High Cost of Low Theology

Grab your Bibles, and make your way to Judges 10.

Grab your Bibles, and make your way to Judges 10.

We’re gonna start in 10 and then jump over to 11, but before we get there—can I just confess something?

When I was a kid, my dad taught me how to ride a dirt bike. At least, he tried to.

Before everything was built up in out here- my Dad took me out to the the woods- we others would ride dirt bikes and 4 wheelers- right here on east port where the apartment complex is built across from San Mateo.

He gave me a few lessons and talked to me about everything I needed to do before hand. I put the helmet on, fire it up, and I took off down the trail thinking I had it all figured out. The wind’s in my face, the engine’s roaring, and I’m feeling like a pro… except there was one small problem: I never changed gears.

I stayed in first the whole time. Before my dad could get to me, that poor little dirt bike engine was screaming for mercy—and then it blew. Smoke, smell, and a whole lot of “what in the world did you do?”

You know what the problem was? I had confidence, but I didn’t have understanding. I was operating a machine without knowing how it was actually meant to work. And just like bad mechanics will cost you an engine… bad theology will cost you way more than a dirt bike—it’ll cost you your life.

Theology is the understanding of God.

and you may have known about Othniel, Ehud, Gideon and even Deborah, but not many folks know about Jepthath.

and what we are are going to see is he had a lot of confidence about the Lord- he had a lot of ethusiasm for the Lord but He had zero knowledge about the things that please the Lord or what it means to actually follow the Lord or who the Lord really is.

And unfortunately, that is way too many people in out society today.

Too many people have these false ideas of who God is and slap a Jesus sticker on him.

Because they don’t read the Scriptures.

Many Americans build their faith like a cheap hot dog.

You know what I’m talking about—you take a little bit of something from over here, mix it with a little bit of something from over there, and the end result is… well, questionable. Sure, it’s got some meat in it, but it’s also loaded with fillers, preservatives, and a bunch of stuff you can’t pronounce. And while that might pass for lunch at the ballpark, when it comes to your faith? That kind of concoction isn’t just unhealthy—it’s spiritually toxic.

That’s exactly what we’re going to see with Jephthah today. He’s got a little bit of the real meat of true faith in God… but it’s mixed with a whole lot of the sodium nitrate and maltodextrin of his culture. And when you mix truth with error, you don’t get a slightly better version of the truth—you get something that can poison your soul.

Jepthath is the 9th Judges and things are getting worse.

In Judges 10, before Jepthath comes into the scene- Israel’s doing okay—until they’re not.

The writer says they “did evil in the sight of the LORD,” and then lists seven false gods they chased after. Seven—symbolizing totality. Meaning they didn’t just wander from God… they completely abandoned Him.

So God’s anger burns, and when Israel finds themselves at war with the Ammonites, they come back crying, “Lord, save us!”

But for the first time in Judges, the cycle breaks. Normally, God would send a deliverer at this point… but this time? He doesn’t.

In Judges 10:13–14, God steps in with some holy sarcasm. Here’s what He says:

“You have forsaken Me and served other gods; therefore I will save you no more. Go and cry out to the gods whom you have chosen; let them save you in the time of your distress.”

Translation? God’s like, “Oh, I see how it is. You’ve got your little squad of seven gods—you’ve been running with them, trusting them, worshiping them. Why don’t you call ‘em up? Put together your dream team. See if they can bail you out of this one.”

That’s the moment when the cycle we’ve seen over and over in Judges just… breaks.

And then—storm clouds start stacking up on the horizon. By verse 17, the Ammonites—our villains for the day—are called to arms. They set up camp in Gilead. The Israelites rally and pitch camp at Mizpah. It’s battle prep time.

But here’s where it gets interesting. Verse 18 says: “And the people, the leaders of Gilead, said to one another, ‘Who is the man who will begin to fight against the Ammonites? He shall be head over all the inhabitants of Gilead.’”

Did you catch that? War is coming. The pressure is on. And instead of looking up to heaven, they start looking around at each other. They don’t ask, “God, who will You send to save us?” They ask, “Hey, who’s the guy that’s gonna step up?”

The people of God are asking the wrong people the right question. And right in the middle of that storm—right when the wheels are falling off the chariot of Israel—that’s when we meet Jephthah.

Judges 11:1—“Now Jephthah the Gileadite was a mighty warrior, but he was the son of a prostitute. Gilead was the father of Jephthah. And Gilead’s wife also bore him sons. And when his wife’s sons grew up, they drove Jephthah out and said to him, ‘You shall not have an inheritance in our father’s house, for you are the son of another woman.’ Then Jephthah fled from his brothers and lived in the land of Tob, and worthless fellows collected around Jephthah and went out with him.”

So here we go—we meet Jephthah. And right out of the gate, the Bible tells us a few things about him.

First—he’s a warrior. This is his thing. He’s good in a fight, and that’s going to matter because Israel’s in desperate need of a fighter right now.

Second—he’s got a problem in his family tree. He’s “the son of a prostitute.” Probably a foreign prostitute, maybe even a slave. So while he’s fully an Israelite, he’s got a messy, complicated, painful past.

Third—he gets exiled. His brothers run him off, and he ends up in the land of Tob. Tob is basically modern-day Syria, and being there means Jephthah is outside of Israel, outside of the covenant community, and outside of the regular worship of the one true God.

Fourth—he becomes… well, let’s just call it what it is—a crime boss. The text says “worthless fellows collected around him.” That’s Old Testament for “this guy started an ancient Near Eastern gang.” He’s basically a land pirate—running with mercenaries, raiding, doing whatever it took to survive.

So here’s the picture: Jephthah’s got skills. He’s got fight. But he’s also got baggage. And he’s been living far from God for a long time. Which means the theology in his head isn’t coming from the Word—it’s coming from the world. And that is a dangerous mix.

Verse 4 says, “After a time the Ammonites made war against Israel.” Over and over again—man, that’s the story of Judges, isn’t it? just reminds me of the song that doesn’t end. and now its going to be stuck in your head, you’re welcome.

Verse 5—“And when the Ammonites made war against Israel, the elders of Gilead went to bring Jephthah from the land of Tob. And they said to Jephthah, ‘Come and be our leader, that we may fight against the Ammonites.’”

This is huge. The storm is getting louder and louder. And up until now, every time Israel’s been in this position, the text says, “And God raised up another judge.” But here? No. God’s not raising anyone up. The people are looking at each other and saying, “Who are we gonna get to lead us?”

That right there is the brutality of religion. Religion starts when man tries to fix the mess himself—when we attempt to take care of things on our own and neglect God. And one of the big truths we’re going to see today is this: when man completely abandons God, man becomes completely responsible for himself.

Here’s the problem. You’ve got the leaders of Gilead who’ve completely abandoned God. War is about to break out. There’s a crisis. And instead of repenting and turning to the Lord, they just double down and try to handle it themselves.

But the opposite is also true—when man completely trusts God, God becomes completely responsible for the outcome.

So here’s the battle we’ve got to wrestle with: Are we going to trust God, obey Him, and let Him be responsible for the results? Or are we going to abandon God’s plan and try to take responsibility ourselves?

Playing God always feels liberating—right up until reality hits you with the crushing blow that you and I make terrible gods. We don’t make good gods for ourselves, and we don’t make good gods for anybody else.

And when you take God’s job into your hands, you’re not stepping into freedom—you’re stepping into disaster. In Jephthah’s case, it’s going to get ugly fast. He’s going to end up sacrificing his own daughter. He’s going to lead Israel into child sacrifice, and not long after that, into a civil war.

When man completely abandons God’s plan, man becomes completely responsible for the outcome. And friend—that’s a crushing weight you were never built to carry.

Verse 7—“But Jephthah said to the elders of Gilead, ‘Did you not hate me and drive me out of my father’s house? Why have you come to me now when you are in distress?’”

In other words—“Oh, now you like me? Now I’m your guy? You hated me, drove me out, and now I’m your first call when trouble hits?”

Jephthah knows exactly what’s going on—they’re just using him. And they try to spin it—verse 8—“This is why we have turned to you now, that you may go with us and fight against the Ammonites and be our head over all the inhabitants of Gilead.”

But here’s the issue—God had already declared Himself to be the head of Israel. So in reality, Israel is asking a man to be for them what only God can be. They want Jephthah to be their judge, their king, their savior, their comfort.

And as I was studying this text, the question that kept hitting my heart was this: What am I asking man to deliver that only God can?

How often do I go to my spouse, my kids, my friends, my boss, saying, “Give me peace… give me security… make me feel valued,” when the truth is—they can’t. Not because they don’t love me, but because only God can give what God has promised.

So they crown Jephthah their leader, and he sets off to negotiate with the Ammonite king before the battle. It’s a little pre-war diplomacy.

The Ammonite king says, “You took our land.” Jephthah fires back with three points:

Wrong people. “We didn’t take your land—we took the land from the Amorites. You’re Ammonites. Totally different. We never touched your property.”

Wrong reason. “We didn’t go after the Amorites because we wanted land. They picked a fight with us. We won. We took the land as the spoils of victory.”

Wrong god. “If your god, Chemosh, really wants you to have the land, then come get it.”

That’s ancient Israelite for “You get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit.” Jephthah’s talking a little smack here—like, “Alright big boy, if your god can beat our God, then step up.”

The Ammonite king isn’t persuaded. He basically says, “Alright then—let’s fight.”

Verse 29—“Then the Spirit of the LORD was upon Jephthah, and he passed through Gilead and Manasseh, and passed on to Mizpah of Gilead, and from Mizpah of Gilead he passed on to the Ammonites.”

So things are ramping up—battle lines are being drawn—and now we’re about to walk into one of those parts of the Bible we don’t always know what to do with. This is one of those “I’d rather skip to Psalm 23” passages. And honestly, when you read it, you might think, “This sounds like a script from a movie.” And it does… but just so we’re clear, I’m not reading you a movie script. We’ll talk about your poor entertainment choices later. I’ll just leave that conviction sitting there and move on.

Verse 30—“And Jephthah made a vow to the LORD and said, ‘If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then whatever comes out from the doors of my house to meet me when I return in peace from the Ammonites shall be the LORD’s, and I will offer it up for a burnt offering.’”

That word “whatever” could also be translated “whoever.” In other words—“God, if You give me the victory, whoever comes out of my house first will be Yours. I’ll offer them as a burnt offering.”

And this is where you stop and think, “Wait a second… is this still the Bible?” Yes. It is. And now we’ve got to ask—what in the world is going on here?

Here’s what we need to see—this whole passage is pointing us to the brutal reality of religion. And I don’t mean true faith in God. I mean religion as in man-made, self-made, bargain-striking, performance-based attempts to get God to do what we want.

And here’s the number one way you can sniff it out: when your prayers start with, “God, if You will… then I will…”

That’s not faith. That’s negotiation. And when we start negotiating with God, we’ve stepped out of the realm of grace and into the brutality of religion.

Here’s the point for today: Religion is just as dangerous as irreligion.

We tend to think of irreligion as living like God doesn’t exist. But religion—the “God, if You will, then I will” kind—is just as dangerous because it treats God like He doesn’t exist except as a tool to get what we want. Both neglect God’s Word. Both ignore His character. And both will lead to pain.

Judges 11:31–36 (ESV) then whatever comes out from the doors of my house to meet me when I return in peace from the Ammonites shall be the Lord’s, and I will offer it up for a burnt offering.” So Jephthah crossed over to the Ammonites to fight against them, and the Lord gave them into his hand. And he struck them from Aroer to the neighborhood of Minnith, twenty cities, and as far as Abel-keramim, with a great blow. So the Ammonites were subdued before the people of Israel. Then Jephthah came to his home at Mizpah. And behold, his daughter came out to meet him with tambourines and with dances. She was his only child; besides her he had neither son nor daughter. And as soon as he saw her, he tore his clothes and said, “Alas, my daughter! You have brought me very low, and you have become the cause of great trouble to me. For I have opened my mouth to the Lord, and I cannot take back my vow.” And she said to him, “My father, you have opened your mouth to the Lord; do to me according to what has gone out of your mouth, now that the Lord has avenged you on your enemies, on the Ammonites.”

Sometimes commentators try to soften what happened here. They’ll say things like:

1. “Well, Jephthah must have expected an animal to come out first.” The problem? Animals weren’t kept inside the house, so that doesn’t make sense. And the word “greet” in verse 31 is always used of a human encounter. Jephthah was thinking human sacrifice.

2. “Or maybe Jephthah didn’t actually kill his daughter—maybe ‘sacrifice’ just meant she had to remain unmarried.” Well, if that’s true, then why the two-month hiatus? That makes no sense. No, Jephthah intended and carried out a human sacrifice. He just assumed the first person out of his house would be one of his many servants or comrades-in-arms—not his only child.

So why did Jephthah make this vow? Two reasons:

First—this is how you pleased pagan gods. You offered sacrifices to gain their favor, and the greater the sacrifice, the greater the favor you thought you could earn. But the one true God never—ever—asked for that. In fact, He forbids it. Deuteronomy 18:10 says, “There shall not be found among you anyone who burns his son or his daughter as an offering…”

(And you might be thinking, “Well, what about Abraham?” That’s different. That was a test of faith and obedience—God never intended Isaac to die. Jephthah isn’t being tested—he’s trying to pay God off. He’s negotiating.)

Second—Jephthah’s theology has been marinating in the culture around him for years. He’s picked up bits of truth about God, but he’s mixed them with a whole lot of pagan thinking. And just like throwing sodium phosphates and poultry paste into ground meat—you end up with something that kind of looks like the real thing, but it’s not. That’s what Jephthah’s faith has become—something that looks like the meat of faith but is spiritually toxic.

Second—Jephthah was desensitized to violence. This was just the way things were done. In his world, human life was cheap—especially when it came to the idol of military dominance. If you could win a battle, if you could secure a victory, almost any sacrifice was on the table.

Now, to us, this seems unspeakably horrific. But that’s only because violence isn’t our idol of choice anymore.

And before we shake our heads at Jephthah, let’s be honest—we commit similar excesses with our idols… and we don’t even wince.

For example—our culture idolizes romantic and sexual fulfillment. So much so, that anything you sacrifice for it is considered noble. A woman can tear apart her family and devastate her kids because she says, “I finally realized I married the wrong person. I need to find true love.” And we nod and say, “Well, she’s just being true to herself.”

If I—as an evangelical pastor—walked away from my wife and kids because I decided I preferred sex with men… or because I decided I wanted to become a woman… our culture wouldn’t condemn me—they’d celebrate me. I’d be booked on Ellen and Oprah. “He’s just being true to himself!” But the fact that I just devastated my family would barely make the footnotes.

What if true love isn’t about me anymore? You can’t wrap up self-idolatry in the language of authenticity and call it love.

Or take career success. A man can neglect his wife and kids for decades to climb the corporate ladder and we’ll say, “That’s just what it takes to survive in this business. You’ll never make it in finance unless you work till 9 every night and never take a day off.” I’ve even justified sacrificing way too much on the altar of ministry success. Like Jephthah, I’ve said, “God, I’m doing this for You,” while relationships, family, and integrity suffer the blow.

Or take abortion. If someone gets pregnant at an inconvenient time, our culture says, “Only you can decide the shape your life should take. If having a kid right now will mess it up—eliminating that child is your right.”

So before we shake our heads in bewilderment at Jephthah, we should probably realize—we’re not as advanced as we think we are. We’ve just traded his idol for ours.

Second question: Why did Jephthah keep his vow?

Maybe you could excuse him for saying something stupid in the heat of battle prep. But after he saw it was his daughter? He had two whole months to reconsider. Two months to repent. And yet—he still went through with it.

Why? For the exact same reason he made it in the first place—he had no concept of the grace of God.

Jephthah thought you had to earn God’s favor the same way you earn a pagan god’s favor—by making a costly enough sacrifice to guarantee it. And now, in his mind, if he didn’t keep this horrific vow, God would punish him.

But that’s not who the one true God is. God doesn’t give victory, or favor, or salvation because we earn it. “Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us.” He bore in His own body the price for our peace; by His stripes we are healed.

Should Jephthah have kept his vow? No! He should have fallen on his knees and said, “God, You never said You’d give me victory only if I sacrificed something. No—you give Your people victory as a gift of grace. So instead of fulfilling this wicked vow, thinking I could buy Your favor, I repent for making it. I repent for thinking I could earn Your approval. And I receive Your grace for what it is—a gift.”

This is the gospel: You never have to make promises or sacrifices to God to earn His favor.

But some of us still come in here saying, “OK God, I’ll give this amount of money, and then maybe You’ll approve.” Like you’re throwing lunch money into a vending machine and hoping God’s blessing drops out.

Or you make vows—“God, I’ll never do this again. I’ll always do that from now on.” You’re still trying to negotiate.

But God’s favor isn’t for sale—it’s a gift. Like the love I give my own kids. They don’t earn it. They don’t buy it. They just receive it because they belong to me.

There is only one way to please God. Only one. Faith. Faith in His grace. Faith in His lovingkindness toward you.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not a result of works…” (Eph. 2:8–9). Not of your sacrifices. Not of your vows.

And there is only one deal God will ever make: His righteousness for your absolute surrender. That’s it. That is the pure meat of the gospel—no poultry paste, no maltodextrin from the culture mixed in.

But as tragic as Jephthah’s vow is, his family troubles are just the beginning. What unfolds next shows just how high the cost really is when we don’t know God’s Word and when we try to worship Him in ways He never asked for.

Judges 12:1—“The men of Ephraim were called to arms, and they crossed to Zaphon and said to Jephthah, ‘Why did you cross over to fight against the Ammonites and did not call us to go with you? We will burn your house over you with fire.’”

These are his own countrymen. And remember—Jephthah tried diplomacy with the Ammonites. But here? No diplomacy. He doesn’t even entertain the conversation. Verse 4—“Then Jephthah gathered all the men of Gilead and fought with Ephraim…”

The Gileadites win and take control of the fords of the Jordan—the crossing points back home. And here’s where things get dark. Verse 5—“When any of the fugitives of Ephraim said, ‘Let me go over,’ the men of Gilead said to him, ‘Are you an Ephraimite?’ When he said, ‘No,’ they said to him, ‘Then say Shibboleth,’ and he said, ‘Sibboleth,’ for he could not pronounce it right.”

Different parts of Israel had different accents. Ephraimites couldn’t make the “sh” sound. So “Shibboleth” came out “Sibboleth.” It was their linguistic tell.

It would be like saying, “Alright, say the word ‘Jesus.’ If you say it in two syllables, we know you’re from the city. If you say it in four—‘Je…sus’—we know you’re from the countryside.” And in Jephthah’s case—when you said it wrong, you didn’t just get laughed at. You got a sword.

Verse 6—“Then they seized him and slaughtered him there at the fords of the Jordan. At that time 42,000 of the Ephraimites fell.”

Jephthah killed 42,000 of his fellow countrymen. Forty-two thousand Israelites—dead—not at the hands of an enemy nation, but at the hands of one of their own judges.

Verse 7 says—“Jephthah judged Israel six years. Then Jephthah the Gileadite died and was buried in his city in Gilead.”

Only six years. They had been oppressed for eighteen. This is the first time in Judges that the deliverance is shorter than the oppression. And here’s the takeaway—when we try to do God’s work in man’s way, it never produces lasting peace.

We don’t have to negotiate with God. We don’t have to buy His favor. His grace is free. But if we replace His Word with our own ideas, we won’t just fail—we’ll hurt the very people we’re supposed to serve.

Lesson #1 – We are far more influenced by our culture than we realize.

Jephthah didn’t see it, but so much of his outlook on God and life was shaped—not by the Word of God—but by the world he lived in. His theology wasn’t pure. It was a blend—a little truth from God, a whole lot of junk from his culture. Like a hot dog instead of a pure steak—there’s some real meat in there, but there’s also sodium nitrate, fillers, and mystery parts you don’t want to think too hard about. And in Jephthah’s case? That spiritual hot dog didn’t just leave a bad taste—it destroyed lives. It cost his daughter. It cost 42,000 Israelites.

So here’s the question: Where have you done this? Where have you mixed your faith with the seasoning of your culture?

Christians tend to take a few different approaches to culture:

Some integrate uncritically—like Jephthah. Just take it all in, mix it together, no questions asked.

Others reject it completely—that’s how I grew up. We had our own Christian movies, our own Christian music, our own Christian haircuts and dress codes. If the world touched it, we avoided it.

The better way? Enter, but critically—affirm what we can, reject what we must. We step into culture as missionaries, not as consumers.

But here’s the thing—you can’t do that if you don’t know the Word of God more than you know the voice of your culture. You have to be able to recognize the difference between steak and hot dog.

Jephthah didn’t know it, but he was far more shaped by the pagan worldview around him than he was by the teaching of the Word of God. And it cost him dearly. Not knowing your Bible—not being connected in a small group, not sitting under solid teaching—has devastating effects. Not just for you and your kids, but for everyone whose lives they will touch.

Psalm 119:105 says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Without that lamp, you’re walking in the dark—and in the dark, you’ll walk right into destruction without even realizing it.

Lesson #2 – Our idolatry has devastating effects on the people around us.

Jephthah’s faith was impure. It wasn’t rooted in God’s Word—it was mixed with the lies of his culture. And that impurity cost a lot of people dearly, especially his daughter.

Idolatry doesn’t just affect the perosn, it affects the entire family. If the husband has an idol. It affects the wife. It affects the kids. The idols we bow to in secret always end up burning the people closest to .

And the idolatries we cherish in this country? They leave a wake of destruction that’s every bit as devastating as what happened in Jephthah’s home.

Right now—1 out of every 3 children in America grows up in a single-parent home. And most of those aren’t because of the death of a parent—they’re because at some point, one or both parents decided their personal desires mattered more than what was best for their family.

In Florida this year, there have been a reported 17,377 abortions as of June 2nd, a 45.8% drop compared to the same period in 2024. but that is 113 babies a day. Every. Single. Day. That’s not just a statistic—that’s 113 children who never take a breath because we’ve decided convenience is worth more than life.

Our appetite for pornography has built an entire sex industry, where the average age of a girl entering it is 13 years old. Thirteen.

And in our country, over 30 million people—mostly teenagers—have been diagnosed with anorexia or bulimia. Why? In part because we’ve exalted the idol of a “perfect” body to a throne it was never meant to have.

I say it again—we are not as sophisticated as we think we are. Our idols might look different from the ones in Jephthah’s day, but they’re just as deadly.

So practically—this means you should be just as zealous for God to work in you as you are for Him to work through you. It means asking God to open your eyes to your idolatrous blind spots—and then holding those blind spots up to the light of His Word. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps. 119:105). Because if you don’t, your idols will eventually burn the people you love most.

Yes, I ask God to use me in ministry. But just as importantly, I ask Him to keep exposing where idols have replaced Him in my heart—because the greatest gift I can give my wife, my kids, and my church is a heart fully surrendered to God.

Lesson #3 – God’s grace is a hard thing to grasp.

Martin Luther said our hearts are “hardwired” for works-righteousness. We default to thinking we have to earn it. I see it in my own life—when I walk into church on a Sunday morning, there’s still a part of me that thinks, God’s a little more pleased with me today because I’ve had a good week. I’ve prayed more. I’ve sinned less.

Every religion in the world is divided over the best way to motivate people—some use the carrot, some use the stick—but they all run on the same fuel: “Obey, and then you’ll be accepted.”

That’s what makes grace so hard to grasp. The gospel flips the equation: “You are accepted, now obey.” It sounds simple, but it’s the opposite of everything the world—and our own hearts—naturally believe.

Luther put it like this: “The law says ‘Do,’ but it is never done. Not even when you’ve given up your own daughter—that just leaves you weary. But the gospel says ‘Believe,’ and it is already done—that brings joy and freedom.”

And that’s where Jephthah missed it. He thought God’s favor could be bought, negotiated, earned. He took the sodium nitrate of works-righteousness and mixed it into the pure meat of grace, and what came out was toxic.

So where do you not get this? Where have you added the filler of “I’ve got to perform” into the pure gospel of “It is finished”? Where do you think God receives you a little more on your good days than on your bad ones?

Because here’s the truth—God doesn’t receive you because of what you’ve done. He receives you because of what Jesus has already done. Grace isn’t a reward for the righteous—it’s a gift for the guilty. And until that sinks down deep into your bones, you’ll always be trying to pay God back for something He’s already stamped “Paid in Full.”

Lesson #4 – We need a better Judge.

If you’ve been with us in Judges, you’ve seen this theme over and over—yes, God raises up a savior, but every one of them is flawed. Jephthah was a deliverer, but he was a deeply broken deliverer. He was not the true Savior Israel needed. But even in his flaws, he gives us a faint, imperfect shadow of the true and better Judge who was coming—Jesus.

Like Jephthah, Jesus was driven away by His own brothers. “He was despised and rejected by men.” But unlike Jephthah, Jesus didn’t wait for us to call Him back. He didn’t say, “When you get desperate enough, I’ll come help you.” No—He ran toward us when we were still His enemies, when we didn’t even know enough to cry out for help.

Jephthah started his deliverance with diplomacy, but when that failed, he turned to violence—killing thousands of Ammonites, 42,000 of his fellow Israelites, and even his own daughter. But Jesus? When pleading didn’t work, He didn’t turn His sword on us—He turned it on Himself. He took the war into His own body.

When it came time for someone to die, it was His life—not ours—that was offered. I didn’t have to lay my life, or my daughter’s life, on the altar to earn His favor—because Jesus had already taken that spot.

Jephthah stood at the Jordan River and tested people with a password—“Say ‘Shibboleth’ or die.” Jesus stood at the cross and pronounced “Shalom. Salvation.” He didn’t make us prove we belonged—He made us belong by His blood.

Jephthah believed the only way to find favor with God was through extreme sacrifice. Jesus offered the favor of God as a free gift, because the price had already been paid by God Himself in Christ. You want the kid’s definition of grace? G-R-A-C-E—God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.

Jephthah was a savior of Israel, but a broken savior. And like all the other judges, his story points us to the Judge who would come and be broken for the broken. That’s the pure meat of Christianity—not works, not negotiation, not trying to pay God off—the grace of God, received as a free gift.

This isn’t just a story about Jephthah. This is a story about us. About about all of us.

And the call right now is simple: If the Spirit of God is pressing something on your heart today—don’t push it off for later. Later never comes. Delayed obedience is disobedience.

Faith in the grace of God is the only way to health in Christianity. It’s gospel all the way through. The same grace that saves you is the same grace that sustains you. Faith in the finished work of Jesus is what Peter calls the “pure milk” and the “meat” of God’s Word.

And hear me—God’s acceptance is given as a gift. Not as a reward for perfect righteousness. Not as a response to your extreme sacrifices. Not because you’ve negotiated a good enough deal. But as a gift of righteousness from God for anyone—anyone—who will admit how badly they need it and simply receive it for what it is: grace.

So maybe for you today, this is the moment where you stop trying to earn it. You lay down the hot dog faith you’ve pieced together from culture and works, and you take hold of the pure meat of the gospel. You confess the idols that have been shaping you more than God’s Word. You bring them to the altar and say, “Jesus, I surrender these to You. Be my Judge, my Deliverer, my Savior.”

This is a moment of invitation. A moment of consecration. To repent where we’ve mixed the gospel with anything else. To trust Him fully. To receive what can’t be earned.

So, lets stand, lets pray, lets sing, and lets respond.