Jephthah and His Merry Men

Jephthah.

Just typing his name sits wrong with me. Too many Hs.

Saying it sounds a little like spitting. And I have an gag-inducing aversion to saliva.

Yet for the past two weeks or more, Jephthah has been with me daily, following me, teasing me like Judges does, daring me to make sense of his story.

Would that I were like that writer of Hebrews who could simply name him in a list and claim he lacked the time to say more.

But I do have the time. I must have the time. For the longer I look at him, the more I can’t look away.

Folks who think the Book of Revelation is hard haven’t spent nearly enough time in Judges.

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Jephthah.

He got off to a rough start.

Gilead’s son, he was. Though not also Mrs. Gilead’s son. No, he was the son of a prostitute. If one of these girls was your mother, you didn’t need strikes two and three. You were already out at one. And his half brothers, the sons of Mrs. Gilead, let him know that. They sent him packing.

You might as well go right now, they said. You won’t have a dime of Dad’s inheritance. No need to wait around.

Not a guy like you.

Son of a girl like her.

So he ran.

He ran off to the forest and joined up with Friar Tuck and the rest of Robin’s merry men. That’s the way I read the text, anyway. “So Jephthah fled from his half brothers and settled in the land of Tob, where a group of adventurers gathered around and followed him.” (Judges 11:3)

What those fellows did all day I don’t know. But Jephthah made a name for himself, because when it came time for Israel to fight back against the Ammonites, he was no longer just the prostitute’s son.

He was the man.

He was the one they chose to lead them.

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Jephthah’s fair weather half brothers jumped up on their bandwagon and came looking for him. We need you, Man! Come lead us. Come fight for us.

He noticed, out loud, that they used to hate him. Why not any more?

Easy enough. We need you.

They made him some promises — they’d make him their head if he would just do this one simple thing for them.

And he agreed.

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The guy must have learned some things with his men in the forest. His approach to this fight with the Ammonites was calculated. He didn’t come out fighting.

He asked questions first.

He asked the Ammonite king why he attacked them.

That wasn’t too tough. He believed the Israelites took his people’s land. He wanted it back.

This Robin Hood of Israel really learned his street smarts there in his Sherwood Forest. He still didn’t tear off with swords slashing. He went from asking and listening to reasoning. He sent the king a letter.

A long letter filled with compelling arguments and logic, attempting to persuade the king to back down. He challenged him to just let God judge between them. Let the Lord settle our dispute.

And the king? The king blew him off.

He ignored him. He didn’t even look up from his dinner. “The king of Ammon, however, paid no attention to the message Jephthah sent him.” (Judges 11:28)

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How many times had he faced that in his life? The useless little prostitute’s son. Not good for anything.

Rejected.

Ignored.

Underestimated.

The king of Ammon made a fatal error.

When he belittled this scrappy survivor, he underestimated Jephthah’s tenacity.

He underestimated Jephthah’s leadership.

He underestimated Jephthah’s army.

He clearly underestimated Jephthah’s God.

And if we believe the writer of Hebrews (and oh, I do), the king of Ammon grossly underestimated Jephthah’s faith.

That faith that garnered him the honorable mention.

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That underestimation cost the king of Ammon his kingdom. “Then Jephthah went over to fight the Ammonites, and the LORD gave them into his hands. He devastated twenty towns from Aroer to the vicinity of Minnith, as far as Abel Keramim. Thus Israel subdued Ammon.” (Judges 11:32-33)

In faith, the worthless son of a prostitute — unfit to share in his father’s inheritance, chased away by pigheaded brothers — stood up to a merciless king and conquered the land for his people. He went on to lead Israel for another six years, fulfillment of his bandwagon brothers’ promise to him.

This, my friends, is the easy part. The easily underestimated Jephthah stepped out in faith and God gave him an unlikely victory. It’s classic. A familiar theme we know inside and out. It’s how we’re used to seeing God work.

But there’s a hard part.

Somewhere between accepting the challenge to lead his people and securing the victory, Jephthah made a bargain. An outrageous, bizarre, even disturbing bargain with God.

And this is where the hard part starts. The part that makes me want to spit out his name like the villain instead of proclaim it like the name of a hero.

Stay with me. I’m still working.

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