Humans have always been fascinated by the people we choose to follow. We are wired to rally around leaders, heroes, and personalities. In my Bible reading today, I found myself once again in the story of Gideon—my favorite judge, for many reasons (and not just because he received the best Veggietales retelling).
Gideon’s story begins with him hiding in a winepress, threshing wheat so the Midianites would not steal it (Judges 6:11). Israel was under Midianite oppression at the time—a direct act of divine discipline (Judges 6:1–6). It is here, in fear and obscurity, that Gideon is greeted by the Angel of the LORD with the memorable words:
Was there irony in that greeting? Perhaps. Or perhaps the Lord was speaking to Gideon not as he was in that moment, but as he would be by God’s power. Either way, the moment is rich with literary irony—and grace.“The LORD is with you, you mighty man of valor!” (Judges 6:12)
Misreading Gideon: Fleeces and Fables
Gideon’s story is vivid, dramatic, and frequently taught—but often poorly applied. I’ve heard too many sermons about “lappers versus dippers” or exhortations to “lay a fleece before the Lord.” These interpretations often reduce Scripture to something closer to Aesop’s fables: moralistic lessons untethered from the actual message of the text.
Before we get to the real point of the story, let’s clear away a few of these well-worn misunderstandings.
By the time Gideon lays out a fleece to test whether the Lord is truly calling him (Judges 6:36–40), he has already experienced significant confirmation:
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He has been personally addressed by the Angel of the LORD (Judges 6:12–14).
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He has received direct revelation concerning God’s purpose for him and for Israel (Judges 6:14–16).
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He has witnessed his offering consumed by fire rising from a rock—an unmistakable supernatural sign (Judges 6:21).
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He has torn down the altar of Baal and the Asherah pole, and seen the Lord vindicate him despite public outrage (Judges 6:25–32).
That is a lot of evidence.
By comparison, Mary received a single angelic visitation and trusted the Lord’s word (Luke 1:26–38). Gideon, admirable as he is, asks not for one fleece—but two.
Let’s be honest: laying a fleece before the Lord is not a model of spiritual maturity. It is a picture of fear and hesitation. Scripture records it—but does not commend it. Calling it anything else is wishful thinking. When believers treat fleece-laying as a wise decision-making strategy, they are missing the point entirely.
“Are you sure, Lord? Are you really, really sure?”
That’s not faith—it’s delay. If anything, “laying a fleece” should be shorthand for stalling when God has already made His will clear.
The Lappers and the Dippers
Once Gideon commits to the Lord’s plan, God does something entirely unexpected: He reduces Gideon’s army.
From 32,000 men, the force is reduced first to 10,000, and finally to 300 (Judges 7:1–7). No general in history would willingly do this on the eve of battle. But the Lord explains exactly why:
“The people who are with you are too many for Me to give the Midianites into their hands, lest Israel claim glory for itself” (Judges 7:2).
The point was never that one group of soldiers was morally superior to another. The distinction between “lapping” and “kneeling” was simply God’s chosen means of reducing the army to the point where the victory could only be explained as divine intervention.
This was not about technique or temperament. It was about glory. The deliverance of Israel would belong to the Lord alone (Judges 7:7).
The Actual Point
All of these side paths lead to what I believe is the true heart of Gideon’s legacy.
After the victory, the people approach Gideon with a remarkable offer:
“Rule over us, both you and your son, and your grandson also” (Judges 8:22).
In other words: Become our king. Start a dynasty.
Gideon’s response is one of the finest moments in the entire book of Judges:
“I will not rule over you, nor shall my son rule over you; the LORD shall rule over you” (Judges 8:23).
This is Gideon at his best. He refuses power. He deflects glory. He recognizes that Israel does not need a hero-king—it needs fidelity to the Lord.
For a brief, shining moment, Gideon understands what so few leaders ever do: the problem is not a lack of strong men, but a failure to honor God as King.
What Happened Next?
Tragically, the people’s hunger for human leadership outlived Gideon’s humility.
After Gideon’s death, Israel quickly turned away from the Lord (Judges 8:33). Gideon’s son Abimelech seized power, murdered his brothers, and ruled through violence and ambition (Judges 9:1–22). Where Gideon refused a crown, Abimelech grabbed it—with blood on his hands.
The contrast could not be clearer.
Wrapping Up
What strikes me again and again as I read the Old Testament is how deeply we are inclined to worship men. Kings. Heroes. Celebrities. Political leaders. Religious personalities.
We are desperate to place our hope somewhere visible.
And then the One Man who is truly worthy of worship—Jesus Christ—steps onto the stage of history, and we hesitate.
That is the great tragedy of the human heart.
Gideon’s story reminds us that faithfulness sometimes looks like refusing praise, rejecting platforms, and pointing away from ourselves. We can choose not to seek the applause of others. We can refuse to make celebrities out of fellow believers. And we can fix our worship where it belongs—on Jesus Christ alone.
He is the only leader who will never fail us.
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