Judges: When Everyone Did What Was Right in Their Own Eyes

Pr Enos Mwakalindile
7 days ago
5 min read

“In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”— Judges 21:25

Text "The Book of Judges" in metallic letters on a textured brown background, creating a classic and solemn feel.

The Twilight of Israel's History and the Crisis of Covenant

Judges is set in Israel's early history, after Joshua's conquest, among scattered tribes struggling daily to remember the grace that shaped them. The land is possessed, but the covenant is neglected. God’s chosen people, forgetting the mercy that brought them out of Egypt and through the wilderness, drift into spiritual amnesia, leading inexorably to predictable cycles of apostasy, foreign oppression, and reluctant rescue. This forgetting is not passive; it is an active choice to ignore the clear commands of the Deuteronomic law (Block, 1999, 49–53; Webb, 2012, 10–13).

Biblical scholarship often frames Judges as Act Three of the grand narrative of Scripture, positioned precariously between the Exodus glory and the fervent longing for a King (Wright, 2018, 45–48; Mackie, "Judges," BibleProject). This period was intended to be the testing ground for Israel's identity—they were meant to be God’s kingdom of priests, uniquely embodying justice, mercy, and faithfulness among the watching nations (Exod 19:5–6; Block, 1999, 59–61). Instead of standing distinct, they falter, forgetting their covenant role and adopting the chaotic, self-serving scripts of surrounding Canaanite cultures, thus forfeiting their divine vocation to bless the world (Webb, 2012, 4–8; Mackie, "Judges").

Not Magistrates, But Flawed Deliverers

The term "judges" (Hebrew: shophetim) refers less to robed magistrates and more to deliverers, rulers, and tribal chieftains. These leaders—Othniel, Deborah, Gideon, and Samson—were not perfect administrators of law, but military and political saviors raised up in moments of existential crisis (Block, 1999, 71–73; Webb, 2012, 8–9). They were unlikely, flawed champions, proving that God’s redemption rarely adheres to human expectations of power or prestige.

The narrative emphasizes that God’s plan is never derailed by His people’s weakness; rather, He demonstrates His power by working in, through, and sometimes despite them, weaving their individual and corporate failures into His unfolding story (Webb, 2012, 10–15). The brokenness of the leaders mirrors the brokenness of the people. Gideon, though called "mighty warrior," is plagued by fear, repeatedly demanding signs (the fleece) instead of trusting God's clear word (Judg 6:11–40; Block, 1999, 259–273). Samson, granted superhuman strength, repeatedly misuses his gifts, driven by lust and personal revenge, reducing his judgeship to a series of spectacular, yet tragic, moral failures (Judg 13–16; Block, 1999, 399–423).

The predictable structure of these cycles (Sin, Subjugation, Supplication, Salvation) functions as a devastating critique inherent to the book's design: the people are stuck in a tragic loop because they refuse to embrace covenant identity (Webb, 2012, 32–35; Mackie, "Judges").

Israel’s Three-Movement Descent into Anarchy

Judges holds a stark mirror to the human heart, which quickly forgets covenant obedience, seeks comfort and compromise, and chooses internal chaos over divine order (Block, 1999, 53–59). The narrative divides into three distinct, accelerating movements that chronicle Israel's moral freefall:

Failure of Faith (1:1–3:6): The tribes fail to complete the conquest, compromising with the remaining Canaanite populations. This compromise is not merely military; it is a spiritual failure that plants seeds of idolatry and stagnation, setting the stage for future disobedience (Block, 1999, 97–102; Webb, 2012, 91–152).
Cycles of Deliverance (3:7–16:31): For over three centuries, generations fall into idolatry, cry out under oppression, and are rescued by God’s unyielding mercy. Yet, each subsequent cycle spirals deeper into darkness; the judges grow morally ambiguous (Jephthah sacrifices his daughter), and the brief periods of peace become shorter, rendering the future less hopeful (Judg 11; Block, 1999, 331–339; Webb, 2012, 299–341).
Descent into Anarchy (17:1–21:25): In the final, horrifying movement, foreign oppression ceases, only to be replaced by self-inflicted civil war and social collapse. Leadership vanishes, and the nation’s deepest moral depravity surfaces in stories like Micah's self-made idol and the brutal atrocity involving the Levite's concubine in Gibeah (Judges 19). This final section exposes a society that has lost all grounding in law or justice, resulting in the terrifying, oft-repeated diagnosis: "Everyone does what is right in his own eyes" (Webb, 2012, 419–509; Block, 1999, 429–443).

This descent is a microcosm of humanity's ruin, exposing the profound tragedy of a people who abandon their holy calling to settle for being like the corrupt nations around them, thereby forfeiting their capacity to bear God’s new-creation life into the world (Wright, 2018, 60–62; Mackie, "Judges").

The Echo of Hope: A Messiah’s Longing

Judges offers a critical warning: where the collective memory of God’s grace grows dim, the imitation of the fallen world rushes in to fill the moral void (Block, 1999, 53–59; Wright, 2018, 65–67). While the tragic flaws of the judges amplify the urgent need for God’s transformative presence, His stubborn commitment and covenant mercy endure beneath the dark clouds, serving as the only consistent element in the book (Webb, 2012, 416–418).

These dark days reveal the profound ache for a true King—a righteous, faithful, and moral leader who would not only deliver Israel from foreign powers but also renew and re-form His people from within (Wright, 2018, 68–71). The failures of human authority in Judges ultimately point forward. Beneath the chaos, a subversive hope is evident: even in this period of deepest failure, God is already planting seeds of redemption that will blossom first in the rise of David, and ultimately culminate in Christ, the faithful King who alone perfectly does what is right in God's eyes (Mackie, "Judges"; Wright, 2018, 71–73).

Judges is a powerful book for those who walk in the ruins of their own compromised lives and dare to hope for divine restoration, challenging us to awaken to our calling as agents of new creation in God’s radical covenant love.

Reflection Questions

Where do you see yourself in the cycles described in Judges? Are there areas of your life where you repeat patterns of forgetting God’s grace and falling into self-reliance or compromise?
What subtle forms of "doing what is right in your own eyes" tempt you, your community, or your nation? How can you cultivate a memory of God’s faithfulness that guards against such drift?
How do the failures and weaknesses of the judges encourage or challenge your understanding of spiritual leadership and God’s ability to work through flawed people?
In what ways do you sense a longing for deeper transformation—a need for a true King—in your own heart, family, or society?
What would it look like for you to live as an agent of new creation, bearing witness to God’s mercy and covenant love in a world prone to spiritual amnesia?

Concluding Prayer

Holy and merciful God,

In the darkness of our world, where we so easily forget Your grace and drift into the chaos of self-will, awaken our hearts again. Break every cycle of rebellion and despair with Your stubborn mercy. Raise up in us—not perfect heroes, but humble servants—who trust not in our own strength, but in the faithfulness of Your covenant love. Plant the seeds of Your hope in our ruins, and shape us into a people who bear Your light and justice to our neighbors. May the longing for Your true King, fulfilled in Christ, stir us to faithful witness until Your new creation is revealed.

Amen.