Samson is a story almost everyone knows.
- Strong guy.
- Long hair.
- Delilah.
- Haircut.
- Loses his strength.
We learned it in Sunday school, probably colored a picture of him pushing down the pillars, and then moved on.
But if you have not read Samson’s story since childhood, I highly suggest going back and reading Judges 13 through 16 again. Because, friends, this story reads less like Sunday school and more like an episode of House of the Dragon. If you have never watched House of the Dragon, just know there are portions you probably would not want playing when your mother walks into the room. It is messy, violent, and lots of needing to fast forward the mess! So is Samson’s story. There is sex, violence, revenge, betrayal, rage, a prostitute, terrible decisions, and somehow, right in the middle of all of it, God keeps using Samson.
That is what I cannot stop thinking about. Samson did not wake up one morning, meet Delilah, get a haircut, and suddenly destroy his life. By the time we arrive at Judges 16, we are watching the culmination of decisions Samson has been making for years. His collapse was gradual. Long before Delilah entered the picture, Samson had developed a pattern of giving his appetites whatever they asked for. He saw something he wanted and pursued it. Someone made him angry and he retaliated. A boundary got in his way and he crossed it. Then he crossed another one. And yet, the strength was still there.
Gifting can survive dysfunction for an alarmingly long time.
I think we sometimes expect sin to work like a light switch. Make the wrong decision and everything immediately goes dark. Cross the line and immediately lose everything. Do something unhealthy and immediately experience the consequence. But often, that is not how it happens. Sometimes you cross the line and wake up the next morning and everything looks exactly the same. The gift still works. The marriage is still intact. The kids are still okay. The business is still running. The ministry is still growing. People are still listening. God is still using you. And that can become incredibly dangerous because we can begin to interpret the absence of immediate consequences as the presence of God’s approval.
Samson could compromise and the strength was still there.
He could act impulsively and the strength was still there.
He could allow his anger to control him and the strength was still there.
He could continue moving closer and closer to the edge and somehow, every time he needed it, the strength showed up.
Until eventually, I wonder if the strength itself became part of the problem. Not because the gift was bad, but because Samson seems to have stopped seeing it as something sacred he had been entrusted to steward. It simply became his strength. And I wonder how easily we do the same thing. We can become so familiar with what God has given us that we forget it was given to us.
Our marriage becomes our marriage.
Our platform becomes our platform.
Our influence becomes our influence.
Our talent becomes our talent.
Our opportunities become our opportunities.
Our calling becomes our calling.
We stop holding these things with open hands and gratitude and slowly begin treating them like possessions, guarantees, things that will always be there.
Because sin is often gradual, we do not always notice how far we have moved. That is the thing about drifting. You rarely feel yourself doing it. Nobody wakes up one morning and decides, “Today seems like a great day to destroy everything God has entrusted to me.” It is usually smaller than that.
One compromise.
One boundary moved.
One conversation you know you should not be having.
One thing you keep looking at. One attitude you keep excusing.
One resentment you keep feeding.
One secret you keep protecting.
One little decision that does not seem capable of destroying anything. And maybe it doesn’t, at least not today.
That may be what makes gradual sin so dangerous. The consequences can move slower than the compromise. You can be becoming unhealthy long before anything around you looks unhealthy. Perhaps one of the most sobering lessons from Samson is this: The fact that God is still using me does not mean everything in me is healthy. That one sits heavy with me because usefulness is a terrible measurement for spiritual health.
God is gracious. God is patient. God is merciful. God can accomplish His purposes through incredibly imperfect people. The Bible is essentially one long testimony to that truth. So the question cannot simply be, “Is God still using me?” Maybe the better question is, “What is happening inside me while God is using me?” Am I becoming more like Jesus? Am I guarding what has been entrusted to me? Am I listening when the Holy Spirit checks something in my heart? Am I moving boundaries because nothing bad happened the last time I crossed one? Am I interpreting God’s patience as permission?
Samson’s story eventually gets to Delilah. It eventually gets to the haircut. It eventually gets to the moment when Samson gets up expecting the same strength he has always had. But that moment did not begin with Delilah. It began long before her, gradually, quietly, one decision at a time.
Maybe that is the warning I am taking from Samson today. Do not wait for everything to fall apart before paying attention to what is slowly coming apart inside you. You do not have to be standing in the wreckage to recognize that you have drifted. You can stop. You can turn around. You can tell the truth. You can move the boundary back. You can ask for help. You can remember that what God has placed in your hands is precious enough to protect.
Gifting can survive dysfunction for an alarmingly long time. But I do not want to use the survival of my gift as permission to neglect the health of my soul.
x Onward, Chari