So Gideon, and the three hundred men that were with him, came unto the outside of the camp in the beginning of the middle night watch, and they blew the trumpets, and brake the pitchers that were in their hands.
Loud and terrible was the sound that thus startled the hosts of Midian from their slumbers on that eventful night—the blare of the trumpets, the crash of the vessels, while suddenly the glare of a hundred waving torches lit up the darkness! From this side and that side the sound is echoed, the flash is reflected, while loud bursts the shout that strikes terror into the Midianites’ souls,—“The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!” Smitten with panic, confused by the noise, dazzled by the glare, the multitudes of Midian are but embarrassed by their own numbers, they cannot distinguish friend from foe,—they snatch up their weapons, indeed, and use them with frantic vigour, but every man’s hand is turned against his own fellow—warriors strike right and left, but their fierce blows fall on their own companions in arms! One wild instinct to save life by flight possesses all that vast host; men rush hither and thither with frantic speed, careless of trampling over the corpses of countrymen, comrades, brothers!
The chosen three hundred, the “forlorn hope” of Israel, had thus, through the power of Israel’s God, discomfited and put to flight the armies of the aliens; but their brethren were to join in the pursuit. Warriors gathered out of Naphtali, Asher, and Manasseh, and pressed hard on the flying foe. Gideon despatched messengers throughout all Ephraim, calling on the men of that neighbouring tribe to seize on the fords of Jordan, to intercept the flight of the Midianites over the river. His directions were obeyed; the warlike Ephraimites joined in the effort to free their country from the foe; they pursued Midian, and brought the heads of two of its princes, Oreb and Zeeb, to Gideon on the other side of the Jordan.
In the marvellous success granted to the efforts of a handful of men who, strong in faith, though armed only with trumpets to sound, and torches to display, we see most clearly foreshadowed the triumph of the gospel in the days of the apostles and their immediate followers. The whole world lay in wickedness, shrouded in deep moral darkness, like the hosts of Midian in night, when the Saviour came down unto His own, to be despised and rejected of men. Satan appeared to hold the human race under a yoke which no effort could break. Rome, that towered supreme amongst the nations, that held in subjection even the chosen land of Israel, was wholly given to idolatry. Incense offered to false gods rose from unnumbered shrines, benighted myriads worshipped vain idols in blind superstition. And what was the force chosen by God to oppose, to discomfit the powers of earth and of hell, to overthrow heathen altars, to raise the banner of the Cross against Satan and his hosts, against the kings and princes of this world? A little band of apostles and disciples—a few fishermen and their companions—mostly poor, mostly unlearned, were to engage in this the most mighty struggle which the world had ever known! Not as the followers of Mohammed, with the sword to sweep their enemies from the earth; the early Christians had, as it were, like Gideon’s men, their torches and their trumpets. The trumpet, symbol of preaching,—the loud clear declaration of the glorious truth that salvation is offered freely to men through the blood of an incarnate God. If the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle? saith the Apostle Paul, who himself gave a blast, the echo of which still resoundeth throughout the world! And the torches which these early Christians displayed were the examples of their pure and devoted lives—shining through, dispelling the darkness around them, according to the word of their Lord, Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
But the treasure was borne in earthly vessels, and those vessels were broken and shattered, that the light might more clearly be seen. “The blood of martyrs was the seed of the Church.” All the apostles, with the single exception of St. John, who was persecuted and banished, died a violent death for the sake of the gospel. But their lights did not perish with them: no; they were lifted on high to shine in glory, enlightening generation after generation, with a brilliance which shall never pass away. Thus was it that our religion triumphed over the enemy by the flash of the torch and the blast of the trumpet. The victory of Gideon was as a rehearsal of the infinitely more glorious triumph of the gospel of Christ.
And now, dear brethren, to apply to our consciences the lesson before us, let us examine into the work of faith and the power of faith in our own souls. What do we know of conflict, what do we know of victory over the Midianites in our hearts, even our own besetting sins? Have we left those sins quietly in possession to degrade and enslave our souls, or have we sought to fight the good fight? If we have attempted to throw off the enemy’s yoke, how have we prepared ourselves for the battle? Our own good resolutions, our trust in our own strength, our pride of conscious virtue, these may have been as the forces that gathered at first around Gideon, but not to those are the victory given. The triumph must be that, not of human strength, but of God-bestowed faith. It was when St. Paul, struggling with inward corruption, exclaimed, O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death? that he was enabled to add, Thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!
Again, the weapons with which we assault the enemy in his camp may find their emblems in the torches and trumpets carried by Gideon’s band. There is the loud alarm of conscience, sounding clear and distinct in the soul, giving no uncertain sound. There are the precepts and promises of Scripture, scattering the darkness around—Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path; while often painful dispensations, the shattering of human joys, the crash of the earthen vessels, make that Word to shine to us with a brilliance unknown in the days of our joy. But instead of the shout of Gideon, the Christian’s voice is raised in prayer. It is the cry to the Lord for help that puts the Destroyer to flight. Thus may we discomfit our spiritual foes, more than conquerors through Him that loved us,—
“His grace our strength, our guide His word;
Our aim, the glory of the Lord!”