A Death Sentence For Obeying God?
Judges 6:28-35
Last time we looked at the first mission God gave to Gideon after his call, his testing, and his consecration. We said it was not an attack on the external enemy, but a strike against the local idol. Gideon tore down the altar of Baal that belonged to his own father, Joash. He chopped down the Asherah pole and used it as firewood. He built a new altar to the Lord in the proper arrangement and offered a burnt sacrifice of total consecration. And we said that this is the pattern of reformation: it doesn’t begin with the distant enemy — it begins in your own house, with the idols that are closest to you.
Today we find out what happened when the sun came up.
A Covenant People Behaving Like Sodom
When the men of the city arose early in the morning, there was the altar of Baal torn down. They said to one another: who has done this thing? And when they enquired and asked, they said: Gideon the son of Joash has done this thing. Then the men of the city said to Joash: bring out your son that he may die, because he has torn down the altar of Baal and cut down the wooden image that was beside it.
The first thing to notice is how they responded. They arose early, they saw the devastation, and immediately, as one people, they were outraged. Not a few individuals grumbling over breakfast — the entire city, united, furious, speaking with one voice. They made diligent enquiry, investigated, found out who did it, and came as a body to the house of Joash, demanding that Gideon be handed over to die.
Stop and think about what is happening here. These are Israelites. The people of God, the covenant community, descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And what has Gideon done? He has obeyed the law of God. The law explicitly commands the destruction of pagan altars: Deuteronomy 7:5 — you shall destroy their altars and break down their sacred pillars and cut down their wooden images. Deuteronomy 12:3 — you shall destroy their altars, break their sacred pillars and burn their wooden images with fire. This wasn’t Gideon’s private interpretation. This was the explicit, clear, unmistakable command of God. Furthermore, Gideon had been directly commissioned by God as a judge — a civil magistrate. He had the lawful right and the lawful duty to do exactly what he did.
And yet, the people of God wanted to kill him for it. They were more zealous for the altar of Baal than for the altar of the Lord. More offended by the destruction of a false god than by years of national disobedience to the true God.
Where in Scripture do we find a parallel to this? An entire city assembling as one body at the door of a powerful man’s house, demanding that someone inside be brought out and harmed? The answer is Sodom — Genesis 19. That parallel is not accidental. It tells us something about the depth to which Israel had fallen. A covenant people behaving as the worst pagans.
What Idolatry Does to a Person
This tells us something about the nature of idolatry, what it does to people. Idolatry doesn’t just add a false god alongside the true God. It twists the worshipper, bends him beyond remedy. The Hebrew word for iniquity in Exodus 20:5 is avon — it means to be twisted, bent, distorted totally out of shape, a bow that no longer holds its form. This is the explanation for behaviour that otherwise makes no sense.
How can people who call themselves the people of God be more offended by the destruction of an idol than by the worship of one? How can they demand the death of a man for obedience to God’s law? The answer is that idolatry twists people. It distorts their moral perception so completely that they call evil good and good evil — exactly what Isaiah 5:25 warns against.
We see the same dynamic in our own time. How many people would be more outraged by someone refusing to use preferred pronouns than by the systematic sexualisation of children in schools? How many would be more scandalised by a man saying that marriage is between a man and a woman than by the collapse of two-parent families? A church once apologised for having a cross on its roof because an asylum seeker had torn it down, saying it caused offence. That is a twisted people. But challenge them on climate policy, and they erupt — because that is their real religion.
Ask yourself: what is the thing that, if it were attacked, would make you furious? What is the altar that, if someone tore it down, would send you out demanding blood? What is your functional God? And if it is not the Lord God of Scripture, you have the same problem as the men of Ophrah.
Every Religion Produces Law
Notice something very important about the legal dimension of this passage. The men of the city did not come as a lawless mob. They came with a legal claim. They were acting according to law. Their religious framework had a legal expression. Breaking down the altar of Baal was, in their system, a capital offence.
Every religion produces law. Every religion without exception. The religion of secular humanism produces hate speech laws and speech codes. The religion of Gaia, the nature worship driving the environmental movement, produces carbon taxes, net zero mandates, and the systematic destruction of affordable energy. The religion of the sexual revolution produces laws against conversion therapy, compulsory affirmation of gender identity in schools, and the prosecution of those who dissent. And in every case, those who break the law of the prevailing religion are treated as criminals.
There was a man in Ireland — Enoch Burke — who spent time in prison for refusing to call a pupil by a preferred pronoun. He broke the law of the reigning religion, and the punishment was swift and severe and unending. Graeme Linehan was pursued relentlessly for years because he publicly questioned gender ideology. He broke the law of Asherah, and the priests of Asherah came after him. This is not new. This is as old as Ophrah.
Joash: The Most Unlikely Protector
But Joash said to all who stood against him: would you plead for Baal? Would you save him? Let the one who would plead for him be put to death by morning. If he is a god, let him plead for himself, because his altar has been torn down. Therefore on that day he called him Jerubal — Let Baal plead against him, because he has torn down his altar.
Now, who is Joash? He is the custodian of the very Baal altar that his son just destroyed. He sat at the apex of the Baal cult in Ophrah. And yet, when the mob showed up demanding his son’s blood, it was Joash who stood in the gap and defended him.
Was he converted? The text doesn’t say. Perhaps it was a father’s instinct to protect his son. But whatever the motivation, the effect is the same. God used the very man who sat at the apex of the false religion to shield his servant from the fury of the worshippers. Gideon couldn’t have planned it. He couldn’t have predicted it. And yet God, who sees the end from the beginning, ensured that the very custodian of the false religion became the protector of the true reformer.
If you’re stepping out in obedience and you’re afraid of what will happen — consider this. You don’t know where your protection will come from. God isn’t limited to the obvious sources. He can turn the most unlikely person into your shield.
Baal’s Silence and the Public Demonstration
The argument Joash makes is simple: if Baal is a God, let him plead for himself. Demonstrate that your deity has power. But if he can’t defend his own altar, what exactly are you worshipping?
This is what Gideon accomplished. He didn’t merely destroy physical property. He staged a public demonstration of impotence. He proved in front of the entire community that Baal was nothing. The only power Baal ever had was the power of devotion that people gave him. Strip that away, and there’s nothing there. No thunderbolt from heaven, no divine retribution, no plague, no fire, no sign of any kind — just silence.
And the silence was deafening. This is the same with every false god in every age. The state promises provision — but does it deliver? Are you more prosperous than your parents? Is the NHS delivering better healthcare than twenty years ago? Are the schools producing more literate, morally grounded young people than a generation ago? The answer to every one of those questions is absolutely not. The altars of our modern Baal are crumbling. Everybody can see it, but most are still too afraid to say it out loud. What’s needed is a public demonstration. Not a riot, not a rebellion — a calm, clear, undeniable demonstration that the false gods cannot deliver on their promises.
Courage, the Spirit, and the Trumpet
Just a few verses later, the Spirit of the Lord came upon Gideon and he blew the trumpet, and the Abiezrites gathered behind him. Then messengers went throughout all Manasseh, Asher, Zebulun, and Naphtali — tens of thousands mobilising behind one man.
But where did it all come from? From courage. In an age of cowardice, when every man’s head is down and the entire nation was hiding in caves, one man stood up and did the right thing regardless of the cost. And people were drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet, because courage is the rarest commodity in a defeated age.
Every one of those men who rallied behind Gideon had been living under the same oppression. They had been hiding in the same caves, worshipping the same useless Baal. None of them had moved. And then one man — one farmer, one young man from a small clan in a nowhere town — tore down an altar and demonstrated that the false god was nothing. And suddenly everything changed.
There is an order to God’s work, and no step was skipped. The Spirit did not fall on Gideon while he was hiding in the winepress. The tribes didn’t rally before he had torn down the altar. The trumpet was not blown before the false god had been publicly exposed as nothing. If you want the power, if you want to lead men, if you want to fight the battle and win the victory — you can’t skip the steps that precede it. Don’t despise the day of small things. The Lord is not finished with you.