I wrote about Samson recently. It's a well-known story, but I think there's still a little more to unpack.
In fact, it probably warrants a book—but let’s not get carried away! Judges 13 is a story that unfolds in layers: it’s about a people lost in cycles of rebellion, a barren woman who has been passed over by life, and a God who chooses the unqualified to work His purposes. Probing even deeper, we see that it’s about inability, obscurity, and promise—a triplet of grace that whispers the gospel into the cracks of our unceasing human brokenness.
Our encounter with the drama of Judges 13 begins with a reminder of Israel’s inability to stay faithful: “And the people of Israel again did what was evil in the sight of the Lord, so the Lord gave them into the hand of the Philistines for forty years” (Judges 13:1). You can imagine the background soundtrack of Judges—rebellion, consequences, cries for deliverance, and God stepping in again and again... and then 'again' some more...
What was wrong with Israel? It’s easy to dismiss Israel here as stubborn or blind, but aren’t we just like them? Our/my inability to sustain righteousness, our quick return to old behaviour patterns, exposes the same deep need: we are a people who cannot save ourselves. We need someOne who can. Sorted...
Into Israel's unfolding battleground and scene of failure, God doesn’t send thunder or fire, or pick a mighty warrior or a king to liberate His people. Instead, He comes to a barren woman.
The wife of Manoah is nameless in the text—a person of obscurity in a culture that valued names and lineage. Samson's mum-to-be has no child, no future, and no place of significance. She is, by all accounts, invisible. Sometimes life can feel like that for people around us, even yourself, but isn’t that how God loves to work?
Inability and obscurity are God's canvas for the miraculous. He delights in stepping into spaces where human potential has run out, where the strength of man fails. “My power is made perfect in weakness,” He says (2 Corinthians 12:9). Let it grip your heart for 2025: when we are empty, barren, unable, He is able.
In a moment that catches the reader unawares, the angel of the Lord appears to this seemingly random, obscure woman and speaks a word of promise: “Behold, you are barren and have not borne children, but you shall conceive and bear a son” (Judges 13:3). Stunning! A child is coming—a child who will begin to save Israel from the Philistines. It’s a promise that echoes the larger story of Scripture, isn’t it? The God who gives life to the barren, who calls into existence things that are not, is working here once again. From Sarah to Hannah to Mary, the pattern is the same: God brings life where there is none—these cues are there as monuments to remind us—God is the God who can, and does.
And what kind of child will this be? A Nazarite from birth, set apart for God’s purposes. The instructions are precise: no wine, no unclean food, no razor to his head. The baby boy is consecrated for a mission, his life marked by holiness before he even draws his first breath. He's not even born yet, but responsibility lies on his shoulders. God’s promises always come with purpose; they are never arbitrary—never like Christmas cracker motifs. This child, Samson, will begin the ever-long attempt to save Israel, though his story will be one of paradox and complexity. Wait a moment here and just gasp at this: “God chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before Him” (Ephesians 1:4).
Read between the lines: this isn’t just a story about a miraculous birth; it’s a story that points to the ultimate miracle, the ultimate promise. It's a long way off, but it's coming. Samson’s birth foreshadows another promised child, another miraculous conception, another deliverer. But where Samson’s mission will falter, Christ’s will succeed. Where Samson is a flawed saviour, Jesus is the perfect one.
Notice Manoah’s anxious response to the angel’s message. He prays, “O Lord, please let the man of God whom you sent come again to us and teach us what we are to do with the child who will be born” (Judges 13:8). It’s the prayer of someone overwhelmed by promise, someone who feels the weight of responsibility but knows their own inability. Manoah is painfully aware that he is unqualified for this task, and so he asks for more instruction, more clarity. His humility and vulnerability is what is so appealing.
How often do we find ourselves in the same place—how often in 2025 will you find yourself here? God gives a promise, and instead of celebrating, PANIC...
We fixate on our inadequacies, our lack of resources, our obscurity, what we can't do, what will be impossible, improbable, or unlikely. Thankfully, the promise doesn’t rest on us; it rests on Him. The same God who speaks the promise is the one who will bring it to fruition.
Time passes, and Manoah and his wife encounter the angel again and realise that they have been speaking to the Lord Himself. Overwhelmed, with deep dread falling on him, Manoah fears for their lives, but wifey responds with remarkable faith: “If the Lord had meant to kill us, he would not have accepted a burnt offering and a grain offering at our hands, or shown us all these things” (Judges 13:23).
Now, here is a fantastic picture of trust in the midst of uncertainty; she sees the grace of God in the promise and refuses to be paralysed by fear—an example to us! This chapter reminds us of the gospel: it’s a story of God stepping into human inability with divine promise, choosing the obscure to display His glory. It’s about grace that comes not to the strong or the qualified but to the weak, the barren, the forgotten.
It's absolutely the story of the cross - God stepping into our inability, taking on the burden of our sin, and giving us a promise that transforms everything: “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly” (Romans 5:6).
In 2025, when you feel the weight of your own inability, when you wonder if your life matters in the grand scheme of things, remember this: God’s power is made perfect in weakness.
Our God delights in working through the obscure, the barren, the unqualified. And His promises are always true, always purposeful, and always leading us to Jesus.