March 4 Sermon

Judges 6:36-40

The Sign of the Fleece

 Then Gideon said to God, ‘In order to see whether you will deliver Israel by my hand, as you have said, I am going to lay a fleece of wool on the threshing-floor; if there is dew on the fleece alone, and it is dry on all the ground, then I shall know that you will deliver Israel by my hand, as you have said.’ 

  And it was so. When he rose early next morning and squeezed the fleece, he wrung enough dew from the fleece to fill a bowl with water. 

  Then Gideon said to God, ‘Do not let your anger burn against me, let me speak one more time; let me, please, make trial with the fleece just once more; let it be dry only on the fleece, and on all the ground let there be dew.’ 

  And God did so that night. It was dry on the fleece only, and on all the ground there was dew.

Years ago, the beginning of spring meant one thing: the beginning of baseball season. I counted down the days, and some seasons the hours, until Spring Training opened and my beloved Cincinnati Reds took the field for the first time that year. In Spring Training, everyone looks like they'll have the best years of their career, the Reds haven't lost a game, and there is nothing but hope.

Being a Reds fan for the last twenty years has meant that hope usually vanished not long into the season. But seeing as how they won the World Series when I was 9 years old, I was hooked for life, so there is no limit to the number of losing seasons I will endure for them.

Lately, though, spring has taken on a bit of a different meaning. We all remember last April 27, when a swath of storms cut through the southeast and left each of us shaken by their power. Tuscaloosa was devastated, along with Ringgold and Apison and other points in between. Our own church found a tree on top of its roof, and we wondered how long it would take before life returned to normal.

For many of us, it wasn't too long before we had moved on past the storms. For those with damaged roofs and trees in the yard, it took longer, and there are still many woodpiles lingering at the fringes of our lives that serve as reminders of what once was.

Friday, as spring once more made its arrival, mother nature reared her suddenly very threatening head and reminded us of the power of wind, of how small we can feel, of how vulnerable life is. I had one eye on the weather on Friday morning as I worked on my sermon, and had sent Rachel an email advising her to come home around four to make sure she was here before the worst of the coming weather hit. Caleb was at daycare when I received an email advising all parents to come pick their children up immediately. I looked at the weather and noticed the giant red part of the storm lingering over the same part of the map as my house. At that moment I decided that it was probably wiser to spend my time in the basement than to get in the car and go drive around town.

When I emerged from the basement and turned the news back on, I saw pictures that shocked me. The marina at the end of Hunter Road, a few miles from our house, was no longer filled with boats parked neatly in their slips. Now there was chaos, fiberglass and twisted metal thrown everywhere, as though some giant child had thrown a tempter tantrum and tossed his toys every which way. I couldn't get there even if I had wanted to, though—the same tornado had torn across Hunter Road, blocking the way and smashing houses on its way out of town. Luckily, it doesn't seem as though anyone was killed.

But it's put a new meaning on the arrival of spring. The last two years have shaken my understanding of what a thunderstorm means. While I used to sit and worry about whether my basement would leak, now I sit in my basement and worry whether my house will be vulnerable to the winds of prey.

And I can't help but wonder what this means for my faith. I can't help but try to wrap my mind around the proper response as a man of faith in the midst of the storms of life. I can't help but let my mind be caught up in the winds of misfortune and wonder where God is in the midst of all of this.

With such questions on my heart, I turn to Gideon's fleece. It seems trivial in the face of such questions. Last week we discussed Gideon's call—a call from God to lead Israel out from under the oppression of the Midianites. We discussed Gideon's lack of qualifications, how he was the least in his family. We discussed how Gideon was angry at God because he couldn't understand God's presence and working in the midst of their times of trial. But God called Gideon anyway.

Gideon, however, still wasn't convinced. So we come to this story today, to the story of the fleece, and we marvel at how small this story is. It pales in comparison to the tale of Noah's Ark, to the seas splitting for Moses, to the awesomeness of the crucifixion. It's a story of a man setting out a fleece for God, and expecting God to perform a tiny miracle with it to confirm his suspicions. Gideon doesn't quite trust that this call to lead Israel is from God, so he asks God to do this miracle with the fleece.

And sure enough, God does it. Not just once, either—but twice. Gideon isn't completely convinced the first night—so he asks God to perform a miracle once more, just once more, but not to be angry about it. Gideon is remarkably humble for being so brash, but God performs this miracle once more to confirm Gideon's call to lead Israel.

What I'd like to propose is that we read this story with a mind not on what it tells us about us, not on what it tells us about Gideon, but rather that we read this story focused on what it teaches us about God. For what it teaches us about God in relation to Gideon is just the same as what it teaches us about God in relation to us. As much as humanity has changed, God hasn't.

The heart of this story is the small, almost insignificant miracle that God performs for Gideon. I don't think it caused God too much trouble to make a fleece wet and leave the ground dry—after all, this is the same God who carved Mount Everest from the earth and created Saturn and its rings. The amazing thing is that God does it at all.

Gideon asks God for proof that the call is truly from God. And God, who wants Gideon to follow him, who wants Gideon to lead the Israelite people in the hope that they might be drawn closer to him, who longs for each person God has made to be in a life-transforming relationship with himself, gives Gideon that proof.

God could have simply cast Gideon off and selecting someone who wouldn't be filled with as much doubt. God could have found someone who wouldn't ask such questions. God could have searched for an individual who didn't need a wet fleece before he would follow God's call. God could have sought out someone a little more perfect.

But God didn't search for someone a little more perfect. God used Gideon, in all of his doubts and uncertainties, though Gideon was filled with imperfections. God used Gideon because God had called Gideon. God wanted Gideon to be drawn closer to him, to be a leader for the people, and God was willing to continue to pursue Gideon even when Gideon wasn't perfect. Even if Gideon's life was a little messy, was less than ideal, God wanted Gideon to follow him. When Gideon doubted, God reached out to him, and when Gideon doubted again, God reached out once more. This is a God who reaches out time and time again to pursue us.

This is the same God who pursues us. This is the same God who wants to use us, in the midst of our doubts and our imperfections. This is the same God who pursues us and calls us even though we aren't perfect, even though we may have big questions about God. We may not always walk the straight and narrow, but even when we fall, God chases after us with a heart for his people, his creations, his beloved ones.

When our life is tossed about by storms of life, whether they are of our own making or when they fall on us from the sky, God pursues us. God never turns his back on us. God is with us. God pursued Gideon and continued to show Gideon his love, and God does the same for us. Whether the chaos in our life has everything to do with our choices or nothing we could have controlled, God pours out his love upon us. Sometimes, it can take some work to see exactly how God does this—sometimes, we even wonder where God is in our midst. But God is there—God is present, alive and active. God is there, and God is pouring out his love upon us, whether we deserve it or not, whether we can recognize it or not.

In today's text, we read about the smallest of miracles, a gift to Gideon to show him how much God loves him.

In your life today, I believe that God is pouring out that same love and using people around us to help us see it. May we open our eyes to recognize how God pursues us with unmatched love, and may we allow our lives to be used in such a way so that others may see God's love and the passion with which he pursues them.

Let us pray