The Poison of the Almost: Iron Chariots and Resident Jebusites Text: Judges 1:16-21
Introduction: The Inch That Becomes a Mile
The book of Judges begins right after the death of Joshua, and it is a book that chronicles a steep, downward spiral. It is the story of a nation coming apart at the seams, culminating in that terrible refrain, "In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes." But such catastrophic collapses do not happen overnight. They are not the result of one grand, dramatic rebellion. Rather, they are the slow, creeping result of a thousand small compromises, a million little failures of nerve, a consistent pattern of almost-obedience. And that is what this chapter, and our text today, sets before us. It is a biopsy of the disease that will eventually rot the nation from the inside out.
God had given Israel a clear, unequivocal command. They were to drive out the inhabitants of the land completely. This was not a suggestion. It was not a recommendation for their consideration. It was a command rooted in God's holiness and His love for His people. The Canaanites were a cancer of idolatry, sexual perversion, and child sacrifice, and God, the great physician, had ordered a radical and total mastectomy. To leave any part of the tumor behind was to guarantee that the cancer would return, metastasize, and eventually kill the patient. This is the central lesson of the book of Judges: partial obedience is just a slow and respectable form of disobedience. An inch of compromise in one generation will become a mile of apostasy in the next.
We live in a time when the church is riddled with this same disease. We want a Christianity that is potent enough to save us from hell, but not so potent that it interferes with our love for the world. We want to conquer the "hill country" of our lives, the obvious and easily defeated sins, while leaving the Canaanites with their "iron chariots" untouched in the fertile valleys of our hearts. We want to give Hebron to Caleb, but we are content to let the Jebusites cohabitate with us in Jerusalem. But the Word of God comes to us today as a sharp sword, to cut away this thinking. It comes to show us that the seeds of our greatest defeats are sown in the soil of our partial victories.
This passage is not just a historical record of tribal skirmishes. It is a spiritual diagnostic. It reveals the anatomy of our own failures, the structure of our own compromises, and the reasons why we so often find ourselves spiritually impotent, living far below the promised inheritance we have in Christ Jesus.
The Text
Now the sons of the Kenite, Moses’ father-in-law, went up from the city of palms with the sons of Judah, to the wilderness of Judah which is in the south of Arad; and they went and lived with the people. Then Judah went with Simeon his brother, and they struck the Canaanites living in Zephath and devoted it to destruction. So the name of the city was called Hormah. And Judah captured Gaza with its territory and Ashkelon with its territory and Ekron with its territory. Now Yahweh was with Judah, and they took possession of the hill country; but they could not dispossess the inhabitants of the valley because they had iron chariots. Then they gave Hebron to Caleb, as Moses had promised; and he dispossessed from there the three sons of Anak. But the sons of Benjamin did not dispossess the Jebusites who lived in Jerusalem; so the Jebusites have lived with the sons of Benjamin in Jerusalem to this day.
(Judges 1:16-21 LSB)
Mixed Company and Total War (v. 16-18)
We begin with a curious note about some fellow travelers.
"Now the sons of the Kenite, Moses’ father-in-law, went up from the city of palms with the sons of Judah, to the wilderness of Judah which is in the south of Arad; and they went and lived with the people." (Judges 1:16)
The Kenites were not Israelites, but they had attached themselves to Israel through Moses' marriage. They cast their lot with the people of God, and here they are, moving with Judah. This is a picture of the covenant's power to draw in those who are not of the natural seed. It is a small foreshadowing of the Gentile inclusion in Christ. They are a welcome company.
Following this, we see Judah and Simeon engaged in holy war, as commanded. Their obedience is, at first, exemplary.
"Then Judah went with Simeon his brother, and they struck the Canaanites living in Zephath and devoted it to destruction. So the name of the city was called Hormah." (Judges 1:17)
The key phrase here is "devoted it to destruction." This is the Hebrew word herem. It means to utterly destroy, to consecrate something to God by removing it from common use, which in this context meant total annihilation. The city's name was changed to Hormah, which means "destruction" or "a devoted thing." This was not bloodlust; it was radical, surgical obedience. This is what God had commanded. They followed it to the letter. They followed it up by capturing the Philistine cities of Gaza, Ashkelon, and Ekron (v. 18). So far, so good. This is the pattern of faithful conquest.
The Iron Chariot Excuse (v. 19)
But the momentum of obedience stalls, and it stalls at a very specific point: the point where the enemy's technology appeared superior.
"Now Yahweh was with Judah, and they took possession of the hill country; but they could not dispossess the inhabitants of the valley because they had iron chariots." (Judges 1:19 LSB)
This verse is one of the most revealing verses in the entire book. Notice the jarring contradiction. "Yahweh was with Judah... but they could not." This is a theological impossibility. It is like saying, "The sun was shining, but it was dark." If Yahweh is with you, then there is no "but." There is no obstacle that can stand in your way. The problem was not with God's power. The problem was with Judah's faith.
They conquered the hill country. That was the easy part. Chariots are useless in the mountains. But when they came down to the plains, they saw the iron chariots, and their faith evaporated. The iron chariots represent what I call a "plausibility problem." The Israelites looked at the situation with the eyes of military strategists, not with the eyes of faith. They did a cost-benefit analysis and concluded that the risks were too high. Their faith was strong enough for the battles they thought they could win, but not for the battles they were certain they would lose.
We must see this for what it is. Technology is a form of wealth. And like all wealth, it tempts men to trust in themselves, to become self-sufficient. The Canaanites trusted in their chariots. But the real sin here is that the Israelites were also trusting in chariots, or rather, in the lack thereof. They saw the iron chariots and forgot the God who had parted the Red Sea and flattened the walls of Jericho. The issue is never the technology; the issue is the heart. Is God sovereign over iron, or is iron sovereign over God? Judah answered that question with their actions. They believed the iron was stronger. And so, for them, it was. God gave them over to their unbelief. Their "could not" was a "would not."
Caleb's Contrasting Faith (v. 20)
The narrative immediately provides us with a stunning counter-example. It is a rebuke to the faithlessness of the tribe of Judah, delivered in the person of one of their own chieftains.
"Then they gave Hebron to Caleb, as Moses had promised; and he dispossessed from there the three sons of Anak." (Judges 1:20 LSB)
Remember the context. Hebron was the stronghold of the Anakim, the giants who had terrified the ten faithless spies forty years earlier. These were not just men with advanced weaponry; they were men of terrifying physical stature. They were the original plausibility problem. But Caleb was a man of a different spirit. His faith was not in his own strength, but in God's promise. Forty years prior he had said, "Let us go up at once and take possession, for we are well able to overcome it" (Numbers 13:30). And now, as an old man, his faith has not wavered. He takes on the giants and, by the power of God, he drives them out.
The juxtaposition is intentional and sharp. Judah says, "We can't, they have iron chariots." Caleb says, "We can, God gave a promise." This is the central conflict of the Christian life. Will we live by sight or by faith? Will our obedience be dictated by the size of the obstacles or by the size of our God? Caleb shows us that a man who believes the promises of God is more powerful than any giant, and more formidable than any iron chariot.
The Rot of Compromise Begins (v. 21)
The chapter concludes this section with another story of failure, this time with the tribe of Benjamin. And this failure is even more stark, because there is no excuse given at all.
"But the sons of Benjamin did not dispossess the Jebusites who lived in Jerusalem; so the Jebusites have lived with the sons of Benjamin in Jerusalem to this day." (Judges 1:21 LSB)
Judah at least had the excuse of the iron chariots, flimsy as it was. Benjamin has no excuse. They simply "did not." This is the sin of sloth, of apathy, of a comfortable compromise. Jerusalem was a strategic, vital city, the future capital of the kingdom. And Benjamin decided to share it. They decided to cohabitate with the cancer. They let the Jebusites stay.
And notice the result: "so the Jebusites have lived with the sons of Benjamin in Jerusalem to this day." This compromise had lasting consequences. It became a thorn in their side. It was a pocket of paganism left in the very heart of their inheritance. This is precisely what happens when we tolerate sin in our lives. We make treaties with it. We decide that completely driving it out is too much work, too costly. So we cordon it off. We let it live in one room of the house. But sin is never a peaceful tenant. It is always an invader, always seeking to conquer the entire house. The Jebusites that Benjamin tolerated would be a snare and a problem for Israel for the next four hundred years, until David finally drove them out (2 Samuel 5).
Conclusion: No Cohabitation with Jebusites
This passage sets the stage for the entire book of Judges. The pattern is established here in chapter one. A little bit of obedience, followed by a failure of nerve. A partial victory, followed by a lasting compromise. And this is a picture of the struggle in every Christian heart.
God has given us our inheritance in Christ. He has conquered sin and death. He has given us His Spirit and promised us victory. He has commanded us to drive out the remaining inhabitants of the land, the lingering sins, the pet idolatries, the comfortable compromises. He has called us to a life of total, uncompromising warfare against the world, the flesh, and the devil.
But we look at the valley and we see the iron chariots. We see that besetting sin that seems too powerful, that lust that seems too entrenched, that bitterness that feels too justified. And we say, "I cannot." We conquer the easy hill country sins, the ones that don't cost us much, but we make peace with the sins in the valley because we are afraid of their iron chariots.
Or, like Benjamin, we simply grow tired of the fight. We decide that cohabitation is easier than conquest. We let the Jebusites of pride, or envy, or laziness, or lust remain in the Jerusalem of our hearts. We think we can manage them. We think we can keep them contained. But they will not be contained. They will vex us, they will trip us up, and they will wage war from within until we are either ruined by them or we rise up, in the spirit of Caleb and the power of Christ, and drive them out for good.
The gospel is the good news that Yahweh is with us. And because He is with us, there is no "but." There are no iron chariots that can withstand His power. There are no sons of Anak who can defy His decree. The question is not whether God is able, but whether we are willing. Are we willing to believe His promises and engage in total war? Or will we settle for a partial victory and a compromised inheritance? Let us be Calebs, not compromisers. Let us drive out every last Jebusite, so that Christ alone may be king in the Jerusalem of our hearts.