The little army who couldn't - a paradox of power

This was written for The Salvation Army's Territorial Prayer Network Year of Encounter Prayer Journey 'Into The Wild'. There's a host of great resources gathering there, definitely worth a look. 

Our world is experiencing a shaking, the like of which we haven’t seen for generations. There is sadness, suffering and death, there are protests and unrest, but there is also hope: hope that the world can be different; hope that these things can have a deep, lasting impact.

I'm fascinated by the biblical character, Gideon – an unlikely hero who is most famous for his weird threshing habits, his tiny army and, of course, his soggy fleece. Gideon’s world was being shaken to its very foundations, yet he had an encounter with God which gave him hope; more than that, it gave him the faith and determination to fight for a different future.

Theologian Walter Wink writes, ‘History belongs to the intercessors, who believe the future into being.’ Amidst the shaking, God is giving us a vision of what the future might look like. What do you see? What do you hope for? Gideon’s story is an invitation to wage war in prayer for the future we long to see.

I frequently find myself having to sit on my hands to stop myself from intervening to help a toddler who’s struggling fiercely along, shouting, ‘I can do it!’. It seems we are hard-wired for self-reliance. We want to do it all by ourselves. We hate asking for help, hate that it makes us look like we don’t have it together. Sometimes it feels harder to ask for help than to struggle on and make it happen ourselves.

Gideon, the judge and battle commander, is best known for his weird threshing habits, his tiny army and his soggy fleece. By the time we meet him, he and the Israelites are under an oppressive occupation by the Midianites, who are doing everything they can to drain them of all hope. Years of being disappointed with God and frustrated with their so-called allies have left Israel relying on themselves and their idols. God’s quest is to teach Gideon and the Israelites how to let go of their idols, how to unpick years of self-reliance, how to find hope in spite of their circumstances and how to rely on him again.

Gideon considers himself the least of the least, but in the strength of God’s Spirit he blows the battle-trumpet, calling the Israelites to fight. Incredibly, 32,000 men respond. Maybe they show up because they have a sense of duty and responsibility. Maybe they think they stand a chance against Midian after all. God hears their thoughts and wants them to learn that their own strength is not enough to save them. God releases anyone who is afraid to return home – and 22,000 men leave, with no shame or dishonour.

We are good at showing up for our responsibilities, faithfully keeping on with them, but maybe we aren’t so good at knowing when it’s the right time to lay them down. Are you carrying responsibilities which God isn’t asking you to carry at this moment? If we do that for too long, it can lead to a build-up of resentment against God because we’re doing it in our own strength.

Amazingly, 10,000 stay to fight. But that’s still too many for God, so he shrinks the army even further by choosing only those who are battle-ready – wary and watching while they drink from the river.

While some of us may be carrying responsibilities we need to lay down, others of us have had duty and responsibility stripped away from us in this season of lockdown. Have we continued to lap at the water of God’s presence even when we didn’t have to, or have we discovered that we tend to drift away from prayer when duty and responsibility don’t hold us to it?

Finally, when a tiny force of just 300 men face the vast hordes of Midian with no hope of success in their own strength, God is ready to fight.

Have these past few months been a time of refining and focusing, committing ourselves to stay and fight for the future we long for, no matter how impossible the odds seem? We’re not just here out of blind loyalty. We’ve been given every opportunity to be released and to let go, yet we’re still here.

Gideon and his army were learning kenosis. Kenosis means ‘self-emptying’, and it’s the beautiful theological term for the emptying described in Philippians 2, where Jesus left all the glory of Heaven to become a fragile human baby. As Charles Wesley put it, ‘emptied himself of all but love.’

What God is asking of Gideon and his army is an emptying, and emptying is what God asks of us as we grapple with what the world looks like since the advent of Covid-19 and the wake-up call we’ve been hearing to the persistence of racism. It’s a time to discover how we cope without so many of the activities, services, relationships and facilities we normally rely on.

It’s an opportunity to explore humility; to shed prejudices and biases and the power we possess which may squash others. It’s an opportunity to remember we don’t have all the answers, that we are not the answer to all the world’s problems. It’s a humbling reminder that we may have forgotten how to trust God, to know that he can save and heal and transform. Emptying is frightening, but it exposes what we have become accustomed to relying on, and identifies the places where we need to learn to rely on God.

When Gideon first meets God, he makes him a loaf of bread so huge that it must have emptied out his flour stores completely (Judges 6:19). When Gideon needs reassurance about the coming battle, God causes him to overhear an enemy soldier recounting a dream about their camp being crushed by a huge loaf of bread (Judges 7:13). That’s the moment Gideon realises that, when you empty yourself and give it all to God, God can take your humble offering and do something impossible with it.

Having emptied themselves, destroyed their idols and stripped away their self-reliance, Gideon and his army of 300 have only God to rely on. They are filled with boldness as they approach with their jars and torches, and they succeed in terrifying the Midianites into retreat and defeat. When we empty ourselves, letting go of our idols and choosing not to rely on our own strength, we come to the place where God can use us to overthrow oppression and help others live in freedom.

 A truth to hold on to

The more we pray, the more we’re choosing to rely on God instead of relying on ourselves.