In Judges 15, we continue walking through the tumultuous life of Samson, a man chosen by God but led often by human emotion. His story isn’t just about feats of strength or revenge; it reflects so much of the human heart—our anger, our loyalty, our sense of justice, and our deep yearning for restoration when wronged. This chapter moves us deeper into the complexities of Samson’s relationships and how, even in the mess of human conflict, God still works to fulfill His purposes.
The chapter opens with Samson attempting to reconcile with his Philistine wife during the time of the wheat harvest. He brings a young goat as a peace offering, hoping to visit her in her father’s house. But his attempt at peace is abruptly cut short when her father refuses to let him see her. In a shocking turn, her father explains that he believed Samson had rejected her, and so he gave her to another man—specifically, Samson’s own best man. As if to ease the offense, the father offers her younger sister instead, calling her “more beautiful.” It’s a gesture that only intensifies the insult.
We can feel Samson’s frustration. He had loved this woman, had risked much to marry her, and now, without his knowledge or consent, she was taken from him. Sometimes, we find ourselves wronged in ways that no one else understands. And like Samson, the first emotion that rises in us may be vengeance. Samson says, “This time I will be blameless in my dealings with the Philistines.” He doesn’t say he won’t act—only that, in his view, his anger is justified. Haven’t we all felt that way? When someone crosses a line, we convince ourselves that retaliation is fair, even righteous.
What Samson does next is bold and symbolic. He catches 300 foxes, ties their tails together in pairs, and fastens a torch to each pair. Then he releases them into the Philistines’ fields. The flames consume their standing grain, vineyards, and olive groves. For a people who rely on the land for food, wealth, and survival, this is a devastating blow. This act wasn’t just about destroying crops—it was an act of war. The damage wasn’t just physical, it was personal. Samson's wrath burned as hot as the torches he lit.
The Philistines, in turn, seek out the reason behind the destruction and learn that it all stemmed from the betrayal of Samson’s wife and her father. In response, they burn both of them alive. The cycle of revenge grows darker, more violent, spiraling out of control. It’s a painful reminder that retaliation, no matter how justified it feels in the moment, often leads to more pain. What starts as one man’s heartbreak leads to fire, death, and communal suffering. We’ve seen this pattern in our own world—one wrong sparking another, until no one remembers where it began.
Samson’s anger doesn’t die down. When he hears of their deaths, he declares, “If you behave like this, surely I will take revenge on you, and after that I will cease.” Again, we see a man wrestling with his sense of justice. His retaliation is brutal—he strikes the Philistines “hip and thigh with a great slaughter”—a Hebrew expression that suggests a particularly savage and decisive attack. Then, worn down and likely hunted, he withdraws to a cleft in the rock of Etam, retreating to a solitary place.
But peace remains elusive. The Philistines, desperate to capture him, invade Judah and spread out near Lehi. When asked why they’ve come, they reply simply: “We have come to bind Samson.” They don’t want his land; they want the man himself—the symbol of their humiliation and destruction. And here, we see something startling. Instead of defending one of their own, the men of Judah—his own people—go to Samson and ask him to surrender. They’re afraid, tired of being oppressed, and see Samson’s actions as a threat rather than a deliverance. This moment feels painfully relatable. How often do we, out of fear, distance ourselves from those who take bold stands? Even when we know they’re right, we sometimes choose safety over solidarity.
Three thousand men from Judah go to the rock and tell Samson they plan to hand him over. Surprisingly, Samson doesn’t resist. He makes them promise not to kill him themselves, and they bind him with two new ropes. This part of the story feels deeply symbolic. The deliverer of Israel, the one chosen to fight their battles, is being tied up by his own people—not by enemies, but by those he came to save. There’s something almost Christlike in that image: a strong man willingly allowing himself to be bound for the sake of a greater plan.
But God isn’t finished yet. As Samson is brought before the Philistines, their shouts of triumph are cut short. The Spirit of the Lord rushes upon him. The ropes on his arms become like burnt flax and fall away. Grabbing the fresh jawbone of a donkey, he slays a thousand men. It’s an astonishing image—this lone figure, armed with something so crude, standing victorious through God’s power. It reminds us that with God’s Spirit, even the most unlikely tools and people can accomplish mighty things. As 1 Corinthians 1:27 reminds us, “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise.”
After the battle, Samson declares, “With the jawbone of a donkey, heaps upon heaps, with the jawbone of a donkey have I struck down a thousand men.” Then, exhausted and parched, he calls out to God—not in triumph, but in desperation. “Have you given this great deliverance… and now shall I die of thirst?” It’s a rare moment of vulnerability from Samson, one that draws us closer to him. Even in his strength, he is dependent. And God hears. He splits a hollow place and water gushes out. Samson drinks, revives, and names the place En Hakkore—“the spring of the caller.”
This chapter closes with a note that Samson judged Israel for twenty years in the days of the Philistines. Despite the chaos, the bloodshed, and the betrayal, God still uses him. That’s what we take with us. God doesn’t wait for perfect people. He works through brokenness, through fire and thirst, through anger and exhaustion. He meets us in the cleft of the rock and gives us water when we cry out. Through Samson’s story, we’re reminded that even when we don’t get everything right, God remains faithful, powerful, and ready to act through us.