Sweat poured down my brow, and my exhausted body pleaded with me to take a break from the hard work of threshing wheat. Setting down the bundle of wheat, I sank down next to a large oak tree in order to take shelter from the sun. Every bone in my body ached, and my stomach grumbled with hunger. But I could not eat – we scarcely had enough food for two meals a day, and we didn’t have any extra food lying around.
My name is Gideon, son of Joash, from the tribe of Manasseh, and I live in a bleak time for the children of Israel. For seven long years, the Midianites have oppressed and destroyed our nation. Every year when we plant our crops from hard-earned seeds, the Midianites, Amalekites, and other tribes wipe out and destroy our land, not allowing anything to live.
We cried out to the Lord, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to save us from this misery, and He sent us a prophet who told us that because we had worshipped the gods of the Amorites, He is punishing us. For how long would God continue to allow pagan nations to oppress His people?
As I was sitting there and mourning our bleak situation, a man suddenly appeared beside me and said, “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.”
Confused and upset, I asked the man why, if God was with us, had He allowed the Midianites to commit all of this evil?
The man responded, “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand. Am I not sending you?”
At his words, I felt a strange desire to laugh. Me? Gideon, a lowly member of the weakest tribe in all of Israel, who could hardly even save himself from starvation, was expected to save an entire nation?
When I voiced my doubts to the man, he said, “I will be with you. You will strike down all the Midianites and leave none alive.”
Confused, hungry, and exhausted, I started to think, what if this man was telling the truth? Could he really be a messenger from God? But why would he come to me instead of some great leader or lord? Seeking confirmation, I asked the man if I could bring him an offering so that he could give me a sign to prove that he really was from God.
As I went inside our small, cramped home and prepared some meat and bread without yeast, I pondered over the words of the strange man. Would I really save Israel? I wondered. Had God decided to show mercy to his people at last? Or was that man simply a lunatic or some young rebel with idealistic ideas and plans? And yet, the man spoke with a level of authority and power – could he really be telling the truth?
At last, the meal was finished. As I carried it to the man, I wondered what would happen. When I approached him, he told me to place the food on a rock. After I did so, the man touched the food with the tip of his staff, and instantly, the rock burst into flames and consumed the meat and bread. Suddenly, the man disappeared.
Trembling, I fell to my knees. “Alas, Sovereign Lord!” I cried out in fear. “I have seen the angel of the Lord face to face!”
Then, I heard a voice, powerful and mighty, say to me, “Peace! Do not be afraid. You are not going to die.”
Still in awe of what had happened, I built an altar to the Lord at that place and named it ‘The Lord is Peace.’
Then, there was silence. Amazed and bewildered, I wondered what to do next. How exactly does someone go about saving a country? How should I start?
Walking slowly back to my home, I decided to sleep on it and hoped that the Lord would reveal what I should do first. That night, as I lay asleep in bed, the Lord appeared to me and told me to cut down my father’s altar to Baal and the Asherah pole. Then, I was to build a proper altar to the Lord in that place.
Terrified at what I had to do, I got out of bed. Cut down my father’s altar? I would be killed for that! Summoning ten servants, I crept out to where the tall and menacing altar stood in the dark of night.
“What would you have us do, Master?” A servant by the name of Samuel asked me.
“Bring me some large sticks,” I commanded. “We are going to destroy the altar to Baal and the Asherah pole”.
The servants stared at me in horror. To defile this sacred place meant death! Trembling, they found several large sticks, and we began to hack down the altar as quietly as we could. After we had finished, I instructed the men to build a new altar, one to the Lord. Taking one of my father’s bulls, I sacrificed it on the altar.
As I stared at the broken pieces of the old altar, I realized what I had done – I’d crossed the point of no return. There was no turning back now.
Picture credits: https://www.tblfaithnews.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/Hand-With-Wheat-660×330.jpg
Meet the Author
How old are you?
I’m fifteen years old. (Soon to be sixteen!)
Where do you live?
I’m Dutch-Canadian, but I live in the Middle East.
What classes are you taking with TPS this year?
This year, I’m taking AP World History, AP English Language, Health and Wellness, Theology Matters, and Physics with TPS.
What is your favorite thing about writing?
I really like being able to explore various viewpoints and ideas through writing.