Deborah: A Woman Used by God

Recently, I heard someone say that Deborah was called to lead as a judge and prophet only because no men were willing to step forward. I didn’t really think much of it at the time because I’ve heard it many times. But then I remembered that I had recently read Deborah’s story in Judges and how struck I was by the way God used her so mightily.

And I wondered, Did God use Deborah because she was convenient? Was she only there because there was no willing man to lead?

So I decided to dig into the story a little more. And here is what I found. When we first meet Deborah in Judges 4:4, the text simply says:

“Now Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lappidoth, was judging Israel at that time.”

The text does not give a reason for why God chose her. The author doesn’t tell us that she was God’s “backup plan” or even that no man was willing to lead. In fact, before Barak even enters the story, Deborah is already established as a prophet and judge. Judges 4:5 tells us that the people of Israel came to her for judgment.

The text does tell us that Barak hesitated when Deborah summoned him and told him what God had commanded. His response was, “If you will go with me, I will go” (Judges 4:8). Deborah agreed to go, but told him that the honor of the victory would go to a woman (Judges 4:9).

The text also doesn’t tell us exactly why Barak wanted Deborah to go with him. We can say that he hesitated, but we shouldn’t assume he would not go. Later in Hebrews, Barak is among those who acted by faith (Hebrews 11:32–34), it seems clear that his story is more nuanced than simply labeling him a man who was unwilling to lead.

So what can we actually say about Deborah? God chose her, and she was faithful to her calling. Today, it seems so much of the conversation about women in leadership focuses on whether or not they can lead. But that isn’t the focus of Deborah’s story.

Deborah wasn’t out there pushing for a title or a position. She wasn’t trying to prove herself. She was simply faithful with what God had entrusted to her. She listened to God. She spoke what He told her. She gave wise counsel. She encouraged Barak to obey. And when the moment came, she went with him. She didn’t appear to be asking, “How much authority am I allowed to have?” She simply responded to what God had placed before her.

And I think there is something here that women today need to remember. That I need to remember.

God is not limited in the ways He can use women.

He gave Deborah wisdom. He gave her discernment. He entrusted His word to her. He gave her influence among His people. And when the moment came for courage, she did not shrink back.

Before I continue thought I wanted to be sure I’m not misunderstood. We should be careful not to make Deborah’s story say something Scripture itself does not say. Deborah was a prophet and judge in Old Testament Israel. Her story does not establish that women should serve as elders or pastors in the New Testament church. Those are distinct roles, and the New Testament gives specific qualifications for the office of elder (1 Timothy 3:1–7; Titus 1:5–9).

But in saying that, we should not miss what Deborah’s story does teach us. We don’t have to spend our lives proving what women can do. We don’t have to compete with men. We don’t have to seek positions simply to say we have them. And we don’t have to shrink back from the gifts God has given us.

Instead, perhaps the better question is:

Am I being faithful with what God has already placed in my hands?

Am I listening when He speaks?

Am I willing to obey when He calls me to something difficult?

Am I using the gifts He has given me to encourage, teach, serve, disciple, and strengthen others?

Am I willing to step forward in faith when He allows me to do good?

Deborah didn’t need to prove her worth.

She simply needed to be faithful.

And so do we.

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.