The Greek word for witness is “martus”, from which we get our word martyr. It really doesn’t convey the idea of people who give their lives for a cause, the way we use martyr today. It means a witness in the sense of someone who is bearing witness, testifying. Not an onlooker. We are surrounded by this great multitude of saints from the past, who bear witness to us. Their lives of faith call out to us, encourage us to join them. They aren’t the spectators as we run the race – they are the coaches!

As they’ve shown us, we need to lay aside what weighs us down and entangles us, and run the race the way they did. What encumbers us? Possessions, conflicting loyalties, time-wasters. What entangles us? The writer tells us: it’s sin, which so easily gets wrapped around us and trips us up.

And another thing: a runner has to keep his or her eyes on the goal, the finish line. If they look down at their feet, they’ll fall. We’re told to fix our eyes on Jesus. Why? Because he’s already over the finish line. Where he is, is where we want to be.

This version and some others call him “author”, some others have “pioneer”. The word means “chief leader”, we might say the top dog. Or better in this context, the front runner. He is also the “perfecter”. He is the one who leads and who perfects faith. This version gets it right – “of faith”, not “of our faith”, the way some translations have it. There’s no “our” in the text. Those who think of Jesus as being God incarnate can’t imagine that Jesus himself had to have faith. But the Bible (and in particular the letter to the Hebrews) makes it clear that Jesus was made just like us – see for example Hebrews 2:14-18 and 4:14-16. Jesus had to go forward in faith, trusting his God to deliver him. He is the leader of faith. And he is the one who makes faith perfect – his own, and also ours.

The joy set before Jesus, the finish line that he fixed his eyes on, is the same joy that is set before us. Notice how Hebrews uses the concept of being “made perfect” – first Jesus (2:10, 5:9, 7:28), then at Christ’s return, all the faithful, including ourselves (11:40, 12:23) We can see that he has attained the finish line, and we have the promise that it will be ours as well. Jesus himself promises it: “He who overcomes, I will grant to him to sit down with me on my throne, as I also overcame and sat down with my Father on His throne.” (Revelation 3:21)

The men who didn’t want to share the spoil remind me of the laborers in the parable of Jesus, who worked all day. At the end of the day, they were paid the same as those who worked only a short time. They didn’t think this was fair.

This detail from the Ziklag incident isn’t there by accident. How many details do we have from any of David’s battles? So we’re supposed to learn something here, I think.

The lesson isn’t hard to figure out. There are roles in the Lord’s service that are public, that have prestige associated with them. (Not that God grants the prestige—that comes from human beings, and it may not be a particularly good reflection on us.) Some of these roles have some risk associated with them, for example a preacher is likely to be insulted and verbally attacked, or in some places far worse. These people tend to be held in honor. Likewise those who are putting in a lot of time, and often quite a bit of money, in helping out people less fortunate.

Of course there other ways we can serve the Lord, which have no glamour or prestige. Many times other people never even know about what we do. But being outside of the spotlight does not mean that the service means less to the Lord.

All those who are faithful followers of the King will share alike in the great reward. We need never feel that our contribution is too small or insignificant. (Unless of course we’re serving ourselves instead of him, or serving half-heartedly—then it’s another story.)

On the other hand, none of us should be like the troublemakers in this account, who begrudged their brothers a share, because they felt like they were doing more. It should be obvious that everyone isn’t able to contribute in the same ways. It’s not up to us to determine that someone else isn’t pulling their share of the load. Rather, it’s before their own master that they stand or fall. (Romans 14:4)

This announcement of the birth of Samson was the beginning of breaking the cycle. Here, for the first time, was a deliverer designated before his birth – born for the very purpose. And yet, he would not be the one to accomplish the deliverance. As the angel said, “he shall begin to deliver Israel.” The deliverance was not complete until King David finished the work.

Samson was set aside as a Nazirite from birth. The only other child ever to be so designated by an angel of God was one born over a thousand years later – John the Baptist, another miraculous birth to a childless couple. John also was one who made a beginning, one who went before the final deliverer and prepared the way. John introduced something new, breaking out of the old cycle of the Law – baptism of repentance. And of course, the deliverance was completed by the work of Jesus, the King.

We are accustomed to viewing Samson very negatively. He certainly had failings of the flesh. But even there, we sometimes go too far in charging him with wrong. The events surrounding his marriage to the woman of Timnah, for example, are explicitly said to be “from the Lord”. The final word on Samson comes in Hebrews chapter 11, where he is listed among the faithful who are asleep in hope of resurrection to eternal life.

The deliverers in the old cycle led armies, and the Lord gave them victory. Samson was different. The victories he brought were completely on his own, very obviously with the power of the Holy Spirit. It was the first time the Spirit powers had been openly displayed since Joshua’s time – almost 400 years earlier. Similarly, John the Baptist was the first prophet in about 400 years. Both Samson and John let the people of Israel see that the Lord was at work among them, and that salvation was coming.

Casting David as a type (foreshadowing) of Christ is common, and can easily be demonstrated from Scripture. Samson as a type of John isn’t as clear, but it strikes me that the parallels are too strong for it to be just coincidence. David’s failings do not stop us from understanding that he represented the Christ. In the same way, Samson’s failings need not deter us from thinking of him as the forerunner, the one who prepared the way.

We should be careful in the way we judge the people we meet in the Bible. Besides Samson, there are some who do not think very highly of Gideon, Barak, Jephthah, Jacob, Lot, and Job. The first four of these are commended for their faith in Hebrews 11, Lot is commended by Peter, and Job by James.

It’s easy to think that “the Twelve” were the only disciples who faithfully went with Jesus through his ministry, that they alone heard the teaching Jesus gave to “the disciples”. But it isn’t so! This passage tells us plainly that these women were present, for example, when Jesus was foretelling his coming death and resurrection. And yet, the discussion the angels refer to (in chapter 18) says, “Jesus took the Twelve aside and told them…” Perhaps the Twelve were the primary audience, but obviously they weren’t the only audience!

There are a number of passages which tell us there were more than the Twelve who faithfully followed Jesus for the long haul. A sampling:

• There were 72 disciples, called “others” (other than the 12), who had been learning with Jesus long enough that he sent them out to speak on his behalf. (Luke 10:1)
• Right in the passage we’re considering, the women reported to “the eleven and to all the rest“.
• Later in the same chapter, we find Cleopas and the other disciple on the road to Emmaus. These are called “two of them“, obviously implying more. (Luke 24:13)
• There were 120 believers in Jerusalem before Pentecost and before any preaching work started—these must have been people who were long-term disciples of Jesus prior to his death and resurrection. (Acts 1:14-15)
• Similarly, there were more than 500 believers in Galilee to whom Jesus revealed himself prior to his ascension. (1 Corinthians 15:6)
• There were two, Joseph Barsabbas and Matthias, who met the qualification of having been with Jesus for his entire ministry of 3+ years, from the baptism of John on. (Acts 1:21-23)

There were crowds of people who followed Jesus, who tended to be rather fickle as far as any sort of commitment. But there was also a sizable number of more faithful disciples—not just twelve.

Well, so what? There are at least 3 reasons why it’s helpful to know this. First, it means that Christianity didn’t start with 11 goofy guys spreading stories, which is what some critics suggest. There was a large body of people who were long-term followers. A lot of them were eyewitnesses of the risen Christ.

Second, I think it’s pretty helpful to women to know that there were a lot of women among the disciples. Not only is it not true that there were just 12, it’s also not true that it was just guys.

And third, it’s encouraging for all of us, to know that someone can be a disciple without being an apostle.*  We may have trouble identifying with the apostles, but we can all picture ourselves as one of those other disciples—following our Lord, listening to him, learning from him. When we read in the gospels that Jesus speaks to “the disciples”, we know he’s speaking to us.

The teaching of the Bible, in both Old and New Testaments, is that those who are blessed with abundance should share with those who have very little. This is surely right. But our human nature being what it is, this teaching provokes the kind of feeling expressed by the unnamed man in this passage. “He has more than me, so he ought to share with me.” We twist the teaching that we ought to share, into feeling like others ought to share with me.

Jesus’s response makes it clear that such feelings are nothing more than simple greed. We are prone to object to it being put so harshly, but that’s our flawed nature talking again. It isn’t necessarily those who have money who love money. The apostle Paul said that the love of money, not money itself, is the root of every kind of evil. (1 Timothy 6:10) That love of money is present in us, without regard to how much we have.

Some people don’t have a major problem with greed. All of us have places where we are naturally strong, where we do not feel temptation as sharply as others. But most of us are affected by most of the manifestations of the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life. So it is to all, whether rich or poor or in-between, that Jesus warns, “A man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

Later in the chapter Jesus says, “Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (verses 33-34) The Lord here tells us how we can overcome the temptation of greed (or covetousness, or the lust of the eye, as it’s sometimes put). Think about what is truly valuable. Where is your treasure? If you are a man or woman of faith, your treasure—what is most valuable to you—will be in heaven. Remembering this, we can see the object of our greed in true perspective. We realize that lusting after money, and what it can buy, is a dead end.

The entire North American culture is built upon the lust of the eye. We are continuously urged to want more. It’s almost a patriotic duty. But the culture, while not making it any easier for us, isn’t the real problem. The real problem is where our own values lie. God’s people are always out of step with their culture, in many different ways, and in this way especially. When we value the one God, one Lord, one faith, one hope—then mere money is just not worth chasing.

We are born with human nature, with an inclination to sin. But we are not doomed to be controlled by it. We can choose, and we are told we must choose. If you find that you are hooked on shopping, longing for exotic vacations, yearning for a nicer house or nicer car, you don’t need to give up because “that’s just the way I am”. If that’s the way you remain, you will perish! God has given us a different treasure to set our sights on. Paul says, “You are the slave of the one you willingly obey.” (Romans 6:16) The choice is ours.

Paul was worried about them, so he sent Timothy back (at some risk to Timothy!) to find out if they were holding up. And they were doing great! (1 Thessalonians 3:1-10) After arriving in Corinth and getting Timothy’s report, he wrote his first letter to them right away, to encourage them and reinforce the hope of resurrection at Christ’s return. Before too long, word came that the persecution Paul had experienced was coming down on these new believers, and Paul wrote to them again.

Why would God allow such trouble to come on these “little ones”? Paul tells them, in the passage quoted above. Sometimes we may be inclined to think that suffering must be a punishment, but that’s not the case here. What does Paul say? “This is a plain indication of God’s righteous judgment so that you will be considered worthy of the kingdom of God.” In other words, it’s no punishment—it’s preparing them to be deemed worthy of eternal life in the kingdom! When we suffer for doing right, it doesn’t feel like “God’s righteous judgment”. Unless, that is, we understand that God uses trials to shape us into the people He wants to save forever. This is a significant theme in the New Testament. Make a point of looking for it as you read—because a lot of folks seem to get this wrong.

The “meat” is really in chapter 28. But you need to read chapters 29 and 30 to get the whole story. And in particular, the verses quoted above are a key that helps us understand the whole passage.

If you just read chapter 28, it sounds like Moses is presenting two options: if you obey, you’ll be blessed (in many ways), but if you disobey, you’ll suffer (in many ways, which are given in detail). This is certainly a valid reading; Moses meant to say just that. But it’s not the whole story.

These opening verses of chapter 30 inform us that all these things would happen to Israel, both the blessing and the curse. Not either/or. How can that be? Well, because at different times they would be both faithful and unfaithful. If we look at their history we can see that they did, in fact, obey and have prosperity for a time, and they also disobeyed and suffered.

So the prophecy wasn’t an either/or, it was a sequence. With that clue, we can go even further. A whole lot of curses are mentioned. If you read carefully, there are two sections that talk about being taken captive. And they’re different! They aren’t talking about the same event. So now what? Well, it must be that there are two different captivities being described. And that means we need to look at the whole string of curses as a sequence, not as a piling up of many curses at the same time.

If you look at the rest of the Biblical record of the history of Israel, you’ll see that it lines up with the sequence laid out in chapter 28. Then chapter 29 is like an interlude, and describes a period of utter devastation of the land; the implication is that this lasts a long time. History shows that it was about 1900 years. Then in 30 there is the regathering, which many people still alive saw partially fulfilled in the last century. It’s all a sequence, it all lines up with the actual facts. Moses told the history of Israel (in broad outline) in advance!

These chapters are the foundation upon which the later prophets built their warnings to the nation when they were wayward. Understanding this passage, then, is the foundation for understanding Bible prophecy in general. It gives the skeletal structure, and the later prophets provide the detail.

But it isn’t just dry, academic interest we’re talking about here. The prophecies about how God would work with Israel have been fulfilled. This is tremendous evidence that there is a God, and it’s the God of the Bible, who calls Himself the God of Israel. Fulfilled prophecy is one of the cornerstones of faith.

The first is with the heart. As you may know, in Hebrew the term “heart” refers to the mind. It primarily means the thoughts, not the emotions. (The emotions are referred to as the bowels, which sounds strange to our ears.) Moses gives us several practical ways to love God with our minds. Teach your children His Word. Talk about it at the dinner table and when you’re on the road. Make it something you think about first thing in the morning, and last thing at night. Post the Word on your doorposts. If Moses had lived in our era, there’s no doubt in my mind that he would say, “Put it on your refrigerator door.” The idea is to make a conscious effort to put reminders of God’s Word all around us. Because we are so prone to simply forget.

The second way to love God is with the soul. This is the inward person, your “heart of hearts”, your spiritual side. In this vein, Moses tells us to fear God, to hold Him in awe, to remember He is great and mighty. He says we should be completely loyal to the one true God, and Him alone. Don’t go after anything else that other people serve. And don’t put Him to the test. If God said it, then believe it.

The third kind of love is with the strength. This seems kind of odd, doesn’t it? What does God care about how muscular we are? But Moses explains what he means. He’s talking about our actions, the things we do with our strength. We are to keep His commandments, and to do what is right and good. What is right, that is, what is in accordance with God’s moral standards. And what is good, that is, what is beneficial, what leaves ourselves and those around us better off than we were before.

There are other places that the disciples are “greatly astonished”, but nowhere else (that I know of) is their amazement put so strongly. This pair of miracles (walking on water and calming the storm) appears to be the topper of them all, in the disciples’ eyes.

I guess I would have been pretty amazed, too. Can you picture yourself in that boat? You’ve been rowing for hours against the wind, with waves crashing over the bow, getting nowhere. It’s a truly dangerous storm, and there’s a real risk of dying. Then a supernatural vision: a man walking on the waves! He identifies himself as Jesus, Peter asks to come to him. After the rescue Jesus and Peter enter the boat, and…there is instantly a perfect calm.

I’m sure I would have had a hard time absorbing all this. And yet, Mark suggests that if they’d gained any insight from the incident earlier the same day, where Jesus fed the 5,000, then they wouldn’t have been so amazed. In fact, he goes so far as to say their hearts were hardened.

What does that mean, “their hearts were hardened”? Well, it means that what they had witnessed had gone into their eyes, but it hadn’t penetrated into their understanding. They didn’t grasp the significance. One who could create bread out of nothing clearly had at his command the forces of the universe, right? Multiplying the bread was done quietly. But walking on water and stopping the storm were dramatic. We would do well to take a lesson here: the power to do quiet miracles implies the ability to do dramatic ones. The power behind Providence, that quiet care and direction of our daily lives, is the same power that will cause the Lord Jesus to descend to the earth in clouds of glory.

And there’s more here, too. The next day, John’s gospel tells us, Jesus explained the significance of feeding the 5,000—he himself was the bread from heaven. Who else had given bread from heaven? Moses. The miraculous feeding should have clued the disciples. But now consider, who else had commanded the wind and waves? Moses again! The message couldn’t be clearer. The promised “prophet like Moses” was here! (Deut 18:15-18) It’s a fair bet that the disciples already believed this. So why were they astounded when he did Moses-like miracles?

A lot of what they “knew” hadn’t penetrated their heart. And that’s the big lesson for us. We can “know” the Bible, but still have hard hearts. We may not really get it. And we may not get that we don’t get it!

As we read, we need to work at making the record come alive. It’s real, not make-believe! We need to go through the process of being astounded, and then come to really understand. It needs to penetrate, to affect us, to change us.

The logic seems to have gone like this: There are giants. We can’t beat giants. Therefore the “promised land” was just a cruel hoax.

Each of us has our own giants that we’re afraid of—things that are too big for us to handle. Things that make us seem like grasshoppers in our own sight. Why is it that we are afraid of them, and conclude we are doomed—when we know that we have the Lord on our side? The giants may be too big for us, but they aren’t too big for Him!

Had the Lord promised to give Israel the land? Of course He had. Has He promised to take care of us? Of course He has. But when an “insurmountable” barrier appears, we tend to react very much as Israel did.

This account is very pertinent to the “faith vs. works” discussion that sometimes bothers believers. It’s clear that the Israelites were being called upon to trust God, put their confidence in Him instead of themselves. In other words, to have faith. There wasn’t a thing they could do to gain the promised land by their own effort—it would have to be God who gave it to them. The parallel for us is clear. There’s not a thing we can do to save ourselves from the giants of sin and death. It is a gift from God.

But the other side of the coin is that Israel was asked to take up arms and go in to conquer the land. They weren’t supposed to just camp on the border while the Lord cleared out the land for them. This is what James was talking about when he wrote, “Faith without works is dead.” What shows that we have faith? When we go forward to do what the Lord asks us to do, knowing we don’t have the power to complete it on our own, trusting in Him to supply what we lack. Our works (what we do, how we live) either show our faith, or show our lack of faith.