After Darkness, Light | Judges 6:1-32

There is a part of this world that, during a certain time of the year, is the scariest place on earth. Every year, from mid-November to mid-January, Utqiagvik, Alaska experiences a “polar night”. When the sun sets in November, it will not rise again until some time in January. Roughly 65 days of night. 65 days of darkness. I don’t know about you, but that is terrifying to me.

Of course, we know that it’s not really 65 “days of night.” In our modernistic, scientific age, we know better. We know that polar nights, or the midnight sun, are really just seasons where, due to the earth’s axis tilt, causes the sun to stay below the horizon. It’s not like the sun disappears completely—it’s there, we just can’t see it. It stays low below the horizon. And while all that may be technically true, it is not much comfort for those experiencing it. While the mind can be convinced of truth, the soul is harder to persuade.

While we don’t experience the polar nights of Utqiagvik—although Daylight Savings can be brutal—all of us, at some point in our lives, experience what we might call polar nights of the soul. Seasons of heavy darkness. Seasons where the Lord seems distant, far away, gone. We know it’s not true—we know our Bibles—but we experience a dark weight that can’t be explained away. What are we to do in those dark situations?

The Christian life is filled with paradoxes. Because of sin, we are constantly fighting and interrogating our emotions and our experiences, knowing that they are easily deceived and manipulated. We know the sun exists, we know it’s just there, below the horizon—but everything around us, and everything within us doubts his presence, and likely his goodness. 

In 1975, an obscure and relatively unknown English pastor put together a collection of Puritan prayers and devotions and published it in The Banner of Truth magazine under the title, The Valley of Vision. The anthology begins with a simple prayer…

Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly,

Thou has brought me to the valley of vision,

where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights;

hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold

Thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox

that the way down is the way up,

that to be low is to be high,

that the broken heart is the healed heart,

that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,

that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,

that to have nothing is to possess all,

that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,

that to give is to receive,

that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,

deepest wells,

and the deeper the wells the brighter

Thy stars shine;

Let me find Thy light in my darkness,

Thy life in my death,

Thy joy in my sorrow,

Thy grace in my sin,

Thy riches in my poverty

Thy glory in my valley.

Some of you may be able to relate to this darkness of the soul. You may hear your voice in The Valley of Vision. Or you hear your voice in the psalmist in Psalm 88 when, after recounting his heavy circumstances, he confesses…

But I, O LORD, cry to you; in the morning my prayer comes before you. O LORD, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me?

—Psalm 88:13–14

What causes such heavy nights of the soul? There could be a variety of causes—others’ sin, our own sin, or just hard provindences from the Lord—but the experience is the same. And throughout the book of Judges, story after story, we read of these dark, oppressive nights that are brought about by the sin and disobedience of the people. Yet over and over again, we see the Lord acting to save his people. And what we find in Judges 6 is no different.

Let’s go to this book again, to read about another familiar character and story, and see the glory of the Lord from whatever valley we find ourselves in this morning.

One of the darkest periods in the history of the people of God was right on the eve of the Protestant Reformation, when through corruption and sin, the word of the Lord had been hidden from the people of God. The Bible, the inspired book in your hands right now, was not available in your native language, but only existed in the authorized language of the church, Latin. And only the priests and bishops, the religious elite, were authorized to read it and to tell you what it said—often twisting the words to fit their own corrupt schemes. A spiritual and scriptural blindness had settled on the church.

And that is why one of the mottos of the Protestant Reformation was post tenebras, lux—after darkness, light. Imagine the feeling in Uqiagvick on that freezing January morning of seeing the sun peak out over the horizon, to feel the warmth of its light on your face, immediately bringing hope and clarity. What had been dark, now lit. What was obscure, now clear. What a feeling.

After the heroic victories over the Caanites under the leadership of Deborah and Barak, once again, a shadow has fallen on the nation of Israel. A new, but familiar, enemy has overpowered the rebellious Israelites. Year after year at harvest, the Midianites would come from the East like a plague, devouring everything in their path. So total was their destruction, so expected was their incursion, and so humiliating was the Israelite submission that every year the Israelites would flee to the hills and live in caves and ride out the inevitable foreign storm.

Judges 6:1–5 gives us the longest and most complete description of the rebellion and the result of their apostasy. Where the text has previously said, “And the Israelites did evil” and “the Lord gave them into the hands of so-and-so…”, it now gives us details. The author wants us to feel the drama, to feel the darkness that has descended on the nation. All of it meant to set the stage for what I believe is the main point of this text.

In the darkness, the Lord shines a light. And he shines it on a weak, small, cowardly man named Gideon, informing him that he will lead the people in ridding the land of the Midian scourge. And after Gideon’s protest, we hear the promise that changes everything…

And the LORD said to him, “But I will be with you…

—Judges 6:16

That incredible promise from the Lord ought to have engendered comfort and hope in Gideon. And I believe it is meant to do the same for you and for me. Here is what I hope to convince you of this morning from Judges 6 and the call of Gideon…

When all seems dark, the presence of the Lord in his word makes all the difference.

What is it that will break through the darkness of our souls? What is it that brings comfort and security? It is the presence of the Lord. And it is in his word to us that we experience that illumination by the power of the Spirit. It is God’s word that marks us as his people, diagnoses us rightly, empowers us to obedience, and is the means of our perseverance. Imagine if we didn’t have this word? Utter hopeless darkness.

And as we sift through this narrative and are introduced to the character and story of Gideon, I believe there are 4 truths about the presence of God in his word that if true, change everything: that God’s word defines us, equips us, trains us, and sustains us.

God’s Word defines us.

After the lengthy description of the plight of the Israelites under the thumb of the Midianites, we read in v. 7 that the people cried out to God. This is, of course, part of the familiar equation that we’ve come to expect from Judges. Sin leads to crying out which leads to a savior. After we hear of their is, right on cue, the Israelites don’t repent, but cry out in pain. And we would expect that the next verse would read “the Lord raised up a judge to save the people.” But notice v. 8—

”the Lord sent a prophet to the people of Israel.”

—Judges 6:8

Again, something to keep note of in your own Bible reading, whenever there is a break in the formulation, whenever there is something unexpected, take note! In narrative literature like Judges, repetition and changing repetition is one of the ways the Hebrew authors draw your attention to something important.

Instead of sending in the cavalry to save the people again, God sends a prophet to herald his word to them. The people don’t just need saving, they need to understand why it is they keep finding themselves in need of salvation. 

The prophet’s message is a simple one. 90% of his message to them is to remind them (again) of all that the Lord has done for them, recounting again the gracious and wondrous deeds of the Lord—how he saved them from the bondage of slavery, drove the peoples out before them, and commanded them to never fear the other nations, because he is their God. But as we know, and as the prophet makes clear, they have clearly forgotten all of this because they keep disobeying the voice of God.

This is a kindness from God. He doesn’t provide the cure without making clear the diagnosis. And that diagnosis of the covenant people of God is damning. The prophet makes it clear to define the stark lay of the land—who God is and what he has done, and who they are and what they have failed to do. 

At the root of all of our sin is a fundamental misunderstanding or complete ignoring of who God is, what he has done, and who we are in relation to him. If there is ever going to be genuine repentance and faith in the nation of Israel, they must know rightly themselves and their rebellion. The same is true for us. 

Dale Ralph Davis explains it this way…

Like Israel, we may want escape from our circumstances while God wants us to interpret our circumstances. Sometimes we may need understanding more than relief; sometimes God must give us insight before he dare grant safety.

What we see in the opening verses of Judges 6 is the Lord shining his revealing light on the sin of the nation. That’s what happens when the word comes to us—it reveals and defines us rightly. The apostle John wrote about this in 1 John 1…

This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.

—1 John 1:5–10

The nature of God’s word mirrors the nature of God himself—truth, not lies…light, not darkness. So when God speaks and tells us who we are, we ought to listen, for it is he who made us and we are his. And over and over again when we go to his word we see that we are sinners in the presence of a holy and good God.

But this prophet heralding the judgment of God is not the only time the Lord speaks in this passage. From a prophet, the scene swivels to the angel of the Lord—literally the messenger of the Lord. And the angel of the Lord appears to this meek, small, nobody doing peasant preparations for the oncoming Midian invasion and hiding under an oak tree, and the angel and declares something that seems to be completely out of nowhere…

And the angel of the LORD appeared to him and said to him, “The LORD is with you, O mighty man of valor.”

—Judges 6:12

Mighty man of valor? Nothing about the story so far suggests that Gideon is some mighty man of valor. That same term will later refer to the famous mighty men of David, David’s elite champions who did many incredibly brave things—and none of whom would be caught beating out wheat in the winepress in preparation to go into hiding.

Why this surprising title? Because the Lord doesn’t just see Gideon for who he is, but for who he will make him to be. God’s word doesn’t just define him in his sin, but also defines him in his salvation. If all we, the redeemed people of God, have to define us is our circumstances, our emotions, our dark nights of the soul, and if all we read in God’s word are all of the texts which RIGHTLY reveal our sin which JUSTLY deserves God’s wrath, we will never make any sense of the upside down texts which tell us that we have been saved by God, have been adopted by him, and are heirs to all the promises of Christ. The very words that define us as condemned also define us as justified and righteous. 

Gideon needed that word. I need that word. We need that word.

God’s Word equips us.

It’s difficult to pick up on the sarcasm and sass in Gideon’s response to the declaration of the Lord—it’s as if Gideon responds to the moniker of “mighty man of valor” with “Ya right!” And his doubt continues. Not only does this angel not know who he is, but where is this God who did all these so-called wonders? If he actually cared, how is it they kept getting run over by the MIdianite?

The parallels between Gideon and Moses in this scene are hard to miss. Both live in obscurity, both are visited by the Lord, both are commanded to go and save Israel, and both put up their protests. And critically, both never would become who they were declared to be by God on their own steam. Look at the pivotal exchange between GOd and Moses in Exodus 3…

But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?” He said, “But I will be with you..

—Exodus 3:11–12

Compared with Gideon in Judges 6…

And he said to him, “Please, Lord, how can I save Israel? Behold, my clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father’s house.” And the LORD said to him, “But I will be with you…

—Judges 6:15–16

The defining feature and the equipping feature of both men is not their own constitution, but rather in the nearness and presence of the Lord to be with them. It is the presence of the Lord that not only defines them but empowers them to go and accomplish that which God has called them too.

Repeatedly in the book of Judges we see obscure Israelites being raised up from that obscurity to do incredible things, and it is the presence of the Lord and his empowering Spirit that is the difference. This is true also for the entire nation of Israel—what marks this nation out from all the other nations on the face of the earth? Moses gives us an answer in Exodus 33…

And he said to him, “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here. For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people? Is it not in your going with us, so that we are distinct, I and your people, from every other people on the face of the earth?”

—Exodus 33:15–16

And the very same thing is true for you and me. The presence of the Lord in his word through his Spirit is the eternal difference between us and the world. It is the difference between me and my unbelieving co-worker. I am not the difference—not my intellect, or moral virtue, nor anything else. Only the grace of the Lord, accomplished in Christ, applied by his Spirit, and revealed in his word equips me for every good work. 

Remember the ascension of Christ in Acts 1? The risen Jesus was about to physically leave his disciples, yet he gives them this tremendous promise…

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.”

—Acts 1:8

Power from on high, that is what empowered that small band of Jesus’ disciples to accomplish the mission. And that power that fell to Gideon, equipping him to defeat the Midianites in the most dramatic fashion (as we’ll see next week) is the same power that fell on the disciples resulting in disciples being made in Judea, Samaria, and all the way to Sioux Falls, SD. That’s power.

Not only does the word equip us…

God’s Word trains us.

The promise from God of his presence to go with Gideon wasn’t enough for him. He required a sign. And the Lord, in his kindness, tolerates his unbelief and goes along with his sign. Again, the parallels to Moses and the burning bush are obvious. Moses’ staff turned to a snake—out of the angel’s staff springs fire burning up Gideon’s cakes. 

He’s convinced.

Word and deed. That has always been how God works and will always be how he works. This is how the Lord has proven his faithfulness to all our ancestors before, and it is how he proves himself to us today. What he says, he does. Word and deed. He knows our frame well.

A key part of this story is that the Lord doesn’t send Gideon straight to the Midianites. He commands him to take a simple step, training him in obedience. He calls him to tear down his father’s altar to Baal and cut down the Asherah beside it. In its place, he is to build an altar to the Lord.

If he can’t tear down his father’s idols, how is going to tear down the idols of the nation? He can not export what he does produce within his own borders. This a simple, direct, and small opportunity to practice his faith and obedience on a safer scale than facing the Midianites directly.

And, shockingly, Gideon does just as the Lord asks. But before we start characterizing Gideon as the mighty man of valor, the narrator gives us a Jim Halpert glance and says…

But because he was too afraid of his family and the men of the town to do it by day, he did it by night.

—Judges 6:27

There is still a lingering cowardice and fearfulness in Gideon. Still a lingering and remaining sin throughout. I so appreciate stories like this in the Bible. I think we are tempted in the book of Judges, and really all throughout Scripture, to look at the hesitancies, the unbelief, and the failures of characters and, because we know the whole story, shout out, “Come on! Just get it together! Why can’t you just obey?!”

But imagine yourself as Gideon. All your life you’ve kept your head low, survived the seasonal onslaughts from the Midianites, not knowing any different, not understanding that it is the pagan idols and worship in your own family that is the chief contributor to the problem. And you’re a good son, you’re obedient and helpful, and now you’re being asked to upend the family order, to publicly humiliate your father and to bring shame on your family from the neighbors. You are being asked by God to push the antithesis, when all you want to do is not stir the pot.

I get that. I can relate to that. How many of us love reading books about courage, love discussing and critiquing what others are doing, imagining yourself as some heroic character if you ever got the chance? But in reality, we’re likely like Peter, declaring we would never abandon Jesus, and that very night denying association with him three times.

I think we are more like Gideon than we care to admit—fearful of being perceived as crazy or weird and so avoid any attention. Like when I meet a new neighbor and he asks me what I do for work—do I tell him I’m a pastor or a teacher? One of those occupations is less controversial than the other. Or do I put that “No on Amendment G” yard sign out? Shouldn’t I just stay out of politics? Is it worth the trouble?

It is in those small moments where our faith is trained. Do I trust the word of the Lord and his clarity on an issue like abortion? Do I trust his word and his presence that I’m willing to handle the anxious and uncomfortable discussion with my neighbor about Jesus—which may actually lead to the gospel conversations we all pray for? 

Obedience requires risk and faith. And obedience is not done in our minds and our imaginations, it’s actually lived out and enfleshed in the real world. Obedience comes out of our finger-tips. If gospel-centrality stays only in our minds and “in our hearts”, it will not function, but will be a functinoal gospel-neutrality. Gideon actually had to go and tear down those idols. You and I actually do need to be faithful in our everyday lives.

Jesus says it succinctly when in Luke 16…

One who is faithful with very little is also faithful in much.

—Luke 16:8

Faith in the little things is what prepares for faith in the big things. Before Gideon could tackle the Midians, he had to start by tackling his own fear and his own father’s apostasy. But, remember, the Lord was with him. The same grace that saved him is the grace that equipped him and trained him. The same grace that has saved us is right now also training us to put away the sinful man, and to live lives worthy of the gospel of Jesus Christ, declaring his rule and reign over all things in this real and actual world. That’s good news.

God’s Word sustains us.

After this story, the cycle of the judges will continue. As we will see, even Gideon will fall away. What hope is there? Is there a more long-lasting and eternal word? What is it that will keep us in the long run?

Thanks be to God that we have not been left in the dark. While Gideon and the Israelites only saw pockets of lights, we have the bright shining light of the son of God. The word is not just letters on a page, but is a living person who can be known and loved. John defines him in John 1…

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God…In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world...And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth…For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.

—John 1:1–18

What is it that will sustain us? How do we know that the Lord is with us? What sign has God given us? Christ and Christ alone. It is his presence that makes all the difference. What an incredible thing it is to have a god so near as our God—one who took on flesh and dwelt among us, shining his light into our darkness, living and dying and rising so that you and I could be called and empowered to live for him! The presence of God in his word is the presence of Christ through the Spirit to you and to me. What more could he give us? Nothing more could sustain us than that.

As I’m sure you know, the most repeated command in the Bible (365x) is “do not fear.” But why? Life is scary! There are a million things tempting me and threatening to knock me out. There is plenty to fear—but don’t forget the reason why you are not to fear…

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

—Isaiah 41:10

What has been said to Abraham, to Moses, to Joshua, to Gideon, is said also to you. After completing his saving work on the cross, Jesus reminds his disciples that all authority belongs to him—he is the King. He then gives us that great commission we looked at a few weeks ago. Like the commission he gave to Gideon, discipling the nations seems impossible. There’s no way. But he reminds us again…

And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

—Matthew 28:20

Dale Ralph Davis says it well again…

‘But I will be with you.’ Basically, God has nothing else or more to offer you. You can go through a lot with that promise. It does not answer your questions about details. It only provides the essential. Nothing about when or how or where or why: Only the what, or, better, the Who. ‘But I will be with you.’ And that is enough.

—Dale Ralph Davis