When Everyone Does What is Right: A reflection on Book of Judges 17–19 and the cost of self-made truth

 Yesterday in my Bible reading, I sat in the Book of Judges chapters 17–19. I’ve read it before, but this time it didn’t just pass by me. It settled in. I’m still thinking about it.

It’s the kind of passage you almost want to look away from.

Micah builds a household shrine, creating his own version of worship. The tribe of Dan comes and takes the idols, establishing false worship as their own. And then the story turns darker still. A Levite’s concubine is abused, discarded, and murdered in Gibeah. Her body is cut into twelve pieces and sent throughout Israel.

It’s hard to read. Hard to understand why God would include it. But maybe we’re not supposed to understand it as much as we’re supposed to feel the weight of it.

All of this happens under one haunting truth: “In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” (Judges 21:25)

This warns us what it looks like when people walk in disobedience, not all at once, but step by step.

It begins with distorted worship, as we shape God into something we can manage.

It moves into compromised leadership, those who should know truth but no longer live it.

And it ends in the unthinkable, where people made in the image of God are treated as disposable.

It’s easy to read this and think, how could they fall so far? But I can’t help but ask the harder question, how could we not?

Because left to ourselves, we don’t drift toward truth. We drift toward what feels right. And what feels right isn’t always what is right.

These chapters aren’t just showing us their depravity. They are holding up a mirror to our own.

We were never meant to be our own authority. We were never meant to define truth for ourselves. And when we try, it doesn’t lead to freedom. It will always lead to ruin.

Maybe that’s the warning tucked into these chapters:

When everyone does what is right in their own eyes, what follows is not freedom… but loss of a moral society.

Leah: Unloved But Not Unseen

 “When the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, He opened her womb.”

—Genesis 29:31

I don’t think I’ve ever been as moved by Leah as I was the last time I read her story. Maybe it’s because I’ve been writing my own. Or maybe it’s because I finally slowed down long enough to really see her—to step into her life and feel what she must have felt.

I realized I identify deeply with her. Not because our stories are the same—they’re not—but because of the lies our circumstances can whisper. I imagine they sounded very similar.

Leah was rejected. She wasn’t the one Jacob wanted—just the one he ended up with. He didn’t love her. That had to be a hard place to live, knowing you weren’t chosen. Knowing the person closest to you loves someone else more.

And Scripture doesn’t soften it. It simply says she was unloved.

I have felt that. Not only unloved, but unlovable. Like something must be wrong with me to be so hard to love. I wonder if Leah felt that too.

But God saw her.

That’s the part I’ve missed before, and I don’t want to miss it again. It matters.

God didn’t just see Rachel—the beautiful one, the loved one. He saw Leah—the overlooked one, the one living with quiet rejection every day.

You can hear her heartbreak in the way she names her sons:

“The Lord has seen my affliction; surely now my husband will love me.”
—Genesis 29:32

“The Lord has heard that I am unloved…”
—Genesis 29:33

“Now this time my husband will become attached to me…”
—Genesis 29:34

She keeps hoping… maybe now.
Maybe now I’ll be enough.
Maybe now I’ll be loved.

It’s easy to read that and see her pain—but if I’m honest, it’s not hard to recognize it either. I may not say it the same way, but I’ve felt it. I’m sure you have too.

We’ve all had moments where we think, if I just try a little harder, maybe things will change. Hoping this time will be different. Wanting to be seen, wanted, chosen.

Leah wasn’t just naming her children—she was revealing what her heart was still chasing.

But then something shifts.

When she names Judah, she says, “This time I will praise the Lord.”
—Genesis 29:35

She doesn’t mention Jacob. She doesn’t tie her worth to whether she’s loved in return.

She just… praises God.

Nothing around her had really changed. Jacob didn’t suddenly love her more. But something in her did. She stopped looking to him to fill what only God could.

And when you look at her legacy—the line of her sons—God chose the line of Levi to become His priest. And Judah… this is amazing what God did. Leah, the one who felt unwanted, unloved, is the very line God chose to bring Jesus through.

God didn’t overlook her life. He was working in it all along—through the pain, through the longing.

And that matters for us.

Because it’s easy to believe the unseen, unwanted parts of our lives don’t matter.

But Leah’s story says otherwise.

God sees.
He hears.
And He is doing more than we realize—even in the places that hurt.

Zipporah: When Obedience Matters

In a recent reading of Exodus, I was struck again by Moses’s wife, Zipporah. She’s easy to overlook because she’s only mentioned three times, and we know very little about her.

Her story is part of the larger story of Moses—his calling, his leadership, his obedience. And yet, right in the middle of it, we see that everything hinges on her.

The scene feels abrupt and unsettling. God confronts Moses over disobedience and is on the verge of taking his life. It is sudden and severe.

And Zipporah steps in.

No hesitation. No long explanation. She acts.

She circumcises her son, and in doing so, she preserves the life of the man God called to lead His people. It is not a gentle moment. Her words carry intensity—tension, perhaps confusion, maybe even resistance.

But still, she obeys.

Zipporah was not an Israelite. She was the daughter of Jethro, the priest of Midian. She did not grow up within the covenant the way Moses did. And yet, in this critical moment, she responds with clarity and urgency.

She sees the threat to her husband, and she acts. Her obedience was costly. It was immediate.

I think about how often we wait to obey until we feel ready. We wait until we understand everything. We wait until obedience feels easier, softer, more comfortable. She doesn’t sort through her feelings first.

Zipporah didn’t have that luxury.

She reminds me that delayed obedience is still disobedience.

Her story is brief, but it speaks.

And in the moments that matter most,

God gives the grace to step in and obey.

The First Woman

We often hear Eve’s story told as a warning. A cautionary tale about deception, weakness, or failure. But I have been thinking about it differently lately. I wanted to look at her story through the lens of how God saw her.

From the beginning, she was never an afterthought.

God created both man and woman in His image. That means Eve carried the same dignity, the same worth, the same reflection of God as Adam. There was no hierarchy in value, no lesser imprint of His likeness. She was fully seen, fully known, fully intentional.

When God said it was not good for man to be alone, He created a “helper suitable.” That word helper, which means ezer in Hebrew, has been misunderstood for generations, often reduced to something small or secondary. But it is the same word used to describe God Himself as the helper of His people. It is not a position of weakness, but of strength. Eve was created to stand beside, to complement, to bring what was lacking—not to diminish, but to complete.

And then the fall.

Yes, Eve was deceived. But Adam was there. He chose as well. Scripture does not leave the weight of sin resting on her shoulders alone. Yet for so long, the narrative has quietly shifted in that direction. But God does not single her out as the greater failure. He speaks to both. He holds both accountable. He continues to engage with her, not dismiss her.

And even in that moment—right there in the midst of brokenness—God speaks a promise.

I love how that first hint of redemption was spoken to the woman. Through her offspring would come the One who would crush the serpent. God did not erase her from the story. He wove her into the very center of His plan to redeem it.

Eve’s story does not end in failure. It looks toward hope.

Even her name reflects this. She is called the mother of all living—not the mother of all who fell, but of all who would live. Life, not ruin, becomes her legacy. And maybe that is what we most need to remember. God’s view of women has never been small.

He sees strength where the world has spoken weakness.
He sees purpose where shame has tried to take root.
He sees image, dignity, and a vital place in His unfolding story.

Eve was not the end of something good. She was the beginning of a story God was never going to leave unfinished.

He Carried Me Down the Mountain

 

There was a time when I was discouraged in my healing, and I felt like I had somehow ended up right back where I started. It felt like the same emotions, the same questions, the same ache. I remember saying to a dear friend, “Why am I here again? Haven’t I already worked through this?”

She offered me a picture I’ve never forgotten and in the years since I have thought a lot about what she said. 

She told me, “Trauma can feel like living alone on top of a mountain. Isolated. Exposed. Stuck in a place you never meant to stay. If we are honest, it’s a place we never wanted to be. But it felt safe up there. Eventually, healing must come, and healing—real healing—is the long journey of walking down off that mountain.

But it’s not a straight path.

It winds.

It circles.

It doubles back in ways that can make you feel disoriented.

So sometimes, when you look around, it feels like you’re standing in the same place you’ve already been. The same view. The same terrain. The same pain is rising in familiar ways.

But you’re not.

You’re just on the same side of the mountain…further down than you were before.”

That truth settled deep in me.

Because I realized what felt like failure was actually progress. What felt like being stuck was really movement—slow, steady, often unseen, but it was real. Healing isn’t a clean descent. It is layered, patient, and sometimes painfully repetitive.

Over time, I realized something else too—I did come down off that mountain. Not in a single moment, not in a dramatic breakthrough, but step by step, grace by grace.

And even now, I know there will always be places in me that need healing. Always more growing to do. But I am not where I once was. I have come down off that mountain.

The lessons I learned there still live in me. The strength that was formed there didn’t disappear when the season changed. And more than anything, I did not walk that mountain alone.

There was One who walked with me every step of the way.

The One who, when I was too weary to keep going, carried me.

And He still does.

So when I find myself in a place that feels familiar—when old wounds whisper or old struggles resurface—I remind myself:

This isn’t the top of the mountain. I’ve already come down.

I See You Through Grace

 

It's been two years. 

I don’t know if this is normal, but in the two years since you’ve been gone, I’ve come to understand you more.

Maybe it’s because I’ve changed. I see things differently now.

I look at your life, and I see the little girl who grew into a woman, a wife, a mother, a young widow, a grieving parent, a grandmother, and a child of God.

I see the trauma you walked through. The hardships. The suffering. The uncertainty. And I realize that in each season, you did what you believed was best.

You did the best you could with the knowledge you had at the time. Isn’t that all any of us can do?

It wasn’t always perfect. Mistakes were made. But you kept showing up. 

I know I said this, in part, at the end of your life, and I hope you fully understood. I am grateful God has given me the ability to forgive and give grace in those spaces that hurt, or I just didn’t understand. 

I’m still learning from your life. Still growing, still softening, still understanding. And so in that way, you are still with me.

And now, with time and distance, I can say what I couldn’t before: I see you with grace. I carry less blame, less hurt, and more understanding. I hope you knew, even when I didn’t know how to show it, that I loved you.

Friendship: Being Intentional

 I am exceedingly grateful for the women God has brought into my life to encourage me on toward being more like Christ. Some have only been apart of my daily life for a season some have remained through many seasons. Both are cherished. 

My prayer for you today is that you have a friendship that encourages you to be Christ like. It’s not always easy, we live in a busy, crazy world, but it’s not impossible. I have found it takes intentionality (which I’m not always good at). I can’t just expect a godly, Titus 2 type, friendship to just find me. Oh sure, sometimes they just happen, and those are a beautiful thing. Most often though it requires both sides to be intentional about reaching out. 

Let’s make this year a year of reaching out to those friendships a little more often. Let’s not wait for friends to connect with us, let’s connect first. Check in with a text, phone call or even a card. (I know, I know!!) 

To be honest I’m preaching to myself. I truly need to be a better friend to those who are always there for me. I need to reach out more. This is one of my prayers this year. Would you pray for me as I pray for you? May we all be more intentional in our friendships.

Continue Doing What You Know Is Right

I woke up feeling heavy-hearted. 

As believers, we know we are living in difficult times. 2 Timothy 3:1 warns that the last days will be terrible. It describes these days as dangerous and filled with fear. We see people who are selfish, boastful, arrogant, and unholy. They may appear godly but deny God's true power. This has been happening for a while, but I’ve felt it intensify over the last decade. 

I won't share specifics because I believe the signs of evil are clear. At least to the Christian. Sin is being accepted and celebrated in our world, reminding us that the warnings in 2 Timothy 3 are here.

This morning, though, my heart felt especially heavy thinking about the growing evil around us. How do we get through these times? How can we stay holy in an unholy world? The answer is in God's word: we must keep doing what we have been taught

We must continue to pray. We continue to speak the truth. We continue to read and follow God’s word. We keep living for Jesus, loving each other, doing good, and being kind. We share the gospel through our words and actions. These are the things we've been taught. These are the things we know. 

It won't be easy. We will suffer for following God. We will be persecuted. We will be mocked, misunderstood, lied about... But, God has equipped us to endure through the last days. He has given us His word and His Spirit who lives in us. 

Brothers and sisters, remember, we have been given "everything we need for life and godliness" (2 Peter 1:3), which means that through His divine power, we have already received all the spiritual resources to live a godly life in this ungodly land.

Remembering My Brokenness

I recently listened to a sermon that has stuck with me. It was filled with truths that settled deep in my spirit, both convicting and encouraging me. However, one point from the sermon required some wrestling. I wasn’t sure I agreed—or, more honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to agree.

For decades, I’ve begged God to help me forget my sins and the sins committed against me. The memories are painful and heartbreaking—why would I want to hold onto them? And my enemy loves nothing more than to remind me of them at every turn. So wouldn't it be better not to remember?

In his sermon titled Brokenness, Voddie Baucham explained why we need to remember our sins. He argued that if we could forget them:

1.  We could never testify to the goodness of God.

2.  We would lack warnings to avoid repeating those sins.

3.  We could not rejoice in our victories or recognize the spiritual growth the Holy Spirit has produced in us.

I thought about this throughout the day. If I couldn’t remember my sins, would I still testify to God’s goodness in my life? If I forgot the hardships God delivered me from, would I still proclaim His faithfulness? Without those memories, would I continue into the same sins, never truly breaking free from their bondage? And could I recognize spiritual growth without recalling my past struggles?

His point began to make sense. I didn’t like it, but I could accept it.

As I reflect on my life—the difficult times, the sins that continue to haunt me, and the struggles I still face—I can see God’s hand at work throughout it all. With each season of my life, I recognize how God has used these lessons to help me grow. He has transformed a sinner, once headed for destruction, into someone who earnestly seeks Him.

As I look ahead, I am certain of one thing: remembering my sins does not lead to condemnation, for I am no longer condemned (Romans 8:1). However, recalling my past actions serves as a reminder that God will use everything in my life to help me grow, teach me lessons, and sanctify me. Because of this, my life will continue to bring glory to His name. Once, I was destined for eternal death, but now, through Christ, I have been given new life—eternal life.

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. Romans 5:1-5

Undefiled Religion

This morning, as I read these verses, I noticed something I hadn’t really paid attention to before. Often, when people judge the Christian religion, they say something like, "True religion means caring for orphans and widows." They use it as if it's a command. But these verses are not a command. There is no command language used here. These verses are descriptive. James is sharing that this is what your life will look like if you are following Christ. 

However, that's not the only thing James tells us about a "pure and genuine religion." In fact, he outlines three areas of our lives that reveal whether our Christian faith is pure.

Before we delve into those areas, I want to define "religion" in this context. The term can be quite broad, but here, James uses the Greek word "threskeia," which refers to the outward, organized expression of worship—ceremonies, rituals, and observances that are meant to show reverence for God. In other words, he is discussing our acts of worship, which represent our expression of faith.

What are the "acts of worship" that demonstrate our genuine devotion to God? James identifies three key areas: a controlled tongue, caring for others, and remaining uncorrupted by the world.

I believe these three points are self-explanatory, so I won’t go into great detail. However, I will share several verses from the Bible that highlight how serious God is about these aspects of our lives. While many people stress caring for orphans and widows, if we neglect the other two areas, our worship becomes meaningless.

The Tongue: The Bible has much to say about our speech. Ephesians 4:29 encourages us to ensure our words are constructive and beneficial. Matthew 12:36–37 warns us that we will be accountable for every careless word we speak. James 3:5-8 explains that the tongue is difficult to control. Psalm 34:13 and 1 Peter 3:10 instruct us to avoid lying and speaking evil.

Caring for Others: There are numerous verses regarding this topic. Psalm 82:3 states, "Give justice to the weak and the fatherless..." 1 Timothy 5:3-4 says, "Honor widows who are truly widows..." and Proverbs 28:27 tells us, "Those who give to the poor will lack nothing..."

Remaining Uncorrupted by the World: Several verses address the importance of this. 1 John 2:15 advises, "Do not love the world or the things in the world..." James 4:4 warns, "You adulterous people! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God?" Colossians 3:2 encourages us to "Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth." Romans 12:2 states, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world..." and Ephesians 4:17 reads, "...you must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds."

Now, consider these questions prayerfully before the Lord and reflect on whether you are living a life of pure religion:

- Is your relationship with Jesus positively impacting others?

- Do you know when and how to speak in a way that edifies fellow believers?

- Are you caring for those less fortunate in a manner that also shares the gospel?

- Does your love for Jesus inspire you to avoid moral impurity?

Finding My Father

Over the past few weeks, a memory from my nineteen-year-old self has begun to resurface in my mind, almost as if it were trying to tell me something. I can’t quite grasp why now; it has remained tucked away in my mind for years, perhaps forgotten entirely. I am sitting in a booth. Across from me sat a leader from a campus ministry I was involved in. I was nervous, afraid and unsure of what I was about to tell him.

I had requested this meeting because there was something heavy on my heart—a confession I desperately needed him to hear from my own lips rather than through the whispers of others. It was about a sin I had committed, one that would soon come to light, changing my life forever.

As I revealed my burden, he listened quietly for a few moments, a deep sadness reflected in his eyes. I braced myself for judgment, but instead, I encountered an overwhelming sense of empathy. His eyes conveyed genuine sorrow rather than condemnation. Finally he asked, "Sharon, I have noticed for some time that it seems you are searching for something. What is it that you are looking for?" 

That question echoed in my mind, haunting me long after our conversation had ended. I struggled to find a response; I was lost and without direction. All I knew was that, despite being a Christian for three years, there was an unsettling emptiness within me. I felt like a ship adrift at sea, longing for land but unsure of my destination. What I failed to recognize in that moment—and what I would later come to understand—was that I was missing my Father. His love and presence were the very things my heart craved, even if I didn’t yet know it.

Ten years passed before I would begin a journey that would finally answer that question. In that time I followed Jesus but largely ignored the Father. I read the New Testament, but I did my best to stay away from the Old Testament. This disregard for the Old Testament wasn’t always a conscious choice. Before I became a Christian, I had once said that I didn't need God as a Father; I neither needed nor wanted a Father. So when a friend told me about Jesus, it was easier for me to accept Him. It’s not that I didn't believe in God the Father; I was simply ambivalent toward Him.

God brought a woman in my life who would become a dear friend. We raised our families together, prayed and studied God's word together. It was in those times spent with her and doing Bible study she would begin to share with me her relationship with her Father God. 

Her relationship with The Father was tender, merciful and unlike anything I knew  I wanted what she had. I wanted to feel no hesitation in running to the Father with my hopes, dreams, and my shame. I wanted to walk into the throne room, bow before the Father and feel loved, not constant condemnation. 

Now, some 30 years later I am more confident. I can still struggle but what I know that was different then is who God says He is. You see, I viewed my Heavenly Father through the lens of poor and abusive father figures. I have very few memories of my actual father but the men who came after him were not good. So my view of what a father should be like tainted my view of God. 

When I realized, or better said, when God revealed my wrong view of who God is I began searching for truth. I wanted to know who He was and is. I have mostly found that in studying God’s character through the studying if His names. With each name I gained a greater depth of who He is. I began to realize that all those years ago I was searching for my Father, my good, kind and merciful Heavenly Father. The Father who loves me unconditionally and sent Jesus to die for me. What an amazing love the Father has for me.

One of the studies that helped me tremendously was Kay Arthur’s Lord, I Want to Know You.  It is a study of the names of God  

Jehovah Sees and Provides

Recently, I read Philippians 4:19 and discovered a deeper meaning beyond God simply providing for our everyday needs. This verse demonstrates that God meets not only our physical and emotional essentials but also our spiritual needs.

Reflecting on Genesis 22:14, where Abraham names a place "The Lord Will Provide" (Jehovah Jireh), we see God’s profound care for His children. In this context, God tested Abraham’s faith by asking him to sacrifice Isaac. Abraham’s willingness to comply prompted God to provide a ram as a substitute, highlighting His mercy and provision.

The name Jehovah (YHWH) means "I am the one who is," emphasizing His eternal presence. Jireh means "to see" and "to provide," illustrating that God recognizes our circumstances and proactively meets our needs, giving us confidence to trust Him, especially in challenging times.

As we reflect on Philippians 4:19 and Genesis 22:14, we should consider our greatest need: to be in a right relationship with God. This relationship was fractured by the sin of Adam and Eve and has continued to be affected by the sins of humanity throughout history. In His love, God provided a way for reconciliation through Jesus Christ, allowing us to mend this broken relationship and offering us redemption and eternal communion with Him.

Where do you stand? Do you recognize yourself as a sinner? Do you believe that God desires reconciliation with you? Regardless of your current situation or past actions, God has provided a path to reconciliation. He sent His Son to die for your sins and mine. The debt is paid in full; all you need to do is believe, confess your sins, and live your life in obedience to God.

Walking In Peace

 Today my Bible study was a perfect reminder to me. Perhaps you need this too. 

In this verse God is called “ God Most High” which in Hebrew is El Elyon. This name for God means “Highest” or “Exalted One” and emphasizes that God is the highest in every realm of life.  

It means He is Sovereign, He rules over all things. He is in control and there is no plan of man that can change His sovereign will for His creation. 

This reminder allows me to walk in peace knowing that no matter what happens, no matter how chaotic life might get, God has a plan and it will unfold according to His timing and purpose. I can walk through all things trusting in a God who has a good and perfect plan.