Scripture: Judges 6:11-21, 25-27, 36-40
As always today’s sermon is divided into three points: Number One: A Coward. Number Two: A Commission. And Number Three: A Cross…
But first, Point Number One, A Coward…
When I think back on my childhood, sometimes I think that the actor Scott Baio made my young life miserable. Baio, you may recall, played “Chachi” on Happy Days—which, to children of my generation, was the greatest TV show ever! And Baio became a teen idol that all the girls in my fifth- and sixth-grade classes loved. And he was famous for a hairstyle that became very popular in my school. We called it “wings,” but I see online that it’s also called “feathers,” or “feathered hair,” or even “feathered wings,” whatever…
The idea is, you part your hair down the middle and then sweep it back on each side over your ears with a brush or comb—and then use a lot of hairspray—this was back in the late-’70s, after all—in order to hold it in place.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not style my hair like that. I could not have feathered hair. I could not have wings.
My hair, you see, is naturally curly—not that you could tell today. None of my friends back then—certainly no popular kids—had hair like mine. Yet I would go over to friends’ houses, and their mothers would fawn over my curly hair. “Oh, Brent, I would love to have hair like yours!” And I’m like, “You can have it! Because I hate my hair.”
Because, try as I might… I could never be Chachi! That was the reality.
All that to say this: when the angel of the Lord, in verse 12, calls Gideon a “mighty man of valor,” it would be no less ridiculous than if a popular girl in my fifth grade class came up to me and said, “I love your feathered hair, Brent! Your hair looks just like Scott Baio’s!” No girl would ever say that!
My point is, by all outward appearances, Gideon is the opposite of what anyone would call a “mighty man of valor”!
After all, the angel finds Gideon hiding down in a winepress, winnowing wheat—that is, separating wheat from chaff. A winepress is a crazy place to do that! It’s below ground. You’re supposed to winnow wheat out in the open, preferably on top of a mountain, where you let the wind blow the chaff away.
Why was Gideon down in this winepress? Because he was afraid to be out in the open! Why? Because for seven long years at this point, Israel’s enemy, the Midianites, had been attacking Israel, raiding Israel, stealing produce and livestock, driving Israel out of their land, killing people. Making Israelites like Gideon afraid to do things like winnow grain out in the open. After all, what if the Midianites saw him and attacked?
So Gideon was no mighty man of valor!
Like Moses before him, Gideon has plenty of excuses not to answer God’s call. See verse 15: “Behold, my clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father’s house.”
Then, even after he realizes that he’s speaking to God himself—after the Lord gives Gideon the miraculous sign of fire in verse 21, which consumes the sacrifice on the altar—after Gideon successfully destroys his father’s idols and lives to tell the tale—after all this, he still asks God for signs. First the miracle of the fleece. And then the reverse of the miracle of the fleece.
It’s almost comedic how unsuitable Gideon is to answer God’s call! Gideon is the opposite of a mighty man of valor.
And that’s the point.
Because the Lord says in verse 16: “But I will be with you…”
That’s the difference: It’s not about who Gideon is; it’s about who Gideon is with! That’s true for you and me. It’s not about who we are, it’s about who we are with.
And here’s more good news: as God is with us, by the power of the Holy Spirit—and we are with God—something happens… We change. We start to become the very people God calls us to be. Gideon himself—if you read the next chapter—became a mighty man of valor.
Remember that man in the Bible named Simon son of John? Probably not… Because he’s known to the world by the more famous nickname that Jesus gave him—Peter—which means “Rock” or “Rocky.” But when Jesus gave Simon son of John the name “Rocky”—as when the Lord called Gideon a “mighty man of valor—Peter was anything but a steady, immovable, strong Rock:
This is the same Simon who panicked in the boat during the storm on the Sea of Galilee. The same Simon who boldly stepped out onto the water toward Jesus—and then, the moment he saw the wind and the waves, became afraid and began to sink. The same Simon who swore he would never fall away, never deny the Lord—and then, within hours, denied three times that he even knew him. Rocky? Hardly. And yet, over time, by the power of the Holy Spirit, Simon became Peter. The coward became courageous. The wavering man became a pillar of the early church. Jesus called him what he would become—not because of who Simon was, but because of who Simon was with.
And the same is true for us…
And that’s Point Number One… A coward…
Point Number Two: A Commission…
But there’s another problem in this chapter: Gideon doesn’t just feel inadequate. He feels abandoned.
Verse 13: “If the Lord is with us, why then has all this happened to us? And where are all his wonderful deeds…?
That’s an honest question. Gideon grew up hearing about the Exodus. The burning bush. The ten plagues. The Red Sea. The pillar of cloud and fire. All the miracles.
And now? Midianite oppression and enslavement. Seven years of fear and despair. No conspicuous sign of God’s power.
“If the Lord is with us… where are the mighty deeds?”
And here’s what’s fascinating: The Lord doesn’t answer Gideon’s theological question—he ignores it… And he gives him a commission instead. Verse 14: “Go in this might of yours and save Israel from the hand of Midian; do not I send you?” Or—as the new NRSVue translates that last part—“I hereby commission you.”
Gideon says, “Where are the mighty deeds?” God says, “Go. You have a commission… to save your people.”
Does that sound familiar? Do we Christians have a commission? Do we have people who need saving?
So what are we waiting for?
Many of you remember the Asbury revival in 2023 in Wilmore, Kentucky. An ordinary chapel service at the college ended, and a few students lingered to pray. They began confessing sin and worshiping, and instead of going back to their dorms, more students came. And they stayed. For over two weeks, that chapel was filled almost continuously with prayer, repentance, testimonies, reconciled friendships, and simple worship. No celebrity preachers or worship leaders. No big production. Just a deep sense that the Spirit of God was drawing people to himself. Students were changed. Visitors drove from all over the country. Even skeptical observers admitted there was a sincerity and humility that couldn’t be manufactured.
And I remember when that was happening—maybe you remember it too—thinking, “Lord, do that here. Do that in our church. Do that in our community.”
Because, like Gideon, I want to see God work in some mighty ways around here! Don’t you?
But let me ask you something…
If an Asbury-like revival broke out at Five Forks Methodist this morning… what would you and I do differently? How would our lives change?
Would we pray more boldly?
Worship more passionately?
Confess our sin more candidly?
Invite friends to encounter Jesus at our church more urgently?
Share our faith more freely?
Would we suddenly become more serious about the Great Commission?
And if that’s true… then what are we waiting for? A miracle? Why not do all those things anyway? We already know from God’s Word that the Lord wants us to do them. Do we have to wait for a miracle to get started?
Personally, too often in my life, I’m waiting for God to make it easier to witness and to invite friends and to fulfill the Great Commission! That’s why I long for some of those Asbury-like miracles to start happening around here! That’s why I want the Holy Spirit to pour himself out in some conspicuous ways!
Because then, suddenly, it will become much easier for me and for us to fulfill our church’s mission, right? I want some miracles around here to make it easier to fulfill the Great Commission!
I’ll never forget a podcast I heard, which was hosted by Matt and Anne Kennedy, a clergy couple in the North American Anglican church. Anne described how, years ago, a big Billy Graham-like Crusade—a big evangelistic event—was coming to her town. And her church, along with other churches in the community, were working together to make the event a success. Lots of planning and organizing and outreach, et cetera.
Then finally the big Crusade took place… And… nothing happened to speak of. Pastor Matt said that there was oneperson from their church who made a profession of faith in Christ and was saved. But then the wife corrected him, “Yes, but I talked to that person… He was already saved!” So… that big Crusade didn’t produce any new converts in their church… It didn’t increase worship attendance… It didn’t lead to an influx of new members.
And I’ll never forget what Anne said: “When it was over, I thought, ‘Well, I guess there’s no shortcut or substitute for the hard work of witnessing and inviting and sharing the gospel with people.’”
Indeed, there is no shortcut to fulfilling the Great Commission. It’s not going to be easy. We have an Enemy in the devil, after all, who tries his best to make sure it isn’t easy! And Jesus himself tells us it won’t be easy.
And let’s just be honest, for most Christians in general—not to mention us Methodists—the prospect of witnessing to someone about Jesus is usually terrifying.
It feels awkward. It feels intrusive. It feels culturally inappropriate.
My family and I experienced this awkwardness years ago, for instance, while riding the subway in New York City. A black woman, likely from Jamaica based on her lovely accent, stood up in the subway car and began sharing the gospel. She was polite. She was well-dressed. She was calm. She emphasized God’s love. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t condemning. Everything she said about the gospel of Jesus Christ was true.
And of course, everyone onboard pretended not to notice her.
When I got off that train, I felt three things at the same time.
First, awkwardness… that she had so flagrantly violated social norms that tell us “mind our own business” and be quiet… especially about Jesus and religion…
Second, I felt a grudging admiration for her courage… If God called her to do this, then it’s likely that somebody needed to hear it onboard that subway train.
And third, I felt great relief. Relief that God has not called me to do that. Relief that I don’t have to stand up in a subway car—or some other public place where I’m not wanted—and preach. Terrifying! And embarrassing.
And over the years, whenever I’ve talked about evangelism and witnessing with my congregation, I’ve often gotten pushback… and usually the pushback is against that intrusive “subway” image of witnessing and evangelism.
“We can’t do that,” my people say. “That’s not us… That doesn’t work… That’s the wrong way to go about it.”
And I get it… It’s not me either, as I’ve said! Although I am reminded of something that the nineteenth-century evangelist Dwight Moody said. A woman came up to him after one of his sermons and said, “I don’t like the way you do evangelism.” And he said, “I don’t like it, either. How do you do it?” And she said, “Well… I don’t.” And he said, “Well, Ma’am, I like my way of doing evangelism better than your way of not doing it.”
The fact that we don’t like the way the woman on the subway does evangelism just means that we need to find a better way to do it… a way that works for us!
We’re not permitted by Jesus to avoid doing it at all!
So I’m not asking anyone to do what that woman on the subway train did.
But here’s what I am asking: Do we at least want people to be saved as much as that brave woman on the subway apparently wanted people to be saved? Again… forget about her tactics…
Do we, like that woman, really believe that people’s eternal destinies are at stake?
Do we believe that heaven and hell are real?
Do we believe that Jesus is Lord, and we desire to submit to his Lordship and do what he says?
Therefore, do we believe in fulfilling the Great Commission?
Do we?
I’m tempted to be like that Pharisee: “I thank God that I’m not like those United Methodists who don’t believe the Bible.” And yet… I am frankly disappointed that I haven’t seen much difference so far in our new, more “righteous,” more “Bible-believing” denomination when it comes to being passionate about evangelism.
Even if we disagree with that subway woman’s methods, surely we ought to share her same passion to help bring lost people into a saving relationship with God through Christ, right?
The apostle Paul shared her passion… So much so that he says in Romans 9, verse 3, that he would be willing to be cut off from Christ—that is, to literally be condemned to hell, if possible—if by doing so, he could save “his” people… i.e., his fellow Jews who had not yet received the gospel… who were not yet saved.
That’s how much Paul loved his people. That’s how badly he wanted them to be saved.
What about us? What would we be willing to do… for our people… whoever and wherever they are?
This is the most urgent question facing Five Forks Methodist as we prepare, over the next busy year, to move into our permanent church home at 516 Godfrey Road.
After all, is our situation today really so different from Gideon’s? Israel was oppressed by Midian. Today people we know—and people our church will get to know—are spiritually oppressed—enslaved to sin. Held captive by an Enemy far more powerful than any Midianite. We do not wrestle against flesh and blood. We are commissioned into that battle, with weapons supplied by the Holy Spirit. We are sent to proclaim freedom in Christ.
In Luke 10, verse 2, Jesus says, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”
“Therefore,” Jesus says, do what? “Therefore, roll up your sleeves, get out there in the harvest fields and bring in the harvest.”
No… He says, “Therefore, pray.”
It starts with prayer. Literally everyone knows how to pray! That’s the most important part of evangelism.
Do we want our friends saved? Our neighbors? Our classmates? Our coworkers? The families in this new community where we’re about to plant ourselves permanently?
Not just so our church grows. But so God’s kingdom grows.
This mission is not easy. There is spiritual opposition. There is fear. There is awkwardness. There is rejection.
But there’s also a harvest… And we are commissioned.
Listen: The most important task that we at Five Forks do happens on Sunday morning as God’s people do the thing they were created to do before anything else, which is to worship and glorify God and his Son, our redeemer, Jesus Christ. And even that has a role to play in evangelism. Because if people like us are encountering our Lord Jesus through the power of the Spirit every week—which is what Carol and I and so many others pray will happen as we gather for worship… but if we’re having an encounter with the living Lord Jesus each week… we wouldn’t dream of not showing up and missing the chance to have this encounter… And anyone who visits us and encounters Christ here—they wouldn’t dare miss it either! Because encountering Christ is the best thing of all.
So worship is the most important thing we do…
But the second most important thing we do at Five Forks is to play our part in fulfilling the Great Commission. Everything else is secondary. I’m not interested in competing with other churches in the area to “put on the best show,” to be the “most entertaining,” to be the coolest church…
I don’t want to be cool. In fact, I want to be on fire… I want to be on fire with a passion to bring every man, woman, and child into a saving relationship with God through his Son Jesus!
Give us that fire, Lord. Give us that passion!
That’s Point Number Two, the Commission…
Number Three, the Cross
Gideon asks in verse 13:
“If the Lord is with us, why then has all this happened to us?”
He assumes that if God were really with Israel, life would look like miracles, prosperity, visible power. Instead, it looks like oppression. So maybe—just maybe—God isn’t with them after all.
That same assumption was made hundreds of years later on a hill called Golgotha.
As Jesus hung on the cross, the rulers scoffed, “He saved others; let him save himself.” The soldiers mocked, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” One of the criminals joined in: “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us.”
The logic was simple: If God were with him, this wouldn’t be happening.
If Jesus were really the Messiah, he wouldn’t be suffering like this.
But what looked like God’s absence was actually the greatest evidence of God’s presence.
The cross was not defeat. It was salvation.
It was not weakness. It was victory.
And next to Jesus hung a man who had nothing left.
Earlier he had mocked Jesus. His crimes were serious enough to earn crucifixion. By his own admission, he was receiving the “due reward” for what he had done. There was no time left to fix his life. No opportunity to make amends. Certainly no impressive spiritual résumé to offer the Lord.
Only this: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”[1]
And what does Jesus say?
“Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
Not, “It’s too late.” Not, “You should have thought of that earlier.” Not, “Let’s see if you can clean up your act first.”
No… Jesus gives him grace.
In that moment, Jesus refused to save himself in order to save that man. He could have called twelve legions of angels to defend and protect him. He could have worked a miracle and stepped down from the cross. But he stayed. Because Christ’s death on the cross was the way that Jesus saves us.
The sin of that criminal—along with ours—is the reason Jesus was hanging there in the first place.
And that criminal learned something Gideon had to learn too: It is not about who you are. It is about who you are with.
Gideon was a coward. The criminal was a condemned man.
But God was with Gideon.
And the criminal was with Christ.
And that made all the difference!
So the question now is not whether God is with us. The cross has settled that. The empty tomb has sealed it. The Spirit has confirmed it.
The question is whether we will go… Into this new community… Into this next season…
Into the lives of people who, like Gideon, are hiding in fear in their own “winepresses.” Whatever those happen to be.
And we will go… Not because we are fearless.
But because Christ is faithful.
Amen.
[1] Luke 23:42