And Ehud came to him; now he was sitting in the cool upper-chamber, which was for him alone. And Ehud said, I have a word from God unto thee. And he arose from the seat.
Ehud has handed over Israel's tribute and sent his companions home. Now he stands alone with the king of Moab, the man holding Israel in bondage, in a room the king kept for himself. Two questions follow. What makes this killing a message from God? And what does that private room picture for us?
Ehud's first trip to Eglon was the errand of a beaten nation. His second was not.
From his thoughts at Gilgal Ehud returned to King Eglon. But his mission this time was very different from the first. He now carried no present from an enslaved people, but a message from a delivering God. "I have a message from God for you." And that message was one of judgment. The two-edged dagger, plunged into the very heart of the king, was the judgment of God upon the one who had held Israel in bondage.
Commentators differ on what Eglon pictures. One writer takes the room he kept "for himself alone" as a picture of the flesh.
Here, in one brief sentence, the whole character of the flesh is disclosed. It is utterly selfish. It has nothing to give God. Every thought, hope and ambition finds self as the pivot. All that it has, it has for "self alone." Have you not often found this detestable thing forcing its way to the front when you least expected it? You did a kind act. Love and sympathy were the motive. But as soon as you had done it, that low thought crept in — "What will they think of me now?"
One writer reads the king's bulk as the dead weight of empty religious profession.
Ehud comes up to the king of Moab in his summer room of ease and indulgence. And he meets that man, that great lifeless mass of fat. What a contemptible thing it is after all, this profession, this weight that settles down upon God's people. "I have a message from God for you, O King." "What is it?" The word that I can handle, the sword up to the hilt, the sword with the handle and all. Drive the whole thing into the mass before him, handle and all.
Two New Testament passages give that sword its meaning for us.
So Ehud had a two-edged sword, and it is to the New Testament that we turn to interpret this... Turning to Hebrews 4:12 we find that "the word of God is... sharper than any two-edged sword." Ephesians 6:17 also tells us to take "the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." For Ehud it meant literally using this violent weapon to overcome this enemy of Israel. For us it means applying the word of God to everything we know is opposing God.
Nothing about this victory was public. One writer notes what the weapon itself proved.
There was no fame or glory attached to such a victory. It was a secret message, but a "message from God" to Eglon. Our weapon is divine, and in that lies all its power. With Ehud, as with Gideon, it was the "sword of the Lord." The king was dead, but the weapon was not pulled out of his body. Ehud was gone, but the servants had the instrument of victory in front of their eyes. God proved, to their shame, that this short sword had brought down the proud man.
Many readers find Ehud's act cruel. One writer answers them directly.
As we read this account, we might feel what a cruel, violent and deceitful thing Ehud did... The first thing we have to remember is, what kind of man was he? He was the determined enemy of God. He was holding down the people of God. There was no worship and no response to God as long as this man was in control. He had to be dealt with, in a very definite way... It may not mean dealing with people violently. It is not killing people. But the principle of being ruthless toward what is against God still applies to us today.
Eglon stands up to hear the message.
Eglon was seated, but rose up when Ehud told him, "I have a message from God for you." With no delay Ehud took his dagger in his left hand and plunged it into Eglon's belly, so hard that the hilt went in too. What an indication this is that the judgment of God is upon those described in Philippians 3:19: "Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things."
- Message. The same man who carried tribute now carries a word from God — and the word itself is the judgment.
- Message alone. No crowd, no battle cry, no glory for Ehud; God won behind a shut door, and the weapon left in the body proved it.
- Message aimed. Commentators read the two-edged sword as the word of God, driven handle and all into the one thing opposing Him.
- Message against self. Eglon's room "for himself alone" pictures a nature that has nothing to give God and makes self the pivot of every hope.
- Message's end. A god that is the belly ends in destruction, so what stands against God meets ruthlessness, not courtesy.
Then Ehud put forth his left hand, and took the sword from his right hip, and thrust it into his belly;
Ehud's story reaches its climax here. A hidden blade, drawn with the wrong hand, goes into the king of Moab. Commentators read the scene on two levels. It is God's judgment on an enemy of His people. It is also a picture of how a believer deals with the flesh inside.
One writer meets the obvious objection by asking who Eglon was.
We might feel as we read this that Ehud did something cruel, violent and deceitful. Is this the kind of thing God approves of? The first thing we have to remember is, what kind of man was he? He was the determined enemy of God. He was holding the people of God down. There was no worship, there was no response to God as long as this man was in control. He had to be dealt with, and in a very definite way. "Oh," we might say, "this is not the spirit of Christianity"; but we must be careful before saying this... "If anyone comes to me and does not hate... even his own life, he cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:26) and "put to death the deeds of the body" (Rom. 8:13) are similar passages. This applies to us personally. It may not mean dealing with people violently. It is not killing people. But the principle of being ruthless toward what is against God still applies to us today.
Commentators differ on what Eglon pictures. For some, his bulk pictures empty religious profession.
We read that Eglon was a very fat man. It suggests the absence of the vigour, of the power — an absence that kept him from being a strong, muscular, active person. Profession is a dead, inert mass. It settles down, and by its very weight it stifles spirituality out of God's people.
Others read Moab as the flesh, and note that we never owed it the rule it takes over us.
The Moabites had no true claim upon Israel. Yet Eglon had set up his throne in the city of the palm trees, and from that place of power he ruled Israel and taxed them. So Israel handed over to the king of Moab what God alone had a right to claim from them. How true a picture this is of the state of thousands of Christians. The flesh has no right to rule us, for "we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh" (Rom. 8). We owe no debt to that evil principle within us which would make self everything to the exclusion of Christ.
One writer takes the two-edged dagger as the Word of God, short but fit for its work.
But Ehud is faithful — he makes himself a two-edged sword: his first act, his only resource. The Christian in a day of ruin also has his two-edged sword. The Word of God is his chief and only offensive weapon (Heb. 4:12; Eph. 6:17). True, this sword was only a cubit long; Ehud's weapon was short, but well suited to its work. It was a tested sword, able to pierce to the inward parts of God's enemy and give him his death-blow.
Where he wore it mattered too: a blade on the right thigh suits a left-handed man.
Before using his weapon, Ehud strapped it under his clothes on his right thigh. He carried it with him, ready for use. He did not display it, but he knew it was there. People often display the Bible and quote it a lot, but do not use it. But the Word of God has a purpose. Ehud, being left-handed, adapted his sword to his weakness by strapping it on his right thigh. Had he worn it in the usual way it would have been useless. The way a weapon is used always matches the state of the one using it. Copying others is no use, as we see with David, who could not handle Saul's sword.
His left hand matters too. One writer sees in Ehud a man with no strength of his own.
As to our standing, we have a perfect one... Christ in us has complete control. But that means there is no power of my own. He is the son of God's right hand; his own right hand is useless. That is the hand of natural power, and he is just a poor, left-handed man, helpless in himself... I think the thought suggested is that we are to glory in our weaknesses so that the power of Christ may rest upon us.
The handle following the blade is taken as a measure of how thorough the thrust was — and of how thorough self-judgment has to be.
The man who had been to Gilgal could not tolerate the presence and rule of Eglon in the land and lives of the people of God; nor shall we tolerate the flesh and its workings in our lives if we have truly learnt the lessons which Gilgal teaches; instead, we shall be completely unsparing in our judgment of its slightest movements.
A two-edged blade cuts both ways, which sets the order for using it.
Someone has said it well: in using this two-edged sword, we begin by using one edge against ourselves. Then we can use the other edge against other persons or principles. This is very good advice. If we can overcome evil in ourselves, we have every right to try to overcome it in others. But if we have not begun to deal with the problems in our own lives, we have no moral authority to deal with them in others or anywhere else.
reason: bullet 4 rests on deleted quote; hard sentences; passive; tighter frame
and the haft also went in after the blade, and the fat closed upon the blade; for he did not draw the sword out of his belly, and it came out between the legs.
Judges 3:22 lingers on a detail most storytellers skip: the sword went in so far that Ehud left it inside the king. Commentators read that buried dagger, the king's fatness, and Ehud's crippled hand as a picture of how God overthrows what oppresses His people.
The verse dwells on how far the dagger went in: even the hilt, the handle, disappeared after the blade. One writer sees the whole sword driven into a religious profession that sits on God's people like a dead weight:
Ehud comes up to the king of Moab in his summer parlour of ease and indulgence. He meets that man, that great lifeless mass of fat. What a contemptible thing this profession is after all! It is a dead weight that settles down on God's people. "I have a message from God for you, O king." "What is it?" The word that I can handle, the sword up to the hilt, the sword with the handle and all. Drive the whole thing into the mass in front of him, handle and all. That sword of human length stands for my grasp, the believer's grasp, of the word of God. It is now applied in the energy of human weakness but of divine strength — and the king of Moab is slain.
The fat closed over the blade, so Ehud walked out without his dagger. One writer counts that as part of the testimony:
There was no fame or glory attached to such a victory. It was a secret message, but a "message from God" to Eglon. Our weapon is divine, and there lies all its power. With Ehud, as with Gideon, it was the "sword of the LORD." The king was dead, but the weapon was not drawn out of his belly. Ehud was gone, but the servants had the instrument of victory in front of their eyes. To their confusion God proved that it was this short sword that had brought down the proud man, whose eyes bulged with fatness.
The king's fatness is not just a detail. One writer reads his death as a verdict on how he lived:
What an indication this is! The judgment of God rests on those whose "end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things" (Phil. 3:19).
Another writer reads the same detail as a lesson for the believer:
The two-edged dagger is a picture of the Word of God, and the hand that grasps it shows how faith uses the sword of the Spirit. Fat is the emblem of prosperity, the prosperity of the world by which so many of God's people are captivated. The sword of the Spirit must be plunged into what belongs to the world — the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.
Ehud struck this blow with the wrong hand. One writer traces the older renderings of the word "left-handed" and finds a disability, not a preference:
God raised up Ehud, of the tribe of Benjamin, to be the deliverer from Eglon king of Moab. He was "a man left-handed" (Judges 3:15), or as the margin has it, "shut of his right hand." Another translation gives "bound as to his right hand" as a literal rendering of the Hebrew idiom. The "right hand" has become almost a synonym for "power" or "strength" in ordinary speech. Here was a man "bound" as to his strength. He seemed most unlikely to free a whole nation from its oppressor with one powerful blow. Yet that is what he did, and as a result of the stroke of Ehud's left hand the land had rest for no less than eighty years.
Readers often recoil from the killing, and one commentator meets that objection head-on:
We might feel as we read this story what a cruel, violent and deceitful thing Ehud did. Is this the kind of thing God commends? … The first thing we have to remember is, what kind of man was he? He was the determined enemy of God. He was holding down the people of God. There was no worship and no response to God as long as this man was in control. He had to be dealt with, and in a very definite way. "Oh," we might say, "this is not the spirit of Christianity"; but we must be careful before saying this. … It may not be dealing with people violently, and it is not killing people. But the principle of ruthlessness toward what is against God still applies to us today.
- Weakness — Ehud was bound as to his right hand. Yet his one blow gave the land eighty years of rest, so the strength was not his own.
- Weapon — The dagger is a picture of the word of God. It was short and secret, but the power in it was divine.
- Whole — The handle followed the blade in. God's word does not go halfway into what oppresses His people; it goes in to the hilt.
- Witness — Ehud left the sword inside the king. The servants found it there, proof of what had brought the proud man down.
- Warning — The fat king pictures self-indulgence and worldly ease. His end shows the judgment that rests on those whose god is their belly.
And Ehud went out into the portico, and shut the doors of the upper-chamber upon him, and bolted them.
Ehud has just killed Eglon, the king who was holding the people of God down. Verse 23 is the quiet moment straight after: he steps out and locks the doors behind him. Why does Scripture pause on a detail this small?
Nothing about this deliverance was staged for an audience. The locked doors seal a fight no one saw.
It was not, as with many others, a public victory, but a secret, single-handed encounter between the deliverer and the enemy, the public results of which were soon to appear. It was so with Christ when He was tempted by Satan in the desert. Here everything takes place silently, with no apparent struggle, no cry; the enemy was found dead by the servants, who thought their master was resting.
The locked doors did more than hide a body. They bought Ehud time, because the household waited outside instead of acting.
Working quickly, Ehud went out, locking the doors behind him, and leaving. Eglon's servants were surprised to find the doors locked, but thought Eglon must have private matters occupying him. Finally, after waiting a long time, they used a key to open the doors and found their master dead. But Ehud had had plenty of time to escape.
Ehud walked out; the dagger stayed behind. When the servants opened the doors, the blade was still there for them to see.
The king was dead, but the weapon was not drawn out of his body. Ehud was gone, but the servants had before their eyes the instrument of victory; God proved, to their confusion, that it was this short sword which had brought down the proud man whose eyes bulged with fatness.
One writer draws a lesson from the weapon itself. Its size matters as much as its edge.
The Christian living in a day of ruin also has his two-edged sword: the Word of God is his chief and only offensive weapon (Hebrews 4:12; Ephesians 6:17). True, this sword was only a cubit long; Ehud's weapon was short, but well suited to its work. It was a tested sword, able to pierce to the inward parts of God's enemy and give him his death blow.
Readers often recoil at the deception and the killing. One writer meets that objection head-on by asking first what kind of man Eglon was.
We might feel as we read this account what a cruel, violent and deceitful thing Ehud did. Is this the kind of thing God approves of? The first thing we have to remember is, what kind of man was he? He was the determined enemy of God. He was holding down the people of God. There was no worship, there was no response to God as long as this man was in control, and he had to be dealt with, and in a very definite way. "Oh," we might say, "this is not the spirit of Christianity"; but we must be careful before saying this. This applies to us personally. It may not be dealing with people violently, it is not killing people, but the principle of ruthlessness toward what is against God still applies to us today.
Commentators differ in how they rate Ehud personally. One writer calls him "a strong, brave, capable man," yet says his work "is discredited by the unscrupulous way in which he did it" (The Bible Treasury).
The shut door was not the end. What happened next turned a secret act into an open one.
He blew a trumpet in the mountain of Ephraim to gather the people of God. They "seized the fords of the Jordan against the Moabites and did not allow anyone to pass over." Moab could no longer hold both banks of the Jordan. … Such should be the practical result of conflict today. If the actual effect is not to make us openly break with the world, it is fruitless and does not answer God's purpose. The more complete the separation, the more lasting the peace. We are told that "the land had rest for eighty years."
One writer traces Ehud's refusal to live with Eglon back to a place: Gilgal.
The man who had been to Gilgal could not tolerate Eglon's presence and rule over the land and lives of the people of God. We will not tolerate the flesh and its workings in our lives either, if we have truly learnt the lessons Gilgal teaches. Instead, we will be utterly unsparing in judging its slightest movements.
- Secret first. The decisive blow fell where no one could see it — a private encounter between the deliverer and the enemy.
- Sealed. The locked doors held Moab's household in confusion long enough for Ehud to get clear.
- Sword left. The blade stayed in the body, so that when the doors opened, everyone saw what had brought the proud king down.
- Short but suited. That sword pictures the Word of God — short, tested, able to reach the enemy's inward parts.
- Then public. A trumpet, the fords taken, an open break — and eighty years of rest.
And when he was gone out, the servants of the [king] came and saw, and behold, the doors of the upper-chamber were bolted. And they said, Surely he is covering his feet in the summer chamber.
Ehud has just killed Eglon and slipped out, locking the doors behind him. The servants arrive and find the doors shut. They assume their master wants privacy. That one wrong guess gives Ehud time to escape.
The verse turns on a wrong guess by the servants.
The servants of Eglon were surprised to find the doors locked, but thought Eglon must have private matters to engage him (v. 24). Finally, after waiting a long time, they used a key to open the doors and found their master dead (v.25). But Ehud had had plenty of time to escape.
Ehud struck out of sight, with no noise and no witnesses. One writer sets this hidden fight beside the way Christ met Satan alone in the desert.
This was not a public victory, as many others were. It was a secret, one-to-one encounter between the deliverer and the enemy, and its public results would soon appear. It was the same with Christ when Satan tempted Him in the desert. Everything here happens in silence, with no visible struggle and no cry. The servants found the enemy dead, thinking their master was resting. The short sword of a left-handed man destroys the power that had held Israel in bondage.
One writer turns the scene into a picture: men waiting at a door, their dead ruler behind it, and the end of every enemy of God.
And the king's officials are outside the cool roof chamber, waiting — waiting — afraid to disturb their king, wondering why he is silent so long. Inside, the heavy body of their lord lies sprawled in the thickening blood. From the silent, horrible lips of its dreadful wound it announces this: sooner or later, in time or in eternity, the enemies of God and His people will lie helpless in the dust.
The blade stayed in the body. So when the servants finally opened the door, they saw not only a dead king but the thing that killed him.
The king was dead, but the weapon was not drawn out of his belly. Ehud was gone, but the servants had the instrument of victory right before their eyes. To their confusion, God proved that this short sword was what had brought down the proud man, whose eyes stood out with fatness.
The room itself is part of the story. The verse calls it the cool chamber — a private room Eglon kept for his own comfort. One writer ties that comfort to his appetite.
"It is not fitting for a fool to live in luxury" (Proverbs 19:10). Ehud clearly believed this. While Eglon, king of Moab, sat in his private cool room, Ehud quickly took that luxury from him by killing this very fat man (Judges 3:18-22). Eglon had used his luxury to give his appetite the fullest indulgence!
Commentators differ on how to judge the deception that makes this scene work. One argues that the record of a deed is not the same as God's approval of the way it was done.
In delivering Israel, Ehud was doing God's work, and God approved it. But in cases like this we should not suppose that God approved everything that was done, and especially the way it was done. Ehud's approach to Eglon involved extreme treachery. Yet God had empowered him for the work, so if he had taken an open course, the result would certainly have been just as successful — and his success would have been unstained.
Another writer answers differently, starting from what kind of man Eglon was:
The first thing we have to remember is, what kind of man was he? He was the determined enemy of God. He was subjugating the people of God. There was no worship and no response to God as long as this man was in control. He had to be dealt with, and in a very definite way... For us it may not mean treating people violently, and it is not killing people. But the principle of being ruthless towards whatever is against God still applies to us today.
One writer sets Eglon's rule over Israel beside the flesh at work in our own lives.
The man who had been to Gilgal could not tolerate Eglon's presence and rule in the land and lives of God's people. We will not tolerate the flesh and its workings in our lives either, if we have really learned the lessons Gilgal teaches. Instead, we will judge its slightest movements without sparing them at all.
- Locked — The shut door suggested a harmless explanation. That guess gave Ehud all the time he needed to escape.
- Silent — Ehud struck alone, with no struggle and no cry. The servants thought their master was resting.
- Left — The blade stayed in the body, so the evidence of who had won was waiting for them when the door finally opened.
- Comfortable — Eglon died in the cool room he kept for his own ease. His comfort had fed the appetite that made him so fat.
- Unsparing — Writers differ over Ehud's methods. They agree on the point for us: spare nothing that stands against God, starting in your own life.
And they waited till they were ashamed; and behold, he opened not the doors of the upper-chamber, and they took the key, and opened [them], and behold, their lord lay dead on the earth.
Behind locked doors a tyrant lies dead. Outside, his own officials stand waiting. They are too respectful to interrupt what they take for a private moment. The verse sits in the gap between what has already happened and what anyone knows — until the key turns.
Ehud's fight had no audience. One writer contrasts it with the public victories elsewhere in the book. He also notes what the servants outside assumed.
This was not a public victory, as many others were. It was a secret, one-to-one fight between the deliverer and the enemy, and its public results would soon appear. It was the same when Satan tempted Christ in the desert. Here everything happens in silence, with no visible struggle and no cry. The servants found the enemy dead, and they had thought their master was resting.
Ehud walked away without his dagger. The same writer sees purpose in what the open doors put on display.
There was no fame or glory in such a victory. Our weapon is divine, and that is where all its power lies. The king was dead, but the weapon stayed in his body. Ehud was gone, but the servants had the instrument of victory right before their eyes. To their shame, God proved that it was this short sword that had brought the proud man down.
The locked door bought Ehud time. One writer follows the servants' delay through to its result:
Working quickly, Ehud went out, locking the doors behind him, and leaving. The servants of Eglon were surprised to find the doors locked, but thought Eglon must have private matters occupying him. Finally, after waiting a long time, they used a key to open the doors and found their master dead. But Ehud had had plenty of time to escape.
One writer reads the dead king's size, and even his name, as a picture of religion that is all profession and no life.
We read that Eglon was a very fat man. It suggests a lack of vigour and power — the very things that would have made him a strong, muscular, active person. And profession is a dead, lifeless mass. It settles down, and by its sheer weight it stifles spirituality out of God's people. His name, Eglon, means "a circuit" — one who goes around in a circle, just as the hands of a clock go around, or the seasons of a year. It takes everything as it comes, and the person whose religion is only profession is like this. He is easy-going, and he will not put himself out. It is a very indifferent thing, and how completely it hinders a soul for God, in enjoyment of God or in testimony for Him.
One writer looks at the scene — a dead king inside, his officials waiting outside — and sees a preview of something larger.
The king's officials are outside the roof chamber, waiting — waiting. They are afraid to disturb their ruler, and they wonder at his long silence. Inside, the heavy body of their lord lies sprawled in the thickening blood. From the silent lips of that dreadful wound comes one announcement: sooner or later, in time or in eternity, the enemies of God and His people will lie helpless in the dust.
Commentators apply the picture in different ways. One writer puts the dagger in the reader's own hand.
We have already seen that God has condemned the flesh once and for all, and that He will never go back on this. He has proved it to be without profit. We must come to the same conclusion in our own experience. We have to learn that there is no profit in the flesh for us. Then we shall be ready to accept God's condemnation of it, and to plunge the two-edged dagger into its heart.
- Struck — The blow fell in private. There was no struggle and no cry. The servants outside heard nothing and thought their master was resting.
- Left — Ehud left his sword in the body. When the door opened, the weapon that won the victory was as plain to see as the corpse.
- Waited — They waited out of respect for a man already dead. While they hesitated, the deliverer walked free.
- Exposed — The heavy, lifeless king pictures religion that is only profession. It is easy-going and goes in circles. Its weight smothers the life of God's people.
- Foreshadowed — The locked room is a preview. Sooner or later, in time or in eternity, God's enemies lie helpless in the dust.