Unassuming Leadership

Sergeant Alvin York hailed from Pall Mall, Tennessee, a tiny speck on the map.  He was a conscientious objector, but went to war anyway.  On October 8, 1918, he and 17 others captured a German unit during the Meuse-Argonne campaign.  Getting no rest, they soon found themselves under heavy fire again.  Nine of them were quickly killed or injured by the enemy guns.  Unharmed, Sergeant York, an expert marksman, killed the Germans one by one.  Several Germans tried to overpower their position, but York was going to have none of that.  He unholstered his pistol and shot them all.  The remaining Germans surrendered rather than face the alternative.  Sergeant York and the surviving members of his small unit escorted the prisoners back to the American line, capturing even more on the journey.  In the end, they had killed dozens of enemy soldiers, and gathered more than 130 German prisoners.  As a result of his bravery, he was honored with several decorations, to include the Medal of Honor.

Not wanting the attention that came with such a high-level decoration, Alvin York returned to the small town life in Tennessee, becoming of all things, a farmer.  Sergeant York and those cut from the same mold, inspire us to be more courageous.  Dare we call them heroes?  It would seem fitting.  Actually, it goes way beyond that.  To conquer an overwhelming force, and then return home and farm like nothing happened is what we would want all of our heroes to imitate.  To lavish in the limelight, though surely deserved if for a moment, seems to border on arrogance and pride.  Conversely, the best heroes are the unassuming kind, the ones that you would never recognize in a crowd.  And most of them want it like this. (For more information on Sergeant York, I recommend reading John Perry’s “Sgt York; HIs Life, Legend and Legacy”.)

Tucked away in the book of Judges, is the story of the mighty warrior, Gideon.  Most have heard of this Old Testament guy who “tested” God in order to confirm that he really was the one whom God wanted to use to defeat the Midianites.  I don’t think God could have been any clearer in His call to Gideon, but for the sake of the story, let’s recap how it all went down.

God first shows Himself to Gideon when the latter is secretly threshing the wheat so as to not be caught by the Midianites.  Gideon comes to the conclusion that God must be mistaken because he is the weakest member of his family which belongs to the weakest clan in all of Israel.  So there is no way that Gideon is having this conversation with God, or so he believes.  But God, in His everlasting patience, decides to humor Gideon’s reluctance.  God instructs Gideon to prepare a meal as an offering, and then immediately consumes it as fire springs forth from the altar rock.  I don’t know about you, but that would probably be enough to convince me that this conversation was legit.  But not Gideon.  He needs just a bit more evidence.  So he decides to ask God for another level of proof.  He tells God there is a fleece of wool that he proposes to use in the grand experiment.  Gideon will take the wool and place it on the ground, and if God is really calling him to lead the army, then in the morning, the fleece will be wet from the dew while the ground will be dry.  The Bible says that in the morning, “it was so.”  Again, one would think that this might be enough evidence to convince…but not Gideon.  He asks God for another “favor”…that is, don’t be angry with me but.…  This time, if God is really, really calling him, the fleece will be dry while the surrounding ground will be wet.  God once again does the remarkable and in the morning, the fleece is dry and, well, the ground is wet.

So now Gideon is convinced.  God really does want to use him.  And if the story ended there, it would be quite incredible.  But it doesn’t.  What God does next would blow the mind of every military strategist that ever was.  Instead of using the tactical advantage of a larger, overpowering army, God chooses to accomplish His objective with a minuscule-sized force.  If the situation was controlled by anyone other than God, it would be laughable.  Starting with a force of 22,000, God whittles the group down to a mere 300…this against an Midianite army that is described as filling the valley like locusts in abundance, and whose camels were without number.  Sounds big.  In any case, vastly outnumbering the 300 with Gideon.  Again, laughable, except that God does indeed control the situation.  God.  Alone.  Not Gideon.  Not the 300.

As Paul Harvey used to say, “Now, the rest of the story.”  Interestingly, Gideon is the only individual in all of scripture, called out by God as a hero.  And the crazy thing is, God called him a hero (Judges 6:12, NLT) before he did any of the heroic deeds that are synonymous with his story; even as he cowered in the winepress; even as he questioned God’s faithfulness in dealing with the Israelites; even as he challenged God’s decision to handpick him, the least of his family…the least of his clan.  Shortly after the victories over the enemy armies, the people clamored for Gideon to rule over them.  He replied that he was not going to do that.  Smart.  But what he decides to do next is a post-war blemish on his resume.  He has the people gather the gold from their spoils of war and bring it to him.  He fashions an ephod, a sort of vest, and places it in Ophrah, as a symbol.  However, his hometown crowd “prostituted themselves by worshipping it, and it became a trap for Gideon and his family.” (Judges 8:27 NLT).  In other words, he fell under the seduction of the crowd and worshipped a creation, rather than the creator.

One is hopeful that he recovers – Hebrews 11 seems to give us an indication that he does, for the writer includes Gideon in the chapter describing the faith of great men and women of the past.  What we do know though, is that, like Alvin York, he returns home and lives out the remainder of his days, dying at a good old age, fading, at least for the moment, into the background.  Like I said, the best heroes are the unassuming kind, the ones that you would never recognize in a crowd.  One gets the impression that Gideon, like Alvin York, would have it no other way.