The Quiet Work of Recovery: Tola and Jair Text: Judges 10:1-5
Introduction: After the Fire
The book of Judges is a cyclical book. It is not a straight line of progress like Joshua, marching into the land. It is a spiral, and for the most part, a downward spiral. The pattern is stamped onto the history of Israel: apostasy, followed by oppression, followed by crying out to God, followed by God raising up a deliverer. And after the deliverance, there is a period of rest. But the human heart is a leaky vessel, and the rest is always followed by a fresh round of forgetting God, which leads to a fresh round of apostasy.
We come to our text today immediately after one of the ugliest episodes in this entire period. We have just concluded the sordid affair of Abimelech. Abimelech was not a true judge raised up by God; he was a usurper, a home-grown tyrant, the bramble-king who murdered seventy of his brothers to seize power. His rule was not a deliverance from foreign oppression but an oppression from within. It was a civil war, a bloody, idolatrous mess that ended with Abimelech getting his skull crushed by a millstone dropped by a woman. This was Israel's first attempt at monarchy, and it was a disaster because they did it their way, not God's. They chose a king like the nations, and they got the fruit of it: treachery, bloodshed, and chaos.
So when we open chapter 10, we are breathing the air after a terrible fire. The smoke is still clearing. The ground is still scorched. And into this scene, God raises up two men who are, by all appearances, remarkably unremarkable. Their stories are told without the flash and bang of Gideon's fleece or Samson's jawbone. There are no epic battles, no grand pronouncements. There is just a quiet, steady period of judging. And this is a profound mercy. After the noise of rebellion and the clang of civil war, the quiet work of rebuilding is a grace. God knows that after a fever, the body needs rest. After the trauma of Abimelech, Israel needed a long season of simple, stable, boring faithfulness. And that is what He gave them in Tola and Jair.
The Text
Then after Abimelech died, Tola the son of Puah, the son of Dodo, a man of Issachar, arose to save Israel; and he lived in Shamir in the hill country of Ephraim. And he judged Israel twenty-three years. Then he died and was buried in Shamir.
After him, Jair the Gileadite arose and judged Israel twenty-two years. And he had thirty sons who rode on thirty donkeys, and they had thirty cities in the land of Gilead that are called Havvoth-jair to this day. And Jair died and was buried in Kamon.
(Judges 10:1-5 LSB)
An Unsung Deliverer (vv. 1-2)
We begin with the first of these two judges, Tola.
"Then after Abimelech died, Tola the son of Puah, the son of Dodo, a man of Issachar, arose to save Israel; and he lived in Shamir in the hill country of Ephraim. And he judged Israel twenty-three years. Then he died and was buried in Shamir." (Judges 10:1-2)
The first thing to notice is the timing: "after Abimelech died." Tola's work is a direct response to the chaos of the bramble-king. The text says he "arose to save Israel." This is the language of deliverance. But what did he save them from? The text doesn't mention the Philistines or the Ammonites. He saved them from themselves. He saved them from the internal rot, the political instability, and the spiritual confusion that Abimelech's reign had unleashed. This was a work of internal reformation, not external warfare.
His pedigree is listed, son of Puah, son of Dodo, a man of Issachar. There is nothing spectacular here. He is from a tribe that was not known for its military prowess but was prophesied to be one that "bows his shoulder to bear a burden, and becomes a band of slaves" (Gen. 49:15). Yet God raises a deliverer from this stock. God is not limited by our tribal reputations or family histories. He can raise up saviors from anywhere.
Interestingly, though he is from Issachar, he lives and operates out of the hill country of Ephraim, the very center of the Abimelech fiasco. He goes right into the heart of the mess to do his work. This is what godly leadership does. It doesn't run from the problem; it moves toward it. He sets up shop in Shamir, and from there he judged Israel. The word "judge" here means to govern, to bring order, to restore righteousness. For twenty-three years, he did this work. Twenty-three years of quiet stability. Twenty-three years of setting things right, one dispute at a time. And then he died and was buried. The account is concise, almost abrupt. There are no stories of his great deeds. His legacy was the peace itself. His monument was a generation of order restored after a generation of chaos. We should not despise the day of small things, nor should we despise the leaders who bring us quiet years. A boring political landscape is often the sign of God's immense blessing.
A Prosperous Legacy (vv. 3-5)
After Tola's long and steady tenure, another judge arises.
"After him, Jair the Gileadite arose and judged Israel twenty-two years. And he had thirty sons who rode on thirty donkeys, and they had thirty cities in the land of Gilead that are called Havvoth-jair to this day." (Judges 10:3-4)
Jair continues the pattern. He judges for twenty-two years, another long period of stability. Forty-five years of combined peace between these two men. This is a full generation growing up without the terror of foreign invaders or domestic tyrants. This is the fruit of God's grace. Jair is from Gilead, on the other side of the Jordan, showing that God's work of restoration was not limited to one region.
But with Jair, we get a few more details, and they are telling. He had thirty sons. In the ancient world, a large number of sons was a sign of great blessing, vitality, and strength. It meant his house was secure. These thirty sons rode on thirty donkeys. This is not a trivial detail. Donkeys were the mode of transport for rulers and the wealthy. This is a picture of a prosperous, established ruling family. Think of it as thirty princes, each with his own official vehicle. This is a sign of stability and wealth.
Furthermore, they had thirty cities. The text says these cities are called "Havvoth-jair," which means "the villages of Jair." This indicates that his family had significant authority, land, and influence. He was not just a judge; he was the head of a powerful and prosperous clan that governed a large territory. This prosperity was, on one level, the blessing of God. After the turmoil of Abimelech, God granted Israel not just peace, but wealth and strength. The land was productive again. Families were flourishing.
However, there is a subtle warning shot fired across the bow here. The book of Judges is a story of how things go wrong, and they often go wrong right at the point of prosperity. When Israel gets fat and happy, they forget the God who made them so. This picture of thirty sons on thirty donkeys with thirty cities is a picture of earthly success. And while it is a blessing, it is also a temptation. It is the kind of thing that can make a people proud. It can make them think that their security lies in their sons and their wealth, rather than in the God who provides them. It is no accident that immediately following this description of Jair's prosperity, the very next verse tells us that "the sons of Israel again did what was evil in the sight of the LORD." The blessing, when not received with gratitude and humility, becomes a snare.
The Pattern of Quiet Faithfulness
So what do we do with these two men, Tola and Jair? Their lives are not presented as templates for high drama, but they are essential to understanding the rhythm of God's dealings with His people.
"And Jair died and was buried in Kamon." (Judges 10:5)
Like Tola, Jair's story ends simply. He served his generation, he died, and he was buried. The story moves on. But their combined forty-five years of leadership teach us something crucial. Not all faithfulness is spectacular. Much of the work of God's kingdom is the quiet, steady, day-in-day-out work of judging, of discerning right from wrong, of maintaining order, of raising families, and of building communities. We are obsessed with the highlight reel. We want to be a Gideon routing an army or a Samson tearing down a temple. But God often calls us to be a Tola, showing up in the mess and patiently cleaning it up for two decades. He calls us to be a Jair, building a family and a legacy that brings stability to a region for a generation.
This is the work of pastors who faithfully preach week after week, year after year. It is the work of mothers and fathers who raise their children in the fear and admonition of the Lord. It is the work of the Christian businessman who runs his company with integrity for forty years. It is not flashy. It will not make the headlines. But it is the very substance of a healthy Christian civilization. It is the long obedience in the same direction.
Tola and Jair represent the grace of recovery. They show us that God's primary method of healing a nation is not through constant, spectacular miracles, but through the patient, long-term faithfulness of ordinary people in positions of leadership. They held the line. They provided the stability necessary for a generation to breathe and for the land to heal. Their lives were the calm before the next storm, and that calm was a gift from God.
Conclusion: From Rest to Ruin
The story of Tola and Jair is a bittersweet one. It is sweet because it shows God's mercy in granting long periods of peace and prosperity after a season of sin and chaos. God is always willing to restore. He is a God of order, and He delights in raising up men who will bring His order to bear on the earth.
But it is bitter because we know what comes next. The very peace and prosperity that Jair oversaw became the fertile ground for the next generation's apostasy. The children who grew up with thirty princes on thirty donkeys forgot the God who gave them the donkeys. They took the blessing for granted and turned to the idols of the surrounding nations, which led directly to the oppression of the Ammonites and Philistines that we will see in the next section.
This is a sober warning for us. We live in a time of unprecedented prosperity. Even our poor live better than the kings of old. We have been given a long season of relative peace and immense material blessing. And what have we done with it? We have, like Israel, forgotten the Lord. We have grown fat, proud, and ungrateful. We have taken the gifts and begun to worship them, and we are now beginning to reap the whirlwind.
The lives of Tola and Jair call us to two things. First, to be grateful for the quiet years, for the boring stability that allows families and churches to grow strong. We should pray for such times and thank God for the unsung leaders who make them possible. Second, it is a call to vigilance. In times of blessing, we must be doubly on guard. We must teach our children that every good gift comes from God, and that the purpose of prosperity is not to make us comfortable in our sin, but to equip us for greater faithfulness. For if we, like Israel, take God's rest and squander it on idols, we will find ourselves, like Israel, crying out under the hand of a new oppression.