A man plagued by the disease called lust, a desire which lay beside the matchless gift bestowed upon his unborn frame. A man broken by a cruel world preying upon his weakness. They cut his hair stole his eyes and extinguished the bond between him and his God.
A man like me who desired to take the life he saw around him. He like Eve He craved the forbidden beauty which hung before his sight, dangling before him like fruit ripe for the taking. He was not unlike a man at all, giving into his instinct to love and kill, not knowing how to serve His master without fault. He remained untrained, wild and utterly unavailable.
I picture him blind, his strong unused arms, his large hands wrapping around marble pillars, which stood like silent witnesses against the sin which danced freely in that temple. Looking up to the heavens, with love in his heart for those who deceived him, maimed his perfect body, betrayed his trust and stole the life that had been so uniquely shaped by the hand of God.
Crying out in one last attempt to be strong…”one last time, Lord” give me the ability to serve you in the light of all my failures, and let me die strong , holy, seeing.
I can picture him first leaning his weight onto a pillar bearing his beaten body. One of his arm stretched out the other folded under the oppression of his heavy burden. His head hung in despair for what he wasn’t able to do, what he did do, and what he was about to do. Then as the spirit descended upon Samson and filled him, muscles tensed, legs filled with power, erected and spread evenly between the two columns, divine force commanded his victory. Once again his head bowed but this time neither in silent prayer nor in defeat. His massive back expanding in employment his veins bulging, his blood pumped obediently through his anointed frame. His arms each stretched out in perfect unison inviting the whole of those uncircumcised sinners in , as if to embrace all the death that was lingering before him, as if to take upon himself the blame and offense and brokenness unseen with his human eyes that had long since been removed.
He is strong, once again. not forsaken, not abandoned, not alone. He is filled.
He didn’t ask his tresses, he didn’t petition his dark curly locks, and yet they responded with a resounding , YES!
One last gust of strength to serve victoriously the God who gave him life though he forfeited, though they took captive…God restored. Though they killed God resurrected, though they swam in a sea of indignation and blatant rejection He took down, tore down, destroyed the gates, the pillars and the walls which kept them from mercy. Giving his life in exchange for theirs. the most powerful confession ever made in Samson’s life…”I can’t”! and in that moment His death was not sad it was purposeful and planned as his life had been. Samson’s one last burst of power and strength on earth was used to acknowledge His Maker and complete his mission.