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.

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.

Samson’ Mom

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.

The Nazarite Vow

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.

God gives Life

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.

Two Truths from Judges 13

He Told Her All His Heart

“Then he told her all his heart…”
— Judges 16:17

I’ve read the story of Samson and Delilah many times.

Like many people, I often focused on the obvious lessons—the danger of temptation, Samson’s pride, Delilah’s betrayal, or the cutting of his hair. But this morning, one small phrase stopped me in my tracks:

“Then he told her all his heart.”

Suddenly, Samson felt less like a larger-than-life judge and more like a deeply lonely man.

Behind all the strength, bravado, and reckless choices was someone desperately craving intimacy.

Samson wanted to be known.

He wanted to be loved.

He wanted someone to hold his heart.

The tragedy is not that Samson desired intimacy. God created us for relationship. The tragedy is that Samson sought from Delilah what he could only receive from God.

Isn’t that often our story too?

How often do we go to people first for validation, security, comfort, approval, or identity? We carry empty places in our hearts and expect spouses, friends, children, ministry, success, or relationships to fill what only God was ever meant to satisfy.

Psalm 118:8 reminds us:

“It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man.”

The problem isn’t loving people.

The problem is asking people to be what only God can be.

When we come to others looking for them to fill our deepest needs, we eventually place a weight on them they were never designed to carry. But when we first come to the Lord, allowing Him to satisfy our hearts with His steadfast love, we are free to love others not out of need but out of service.

That is exactly what Samson never learned.

Many of us were taught that Samson’s strength was somehow hidden in his hair. Almost as if his hair possessed some magical power. But Scripture tells a different story.

After Delilah had his head shaved, Samson awoke expecting to defeat the Philistines once again.

“But he did not know that the Lord had left him.” (Judges 16:20)

The hair was never the source of his strength.

The Lord was.

Psalm 28:7 says:

“The Lord is my strength and my shield.”

Samson’s strength did not leave when his hair was cut.

His strength left when the presence of the Lord departed.

As I reflected on this passage, my mind kept returning to Psalm 118. Again and again the psalmist repeats truths we need to hear:

“The Lord is on my side.”

“The Lord is my helper.”

“The Lord is my strength.”

“His steadfast love endures forever.”

The Christian life is not about becoming stronger versions of ourselves.

It is about learning to depend on the One who is already strong.

Unlike Samson, we do not need to rip city gates from their hinges and carry them up a mountain. We do not need to prove ourselves through our own strength.

Instead, we are invited to enter the gates of the Lord with thanksgiving, humility, and trust.

The steadfast love of the Lord endures forever.

And because it does, we can bring Him our whole hearts.

As I closed my Bible this morning, I realized that Samson’s story isn’t only a warning for me—it’s a mirror.

Like Samson, I know what it is to crave being seen. I know what it is to long to be known, understood, chosen, and loved. There are days when I look to people for what I should first seek from God. Days when the approval of others feels more tangible than His presence. Days when I wish someone would notice the burdens I carry without me having to speak them aloud.

And if I’m being honest, sometimes the presence of the Lord doesn’t feel like enough.

Not because He isn’t enough, but because my heart is still learning to believe that He is.

That is part of living in a broken world. We were created for perfect fellowship with God, yet we live east of Eden, still feeling the ache of longing, loneliness, and unmet desires.

This morning I found myself praying:

“Lord, return to me the joy of my salvation. Remind me that You are my refuge and my strength. Teach me to wait patiently for You. When I am tempted to run to others for what can only be found in You, turn my heart back toward Your steadfast love. Hear my cry and turn to me. Let me find in You what I keep searching for everywhere else.”

The good news is that unlike Delilah, the Lord never betrays the heart that is entrusted to Him.

His steadfast love truly does endure forever.

Behold God, Not Me

Judges 12-13, Infertility, Idolatry, and the Deception of Sin

One of the things I love most about studying God’s Word verse by verse is that it often confronts me in places I didn’t expect.

Recently, I found myself praying and talking with a friend about a struggle that has resurfaced many times throughout my life: infertility.

For twelve years, my husband and I prayed for a child. Then, in His kindness and perfect timing, God gave us Jackson. What a gift he has been. Yet as Jackson approaches eight years old, our family has not grown in the way I once assumed it would.

Like many women, I was told that once you have one child, having more often becomes easier. That has not been our story.

And if I’m honest, there are days when grief sneaks in.

I see beautiful growing families around me. I celebrate them sincerely because every child is a gift from God. Working in foster care has only deepened that conviction. There is not a single child I believe was born outside the knowledge and purpose of our good Father.

Yet sometimes I still find myself asking, “Lord, why?”

Why do some families grow effortlessly while others wait?

Why are some prayers answered quickly while others seem to linger unanswered?

As always, when I earnestly seek the Lord about the condition of my heart, He faithfully meets me in His Word.

Some Are Increased, Others Are Diminished

As I was studying the minor judges in Judges 12, I noticed an interesting contrast.

Ibzan had thirty sons and thirty daughters (Judges 12:9).

Earlier in Judges, Jair also had thirty sons.

Yet Jephthah had only one child—a daughter—and through his foolish vow and tragic actions, she never married and left no descendants.

Seventeenth-century commentator Matthew Henry observed:

“Some are increased, others are diminished; both are the Lord’s doing.”

Those words are not easy to accept.

Our hearts naturally want explanations.

We want formulas.

We want reasons.

We want to know why God gives one person abundance while another experiences loss.

Yet Scripture repeatedly reminds us that God’s wisdom exceeds our own.

Isaiah tells us:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9)

That was exactly the reminder my heart needed.

God knows what He is doing.

God knows me.

God knows what will bring Him glory.

God knows what will make me more like Christ.

And that must be enough.

The Forgotten Judges and the God Who Is Remembered

As I continued reading, I noticed something else.

The Bible gives us only a few details about Ibzan, Elon and Abdon. We learn how long they judged Israel. We learn a few facts about their families. Then their stories end.

At first glance, it almost feels unsatisfying.

We want more details.

We want their stories fully told.

But perhaps that discomfort reveals something about us.

Isn’t that what we want for ourselves?

We want to leave a legacy.

We want to be remembered.

We want our stories to matter.

Yet Scripture consistently directs our attention elsewhere.

The Bible is not ultimately about human greatness.

It is about God’s greatness.

The focus of Scripture is not the lives of judges, kings, prophets, or even ordinary believers.

The focus is Christ.

Every page points to Him.

Even Abdon’s wealth and the mention of his sons riding on donkeys subtly remind us of a greater King who would one day ride into Jerusalem on a donkey, fulfilling prophecy and declaring His kingship.

The judges fade into the background.

Christ remains.

And that leads me to ask an uncomfortable question:

Does my life say, “Behold me,” or “Behold God”?

Character profiles of the 3 Minor Judges discussed

The Beginning of the Final Cycle

As we enter Judges 13, we begin the final cycle of the book.

The chapter opens with familiar words:

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

We have seen this refrain over and over throughout Judges.

The people sin.

God disciplines them.

They cry out.

God delivers them.

Then the cycle repeats.

Yet there is something particularly significant about this final occurrence.

The phrase “evil in the sight of the Lord” highlights a truth our culture desperately needs to hear.

Notice what the text does not say.

It does not say Israel did what was evil in their own eyes.

In fact, later in Judges we encounter another repeated phrase:

“Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”

The two statements are connected.

The Israelites did not wake up every morning thinking, “Today I will rebel against God.”

They believed their choices were reasonable.

Understandable.

Justified.

Acceptable.

In their own eyes, much of their behavior probably seemed perfectly fine.

Yet God saw things differently.

And therein lies the danger.

What Is Sin?

This passage teaches us something foundational about sin.

Sin is not ultimately defined by my feelings.

Sin is not determined by cultural approval.

Sin is not established by majority opinion.

Sin is not measured by whether my conscience happens to bother me.

Sin is defined by God.

Something is sinful because it violates God’s will and God’s design.

This truth directly contradicts modern thinking.

Our culture continually tells us:

“Follow your heart.”

“Live your truth.”

“You define what is right for you.”

But Scripture says something very different.

If morality is determined only by personal perception, then no one can meaningfully condemn evil.

History itself demonstrates the flaw in that thinking.

People can sincerely believe terrible things.

Groups of people can collectively justify horrific actions.

Human perception is not a trustworthy standard.

Only God is.

The eyes that ultimately matter are not my eyes.

They are God’s.

The Deception of Sin

The second truth we learn is how deceptive sin really is.

The Israelites had convinced themselves they were fine.

They had explanations.

Rationalizations.

Justifications.

At the conscious level, everything seemed acceptable.

But beneath the surface, they had drifted far from God.

That should concern all of us because we are no different.

The most dangerous sins are often not the obvious ones.

The most dangerous sins are the ones we have learned to justify.

Pride.

Bitterness.

Materialism.

Worry.

Control.

Self-reliance.

These sins rarely look sinful in our own eyes.

And this is where the Lord began pressing on my own heart.

When Good Desires Become Ultimate Desires

As I thought about my longing for more children, I realized something uncomfortable.

The desire itself is not sinful.

Children are a blessing.

Family is a gift.

Wanting those things is good.

But good things become idols when they become ultimate things.

The line between loving something and worshiping something is often thinner than we realize.

And I began to wonder:

Had I crossed that line?

Had my desire for more children subtly become a demand?

Was I saying, “God, I know what would be best for my life”?

Was I acting as though God’s gifts were somehow insufficient?

Was I placing myself in the judge’s seat?

Because when I insist that God must give me what I want in order for His plan to be good, I am no longer trusting Him.

I am attempting to replace Him.

That is the essence of idolatry.

An idol is not always a bad thing.

More often, it is a good thing that has become an ultimate thing.

Tim Keller famously described idols as good things turned into god things.

Family can become an idol.

Ministry can become an idol.

Work can become an idol.

Even motherhood can become an idol.

Anything we place above trustful submission to God becomes a rival to Him.

As the Puritan Thomas Brooks wisely wrote:

“Satan paints sin with virtue’s colors.”

The idol never announces itself as an idol.

It disguises itself as wisdom.

Responsibility.

Love.

Good stewardship.

Common sense.

And before we realize it, our hearts have drifted.

Bible Study Notes

Behold God

That is why we must constantly evaluate ourselves through Scripture.

Not through culture.

Not through emotions.

Not through popular opinion.

Through God’s Word.

The Word reveals what our hearts often hide.

And when it does, our response should not be despair.

It should be worship.

Because the goal of our lives is not ultimately to get everything we want.

The goal is not to have our preferred story.

The goal is not even to be remembered.

The goal is to behold God.

The minor judges came and went.

Their stories occupy only a few verses.

Yet God’s purposes prevailed.

Their significance was not found in the size of their role.

It was found in the God who authored the story.

The same is true for us.

Whether God increases or diminishes.

Whether He gives or withholds.

Whether our stories look ordinary or extraordinary.

He remains worthy.

And so today, I find myself returning once again to Isaiah 55.

His ways are higher than my ways.

His thoughts are higher than my thoughts.

He knows what is best.

He knows my heart.

He is trustworthy.

And when I preach that truth to myself, it changes everything.

Behold Him, not me.

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