The Unrestrained God: A Tale of Two Men
Introduction: Pomegranates and Paralysis
We live in an age of managed decline. The modern evangelical church has become remarkably adept at it. We have our committees, our strategic plans, our demographic studies, and our risk assessments. We have our leaders, sitting comfortably under the shade of their pomegranate trees, holding meetings about the overwhelming strength of the Philistines who occupy every cultural high ground around us. We see the enemy's garrisons, and our response is to form a subcommittee to pray about the feasibility of future action. We are Saul's army: six hundred men, huddled, inert, and waiting for a sign that the coast is clear. We have our religious machinery, our ephods and our arks, but we are paralyzed by a spirit of pragmatism that we have baptized and called wisdom.
This is the great sin of the modern church. We have come to believe that God is, in fact, restrained. He is restrained by our budget, restrained by our numbers, restrained by public opinion, and restrained by what our unbelieving neighbors might think. We have forgotten that our God is the creator of heaven and earth, the one who works with or without armies. We have traded the sword of the Spirit for a spreadsheet.
Into this scene of respectable paralysis, the story of Jonathan son of Saul is a thunderclap. It is a story of two men, a father and a son, who represent two entirely different kinds of religion. Saul represents the religion of institutional maintenance, of cautious observation, of superstitious ritual. Jonathan represents the religion of faithful initiative, of courageous risk, of a robust and muscular belief in the unrestrained power of Yahweh. This is not just an interesting historical account of a battle. This is a divine diagnosis of our own condition, and a stark summons to a different kind of faith.
This passage forces a question upon every Christian man, every pastor, every church. Which man are you? Are you Saul, presiding over a dwindling camp under a pomegranate tree? Or are you Jonathan, looking at the enemy's garrison and saying to the man next to you, "Come, let us go over"?
The Text
Now the day came that Jonathan, the son of Saul, said to the young man who was carrying his armor, “Come and let us cross over to the Philistines’ garrison that is on the other side.” But he did not tell his father... So Yahweh saved Israel that day, and the battle spread beyond Beth-aven.
(1 Samuel 14:1-23 LSB)
Saul the Spectator (vv. 1-5)
The scene opens with a sharp and deliberate contrast.
"Now the day came that Jonathan, the son of Saul, said to the young man who was carrying his armor, 'Come and let us cross over to the Philistines’ garrison that is on the other side.' But he did not tell his father. And Saul was staying in the outskirts of Gibeah under the pomegranate tree which is in Migron..." (1 Samuel 14:1-2 LSB)
Jonathan is a man of action. His first words are a summons: "Come and let us cross over." He sees the problem, which is the enemy occupation of God's land, and he resolves to do something about it. He does not conduct a poll. He does not seek his father's permission, likely because he knew that Saul's timid, bureaucratic spirit would forbid such a venture. This is not youthful rebellion; it is righteous initiative in the face of failed leadership.
And where is the leader? Saul is "staying" or "sitting" under a pomegranate tree. He is passive. He is on the "outskirts," not on the front lines. He has with him about six hundred men, a fraction of the army he once had, and he has the priest, Ahijah, wearing an ephod. Saul has all the external trappings of leadership and religion. He has the remnant of an army, and he has the clergy on hand for consultation. But he is doing nothing. He is watching the situation. He is managing the stalemate.
The geography itself is instructive. To get to the Philistine garrison, Jonathan must go through the passes, between two sharp crags named Bozez and Seneh. The path of faith is never a manicured lawn. It is a steep, sharp, and difficult ascent. But Jonathan is not deterred by the difficulty of the terrain, because his eyes are on the objective.
We must see the picture God is painting for us. On one side, we have the established leadership, comfortable, cautious, surrounded by the forms of religion, but utterly inert. On the other, we have a young man, filled with faith, who understands that the covenant requires action. The church is full of Sauls, men who are very good at sitting under pomegranate trees. God is looking for Jonathans.
The Syllogism of Faith (vv. 6-10)
Jonathan's reasoning for this audacious plan is not based on a pragmatic calculation of success, but on a theological premise.
"Then Jonathan said to the young man who was carrying his armor, 'Come and let us cross over to the garrison of these uncircumcised; perhaps Yahweh will work for us, for Yahweh is not restrained to save by many or by few.'" (1 Samuel 14:6 LSB)
Notice his description of the enemy: "these uncircumcised." This is not a mere ethnic slur. It is a profound theological statement. The Philistines are outside the covenant. They do not have the sign of the covenant in their flesh, and more importantly, they do not have the God of the covenant on their side. Jonathan is thinking covenantally. This is a spiritual battle before it is a military one.
His confidence is couched in a beautiful humility: "perhaps Yahweh will work for us." This is not the language of doubt, but the language of faith that respects God's sovereignty. It is the opposite of presumption. Jonathan is not commanding God or demanding a victory. He is stepping out in faith, knowing that the results are entirely in God's hands. He is creating an opportunity for God to show His strength.
And here is the central axiom of the entire story, the premise from which all faithful action flows: "for Yahweh is not restrained to save by many or by few." This is the truth that demolishes every excuse for inaction. God's power is not a variable dependent on our resources. He can save with Gideon's three hundred, or with Jonathan's two, or with David's one sling stone. Our job is not to calculate the odds; our job is to obey, and to trust our unrestrained God.
The armor bearer's response is a model of faithful fellowship: "Do all that is in your heart... here I am with you according to your heart." He does not question the sanity of the mission. He sees the faith of his leader and aligns himself with it completely. This is the kind of loyalty and courage that godly leadership needs.
Jonathan then proposes a sign. We must be careful here. This is not a fleece of doubt, like Gideon's. Jonathan has already decided to act. The sign is not to determine God's will, but to determine God's tactic. Shall we fight them down here, or up there? The sign he chooses puts them in the most dangerous possible position, climbing up a cliff toward the enemy. This is a sign that requires God to intervene. It is a test designed to magnify God's power, not to soothe Jonathan's anxiety.
God's Amplification (vv. 11-15)
The Philistines, full of arrogance, give the very sign Jonathan asked for.
"Come up to us, and we will make you know something." And Jonathan said to his armor bearer, "Come up after me, for Yahweh has given them into the hands of Israel." (1 Samuel 14:12 LSB)
The "perhaps" of faith has now become the "for" of certainty. The sign has been given, and Jonathan's confidence is absolute. He climbs "on his hands and feet," a picture of the arduous nature of this work. Faith is not a feeling; it is a climb. And as he fights, God delivers. They strike down about twenty men, a remarkable feat for two warriors, but this is only the beginning. This is the seed of faith that God is about to grow into a mighty oak of victory.
What happens next is entirely God's doing. "And there was a trembling in the camp... and the earth quaked so that it became a great trembling" (v. 15). The Hebrew literally says it became a "trembling of God." God takes the small, faithful, courageous action of two men and amplifies it with supernatural power. He sends a panic through the enemy camp. He shakes the very ground beneath their feet. This is what God does. He does not need our large numbers. He needs our faithful obedience, however small, which He then uses as the occasion for His mighty deeds.
The Latecomers to Victory (vv. 16-23)
Now, and only now, does Saul the spectator get involved.
"Then Saul’s watchmen in Gibeah of Benjamin looked, and behold, the multitude melted away... Then Saul said to Ahijah, 'Bring the ark of God here.'... And it happened that while Saul talked to the priest, the commotion in the camp of the Philistines continued and increased; so Saul said to the priest, 'Withdraw your hand.'" (1 Samuel 14:16, 18-19 LSB)
Saul's first impulse is bureaucratic: take a roll call. "Number now and see who has gone from us." He is an administrator, not a general. His second impulse is superstitious. He sees the battle turning and calls for the ark, as though it were a good luck charm. But as the noise of the victory God is winning grows louder, he can't even wait for the religious ceremony to finish. "Withdraw your hand." His religion is a tool to be used when convenient and discarded when the situation demands immediate action. It is not the foundation of his life; it is a crisis management technique.
Saul and his six hundred men finally join the battle that God and Jonathan have already won. They are followed by the Hebrew mercenaries who had been serving the Philistines, and by the men of Israel who had been hiding in the hills. Everyone wants to be on the winning side once the victory is assured. But the glory belongs to the two men who were willing to fight when the odds were impossible, and ultimately, the glory belongs to God alone.
The text is explicit: "So Yahweh saved Israel that day." It was not Saul. It was not his army. It was not the latecomers. It was Yahweh, responding to the faith of his servant Jonathan.
Fighting From Victory
This story lays a charge at our feet. The Philistines of our day, the garrisons of the uncircumcised secularists, have occupied all the high places of our culture. And for generations, the church has been sitting under the pomegranate tree, counting our dwindling numbers and consulting with our religious functionaries, paralyzed by the sheer scale of the opposition.
God is not looking for more Sauls. He is looking for a generation of Jonathans who have grasped the central truth that He is not restrained to save by many or by few. He is looking for men who will look at the enemy garrison and say, "Come, let us cross over." He is looking for churches that will act on the "perhaps" of faith, trusting that God will amplify their feeble efforts.
And we have a greater reason for confidence than Jonathan ever did. For we have seen our true Jonathan, the Lord Jesus Christ. He alone went down into the valley, and climbed the treacherous hill of Calvary on His hands and feet. He alone engaged our great enemy, sin and death, and won the decisive victory. He did not do it with an army, but by Himself. And God the Father responded not with an earthquake, but with a resurrection.
The victory has already been won. Jesus has already given the enemy into our hands. We are not like Jonathan, fighting for a victory that is uncertain. We are the latecomers to a victory that is already accomplished. Our task is not to win the war, but to mop up. We fight from victory, not for it.
Therefore, let us have done with our pomegranate tree piety. Let us stop using our lack of resources as an excuse for our lack of faith. Our God is not restrained. Let us get up, cross over, and take back the territory that belongs to our King, for Yahweh has already saved us, and the battle is the Lord's.