God Gets the Glory

Judges 7:1-25

If you have your Bibles—and I trust that you do—go ahead and make your way to the Old Testament book of Judges. We’re gonna be camped out in Judges chapter 7 today. And while you're turning there, let me tell you about something that happened at our house this weekend.

So Judah—this weekend—watched Armageddon for the first time. Y’all remember that one?

Bruce Willis, space shuttles, asteroids headed for Earth, Aerosmith singing I don’t want to miss a thing and a whole bunch of “we’ve got 18 hours to save the world” drama.

If you don’t let me fill you in really quickly.

In Armageddon, NASA discovers that a massive asteroid the size of Texas is hurtling toward Earth, and if it hits, it will cause total global extinction. They got 18 days before it hit.

The government comes up with a bold, last-ditch plan: send a team to space, land on the asteroid, drill into its surface, and detonate a nuclear bomb to split it apart before it reaches Earth.

The problem? NASA doesn’t have expert deep-core drillers… but they know a guy who does. Enter Bruce Willis, a tough-as-nails oil driller. NASA recruits him and his roughneck team of drillers—guys who are more comfortable on an oil rig than a spaceship—and trains them for the most dangerous mission in human history.

Instead of Bruce training the astronauts on how to use the drill, NASA teaches the roughnecks with questionable morals and backgrounds how to be astronauts in a week. You can’t think too deeply into the plot.

27 year old spoiler alerts for anyone who has not seen this cinematic masterpiece.

In the end, Bruce sacrifices himself to detonate the bomb—so the Earth can be saved.

Boom! earth saved. Cue up Aerosmith singing I don’t want to miss a thing.

Now, it’s definitely over-the-top, but there’s this one scene where they say something like, “This is the worst possible situation. There’s no way out. It would take a miracle.” And of course, by the end of the movie, they save the planet with duct tape, patriotism, and aerosmith blaring in the background.

But what struck me was this: Hollywood loves a hopeless situation. I mean, that’s basically the plot of every movie these days.

The only things they make anymore are comic book movies and Tom Cruise flicks.

And in both, the formula’s the same—total disaster is five minutes away, the world is on fire, and here comes a guy with perfect hair and a questionable plan to save the day.

I think we are on like the 15th Mission Impossible movie, I’m starting to think the missions are possible.

Why do they keep making them and why do people still go watch them?

Why? Because deep down, we all want to believe that when things look impossible, somebody’s going to step in and make it right. We want to see a hero rise out of the ashes.

Now in Judges 7, we don’t get capes or fighter jets or slow-motion explosions—but we do get an impossible situation. God intentionally puts Gideon in a spot where he cannot win on his own. No amount of muscle, planning, or motivational speeches are going to fix this. Why?

Because when the victory comes, God wants to make sure there’s no doubt who gets the glory.

Here’s the thing: Judges 7 is not Hollywood. It’s not fantasy. It’s not fiction. This is real history. And God isn’t interested in making men into heroes. He’s interested in making His name known.

In Judges 7, God deliberately puts Gideon—and all of Israel—in a situation that looks like a suicide mission. Humanly speaking, there is no way out.

300 men against an army of thousands? You don’t need military strategy; you need a miracle.

But listen to me, church: God loves impossible odds. He specializes in stacking the deck against Himself so that when the dust settles, nobody says, “Wow, Gideon was brave.” They say, “Only God could’ve done that.”

Because the life of Gideon doesn’t point us to the fact that Gideon is awesome. It points us to the fact that God is awesome.

Last Week: We saw that God had allowed the Midianites to oppress Israel—not out of cruelty, but to discipline them. He was trying to wake His people up from their rebellion.

And when Israel finally cried out—not in true repentance at first, but in pain—God, in His mercy, had compassion. He didn’t wait for them to get it all together. He raised up a deliverer.

And that deliverer? Gideon.

Because when first meet Gideon- as we saw last week- he was threashing wheat in a winepress. Hoping the Midianites won’t find him.

And yet God meets him there. And God calls him mighty man of valor—not because of who Gideon was in that moment, but because of who God was going to make him into.

Gideon asked for sign after sign after sign that God was going to be with him. God was patient with Gideon.

God assured him of His presence: “I will be with you.” Thats all that we truly need in life.

And the most important truth we walked away with last week was this: God doesn’t call the brave; He makes brave those He calls.

That’s true for Gideon. That’s true for you. The courage you need for the battle in front of you doesn’t come from within—it comes from the God who goes with you.

Maybe you're walking in here today and you feel like the odds are against you. Maybe you feel outnumbered, overwhelmed, under-resourced, and flat-out done. I got really good news for anyone who feels that way this morning—God does His best work in the dark, when the world says, “This can't be done.”

Look with me at Judges 7:1—

Judges 7:1 “Then Jerubbaal ((that’s Gideon’s nickname, remember—it means ‘Baal-basher’ which is still one of my favorite biblical nicknames) and all the people who were with him rose early and encamped beside the spring of Harod. And the camp of Midian was north of them, by the hill of Moreh, in the valley.”

Verse 2:

Judges 7:2 “The Lord said to Gideon, “The people with you are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hand, lest Israel boast over me, saying, ‘My own hand has saved me.’”

Y’all… you ought to marinate on that statement for a minute. Let it soak deep. Because that is one of my favorite verses in the entire Old Testament.

“The people with you are too many...” In other words, “Gideon, I’m gonna need you to cut back. I know you're already the underdog, I know you’re outmatched and outmanned, but you’ve still got too much.”

Why? “Lest Israel boast over Me.”

God says, “If I give you victory now, you’ll walk away thinking you did it. You’ll think it was your strength, your numbers, your leadership. And I love you too much to let you believe that lie.”

Church, don’t miss this: You can learn so much about how God works in your life through that one statement.

God is not just after results. He’s after your dependence. He’s not just trying to get you through the battle—He’s trying to get the glory from the battle.

So sometimes—watch this—God will intentionally strip you down, take away the resources, remove the options, shrink your army, cut your safety nets… not because He’s punishing you, but because He wants you to know it was Him all along.

Some of you are in a season right now where it feels like God is taking things away.

You had plans, but they fell through. You had resources, but they dried up. You had backup, but now it feels like you're standing alone. And you’re wondering, “God, what are you doing?”

God is trying to get your attention for you to be dependent on Him and Him alone.

And this can be true in the church as well.

If we ever start finding our confidence in the wrong things—if we ever start feeling secure because we’ve got a full room on Sunday or a strong budget at the end of the month—may God, in His mercy, strip it all away. Take it all away.

Because God didn’t give us people just to pad our ego, and He didn’t give us resources just to make us feel safe. He gave them to mobilize us—not to comfort us, but to utilize us.

And if we ever start boasting in the size of the crowd instead of the power of the cross, or trusting in the balance sheet instead of the blood of Jesus, then we’re no different than Israel saying, “My own hand has saved me.”

Listen, Cedar Bay, we don’t measure success by the number of butts in the seats, the size of the offering, or how polished our service looks. We measure success by this: Did we walk in obedience to the Word of God? Did we glorify Jesus Christ? Did we make disciples?

Because when the Lord gives—and when the Lord takes away—it’s all meant to remind us: This is His church. It’s His mission. And He alone gets the glory.

So let’s not get too comfortable. Let’s stay desperate. Let’s stay humble. Let’s stay open-handed.

Because if we’re going to see real Kingdom impact, it won’t come from what we can manage—it’ll come from what only He can do.

Judges 7:3 (ESV)

“Now therefore proclaim in the ears of the people, saying, ‘Whoever is fearful and trembling, let him return home and hurry away from Mount Gilead.’” Then 22,000 of the people returned, and 10,000 remained.

So Gideon gives the announcement—“If you're scared, go home”—and 22,000 men pack up and bounce. That’s almost 70% of his army. Just gone. They look around, shrug, and say, “Yeah, I’m out,” and heads back to Mama’s house. They are okay with being a coward.

And I can’t help but wonder—if real war ever came to our nation, how many men would walk away? How many would tuck tail and run the moment it got dangerous? Honestly… probably more than 70%.

Because let’s be real—we’re living in a time when manhood is confused, diluted, and in some cases, outright abandoned. We’ve got too many grown boys. Not grown men—grown boys. Still doing the same things they were doing when they were 12: sitting on the couch, glued to a screen, arguing with strangers on the internet, and calling it strength. Keyboard warriors who’ve never fought a real battle. Experts in everything, responsible for nothing.

And I read this verse and that scene from Braveheart immediately came to my mind—you know the one, where William Wallace is giving that speech before battle. He says:

“Yes, fight and you may die. Run and you’ll live… at least a while. And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days… for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they’ll never take our freedom!”

That’s the kind of fire we’re missing today.

Men, God is still calling people to the front lines.

But He’s not looking for the loudest voice or the guy with the biggest biceps. He’s looking for those who are faithful. Who won’t flinch when it’s hard. Who aren’t driven by fear, but by obedience.

Listen to me—it’s time for men to stand up and act like men. Paul says it in 1 Corinthians 16:13:

“Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong.”

Not childish. Not passive. Not afraid. Men who lead. Men who serve. Men who sacrifice. Men who fight—for their families, for the truth, and for the glory of God.

Because the battle may not look like it did in Gideon’s day. But make no mistake—we’re in one.

Now, on the surface, you could actually make a pretty reasonable argument for sending on home 22 thousand coward being a wise move. I mean, 10,000 brave soldiers might be better than 32,000 with 22,000 of them shaking in their boots. A small but courageous force sounds better than a large but cowardly one. Okay, God, we get it. You’re thinning the ranks to improve the quality. That makes sense...

But then comes verse 4. And this is where the logic just flies out the window.

Because the next part? Makes absolutely no sense. At least, not from a human standpoint.

God’s not done reducing the army. He’s about to take this already outnumbered group of 10,000 and bring it down to 300. That’s not strategy—that’s sabotage… unless you’re God.

See, God isn’t trying to help Israel win smart—He’s making sure they don’t steal the credit. Because if they win this battle, it’s not going to be because they had grit or guts or game plans. It’s going to be because God stepped in and fought for them.

Judges 7:4–7 (ESV) And the Lord said to Gideon, “The people are still too many. Take them down to the water, and I will test them for you there, and anyone of whom I say to you, ‘This one shall go with you,’ shall go with you, and anyone of whom I say to you, ‘This one shall not go with you,’ shall not go.” So he brought the people down to the water. And the Lord said to Gideon, “Every one who laps the water with his tongue, as a dog laps, you shall set by himself. Likewise, every one who kneels down to drink.” And the number of those who lapped, putting their hands to their mouths, was 300 men, but all the rest of the people knelt down to drink water. And the Lord said to Gideon, “With the 300 men who lapped I will save you and give the Midianites into your hand, and let all the others go every man to his home.”

Now when you get to this moment in Judges 7 where God tells Gideon to separate the men based on how they drink water—let’s be honest, it feels kind of… random.

Some men get down on their knees and drink straight from the river. Others scoop the water up with their hands and lap it like dogs. And God says, “Keep the dog-lappers. Send the kneelers home.”

Naturally, folks try to read into that. I’ve heard all kinds of interpretations— “Well, the ones who knelt were careless and vulnerable... the 300 who lapped were alert and watchful, like good soldiers.” Another one says, “They drank that way so they could keep their eyes on Gideon.”

Now, that may sound reasonable… but here’s the deal—the text doesn’t say any of that. And where the Bible is silent, we should be careful not to insert our own spiritual lessons.

If there is significance, it’s not in the posture of the drinkers—it’s in the purpose of the test. Warren Wiersbe points out that God probably chose this method because it was simple, unassuming, and easy to apply. In other words, it was a quiet test. The men weren’t told, “This is a final exam in obedience.” They were just thirsty. No pressure, no spotlight. And yet, the way they drank became the dividing line.

That’s how God works sometimes, isn’t it? God doesn’t always test you in the big dramatic moments. Sometimes He tests you in the ordinary ones. When you think no one’s watching. When you're just living life. He sifts hearts through simple obedience—through the little things.

And don’t miss this—Gideon didn’t test them; God did. The test wasn’t even about the men themselves—it was about getting the number down to 300. This wasn’t about who was strongest or smartest. It was about making the army small enough that no one could take the credit but God.

So what’s the point for us?

The takeaway is not, “Drink water better.” The takeaway is: God will often use simple, even silly-seeming moments to shape you, stretch you, or strip you down—so that you will know, when the victory comes, it was never you. It was Him.

And Think about this: God intentionally weakened Gideon’s army. There is so much to learn from that.

1: When God wants to use us, He often first weakens us.

Now, let me be clear—God never delights in hurting us. He’s not cruel, and He doesn’t find joy in our pain. But God is deeply committed to something greater than our comfort: our dependence on Him. That’s one of the most important things you can ever learn in life—to trust Him completely.

And sometimes, in order to teach us that, God will intentionally reduce the size of our “army.” In other words, He will allow us to lose the very things we’ve been leaning on so that we’re left with no choice but to lean on Him.

Now, what do I mean by “reduce the size of your army”? That might look like a health issue. It might be the loss of a job. It could even be something as personal and painful as struggles in your marriage. I’m not saying God is directly causing those things. But I am saying that, in His sovereignty, God may be using those things to draw you into deeper trust—to teach you to lean into Him like never before.

Here’s a statement I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again because it’s worth repeating: If dependence is the objective, then weakness is an advantage.

That sounds backwards, doesn’t it? How could weakness ever be an advantage?

Here’s how: if that weakness drives you to lean on Jesus—where the real power is—then it’s not a setback, it’s a setup. If it’s in your weakness that you discover His strength, then your weakness becomes a blessing.

Some of you learned this firsthand. It was when your husband failed you that you discovered you could rely on your Heavenly Father. It was when you got laid off that you learned to trust your Heavenly Supplier. It was when you felt abandoned and completely alone that you discovered God really is the Friend who sticks closer than a brother.

Weakness forces us to lean into God. And sometimes—maybe even most of the time—that’s the only place where we truly learn one of the most life-changing truths we could ever embrace: God is always faithful.

And sometimes you won’t really know that He’s all you need… until He’s all you have.

The Apostle Paul said it this way in 2 Corinthians 12:9—

“Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.”

Now let’s be honest—bragging about your weaknesses sounds crazy. Imagine standing up and saying, “Here’s another area where I’m subpar. Here’s another place I’ve failed. Here’s something I can’t do.” And Paul says: “GLADLY.” Why? Because it’s in those very places—those weak, broken, insufficient places—where the power of Christ is most clearly on display.

You see, if I stand up here and brag about my strengths, you might sit there and think, “Well, that’s great for him, but I could never do that. I’m not like that.” But if I stand up here and tell you where I’ve struggled—where I’ve been weak, where I’ve messed up—and then tell you what Christ’s power has done in the middle of that, you don’t walk away thinking, “Wow, he’s amazing.” You walk away saying, “Wait a second—I have access to what he has access to.”

That’s what gospel-centered ministry looks like.

Effective preaching is just one beggar telling a bunch of other beggars where to find bread. And maybe the best thing I can do for you today—the most helpful thing I can say—is to remind you that I’m a beggar too.

I’m not up here because I have it all together. I’m up here because I’ve discovered the One who holds it all together.

And it’s not in my strength that I preach— It’s in my weakness that His power rests.

A.W. Tozer once said, “The Christian who truly understands what God has done will never think of himself as deserving of glory. He will say, ‘Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Your name give glory.’”

That’s the heart God is after—the heart that knows every victory, every provision, every thing we have is a gift of grace and not the work of human hands.

Hudson Taylor, the pioneer missionary to China, modeled trusting in the Lord. On one occasion, when all he had to his name was 87 cents, he wrote to a friend and said, “We have 87 cents—and all the promises of God.”

That’s not wishful thinking. That’s not denial. That’s the kind of faith that sees the invisible and holds on to the eternal. That’s the kind of faith that pleases the Father. That is when I am weak, He is strong.

And that’s the kind of faith God was cultivating in Gideon. By the time God finished preparing Gideon for battle—stripping him of his numbers, his confidence, and every illusion of control—he had no choice left but to trust God.

2: God would send salvation not through human might, but through the weakness of humble obedience.

As I’ve said before, the stories in Judges aren’t just teaching us individually—the book of Judges as a whole is preaching a bigger message. If you look at the pattern, there’s a strange trajectory that starts to take shape.

The book opens with Joshua, a mighty general, a man of strength and courage, leading Israel’s powerful army with clear purpose. But then things begin to shift.

Next comes Ehud—a left-handed man, viewed in that culture as disabled or weaker. Then we meet Deborah—a faithful and courageous female judge—who shares the spotlight with Jael, a housewife with a tent peg. And now we’re looking at Gideon—a man so fearful at the beginning he’s hiding in a hole, and whose army God shrinks down to a mere 300 men.

But it doesn’t stop there.

In just a few chapters, we’ll meet Samson—a man who fights entirely alone. And after Judges comes David—a young, overlooked shepherd boy who steps onto the battlefield to fight a giant while all of Israel watches from the sidelines. He’s not even wearing armor—just holding a slingshot and a handful of stones.

Do you see the pattern? We’re not moving from weakness to strength. We’re moving from strength to weakness. It’s a downward trajectory. A graph going in the wrong direction if you’re thinking in worldly terms.

But this points us to something incredibly important: God would send salvation into the world not through a King who would dominate with superior strength, but through One who would lay down His life in humble obedience.

Think about Jesus:

Before His trial, He’s washing His disciples’ feet—the lowest servant’s job.

At His trial, He is mocked, spit on, falsely accused, and doesn’t even speak in His defense.

He’s so physically weak, He can’t carry His own cross—Simon of Cyrene has to step in and help.

And then He dies—not in power, but in total submission—nailed to a Roman cross with His arms stretched out. It is the ultimate picture of weakness.

And yet—through that weakness came the greatest victory in human history: the resurrection.

This is how God works. We obey in humble faith… and God brings power. We surrender in weakness… and He shows up in glory.

And it’s the same in your life.

You faithfully obey—

You keep sharing the gospel, even when no one seems to respond.

You keep parenting that strong-willed child with patience and grace.

You keep praying for that lost son or daughter, for that prodigal child even when it’s been years.

And in those quiet places of weakness, God sends the miracle.

Because God doesn’t move through human might—He moves through faith and humble obedience.

I once heard someone say that the gospel moves forward not by flashy preachers or celebrity Christians, but by faithful woodpeckers—those who just keep tapping, keep working, keep showing up, day after day, faithful in obscurity. And you may feel small, like your obedience doesn’t matter. But the kingdom of God is built on that kind of quiet, persevering, humble obedience.

Well, God’s got Gideon’s army down to the size he needs it…

Judges 7:9–10 (ESV) That same night the Lord said to him, “Arise, go down against the camp, for I have given it into your hand. But if you are afraid to go down, go down to the camp with Purah your servant.

Judges 7:12–14 (ESV) And the Midianites and the Amalekites and all the people of the East lay along the valley like locusts in abundance, and their camels were without number, as the sand that is on the seashore in abundance. When Gideon came, behold, a man was telling a dream to his comrade. And he said, “Behold, I dreamed a dream, and behold, a cake of barley bread tumbled into the camp of Midian and came to the tent and struck it so that it fell and turned it upside down, so that the tent lay flat.” And his comrade answered, “This is no other than the sword of Gideon the son of Joash, a man of Israel; God has given into his hand Midian and all the camp.”

Now don’t miss the humor in this. Because when God doesn’t show him as a warrior charging in with a sword or even as a lightning bolt from heaven.

No—He shows him as a loaf of bread.

Seriously. A tumbling piece of barley bread rolls into the enemy camp and knocks over a tent. That’s the dream.

Now listen… the picture of Gideon is not a spear, not a sword, not a hurricane—not even a hurled rock. He’s a biscuit. What team chooses that as its mascot? Nobody’s saying, “Fear the roll!” There are no high school football teams called The Fighting Biscuits.

But here’s the thing: this biscuit flattens a mighty tent. Now, I’m not much of a camper— my idea of roughing it is a 4 star. but if I ever went camping and if you threw a Popeye’s Biscuit at a tent I set up, it might collapse. But that’s only because I don’t know what I’m doing. That’s not normal. Tents don’t fall over from bread.

And that’s the point. Only God could do something like that.

The vision is clear: God is going to use something weak and unexpected—like a biscuit—to bring down something strong and fortified—like a Midianite army.

And what does that tell us?

It tells us that God doesn’t need strength. He needs surrender. He can use the most unlikely people—people who feel like barley bread—people who are overlooked, underqualified, and overwhelmed—and He can use them to bring down giants.

So if you feel like a biscuit today… you’re in good company. Because God used a biscuit to win a battle—and He can use you too.

Gideon recognizes in this that God is reassuring him:

Judges 7:15 (ESV) As soon as Gideon heard the telling of the dream and its interpretation, he worshiped. And he returned to the camp of Israel and said, “Arise, for the Lord has given the host of Midian into your hand.”

The third thing we learn from this story is this:

3: God patiently deals with faltering faith.

One of the most comforting parts of Gideon’s story is how gentle and patient God is with him. We often picture God as standing up in heaven with His arms crossed, saying, “If you don’t have absolute confidence in Me every second of the day, I’m done with you.” But that’s not what we see here.

Gideon is hesitant. He’s afraid. He’s filled with doubt. And instead of scolding him, God keeps reassuring him. He gives him signs. He sends him down into the enemy camp to overhear a dream. He surrounds Gideon’s faltering faith with undeniable reminders of His power and presence.

And it reminds me of another story—Mark 9:22. A father comes to Jesus, desperate for healing for his son. And he says, “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” Now, if I’m honest, if I were Jesus, I might’ve responded with something like, “If? IF? Don’t you know who I am?” Or maybe, “Well, James says a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways. Come back when you’ve got it all together.”

But that’s not what Jesus does.

Instead, Jesus says, “All things are possible for the one who believes.” And the father responds with one of the most honest prayers in all of Scripture: “I believe—help my unbelief.”

And what does Jesus do? He doesn’t rebuke the man. He doesn’t withhold the miracle until the man has stronger faith. He heals the boy.

Because Jesus honors faltering faith when it is pointed in His direction.

So let me ask you—do you doubt sometimes? That’s okay. Are you struggling to believe? Ask your questions. Wrestle. Pray the honest prayer: “Lord, I believe—help my unbelief.” And ask God to reveal His faithfulness to you, just like He did for Gideon.

God is not afraid of your weakness. He is patient with those who are learning to trust Him.

But also—don’t stop there. Because that leads us right into point number four...

4: At some point, you have to take the risk.

Let’s think about what’s actually happening in this part of Gideon’s story. Gideon is afraid—terrified, really—and God, in His kindness, is trying to reassure him. So God says, “Gideon, if you’re still afraid, sneak down into the Midianite camp tonight and listen in on what they’re saying.”

Now, if I were Gideon, I think I would’ve pushed back a little. I’d have said, “God… maybe we could do the fleece thing one more time? I’ve got it right here. I’ll close my eyes and count to 10, and when I open them, You could fold it into some origami or spell out ‘I’ve got you’ in sheep wool. Just something low-risk, you know? Because sneaking into the enemy camp in the middle of the night doesn’t feel like the best idea for someone who’s already scared out of his mind.”

But what’s the lesson here? God is patient with your faith, but at some point—He asks you to take a step.

That’s how faith works: God reveals a little bit, and you take a step. Then He reveals a little more, and you take another step. James 4:8 says, “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” It’s a back-and-forth. It’s not all revealed at once.

But here’s the problem: most of us want a spotlight. We want to see the whole plan laid out, start to finish. And God says, “I’m not giving you a spotlight—I’m giving you a lamp.”

“Your word is a lamp unto my feet.” (Psalm 119:105) A lamp doesn’t show you the whole road. It shows you just enough for the next step.

If you’re waiting for every question to be answered before you believe, or before you obey, you’ll never get there. God develops your faith by inviting you to take a step of faith.

You’ve heard about how mother birds teach their young to fly, right? They push them out of the nest. Now from the little bird’s perspective, that feels like betrayal. “What are you doing?! I trusted you!” But mama bird knows that baby’s wings are ready—and the only way to grow is to fly.

That’s exactly what God is doing with Gideon.

Eventually, Gideon obeys. He divides the 300 men into three companies of 100 each. And look at the gear God gives them. No swords. No spears. Just a trumpet, a clay jar, and a torch.

That’s it.

He tells them: “Hide your torch in the jar. Then when I give the signal, blow your trumpet, break the jar, lift the torch, and shout.”

And they do. Judges 7:19–22 (ESV) says:

“So Gideon and the hundred men who were with him came to the outskirts of the camp at the beginning of the middle watch, when they had just set the watch. And they blew the trumpets and smashed the jars that were in their hands. Then the three companies blew the trumpets and broke the jars. They held in their left hands the torches, and in their right hands the trumpets to blow. And they cried out, ‘A sword for the Lord and for Gideon!’”

So here’s how this worked:

In ancient warfare, one torch and one trumpet would typically represent an entire battalion. So if you’re a Midianite soldier, asleep or groggy in the middle of the night, and suddenly you hear 300 trumpets blasting and see 300 torches lining the canyon—you don’t think, “Oh, 300 guys.” You think, “Oh no… tens of thousands!”

Now remember, Gideon’s men are positioned all around the valley, completely surrounding the Midianite camp. And the smashing of those clay jars would have echoed off the rocks and hills like the sound of swords being drawn by a massive army.

And here’s the genius of the timing: it says they struck “at the beginning of the middle watch.” That would’ve been right when one-third of the Midianite soldiers were coming back from guard duty, another third were just waking up to go out, and the last third were still sound asleep.

So imagine the scene—it’s pitch dark, you’ve just been woken up by an explosion of noise and light, soldiers are coming into the camp, and you assume the enemy has already infiltrated your ranks. Everyone panics. Nobody knows who’s who. And in the chaos, the Midianites turn their swords on each other.

Meanwhile, what are the Israelites doing? They’re just standing there. Verse 21 says, “Every man stood in his place.” They didn’t have to fight. They didn’t chase. They just stood there—and watched God do what only God can do.

And here’s the best part—not a single Israelite casualty. None. Zero. And that brings us to Lesson number five...

5. God can turn weakness itself into strength.

Now let me point out something really cool here… God never actually explained to Gideon how to conduct this battle. There’s no record of God saying, “Okay, here’s the battle plan: split into three groups, get some jars, torches, trumpets…” No, this whole strategy seems to come straight out of Gideon’s own, fearful noggin.

And yet—it works.

God’s reduction of Gideon’s army forced him to think differently. He had to get creative. He had to lean entirely on what little he had. And wouldn’t you know—it ended up being a better plan than anything a general with 32,000 men could have come up with. Because it led to a victory with zero Israelite casualties.

What looked like weakness became the very thing God used for strength. And that’s how God works so often, even in our lives.

In your moments of weakness, God can reorganize your whole life—for the better. What you thought needed fixing, God might be trying to transform.

So here’s the challenge: don’t waste your weakness. Let it be the moment where you start telling a better story—not one about your strength, but about His.

6. Join Jesus wherever He is.

To me, Gideon’s whole story can be summarized in one phrase: Join Jesus where He is.

It is far better to be standing next to Jesus before the most impossible army in the world—all by yourself—than to have a massive army on your side without Him.

That’s what Christian maturity looks like. It’s when you can say, “I’ll go anywhere with Jesus… and I don’t want to be anywhere without Him.”

The mature believer doesn’t cling to safety or strength. They say: “Jesus + nothing = everything.”

They can give up everything they have because they realize: In Christ, they already have all that they need.

So the question shifts from “How do I stay safe?” to: “God, where are You? Because that’s where I want to be.”

Hudson Taylor once said, “All God’s giants have been weak men who did great things for God because they reckoned on God being with them.” And he also said this about God’s work in your life: “There are three stages in every great work of God: first, it is impossible; then, it is difficult; then, it is done.”

Some of you are right there—in the impossible stage. And I wish I could put a period on the story of Gideon and say, “And they lived happily ever after.” But I can’t. Because unfortunately, Gideon’s story doesn’t end well.

After all the victories, after the fleece and the jars and the trumpets and the 300 men routing the Midianites—Israel comes to Gideon and says, “Rule over us… you and your son and your grandson also, for you have saved us out of the hand of Midian.” They basically offer him the throne.

And to his credit, Gideon gives the right answer: “I will not rule over you, and my son will not rule over you; the LORD will rule over you.” Sounds good, right? That’s the Sunday School answer. But then the very next verses tell us that Gideon took a bunch of gold and made an ephod—a kind of priestly garment—which became a snare to him and his family.

And then it gets even messier. Gideon goes on to live like a king. He takes multiple wives. He has 70 sons. And then—don’t miss this—he names one of his sons Abimelech, which in Hebrew literally means “My father is king.” Come on, man. He says, “I’m not your king,” and then names his kid “Daddy’s the king.” It’s like he’s rejecting the crown publicly but wearing it in private.

And when Gideon dies—at what the Bible says was “a good old age”—the people of Israel immediately turn their backs on the Lord. They chase after the Baals again and make Baal-berith their god. That name means “lord of the covenant”—as if to say, “Forget Yahweh, we’re making a new deal now.”

Church, Gideon started in fear, found faith in the middle—but finished in compromise. He’s a walking example of what it looks like to have a bad start and a bad finish. And the legacy he left behind was a people who went right back to idolatry the moment he was gone.

And here’s the warning for us today: It is not enough to have moments of faith in the middle. We need to finish well.

I was speaking to one of the other Bible teachers this week about Pastor John MacArthur

I was speaking with one of the other Bible teachers this week, and we got to talking about Pastor John MacArthur. And he said something that really stuck with me. He said, “I’m just so thankful that he died well.”

That he finished strong. And that seems so rare today.

And he’s right.

It is rare. Because we’ve seen so many fall short of that. Leaders, pastors, heroes of the faith—some who burned bright in the beginning, but fizzled or failed in the end.

Because listen—you don’t drift toward faithfulness. You drift toward compromise. Faithfulness is a choice you have to make daily. And it starts with remembering who the real King is.

Finishing strong is rare. But it shouldn’t be. And it doesn’t have to be.

And that’s why Gideon’s story matters so much—not just the part where he trusts God and obeys in weakness, but the part where success starts to shift his heart. He starts thinking it was about him. He starts leading out of pride instead of dependence. He forgets the posture of weakness that God used to deliver an entire nation.

And it’s a warning to us: the greatest threat to your faith might not be failure—it might be success.

So I’ll say it again—don’t ever stop living in that posture of dependence. Because the ones who finish strong are the ones who never forget where they started—down in the hole, in weakness, in need of grace. And by the grace of God, they never stop living there.

Gideon reminds us how easy it is to drift—not in failure, but in success. To start thinking we don’t need God like we once did. To stop living in that holy place of dependence, and start operating out of pride and self-reliance. And that’s why this moment matters so much. Because if we’re not careful, we’ll come to the edge of our next step of obedience and slip right back into the very weakness God rescued us from.

So before we move on, before we close the chapter, we need to respond. Church, this is a high and holy moment—not because of anything I’ve said, but because the Spirit of God is moving through the Word of God, and He’s calling us to one thing: surrender.

We’ve seen it in Gideon’s story. God brought the victory, not through strength or strategy, but through weakness and obedience. Why? So no one could walk away beating their chest. So that when the dust settled, only God got the glory.

And I don’t know what all God is doing in your heart right now, but I know this—this is your moment to respond.

For some of you, the call is clear: you need to surrender your life to Jesus Christ. Not clean yourself up. Not try harder. Not get religious. Surrender.

Jesus has already done the work. He lived the perfect life you couldn’t live, died the death you deserved to die, and rose again to give you a life you could never earn. And He did it not so you could admire Him from a distance—but so you could be saved, forgiven, and made new.

So if you’ve never said yes to Jesus—this is your moment. Say it in your heart: “Jesus, I believe. I can’t save myself. I trust You with my whole life.”

And for others of you, maybe you’ve already trusted Jesus—but it’s time to take your next step of obedience. Maybe that’s baptism. Listen—Jesus didn’t die in secret, and He didn’t save you so you could keep it to yourself. Baptism is how you stand and say, “I belong to Jesus. I’m not ashamed of the gospel.”

Or maybe your next step is church membership. Look—church isn’t a thing to attend. It’s not a spiritual gas station to consume. It’s a family to belong to. And God doesn’t call His people to drift—He calls them to plant deep roots in gospel community. So maybe today’s the day you stop sitting on the sidelines and say, “This is my church. I’m in.”

Whatever it is—don’t wait. Don’t drift.

Don’t be like the 22,000 who went home in fear. Be the one who stands. Be the one who obeys. Be the mighty man or woman of valor God has called you to be.

This is your moment. This is your invitation. Bow your head. Open your heart. Say to the Lord, “Whatever You want—wherever You lead—I’m Yours.”

Let’s take a moment now to be still in the presence of God.

Father, Thank You for reminding us that You work through weakness, not strength. Forgive us when we rely on ourselves and forget our need for You.

Lord, we want to finish strong. Keep us in that posture of dependence. Help us surrender every part of our lives—our plans, our fears, our pride—so that You get all the glory.

For those who need to take that first step of faith, give them courage to say, “Jesus, I surrender.” For the rest of us, help us obey—whether it’s baptism, community, or calling.

Make us like Gideon’s 300—fully Yours, fully available. And may our lives declare: To God alone be the glory.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Let’s stand, let’s sing, let’s respond.