Gideon was a coward. A weakling. The youngest son from the weakest family in the smallest tribe.
Nobody in their right mind would choose him to be a hero…
Except maybe Jesus.
The life of Gideon is a revelation into the heart of Christ.
Let’s jump into Judges 6 when we meet this unlikely champion.
We find Gideon: he’s broke and desperate, hiding in a winepress to thresh a meager handful of wheat. Then, in a burst of comedic irony, an Angel of The Lord calls him “O mighty man of valor.”
Most theologians confidently claim that this Angel of the Lord was actually a Christophany—an appearance of Jesus in the Old Testament. One of the best clues we have is that this Angel of the Lord receives worship from Gideon. Angels don’t receive worship— only God does.
So here we have Jesus, calling Gideon a “mighty man of valor.” To which Gideon responds with, “Yeah right.”
Gideon is weakling by all worldly standards. Not only is he a nervous coward, but he’s a doubter in God’s word.
Yet here, God calls him a “Mighty man of valor.”
This is how Jesus often enters our lives—challenging our perception of who we are by reminding us of who He is.
Think about the disciples Jesus chose. They were hardly mighty men.
Peter, James, and John were poor fishermen.
Simon was a Zealot (basically a violent religious radical).
Matthew was a tax collector (basically a slimy politician).
Fear courses through Gideon’s story like a repeating soundtrack.
Judges 6 enumerates his anxieties: dread of enemy armies, dread of familial drama, dread of God’s call itself.
Anxiety. Worry. Fear.
The Bible’s most frequent command is “fear not,” often paired with “I am with you.” That’s precisely the divine prescription Gideon receives.
Faced with an impossible mission—trading farmland for a battlefield—Gideon responds with “I’m the least in my family, and we’re nobodies!” But the angel of the Lord simply says, “I will be with you.”
Here’s what’s cool: Gideon doesn’t spontaneously morph into some fearless superhero. He remains a messy mixture of faith and fear, just like most of us.
When God commissions him to wage war against the formidable Midianites, Gideon hesitates and requests a sign. Sound unspiritual? Perhaps. But put yourself in his worn sandals: no formal training, no army to speak of, and a track record that hardly screams “champion.”
Gideon’s sign-seeking echoes the nervous heart of anyone who’s ever prayed, “Lord, just give me one more confirmation.”
And you know what? Jesus graciously obliges. The angel of the Lord performs miraculous sign after sign to confirm his favor on Gideon.
That’s the masterpiece of this encounter: Jesus shows up in Gideon’s dread, speaks hope into his fear, and then commissions him for service. Gideon leaves that winepress with an emboldened mission: to trust the God who is with him.
If we look closely, we see ourselves in Gideon.
Don’t we also wrestle with a cocktail of anxiety and doubt whenever God calls us to do something risky?
But just like He did with Gideon, Jesus steps into our own winepress moments, naming us “mighty” not because of our natural bravado, but because He fights alongside us.
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