God wanted a man, and, by that unvarying law of supply and demand, a man must be forthcoming.
A man was needed, once upon a time, to
contribute toward the solution for the problem
of human rights; Stephen Langton appeared
with the Magna Carta in hand. A man was
needed again to vindicate the freedom of individual
conscience; out of the monastery of
Wittenberg came Martin Luther, unbinding his
rosary and preparing to nail the thunderbolts
of the Reformation to the chapel door. A man
was needed to break the chains of Jewish
isolationism and bring the gospel to the Gentile
world; out of a lightning encounter on the
Damascus Road emerged Paul, a persecutor
who became a proclaimer of the “good news”
available to all people of all nations. So, times
and men come together by divine ordinance.
The clock strikes, and someone answers,
“Here am I!”
The children of Israel had taken possession of the Land of Promise. Sadly, the settling was quickly followed by apostasy. So now the glory had departed from Israel. On every hand were altar fires in honor of Baal. Up from the southern plains came the Philistines in their war chariots, devastating the fields and plundering the villages. The banners of God’s people were trailed in the dust. The Ark of the Covenant had been carried away into exile. Was there no man to save? If man’s extremity is God’s opportunity, surely the hour had come. Where was the man?
In the house of Manoah at Zorah, just
then, a child was born of whom it was said,
“He shall begin to deliver Israel of the hand
of the Philistines” (Judg. 13:7). He was the
child of prophecy. His name, Samson, meant
“sunshine” and intimated a joyous parental
welcome, a divine benediction, and a glorious
outlook. If we follow Samson through the
years, we shall learn the lessons of power: its
secret, its loss, and its recovery.
I. THE SECRET OF POWER
(JUDG. 14; 15)
Samson’s mission had been set forth in the annunciation of his birth; to wit, he should “begin to deliver Israel out of the hands of the Philistines.” This was “the reason of his life.” There is no life without a reason, though many, failing to discover this, live and die unreasonably. Our power is measured by our loyalty to the divine purpose concerning us.
This lad was set apart from his birth as
a Nazarite. The word means “separated.” The
Nazarites were persons who regarded themselves
as divinely called to special tasks and
who shaped their lives accordingly. They were
pledged to put down every personal feeling
and ambition in the interest of their vow. The
badge of this austere brotherhood was their
unshorn hair, which hung over their shoulders
in seven braided locks.
Samson’s physical strength was a supernatural
gift for a definite end. His sturdy limbs,
broad shoulders, and muscles like twisted
cords were the special equipment for his appointed
work. In his youth, he encountered a
lion and tore its jaws asunder as if it had been
a baby goat. And this was just a preview of
larger deeds of prowess later on, as when
he lifted the gates of Gaza from their hinges
and carried them away in grim derision to a
neighboring hilltop, laughing back, “See how
your bolts and bars restrain me!” Later, when
he met the enemy at Lehi, he singlehandedly
smote them hip and thigh, rejoicing over the
slaughter.
But his endowment was more than physical,
as it is written that “the Spirit of the Lord
strove with him” (Judg. 15:14). What does
that mean? Why does God strive with any of
us except to persuade us to address Him to
our allotted task? Samson’s physical equipment
was practically useless save as it should
be used in fulfillment of his vow. His unshorn
locks were a visible reminder of his remembered
duty. Let him forget, and he would be
as weak as other men.
Why are we living? Is it merely to eat and
drink? Or is our life related in some way to
God’s great plan? If we ignore the constraints
of the Holy Spirit and lose sight of God’s plan
for our lives, we will drift away from God and
lose our power, just as Samson did.
II. THE LOSS OF POWER
(JUDG. 16:1-20)
The fall of a soul into moral debility is
usually a process of gradual decline. How
does it happen? Ellen G. White portrays the
process graphically: “A long preparatory process,
unknown to the world, goes on in the
heart before the Christian commits open sin. The mind does not come down at once from
purity and holiness to depravity, corruption,
and crime.”1
In Samson’s case, it began with a certain
journey down to Timnath. He had seen there
a woman of the daughters of the Philistines
and was captivated by her fair face. His temptations
came in at eye-gate. In vain did his
parents remonstrate, “Is there never a woman
among the daughters of thy brethren?” It was
enough for Samson that he desired her. “Get
her for me,” he cried. “She pleaseth me!”
Note the steps Samson took which led to
his spiritual decline:
A. The beginning of the descent from strength to weakness is in self-will. The road to Timnath leads away from consecration, away from power, away from God. Once and again the strong man made that journey, always a little further from the serious business of his life. We have been warned that “there is no promise to those who are bent on selfpleasing.”2
B. The snare of distractions from our
mission. The end of self-will is surrender.
Our safety is in hewing the line. And yet, here
we are, absorbed in the latest fashions and
celebrity sightings, charmed by the music on
iTunes, engrossed in our favorite TV shows,
or maybe mingling with the self-seeking
crowd and losing ourselves in sordid worldly
cares. Meanwhile, what of the purpose of
life and what of our message? The world is
waiting in darkness, waiting for a message of
hope. Ellen White asks, “Why are we so indifferent,
so selfish, so engrossed to temporal
interests. . . . Men and women are ready to
do anything to indulge self, and how little are
they willing to do for Jesus, and for their fellow
men who are perishing for the want of the
truth.”3
The story of Samson’s fall is full of warning.
He laid his head in the lap of the temptress
and rose up shorn of his manly strength.
Not all at once, however. Read about his loss
of power in verses 6-20. Observe how he
played with the mystic symbol of his calling.
There is the sorrow of it: The most insidious
diseases are those that give no pain. Their
victims, in the midst of business or pleasure,
swoon and are gone. This brings us to the last
step that brought Samson down.
C. The snare of a stifled conscience. A sin indulged creeps like an ambushing assassin,
nearer and nearer to the center of life. Ellen
White observes that, like Samson, “many
have excellent gifts, good ability, splendid
qualifications; but one defect, one secret sin
indulged, will prove to the character what
the worm-eaten plank does to a ship—utter
disaster and ruin.”4
Would to God that some
of us would look backward and see how one
small thing led to a loss of influence and prevented
God’s purpose for our lives from being
realized!
In Moscow, inside the Kremlin, is the
world’s largest bell. It is 18 feet high and
weighs more than 200 tons. But its toll has
never been heard. The czar who had it built
never heard it ring. During its casting, as
the hot metal was pouring into its mold, a
fire broke out in the factory. In the process
of extinguishing the fire, a small amount of
water entered the mold. When the mold was
removed, the metal was cracked, and the
bell was ruined forever. One trickle of water
was all it took to silence the bell’s powerful
voice that was meant to sing. I ask you, Has
the fine edge of our moral sense worn off?
Is our conscience, once as sensitive as the
palm of a child’s hand, now seared as with a
hot iron? These are ominous signs of spiritual
declension. We started out at the beginning
of our Christian life with a determination to
be strong, but when we play with sin, we become
weak like other men.
III. THE RECOVERY OF POWER
(JUDG. 16:21-31)
Blest be the name of God, all is not lost!
The man who has forgotten his vow, ignored
his duty, and denied his Lord shall yet have an
opportunity of grace. “Return unto me, saith
the Lord, and I will have mercy upon thee”
(Mal. 3:7).
In the prison house of Gaza sits the
champion of Israel, a captive, grinding like
a woman at the mill. His eyes are gone. He
sits in open view so that people may make
sport of him. The fair women of Philistia pass
by and deride him, but he cannot see them.
Temptation enters no more at eye-gate. In his
enforced solitude, he remembers.
But this is not the end of the story. There
is still hope for this man who so carelessly
abused his gifts and compromised his calling.
Note three steps in Samson’s recovery
of power:
A. Remembrance and repentance. He recalls the prophecy of his birth. “He shall begin to deliver Israel out of the hand of the Philistines.” He bemoans his wasted strength, his squandered privilege. He is alone in the surging crowd, alone with God. He repents, bitterly repents. His consecration vow is before his blind eyes in letters of fire. O, that he might prove himself a Nazarite again before he dies! But there is more to repentance than sorrow for sin. It is always accompanied by:
B. A renewal of loyalty. His enemies have not perceived that his locks are growing. They have grown with the renewal of his vow. His affliction is not in vain; he remembers the riddle he once gave to his enemies: “Out of the eater has come forth meat, and out of the strong is come forth sweetness.” Thus, in the secret place of penitent sorrow, he renews his fealty to God. But more than loyalty, there is:
C. A revival of consecration. The closing
scene is pathetic beyond words. The festival
of Dagon is at hand. The Philistines are gathering
to offer a great sacrifice to their god. The
blind giant of Israel is brought into the temple
so that the assembling multitude may behold
him. He bears their mockery in silence; the
Spirit of God is again striving with him. His
heart is no longer with the past; in this fierce
hour, he renews his consecration. He will yet,
with God’s help, “begin to deliver Israel out
of the hand of the Philistines.” He hears the
footfall and murmur of thousands gathering
in the temple. The galleries are full; his hour
of triumph has come. He stretches forth his
hands, feeling for the great pillars. The muscles
of his iron frame are tense and swollen.
He lifts his scarred face with its sightless
sockets toward heaven. His lips move; he
makes his last prayer, “O God, avenge me!”
There is a trembling of the pillars, a momentary
hush, then cries of the fear-stricken and
the dying as with an explosive crash, the temple
falls, burying in its ruins the blind captive
and his persecutors. And in the silence of that
ruin forevermore may be heard a voice, saying,
“Return from thy backslidings, O Israel,
and I will restore thee! Return and I will return
unto thee” (Hos. 14:4).
CONCLUSION
In closing, turn to Hebrews 11 and see
the name of Samson recorded in the inspired
roll-call of those heroes who “by faith were
made strong out of weakness.” By this, we
are given to understand that faith is the measure
of power. And what is faith but the vital
touch of a soul with God?
It is faith that holds us fast to duty, brings
us back from wandering, and makes all things
possible for us. We are strong only when we
are weak, because then the power of God
rests upon us.
The beginning of power is when we find
our mission, when, like Saul of Tarsus, we
look into the face of Jesus and ask, “Lord,
what wilt thou have me to do?” The loss of
power occurs when we turn aside from the
path of duty to go down to Timnath. He who
walks by faith will shun that road. There is a
world of wisdom in the poet’s words:
"An’ O be sure to fear the Lord always, /
An’ mind your duty duly morn an’ night! / Lest
in temptation’s path ye gang astray, / Implore
His counsel an’ assisting might. / They never
seek in vain who seek the Lord aright.”
Remember, no life is futile whose strength is spent in pursuance of a divine call.
FOR REFLECTION
“God’s providential care had been over
Samson, that he might be prepared to accomplish
the work which he was called to
do. At the very outset of life he was surrounded
with favorable conditions for physical
strength, intellectual vigor, and moral
purity. But under the influence of wicked associates
he let go that hold upon God which
is man’s only safeguard, and he was swept
away by the tide of evil. Those who in the
way of duty are brought into trial may be
sure that God will preserve them; but if men
willfully place themselves under the power
of temptation, they will fall sooner or later.”
(The Adventist Home, 460)
1 Ellen G. White, Patriarchs and Prophets, 459.
2 ———, Prophets and Kings, 363.
3 ———, Christian Service, 51.
4
———, Testimonies to the Church, 4:90.
Rex D. Edwards is a former vice president for
religious studies, Griggs University
