes.

Success evaporates.

Even the things we love most can be removed in a moment.

That is why idols always disappoint.

They ask us to build our lives upon things that cannot ultimately sustain us.

Micah’s tragedy is not merely that his gods were stolen.

His tragedy is that he had trusted them in the first place.

What Else Do I Have?

Micah’s cry exposes the true object of his worship:

“What have I left?”

Notice what he does not say.

He does not say:

“I still have the Lord.”

He does not say:

“I still have God’s promises.”

He does not say:

“I still have faith.”

Instead he says:

“What have I left?”

His entire spiritual life had become attached to things he could see, touch, and control.

The idols had become his security.

The priest had become his confidence.

The shrine had become his hope.

And when those things disappeared, he believed he had nothing.

That is one of the clearest indicators of an idol in our own lives.

An idol is not merely something we enjoy.

It is something we cannot imagine living without.

Tim Keller often described an idol as anything that makes us say:

“If I have that, then my life has meaning.”

“If I lose that, life is hardly worth living.”

Micah’s response reveals that his religion was never truly about God.

It was about what God could supposedly give him.

And when the system collapsed, so did his sense of security.

Everyone Is a Worshiper

Judges 18 reminds us that every human being is a worshiper.

The question is never whether we worship.

The question is what we worship.

What do we look to for ultimate meaning?

What gives us identity?

What provides security?

What convinces us that life is worthwhile?

What would devastate us if it were taken away?

For some people it is money.

For others it is family.

For others it is reputation.

For others it is comfort.

For others it is ministry.

Even good things can become idols when they occupy the place that belongs to God alone.

Micah’s gods happened to be carved images.

Ours are often far more sophisticated.

But the human heart has not changed.

We still look to created things to provide what only the Creator can give.

The Levite Who Followed Opportunity

As Micah stands devastated, the Levite continues his journey with the Danites.

His decision reveals just how hollow his faith has become.

When offered a larger platform, a larger ministry, and greater influence, he gladly abandons Micah.

His loyalty follows opportunity.

His worship follows advancement.

His decisions are governed by self-interest.

The tragedy becomes even greater when we learn his identity.

For the first time, the Levite is named.

His name is Jonathan.

And he is a descendant of Moses.

That revelation should stop us in our tracks.

The man leading idol worship in Dan comes from the family of Israel’s greatest prophet and lawgiver.

If anyone should have known God’s Word, it was Jonathan.

If anyone should have understood covenant faithfulness, it was Jonathan.

Yet he becomes a priest of compromise.

The lesson is sobering.

God has no grandchildren.

No one inherits genuine faith through family connections.

No one belongs to God because of their ancestry.

Every generation must personally know, trust, and follow the Lord.

As Don Carson famously observed:

One generation believes the gospel.

The next assumes the gospel.

The third loses the gospel.

Nowhere is that pattern more visible than in Jonathan’s story.

The Legacy of Dan

The Danites continue to Laish, destroy the city, and rename it Dan.

At first glance, it appears they have finally found what they were looking for.

They have land.

They have security.

They have prosperity.

They have their own priest.

They have their own religious system.

Everything seems successful.

Yet beneath the surface lies a devastating reality.

Dan has become a center of idolatry.

The tribe that refused to trust God’s provision now leads God’s people further away from Him.

The consequences will last for generations.

What appears successful in the short term proves spiritually disastrous in the long term.

That is often the way of idolatry.

It promises blessing.

It delivers bondage.

It promises freedom.

It produces slavery.

It promises life.

It ends in death.

The Tabernacle They Ignored

Perhaps the saddest verse in the chapter comes at the very end:

“So they set up Micah’s carved image that he made, as long as the house of God was at Shiloh.” (Judges 18:31)

Think about that.

All this time, the true place of worship still existed.

The tabernacle was still standing.

The sacrifices were still being offered.

God had not hidden Himself.

God had not abandoned His people.

God had already provided a way to approach Him.

Yet Dan and Micah chose a substitute.

That is the tragedy of every idol.

It offers a counterfeit while the real thing stands nearby.

The problem was never that God was inaccessible.

The problem was that they preferred something else.

The Better Sanctuary

The tabernacle in Shiloh pointed forward to something greater.

John tells us:

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)

The word “dwelt” literally means “tabernacled.”

Jesus is the true meeting place between God and humanity.

Micah built a shrine.

God gave us Christ.

Dan established a false sanctuary.

God gave us Christ.

Jonathan led people into counterfeit worship.

God gave us Christ.

Everything these chapters long for is ultimately found in Him.

He is the true Priest.

The true Temple.

The true Sacrifice.

The true Presence of God among His people.

To Whom Shall We Go?

Micah’s question hangs over the entire chapter:

“What have I left?”

Centuries later, another group of people faced a similar crisis.

Many disciples were leaving Jesus because His teaching had become difficult.

Jesus turned to the twelve and asked:

“Do you want to go away as well?”

Peter responded:

“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68)

That is the answer Micah never discovered.

When idols are stripped away.

When false hopes collapse.

When counterfeit gods fail.

There is still Christ.

There is nowhere else to go because there is no one else like Him.

If Jesus is all we have, we discover that Jesus is all we need.

Behold Him, Not Me

The story of Micah and Dan is ultimately a story about misplaced worship.

Micah trusted gods that could be stolen.

Jonathan trusted opportunities that could be lost.

Dan trusted victories that could not save.

All of them built their lives upon things that could not last.

Only one foundation remains.

Only one kingdom cannot be shaken.

Only one God cannot be taken away.

The invitation of Judges 18 is not merely to abandon idols.

It is to turn toward Christ.

The One who cannot be stolen.

The One who cannot be replaced.

The One who cannot fail.

The One who has the words of eternal life.

May we learn to hold loosely the things of this world and cling tightly to Him.

Behold Him, not me.

Heart Check

• What would devastate me if it were taken away?

• Have I attached my security to something other than Christ?

• Am I seeking God’s gifts more than God Himself?

• What false sources of blessing am I tempted to trust?

• Can I honestly say with Peter, “Lord, to whom shall we go?”

Prayer

Father,

Forgive me for the ways I place my hope in things that cannot last. Forgive me for trusting gifts more than the Giver and blessings more than the One who blesses.

Thank You for giving me something far greater than idols, success, comfort, or security. Thank You for giving me Christ.

When the things of this world disappoint me, remind me that You never will.

Teach me to build my life upon what cannot be taken away.

Help me to say with confidence that Jesus is enough.

May my hope, security, identity, and joy be found in Him alone.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

July 18, 2026 0

Behold Him, Not Me: Part Five

The Restless Heart

Judges 18:1–20

One of the most sobering realities in the Christian life is that it is possible to spend years chasing what we think will satisfy us only to discover that the problem was never our circumstances.

The problem was our hearts.

As we enter Judges 18, we encounter one of the darkest and most revealing chapters in the entire book.

The stories at the end of Judges are not primarily about military victories or heroic deliverers. Samson has already come and gone. The judges have finished their work.

Yet five chapters remain.

Why?

Because the final chapters of Judges pull back the curtain and reveal the spiritual condition of God’s people during these years.

The earlier chapters gave us the bird’s-eye view.

These chapters give us the ground-level reality.

We are shown what life looks like when people who belong to God stop trusting God.

The result is not freedom.

It is confusion.

It is compromise.

It is restlessness.

Judges 18 opens with a familiar reminder:

“In those days there was no king in Israel.”

This statement is about far more than politics.

Israel’s greatest problem was never a lack of human leadership.

Their greatest problem was that they had rejected the rule of God.

And nowhere is that more evident than in the story of the tribe of Dan.

The Tribe That Never Took Possession

As the chapter begins, we learn that the tribe of Dan is still searching for a place to settle.

At first glance, that may not seem unusual.

After all, everyone needs a home.

Everyone needs security.

Everyone needs a place to belong.

But the reason Dan is still searching is important.

Unlike the other tribes, Dan had never taken possession of the inheritance God had already given them.

When Israel entered the Promised Land, each tribe received territory assigned by God.

Dan’s inheritance had been established.

God had already told them where to live.

God had already provided for them.

God had already made His will known.

The problem was not a lack of guidance.

The problem was a lack of faith.

The Danites failed to drive out the Canaanites as God commanded. Instead, they were pushed back into the hill country and forced into a semi-nomadic existence.

Years later, they are still looking for something better.

The tragedy is that they are searching for what God had already given them.

How often do we do the same thing?

God has spoken.

God has provided.

God has revealed His will.

Yet our hearts continue searching because we secretly believe something better exists somewhere else.

We imagine that satisfaction is always one step away.

One opportunity away.

One relationship away.

One answered prayer away.

One life change away.

Yet the issue is rarely our circumstances.

More often, the issue is our hearts.

Dan’s restlessness was not ultimately geographical.

It was spiritual.

The Curse of the Restless Heart

As I studied this passage, I could not help but notice that every major character in Judges 18 seems restless.

The tribe of Dan is restless.

Micah is restless.

The Levite is restless.

Everyone is searching.

Everyone is moving.

Everyone is looking for something they believe they do not currently possess.

The Danites are searching for land.

Micah is searching for blessing.

The Levite is searching for opportunity.

Yet none of them are seeking the Lord.

That observation feels painfully relevant.

Our culture constantly tells us that fulfillment is found in the next thing.

The next purchase.

The next promotion.

The next relationship.

The next achievement.

The next season of life.

We are taught to believe that contentment is always somewhere ahead of us.

But Scripture consistently points us in the opposite direction.

The problem with a restless heart is that it cannot enjoy God’s provision because it is always looking somewhere else.

The Danites could not enjoy the inheritance God had assigned because they wanted a different one.

The Levite could not enjoy the calling God had given because he wanted a more impressive position.

Micah could not enjoy worshiping God as God commanded because he wanted a religion tailored to his own preferences.

And before we judge them too harshly, we should ask ourselves an uncomfortable question:

Where am I still searching for what I already have in Christ?

Sometimes our greatest spiritual problem is not rebellion.

It is dissatisfaction.

We have forgotten that God Himself is our inheritance.

A Promotion Without a Calling

As the Danites search for a new homeland, they stop at Micah’s house and encounter the Levite we met in the previous chapter.

Immediately they recognize his voice and ask him to inquire of God on their behalf.

Notice how spiritually confused the situation has become.

The Danites are consulting a Levite who is serving at an idolatrous shrine.

They are asking for guidance from a priest who has already abandoned God’s commands.

And yet no one seems bothered by this.

In fact, they appear completely reassured.

The Levite gives them exactly what they want to hear:

“Go in peace. The journey on which you go is under the eye of the Lord.” (Judges 18:6)

Whether he truly knows God’s will is beside the point.

The Danites are not looking for God’s direction.

They are looking for God’s approval.

There is a difference.

Sometimes we approach God the same way.

We are not asking,

“Lord, what would You have me do?”

Instead we ask,

“Lord, will You bless what I have already decided to do?”

The Danites had already chosen their path.

The Levite simply provided spiritual language to justify it.

The Ministry of Self-Promotion

Later in the chapter, the Danites return with six hundred armed men.

As they prepare to relocate, they stop again at Micah’s house.

This time they take the idols.

They take the ephod.

They take the household gods.

And then they make the Levite an offer:

“Is it better for you to be priest to the household of one man, or to be priest to a tribe and clan in Israel?” (Judges 18:19)

The question reveals everything.

The Danites understand exactly what motivates him.

Status.

Influence.

Advancement.

A bigger platform.

A more impressive ministry.

And the Levite gladly accepts.

The text says:

“And the priest’s heart was glad.” (Judges 18:20)

That statement is devastating.

His heart is not glad because God is being honored.

His heart is not glad because people are returning to true worship.

His heart is glad because he got a promotion.

The Levite serves whoever benefits him most.

His loyalty is not to God.

His loyalty is to himself.

Not every promotion is a blessing.

Not every opportunity is God’s will.

Not every open door should be walked through.

The Levite’s life warns us that it is possible to climb higher and higher while moving further and further away from God.

The Land That Looked Perfect

The Danite spies eventually arrive at a place called Laish.

What they find appears almost too good to be true.

The people are living securely.

The land is fertile.

The city is prosperous.

There are no nearby allies.

There are no obvious obstacles.

Everything looks easy.

Everything looks safe.

Everything looks desirable.

The spies return and declare:

“Arise, and let us go up against them. For we have seen the land, and behold, it is very good.” (Judges 18:9)

The language sounds remarkably similar to Joshua and Caleb.

Yet there is one critical difference.

Joshua and Caleb trusted God’s promises.

The Danites trusted their own calculations.

The city looked vulnerable.

The battle looked manageable.

The reward looked substantial.

The entire plan was built upon what they could see.

There is remarkably little mention of trusting God.

How often do we do the same thing?

We evaluate opportunities based upon ease, safety, and apparent success.

Yet ease is not always evidence of God’s blessing.

Sometimes the easiest path is the path furthest from obedience.

The Danites wanted a land they could conquer without depending on God.

They found one.

The tragedy is that God had already given them a land.

What they lacked was not opportunity.

What they lacked was faith.

The Restless Heart Finds Rest

As I studied Judges 18, I found myself asking a simple question:

What is every character in this chapter actually looking for?

Dan is looking for a homeland.

The Levite is looking for significance.

Micah is looking for blessing.

Everyone is searching.

Everyone is moving.

Everyone believes that what they need lies somewhere beyond their current circumstances.

Yet none of them find peace.

Because none of them are ultimately seeking God.

Augustine famously wrote:

“You have made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in You.”

Centuries before Augustine, Judges 18 was illustrating that truth.

The tribe of Dan had a restless heart.

The Levite had a restless heart.

Micah had a restless heart.

And if we are honest, so do we.

The human heart can turn any blessing into an idol and any gift into a substitute for God.

If we are looking to circumstances to provide what only God can provide, we will never stop searching.

The Better Homeland

The tribe of Dan believed they needed a different inheritance.

Yet the Bible teaches that God’s people have always been looking for a better country.

Not merely a different piece of land.

A heavenly one.

Dan thought they needed Laish.

What they truly needed was God.

Every earthly home points beyond itself.

Every earthly security eventually fades.

Every earthly kingdom eventually falls.

But Christ offers a kingdom that cannot be shaken.

The Better Significance

The Levite believed significance would come through promotion.

Yet significance built upon position is always fragile.

The gospel offers something far more secure.

Our value is not rooted in our accomplishments.

Our significance is not rooted in our platform.

Our identity is rooted in being known and loved by Christ.

The Levite spent his life climbing.

Jesus spent His life descending.

The Son of God humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.

The path to significance in God’s kingdom is not self-promotion.

It is surrender.

The Better Blessing

Micah spent chapters constructing a religion that he believed would bring blessing.

Yet he wanted God’s gifts more than God Himself.

That temptation remains one of the greatest dangers in the Christian life.

We can seek peace instead of the Prince of Peace.

Provision instead of the Provider.

Guidance instead of the Guide.

Gifts instead of the Giver.

But every blessing was always meant to lead us back to Christ.

The greatest gift God gives is not prosperity.

It is His presence.

Come to Me

Against the backdrop of all this searching, Jesus speaks words that feel especially precious:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Notice what Jesus does not say.

He does not say:

Come to a better opportunity.

Come to a better circumstance.

Come to a better plan.

He says:

“Come to Me.”

The rest Dan could not find.

The security Micah could not create.

The significance the Levite could not achieve.

Jesus freely gives.

The answer to a restless heart is not finding a new location.

A new opportunity.

Or a new season.

It is a Person.

And His name is Jesus Christ.

Behold Him, Not Me

Judges 18 is a chapter full of searching.

A searching tribe.

A searching priest.

A searching people.

Yet every path they take only leads them further from God.

Their story reminds us that restlessness is often a symptom of a deeper problem.

We have forgotten that God Himself is our inheritance.

The invitation of the gospel is not to search harder.

It is to stop searching.

To come to Christ.

To trust Christ.

To rest in Christ.

The world tells us that peace lies somewhere out there.

Jesus tells us that peace is found in Him.

May we learn to say with the psalmist:

“Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You.” (Psalm 73:25)

And may we learn once again to behold Him, not ourselves.

Heart Check

• Where am I currently looking for satisfaction apart from God?

• What circumstances do I believe must change before I can be content?

• Am I seeking God’s gifts more than God Himself?

• Have I confused comfort with contentment?

• What would it look like to rest in Christ today rather than continue searching for something else?

Prayer

Father,

Forgive me for the ways I continually search for satisfaction outside of You.

Thank You for reminding me that You alone are my inheritance.

Help me to stop chasing what cannot satisfy and to find my rest in Christ.

When my heart becomes restless, remind me that true peace is not found in a place, a possession, or a position.

It is found in You.

Teach me to behold Christ more clearly, trust Him more deeply, and rest in Him more fully.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

July 11, 2026 0

Bonus Material: Who Are the Levites?

Why Their Story Matters—Especially in the Book of Judges

“In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” — Judges 21:25

If you’ve been reading through the final chapters of Judges, you’ve probably noticed something surprising.

The main characters aren’t kings.

They aren’t judges.

Instead, the narrative repeatedly places Levites at the center of Israel’s darkest moments.

A Levite serves as priest in an idolatrous household (Judges 17–18).

Another Levite abandons his concubine to protect himself (Judges 19).

Why?

Because the author wants us to see something deeper than political chaos.

He wants us to see spiritual collapse.

To understand why these stories are so shocking, we first need to understand who the Levites were and what God had called them to be.

Read the Passage

Primary Reading:

Genesis 49:5–7
Exodus 32:25–29
Numbers 3:5–13
Numbers 8:5–26
Deuteronomy 10:8–9
Deuteronomy 33:8–11
Judges 17–21

Observe the Text

Before we ask what these passages mean, notice a few repeated themes.

God Himself chose the Levites.
They belonged to Him in a unique way.
They were scattered throughout Israel.
They had no tribal inheritance of land.
Their lives revolved around worship.
Their purpose was to help Israel remain faithful to the covenant.

Yet by Judges 17–21…

they are doing the exact opposite.

Who Were the Levites?

The Levites were descendants of Levi, one of the twelve sons of Jacob.

Unlike the other tribes, they were never intended to become wealthy landowners.

Instead, God declared:

“The LORD is their inheritance.”

Think about that.

Every other tribe received fertile valleys, vineyards, fields, and cities.

The Levites received something far greater.

They received the privilege of belonging wholly to God.

Their identity wasn’t rooted in possessions.

It was rooted in God’s presence.

From Judgment to Grace

Levi’s story doesn’t begin well.

In Genesis 34, Levi and his brother Simeon responded to the assault of their sister Dinah by slaughtering an entire city.

Years later, Jacob declared:

“I will divide them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel.”

At first glance, this sounds like nothing but judgment.

Yet God, in His mercy, transformed that judgment into a blessing.

Rather than being scattered in disgrace, the Levites were scattered throughout Israel so every tribe would have teachers of God’s Word living among them.

Only God can redeem a curse into a calling.

Why Did God Choose the Levites?

The defining moment comes after Israel worshiped the golden calf.

While the nation bowed before an idol, Moses cried out:

“Who is on the LORD’S side?”

Only the Levites responded.

Because of their zeal for God’s holiness, the Lord formally set them apart for His service.

They became Israel’s ministers, teachers, guardians, and servants of the Tabernacle.

What Were They Called to Do?

The Levites weren’t simply ancient church janitors.

Their responsibilities touched every part of Israel’s spiritual life.

They guarded God’s dwelling.

They cared for the Tabernacle.

They transported it.

They protected it from being treated as ordinary.

They taught God’s Word.

The Levites instructed Israel in God’s Law.

They explained the covenant.

They answered difficult questions.

They helped people distinguish truth from error.

They preserved holiness.

Again and again, Scripture connects the Levites with the distinction between holy and common, clean and unclean.

Their lives continually reminded Israel:

God is holy.

They shepherded God’s people.

Though they held no throne, they exercised tremendous spiritual influence.

They were meant to lead Israel toward faithful worship.

Their Greatest Possession

Perhaps the most beautiful truth about the Levites is this:

They received no inheritance because God Himself was their inheritance.

This wasn’t a punishment.

It was a privilege.

Their lives declared:

Nothing is greater than belonging to the Lord.

Then Comes Judges…

Now everything changes.

The Levites who once destroyed idols…

begin serving idols.

The Levites who once guarded holiness…

participate in profound wickedness.

The Levites who should have defended the vulnerable…

exploit them.

This is why the stories in Judges are so disturbing.

The author isn’t simply showing us that Israel sinned.

He’s showing us that even Israel’s spiritual leaders have become indistinguishable from the surrounding nations.

Israel hasn’t merely failed to remove Canaanite influence.

Israel has become Canaanite.

The Tragedy of Judges

Notice the progression.

In Exodus…

the Levites answer God’s call.

In Judges…

they answer the highest bidder.

In Exodus…

they defend true worship.

In Judges…

they help establish false worship.

In Exodus…

they stand for God’s holiness.

In Judges…

they abandon righteousness to protect themselves.

The nation’s spiritual decline is visible in the very people who were supposed to lead it.

Behold Christ

Every faithful Levite pointed forward to a greater Priest.

Every corrupt Levite reminded Israel they still needed Him.

The Levites guarded God’s house.

Jesus is the true Temple.

The Levites offered sacrifices.

Jesus became the sacrifice.

The Levites taught God’s Law.

Jesus is the Word made flesh.

The Levites entered God’s presence on behalf of the people.

Jesus opened the way into God’s presence forever.

The Levites failed repeatedly.

Christ never failed once.

Where Judges leaves us longing for faithful spiritual leadership, the Gospel answers that longing in Jesus Christ, our perfect High Priest.

Examine Your Heart

As you reflect on the Levites, consider these questions:

Is my greatest inheritance God Himself, or have I come to treasure His gifts more than His presence?
Am I careful to distinguish between what God calls holy and what the world calls acceptable?
Where am I tempted to “do what is right in my own eyes” rather than submit to God’s Word?
How am I using whatever influence God has given me to point others toward Him?

Respond

Repent: Confess any tendency to seek comfort, approval, or success above faithfulness to God.

Believe: Trust that Christ is the perfect High Priest who never abandons His people.

Obey: Ask God to make your life a testimony to His holiness and grace.

Pray:

Father, thank You for preserving Your Word so that we might learn from both the faithfulness and failures of those who came before us. Guard my heart from doing what is right in my own eyes. Help me treasure You above every earthly inheritance, and teach me to look to Jesus, my perfect High Priest, who never fails to lead His people into Your presence. Amen.

July 7, 2026 0

He Makes Everything Beautiful in Its Time

Finding Hope in Ecclesiastes 3

If you’ve ever read Ecclesiastes, you know it can feel surprisingly heavy.

Traditionally attributed to Solomon—the son of David and king of Israel—Ecclesiastes is part of Scripture’s Wisdom Literature. It isn’t a book of commands telling us to despair or to chase pleasure while we can. Rather, it is a Spirit-inspired record of one man’s honest observations about life in a fallen world. Through poetic language, paradox, and reflection, Solomon invites us into holy wrestling with life’s hardest questions.

He exposes the emptiness of pursuing wisdom, wealth, pleasure, or achievement apart from God while calling us to something far better: to fear the Lord and trust Him, even when we cannot understand all that He is doing (Ecclesiastes 12:9–14).

This morning, I found myself lingering over Ecclesiastes 3.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:11 (ESV)

The Hebrew word translated “beautiful” is yāpeh, which carries the idea of something that is fitting, appropriate, or timely—not merely attractive.

That changes how I read this verse.

God isn’t promising that every season will feel beautiful.

He is promising that every season has a fitting place within His perfect plan.

There is a time to plant and a time to harvest.

A time to weep and a time to laugh.

A time to mourn and a time to dance.

While our lives often feel uncertain, fragmented, and fleeting, every season is held securely in the hands of a sovereign God.

Ecclesiastes also tells us that God has “put eternity into man’s heart.” We were created to long for something this world can never fully satisfy. That longing isn’t a flaw—it’s evidence that we were made for more. We were created for God Himself.

This is why so much of life can feel like chasing the wind. No amount of success, comfort, possessions, or earthly wisdom can quiet the longing for eternity that God has placed within us.

Yet Solomon doesn’t leave us in despair.

Just a few verses later he writes:

“I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:14

Our work is temporary.

God’s work is eternal.

Our plans change.

His purposes never fail.

Our understanding is limited.

His wisdom is perfect.

What feels like chaos to us is never outside His sovereign care.

The Apostle Paul echoes this same hope when he reminds us that creation itself has been subjected to futility because of the Fall, yet it eagerly awaits the day of redemption (Romans 8:20–23). One day, every longing will find its fulfillment in Christ, and what is now broken will be made whole.

Until then, faith does not require us to understand everything.

It calls us to trust the One who does.

Today’s Takeaway

Every season—from planting to harvesting, from mourning to dancing—is held in God’s hands. What feels fleeting is part of His eternal plan, and in His perfect wisdom, He makes everything fitting in its time.

Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop demanding to know the whole story and instead rest in the Author who is writing it.

July 6, 2026 0

Behold Him, Not Me: Part Four

A Convenient Religion

Judges 17:7–13

“It is possible to seek God’s blessing while refusing God’s authority.”

The Most Dangerous Kind of Religion

If someone asked you what spiritual rebellion looks like, what would you picture?

Would you imagine someone abandoning church?

Rejecting Christianity?

Walking away from God altogether?

That is often what we think rebellion looks like.

Yet Judges 17 presents a far more subtle danger.

Micah does not reject religion.

In fact, he becomes increasingly religious.

He has a shrine.

He has idols.

He has an ephod.

He has household gods.

Now he wants a priest.

The problem is not a lack of religious activity.

The problem is that everything revolves around Micah.

The religion is designed for his convenience.

His preferences.

His control.

And if we are honest, that temptation remains alive in every generation.

A Levite Looking for a Better Opportunity

The story introduces a young Levite from Bethlehem in Judah.

This should immediately raise questions.

The Levites were the tribe set apart by God for spiritual service. Their inheritance was not land but the privilege of serving the Lord and teaching His people.

Yet here we find a Levite wandering the countryside looking for a place to settle.

Why?

The text does not tell us directly.

But it reveals something troubling.

The spiritual leadership of Israel has become just as unstable as the people they are meant to shepherd.

The Levite arrives at Micah’s house, and Micah quickly sees an opportunity.

He offers him a position:

“Stay with me, and be to me a father and a priest.” (Judges 17:10)

Notice the language.

Micah does not ask what God desires.

He asks what will benefit him.

He wants a personal priest.

Someone attached to his private shrine.

Someone who can provide religious legitimacy to a system God never authorized.

And the Levite accepts.

Not because it is faithful.

But because it is profitable.

For ten shekels of silver, clothing, and food, he becomes Micah’s employee.

The arrangement appears spiritual.

But underneath it is a business transaction.

Micah gets religious credibility.

The Levite gets security.

Neither appears concerned with obedience to God.

Religion on Our Terms

What Micah is building is not true worship.

It is personalized religion.

God had already established where and how Israel was to worship.

The tabernacle stood as the place where sacrifices were offered and God’s presence was uniquely displayed among His people.

Yet Micah decides that God’s arrangement is inconvenient.

He creates his own.

His own shrine.

His own priest.

His own system.

His own rules.

Everything is customized according to his preferences.

This is the natural progression of the human heart.

When we begin reshaping God, we eventually begin reshaping worship.

Tim Keller summarizes the problem well:

“God says, worship Me as I am, not as you want Me to be. Worship Me as My Word directs, not as your heart suggests.”

That is precisely what Micah refuses to do.

And before we judge him too harshly, we should recognize how often we are tempted to do the same.

We may not build shrines in our homes.

But we frequently approach faith as consumers rather than disciples.

We ask:

What works for me?

What makes me comfortable?

What fits my schedule?

What aligns with my preferences?

The modern world encourages us to customize everything.

Our entertainment.

Our news.

Our shopping.

Our social media feeds.

And if we are not careful, we begin treating Christianity the same way.

Instead of asking, “What has God commanded?”

We ask, “What do I like?”

Wanting God’s Blessing Without God’s Authority

The climax of the story comes in verse 13.

Micah proudly declares:

“Now I know that the Lord will prosper me, because I have a Levite as priest.”

This statement reveals the true condition of his heart.

Micah believes he has found the formula for blessing.

He has assembled all the religious pieces.

He has the shrine.

Yet Micah has misunderstood something fundamental.

He has the idols.

He has the priest.

Surely now God will bless him.

God’s blessing is not a reward for manipulating religious systems.

God cannot be controlled.

He cannot be purchased.

He cannot be managed.

Micah treats worship almost like a superstition.

As though gathering enough religious objects and religious people will guarantee divine favor.

Yet genuine faith is not about controlling God.

It is about surrendering to Him.

This temptation remains incredibly common today.

We can begin treating prayer like a formula.

Church attendance like a transaction.

Bible reading like a spiritual insurance policy.

We subtly convince ourselves that if we perform the right activities, God owes us certain outcomes.

But God is not interested in being used.

He desires to be worshiped.

The Better Priest

Micah wanted a priest who belonged to him.

A priest who would serve his interests.

A priest he could hire.

A priest he could control.

But God’s people do not need a priest of their own making.

We have been given a perfect High Priest.

The book of Hebrews tells us that Jesus Christ serves as our great High Priest before the Father.

Unlike Micah’s priest, Jesus cannot be bought.

Unlike Micah’s priest, Jesus never compromises.

Unlike Micah’s priest, Jesus perfectly represents God to His people and His people before God.

The wandering Levite points us toward humanity’s need for a faithful priest.

Jesus fulfills that need completely.

The Better Temple

Micah built a shrine.

God provided something better.

Throughout the Old Testament, God’s presence was associated with the tabernacle and later the temple.

But even these pointed beyond themselves.

Jesus declared:

“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” (John 2:19)

He was speaking about His own body.

Jesus is the true meeting place between God and humanity.

Micah attempted to create a sacred space that would guarantee God’s favor.

God gave us Christ.

We do not travel to a private shrine to find Him.

We come to Jesus.

The Better King

The repeated refrain of Judges reminds us:

“In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”

Micah’s story illustrates exactly what happens when people become their own authority.

They reshape God.

They reshape worship.

They reshape truth.

They reshape morality.

They become kings of their own lives.

Yet the Bible’s answer is not better self-help.

The answer is a better King.

Jesus does not simply offer advice.

He reigns.

And unlike every human leader, His rule is good.

His commands are good.

His authority is good.

True freedom is not found in doing whatever seems right in our own eyes.

True freedom is found in joyful submission to the King who sees clearly.

Behold Him, Not Me

Micah’s religion looked impressive.

He had all the right pieces.

A shrine.

A priest.

Religious language.

Religious activity.

Religious confidence.

Yet none of it brought him closer to God because it was ultimately centered on himself.

The danger of Judges 17 is not merely false religion.

It is self-centered religion.

A faith that uses God rather than worships Him.

A faith that seeks blessings without surrender.

A faith that wants God’s gifts more than God Himself.

The gospel offers something infinitely better.

Not a convenient religion.

Not a customized spirituality.

Not a God made in our image.

But Jesus Christ.

Our better Priest.

Our better Temple.

Our better King.

The One who does not exist to serve our preferences.

The One who came to rescue us from ourselves.

May we learn to stop asking how God can fit into our plans.

And instead ask how our lives can be shaped by His.

Behold Him, not me.

Heart Check

• Are there areas where I want God’s blessings more than God’s authority?

• Have I been treating faith as a relationship or as a transaction?

• Do I approach God seeking surrender or control?

• Are there parts of my life I have customized according to my preferences rather than God’s Word?

• What would joyful submission to Christ look like in my life today?

Prayer

Father,

Forgive me for the ways I seek Your blessings while resisting Your authority. Forgive me for the times I have approached faith as a transaction rather than a relationship.

Thank You for giving me something far better than self-made religion. Thank You for Jesus, my perfect High Priest, my true Temple, and my rightful King.

Teach me to surrender areas of my life that I have kept under my own control. Help me to trust Your wisdom more than my preferences and Your Word more than my feelings.

May my faith not be built around convenience, comfort, or personal gain, but around knowing and worshiping You.

Teach me to behold Christ more clearly and to follow Him more faithfully.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

July 3, 2026 0

Behold Him, Not Me: Part Three

When We Remake God

Judges 17:1–6

“The most dangerous idols are often the ones we create in God’s name.”

A Note to Readers

As we continue our journey through Judges, some readers may be wondering why there are still five chapters left in the book. After all, Samson was the last of Israel’s twelve judges.

The answer is that the final chapters of Judges are not a continuation of the judges’ cycle. Instead, they serve as a double conclusion to the entire book.

Earlier chapters gave us a bird’s-eye view of Israel’s history. We watched cycles of sin, oppression, repentance, and rescue unfold across generations. We saw judges rise and fall. We witnessed God’s mercy displayed again and again toward a people who continually wandered from Him.

Now the author zooms in.

The final chapters provide a ground-level view of what life actually looked like during those dark days.

These stories are not primarily about foreign enemies.

They are about the spiritual condition of God’s people themselves.

The middle of Judges showed us how God repeatedly rescued Israel.

The final chapters show us what He was rescuing them from.

And what we find is sobering.

Again and again we will hear the refrain:

“In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” (Judges 17:6)

That verse is not merely describing Israel.

It is describing the human heart apart from God’s rule.

Judges 17 is our first case study.

And what makes this story so unsettling is that it is not a story about atheism.

It is a story about religion.

Lots of religion.

The problem is that it is religion shaped by human preference rather than God’s revelation.

It is worship that looks right but isn’t.

It is devotion that sounds sincere but is fundamentally distorted.

And if we are honest, it is a temptation that remains just as dangerous today.

A Hollow Man

The story begins with a man named Micah from the hill country of Ephraim.

Micah had stolen eleven hundred shekels of silver from his mother. Later, after hearing her pronounce a curse upon the thief, he confesses and returns the money.

At first glance, Micah is difficult to categorize.

He does not appear thoroughly wicked.

After all, he returns the money.

Yet neither does he appear righteous.

A righteous man would never have stolen it in the first place.

The text gives us the impression of a weak man with weak convictions—a man moved more by fear than by conscience.

A man without much moral substance.

Perhaps that is what makes him so relatable.

Most people do not see themselves in Pharaoh.

Or Jezebel.

Or Judas.

But many of us can recognize compromise.

We recognize drift.

We recognize moments when fear of consequences moved us more than love for righteousness.

Micah is not a monster.

He is simply a man doing what seems right in his own eyes.

And that is exactly the problem.

Grace Without Repentance

Micah’s mother responds by reversing her curse and pronouncing a blessing over him.

There is something admirable in her willingness to forgive.

Yet there is also something deeply concerning.

She quickly restores the relationship without ever addressing the deeper issue.

There is blessing.

But no repentance.

Restoration.

But no transformation.

No examination of Micah’s heart.

No discussion of why he stole the money.

No acknowledgment of his need for grace.

No call to humility.

As parents, this is an important warning.

A condemning parent can wound a child.

But an excusing parent can wound a child as well.

True love does not merely remove consequences.

It seeks the transformation of the heart.

Micah’s mother appears eager to move past the offense, but in doing so she misses the opportunity to shepherd her son toward genuine repentance.

And as the story unfolds, we will see that Micah remains exactly the same man he was before.

Forgiveness is beautiful.

But biblical restoration always aims at something deeper than simply making conflict disappear.

It aims at reconciliation with God.

The God We Want vs. The God Who Is

The story takes an unexpected turn when Micah’s mother declares:

“I dedicate this silver to the Lord from my hand for my son, to make a carved image and a metal image.” (Judges 17:3)

If that sounds contradictory, it should.

She claims to dedicate the silver to the Lord.

Then she uses it to violate one of His clearest commands.

God had explicitly forbidden the making of images for worship:

“You shall not make for yourself a carved image…” (Exodus 20:4)

This was not a minor detail in Israel’s faith.

It was the Second Commandment.

So why was God so concerned about images?

The issue was never artistic ability.

The issue was theological accuracy.

Any image of God automatically reveals one aspect of His character while concealing others.

Consider Aaron’s golden calf in the wilderness.

The calf may have symbolized strength and power.

But it could not communicate God’s holiness.

His justice.

His mercy.

His wisdom.

His love.

Every image inevitably distorts what it attempts to represent.

God refuses to be reduced to something fashioned by human hands because He cannot be contained by human imagination.

Yet the deeper problem is not the image itself.

The deeper problem is the heart behind the image.

Worshiping God through images reveals a desire to reshape Him into someone we find more comfortable.

It is an attempt to edit God.

To soften the attributes we dislike.

To emphasize the attributes we prefer.

To create a version of God that fits our expectations.

Tim Keller observed that the fundamental problem behind idolatry is a refusal to let God be Himself.

In modern terms, it is a refusal to submit to God as He has revealed Himself.

And if we’re honest, we do this all the time.

Most of us do not carve idols out of silver.

But we often create versions of God in our minds.

How often have we heard someone say:

“I don’t believe in a God who would do that.”

Or:

“I like to think of God as…”

At first those statements sound thoughtful.

But they reveal something dangerous.

They place us in the position of deciding who God should be.

Instead of allowing Scripture to reveal God to us, we attempt to recreate Him according to our preferences.

Like Micah’s family, we begin shaping God instead of allowing God to shape us.

The Comfortable God

There are many ways we attempt to remake God.

Sometimes we do it intellectually.

We encounter something in Scripture that offends our modern sensibilities, so we quietly dismiss it.

We decide that God could not possibly mean what He says.

After all, our culture has progressed beyond such things.

Yet what we are really saying is that our culture has become the authority rather than God.

Other times we do it psychologically.

We simply avoid the parts of God’s character that make us uncomfortable.

Perhaps we love God’s grace but ignore His holiness.

Perhaps we celebrate His love but avoid His authority.

Perhaps we cling to His promises while neglecting His commands.

Still other times we do it practically.

We know what Scripture teaches.

Yet we follow our feelings instead.

We follow our desires instead.

We follow our culture instead.

And then we reassure ourselves by saying:

“I prayed about it.”

“I feel peace about it.”

But peace is not the measure of truth.

God’s Word is.

This is exactly what Micah’s family is doing.

They are not abandoning religion.

They are customizing it.

They follow the commands they like.

They ignore the commands they dislike.

They keep enough of God’s truth to feel spiritual while discarding enough of it to remain comfortable.

The most dangerous idols are often the ones we create in God’s name.

Why This Matters

A counterfeit god can never save us.

More than that, a counterfeit god can never truly know us.

Real relationships require wrestling.

A real person can disagree with you.

Correct you.

Challenge you.

Say no to you.

The same is true in our relationship with God.

When Scripture confronts us, we have an opportunity to wrestle honestly with Him.

To submit where we disagree.

To grow where we are resistant.

To deepen our understanding of His character.

But if we simply ignore every truth we dislike, we are not relating to God at all.

We are relating to a projection of ourselves.

We may have created a more comfortable god.

But we have also created a nonexistent one.

And that may be the most sobering lesson in Judges 17.

Micah’s greatest problem was not that he rejected God.

It was that he remade Him.

Jesus: The True Image

Micah’s mother believed she could fashion something with silver that would help her worship God.

Yet every image created by human hands inevitably distorts the One it seeks to represent.

But in Jesus Christ, God has given us the perfect image of Himself.

Paul writes:

“He is the image of the invisible God.” (Colossians 1:15)

Unlike Micah’s idol, Jesus does not distort God’s character.

He reveals it perfectly.

If we want to know what God is like, we do not look at statues.

We look at Christ.

In Jesus we see God’s holiness.

His mercy.

His justice.

His compassion.

His truth.

His love.

Micah attempted to create an image of God.

God gave us the real thing.

We never need to imagine what God is like.

God has shown us.

Behold Him, Not Me

Micah’s problem was not that he stopped worshiping.

His problem was that he wanted a version of God that fit comfortably inside his own preferences.

Every idol ultimately asks the same question:

Will I worship God as He is?

Or will I create a god I prefer?

The answer is not better religion.

The answer is Christ.

The true image of God.

As we continue through the closing chapters of Judges, may we learn to lay aside our preferences, our assumptions, and our attempts to remake God according to our own image.

May we instead allow God to reveal Himself through His Word and through His Son.

And may we learn, once again, to behold Him—not ourselves.

Heart Check Questions

• What parts of God’s Word do I most wish were different?

• Have I been wrestling honestly with those truths or avoiding them?

• Are there attributes of God I emphasize while ignoring others?

• Where am I tempted to shape God according to culture rather than Scripture?

• Am I worshiping God as He is—or as I would prefer Him to be?

Prayer

Father,

Forgive me for the ways I try to reshape You according to my preferences. Forgive me for the times I have emphasized the parts of Your character that comfort me while ignoring the parts that challenge me.

Thank You for revealing Yourself through Your Word and through Your Son. Thank You that I do not have to imagine what You are like because You have shown me in Jesus Christ.

Help me to worship You as You are, not as I wish You to be.

Give me humility where I resist Your truth.

Give me faith where I struggle to understand.

Give me courage to submit even when Your Word confronts my desires.

Teach me to behold Christ more clearly, trust Him more deeply, and follow Him more faithfully.

May I stop creating gods in my own image and instead be transformed into Yours.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

The most dangerous idols are often the ones we create in God’s name.

Behold Him, not me.

June 27, 2026 0

Knowing God Is Better Than Having All the Answers

Before We Dive In

You may notice some overlap between this study and the previous two Judges posts I’ve shared. That’s intentional. In those studies, we looked at the broader movement of Judges 12–13 and how the story points us forward to Christ. This time, I found myself lingering over a much smaller section of the text—Judges 13:8–25—and discovering a lesson I wasn’t ready to move past.

Sometimes Scripture is like that. We read a passage once and see the big picture. Then we come back and find the Lord gently pressing a particular truth deeper into our hearts. For me, that truth was this: knowing God is better than having all the answers.

So if some of these verses feel familiar, I hope you’ll slow down with me and look again. God’s Word always has more to show us.

And perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts of studying Scripture slowly. We don’t simply gather more information—we come to know the Author more deeply. As always, my prayer is that through this study we would learn to behold Him, not ourselves, trusting that His character is enough even when we don’t have all the answers.

Judges 13:8–25

As I studied Judges 13 this week, I found myself identifying with Samson’s father, Manoah.

After hearing that his barren wife would bear a son, Manoah prayed:

“Please, Lord, let the man of God you sent to us come again to teach us how to bring up the boy who is to be born.” (Judges 13:8)

His request is deeply relatable. He wants clarity, direction, and a plan for the future God has placed in his hands.

I’ve prayed the same way countless times.

As the mother of a son with autism, I have often asked God for guidance. Should I pursue this therapy or that one? Should I homeschool or choose public school? What does faithfulness look like in this situation?

If God would simply make the path clear, I would gladly follow it.

But Judges 13 reveals a better gift. The central lesson of Manoah’s story is this:

Knowing God is better than having all the answers.

Manoah asks for guidance, yet God gives him something deeper—a greater revelation of Himself. And that is often how God works in our lives as well.

Faith That Believes the Impossible

Before we look at Manoah, we must first notice the remarkable faith of Samson’s mother.

When the angel of the Lord appeared and announced that she would conceive and bear a son, she simply believed.

There is no recorded laughter as there was with Sarah when she heard she would bear Isaac in her old age (Genesis 18:9–15).

There is no disbelief like Zechariah displayed when he learned John the Baptist would be born (Luke 1:13–20).

Instead, Samson’s mother receives God’s word with faith:

“A man of God came to me. He looked like an angel of God, very awesome.” (Judges 13:6)

She believed the promise before she saw the fulfillment.

In this way, she reminds us of another woman who would receive impossible news more than a thousand years later.

When Gabriel announced the coming birth of Jesus, Mary responded:

“May it be to me as you have said.” (Luke 1:38)

Both women trusted God’s promises.

Both women submitted themselves to God’s purposes.

Both women accepted personal cost in order to participate in God’s plan.

Samson’s mother embraced the Nazarite restrictions required during her pregnancy. Mary embraced the shame and misunderstanding that would accompany an unwed pregnancy.

Both women demonstrate that faith is not merely believing God can do the impossible—it is willingly placing ourselves at His disposal.

Manoah’s Request

Unlike his wife, Manoah has questions.

And honestly, I appreciate that.

His response feels very human.

Notice that he doesn’t ask whether God’s promise is true.

He assumes the child will come.

His request is not for proof but for guidance.

He wants to know:

“What is to be the rule for the boy’s life and work?” (Judges 13:12)

How do we raise him?

What should we do?

What rules should we follow?

Again, I find myself nodding along.

As parents, we want certainty.

We want formulas.

We want detailed instructions.

We want guarantees.

Yet when the angel returns, something surprising happens.

He doesn’t provide much new information at all.

The child will be a Nazarite.

Manoah’s wife must continue obeying what she has already been told.

That’s essentially it.

No parenting manual.

No detailed roadmap.

No step-by-step guide.

Why?

The Help Manoah Wanted Versus the Help He Needed

At first it seems like God ignored Manoah’s request.

But He didn’t.

God answered the prayer.

Just not in the way Manoah expected.

Manoah wanted information.

God gave revelation.

Manoah wanted rules.

God revealed His character.

Manoah wanted to know what to do.

God showed him who He was.

When Manoah asks the angel’s name, the angel responds:

“Why do you ask my name? It is beyond understanding.” (Judges 13:18)

Then the angel ascends into heaven in the flame of the sacrifice.

Suddenly Manoah realizes this was no ordinary visitor.

This was a divine encounter.

The angel of the Lord had come not merely to deliver information but to reveal God’s greatness.

That was the help Manoah truly needed.

And perhaps it is the help we need as well.

The Lesson I Keep Learning

This part of the story stopped me in my tracks.

Because I often approach God exactly the way Manoah did.

I want clarity.

I want confidence for the next step.

I want God to show me how to move forward.

As the mother of a child with autism, I have cried out to God with questions similar to Manoah’s.

But God’s silence has not really been silence.

Like Manoah, I often discover that God is answering a deeper question than the one I am asking.

He is teaching me His character.

His goodness.

His faithfulness.

His wisdom.

His sovereignty.

Because the truth is this:

Knowing God is better than having all the answers.

No set of instructions can prepare us for every decision we will face.

Only a deep understanding of who God is can guide us through the countless twists and turns of life.

Faith Is Not the Absence of Thinking

After Manoah panics and assumes they are about to die because they have seen God, it is his wife who calmly reasons through the situation:

“If the Lord had meant to kill us, he would not have accepted a burnt offering and grain offering from our hands.” (Judges 13:23)

Her response beautifully illustrates what Tim Keller wrote:

“Faith is not the absence of thinking. It is thinking and acting on the basis of the Word and promises of God.”

She reflects on what God has already revealed.

She reasons from His character.

She trusts His promises.

That is biblical faith.

Not blind optimism.

Not wishful thinking.

But confidence rooted in who God is.

We Need God More Than More Rules

Tim Keller points out that mature relationships require fewer external rules and more internal wisdom.

Young children need constant instructions:

Don’t touch that.

Don’t go there.

Don’t do this.

But as children mature, parents desire them to internalize wisdom and values so they can make good decisions even when specific instructions are absent.

The same is true spiritually.

Many Christians imagine Old Testament believers had a better system because they received more regulations.

Yet under the New Covenant, we have something far greater.

We have the Holy Spirit.

Paul writes:

“Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:2)

And:

“We have the mind of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 2:16)

Rather than endless prescriptions, God gives us Himself.

Rather than merely telling us what to do, He transforms who we are.

What Manoah needed most was not more regulations.

It was a greater vision of God.

And the same is true for us.

Samson’s Birth and Our Need for a Greater Savior

Finally, just as God promised, Samson is born.

The promise was never in doubt because it rested on God’s word.

The child grows.

God blesses him.

The Spirit begins to stir within him.

Everything appears poised for success.

If anyone ever had spiritual advantages, it was Samson.

Miraculous birth.

Divine calling.

God’s blessing.

The Spirit’s power.

Yet as we continue through Judges, we will discover that Samson is not the Savior Israel needs.

He will disappoint us.

His flaws will become painfully evident.

And that disappointment is intentional.

Because Samson was never meant to be the final Deliverer.

He points beyond himself.

To David.

And beyond David.

To Jesus Christ.

The One who would perfectly obey.

The One who would perfectly trust.

The One who would perfectly save.

Heart Check

As I closed my Bible, one question lingered in my heart:

In what areas of my life would I rather have answers than God Himself?

Where am I asking for certainty instead of trust?

Where am I asking for a roadmap instead of a relationship?

Like Manoah, we often think we need more information.

But God knows what we truly need.

We need Him.

His character.

His wisdom.

His presence.

His promises.

Because in the end:

Knowing God is better than having all the answers.

Behold Him, not me.

June 20, 2026 2

Behold Him, Not Me: Part 2

Judges 13:1–25

The Promised Deliverer and the God Who Gives Life

As I continue studying verse by verse through the book of Judges, I find myself increasingly amazed by how often God chooses to work through the weak, the overlooked, and the seemingly impossible.

Judges 13 introduces us to one of the most important mothers in Israel’s history, yet we are never told her name.

We know her husband’s name. We know her son’s name. We know the nation she lived among and the oppression she endured. Yet the woman through whom God would begin Israel’s deliverance remains unnamed.

At first glance, that may seem insignificant. But for many women, especially those who have walked through seasons of loneliness, infertility, disappointment, or feeling unseen, there is something deeply comforting here.

We may not know her name.

But God did.

And that is enough.

As someone who has wrestled with infertility myself, this passage immediately drew me in. For twelve years my husband and I prayed for a child. Then, in God’s kindness, He gave us Jackson. Yet even now, as Jackson grows older, there are still moments when I feel the ache of unmet expectations and unanswered prayers.

Perhaps that is why this woman feels so familiar.

She was barren.

She knew disappointment.

She understood waiting.

And yet she was not forgotten.

Israel’s Need and God’s Mercy

Judges 13 opens with a familiar refrain:

“And the people of Israel again did what was evil in the sight of the Lord.”

We have seen these words throughout the book of Judges.

Israel sins.

God disciplines.

Israel suffers.

God raises up a deliverer.

The cycle repeats.

This time, God gives Israel into the hands of the Philistines for forty years.

Israel’s greatest problem, however, was not the Philistines.

It was their sin.

And the same is true for us.

The greatest danger we face is never ultimately outside of us. It is the rebellion that resides within our own hearts.

Yet even as Israel continues its downward spiral, God is already preparing a rescue.

Not because Israel deserves it.

Not because they have repented.

But because God is merciful.

The God Who Sees the Unseen

The angel of the Lord appears not to a king.

Not to a priest.

Not to a military leader.

He appears to a barren woman.

And the first words she hears are words of hope:

“Behold, you are barren and have not borne children, but you shall conceive and bear a son.” (Judges 13:3)

The world often overlooks people who seem insignificant.

God does not.

Scripture repeatedly reminds us that God sees those whom others forget.

Hagar in the wilderness.

Ruth in the fields.

Hannah in her grief.

Elizabeth in her barrenness.

And here, Manoah’s wife.

The God of Scripture is not drawn to the impressive. He delights in displaying His power through weakness.

Her barrenness was not evidence of God’s absence.

It became the stage upon which His grace would be displayed.

A Child Set Apart Before Birth

The angel gives unusual instructions.

Manoah’s wife is not to drink wine.

She is not to eat anything unclean.

Her son’s hair must never be cut.

Why?

Because the child would be a Nazarite from birth.

The Nazarite vow described in Numbers 6 was ordinarily voluntary and temporary.

A person would willingly set themselves apart for a specific season of devotion to God.

The vow included three primary restrictions:

No cutting of the hair.
No produce from the vine.
No contact with dead bodies.

These were outward signs of an inward dedication to the Lord.

But Samson’s situation was unique.

He never chose this vow.

God chose it for him.

Before he was born.

Before he could speak.

Before he could understand.

Before he could make any decisions for himself.

God had already set him apart.

Notice how far back God’s claim on Samson extends.

The vow begins while he is still in his mother’s womb.

What she consumes affects him.

What she does impacts him.

God’s purpose for Samson begins before birth.

That reality should cause us to pause.

In a culture that often treats unborn life as insignificant, Scripture consistently presents the child in the womb as a real human being known by God.

Samson is not viewed as a potential person.

He is already a person with a divine calling.

God’s instructions concern him even before he takes his first breath.

The Lord’s care for life begins long before birth.

When God Writes a Story We Didn’t Choose

As I studied Samson’s lifelong Nazarite calling, I found myself wondering something.

Have you ever known someone whose life seemed planned out before they were born?

Perhaps their family had certain expectations.

Certain traditions.

Certain goals.

Certain dreams.

Sometimes those expectations can become burdens.

They can produce resistance.

Even rebellion.

And I cannot help but wonder if that contributed to some of Samson’s struggles.

As we will soon see, Samson repeatedly pushes against the very calling God placed upon his life.

He breaks every aspect of the Nazarite vow.

He pursues what God forbids.

He treats holy things casually.

He resists the identity God gave him.

And if we are honest, we often do the same.

How frequently do we push against God’s design for our lives?

How often do we resent the circumstances He has chosen for us?

How often do we look at His plans and secretly wish for different ones?

The problem is not merely that we dislike His plans.

The problem is that we often believe our plans are better.

That has been a painful lesson for me.

There have been moments in my infertility journey when my heart has quietly insisted that I know what would be best.

A larger family.

More children.

A different path.

A more “normal” experience of motherhood.

None of those desires are inherently sinful.

Children are blessings from the Lord.

Yet even good desires can become dangerous when they become demands.

When I insist that God must give me what I want in order for His plan to be good, I am placing myself in the position of judge.

I am declaring that my wisdom is superior to His.

And that is not trust.

It is idolatry.

The God Who Gives Life

One of the most beautiful themes in Scripture is God’s habit of bringing life from impossible situations.

Samson is not the first miraculous child.

Long before him, there was Isaac.

Sarah was barren.

Yet God gave life.

Then Samuel.

Hannah was barren.

Yet God gave life.

Then John the Baptist.

Elizabeth was barren.

Yet God gave life.

And finally Jesus.

Not conceived through a barren womb but through a virgin.

An even greater miracle.

Each birth announces the same truth:

Salvation belongs to the Lord.

God is demonstrating that His purposes do not depend upon human ability.

He is showing us that redemption is His work from beginning to end.

As Romans 4:17 declares, He is the God:

“who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.”

Every miraculous birth points us to that reality.

Every impossible pregnancy whispers the same message:

God alone saves.

Samson Points Beyond Himself

Yet there is something striking in the angel’s announcement.

The angel does not say Samson will completely save Israel.

Instead he says:

“He shall begin to save Israel from the hand of the Philistines.” (Judges 13:5)

Begin.

Not finish.

Samson’s salvation would be incomplete.

Like every judge before him, he would ultimately fail.

His victories would be real.

But partial.

His strength would be impressive.

But insufficient.

His life would point beyond itself.

In many ways Samson prepares us for David.

David would accomplish what Samson could not.

He would establish peace and defeat Israel’s enemies.

Yet David would also fail.

His greatest enemies were not outside him but within his own heart.

And so David points beyond himself as well.

Both Samson and David leave us longing for a greater Deliverer.

One who would not merely begin the rescue.

One who would finish it.

The Better Samson

Jesus is everything Samson was supposed to be.

Samson was set apart from birth.

Jesus was set apart before the foundation of the world.

Samson possessed great strength.

Jesus possesses all authority in heaven and on earth.

Samson repeatedly failed.

Jesus never sinned.

Samson began a deliverance he could not complete.

Jesus finished the work completely.

As the angel told Joseph:

“He will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21)

That is the salvation every judge pointed toward.

That is the salvation every king pointed toward.

That is the salvation every miraculous birth pointed toward.

The story was never ultimately about Samson.

It was always about Christ.

Behold Him, Not Me

The longer I study Judges, the more convinced I become that the book is designed to leave us dissatisfied with human heroes.

Every judge disappoints us.

Every deliverer fails.

Every leader falls short.

The need for a Savior keeps growing.

And that is precisely the point.

Judges is teaching us to stop looking horizontally for salvation and start looking upward.

Not to Samson.

Not to David.

Not to ourselves.

To Jesus.

The One who does not merely begin the rescue.

The One who finishes it.

The One who gives life where there is only death.

The One who sees the forgotten.

The One who keeps every promise.

The One who takes away the sins of the world.

Behold Him, not me.

June 13, 2026 0