September 17

"After him was Shamgar the son of Anath, which slew of the Philistines six hundred men with an ox-goad."—Judges 3:31.

So I may serve my God in the common working day. Shamgar did not dream, when he drove his oxen out in the morning, that before the evening he would accomplish a signal deliverance for his land. But the call came, and he obeyed at once. I need not be a white-robed priest ministering at the altar. In the street, in the shop, in the field, in the home, I can show the shining light of holiness; I can speak warning or comfort to those beside me; I can help the Lord against the mighty.

And I may serve my God with very unlikely instruments. In the Palace Beautiful, that stands close beside the King's highway, they kept "the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men." They encouraged desponding pilgrims by the sight of the trophy. If I am lying in the hand of Jesus—I who have no genius, no brilliance, no gifts of expression and song—there is no predicting what He will achieve by me. He chooses foolish things to confound the wise.

And I cannot serve my God too vigorously and enthusiastically. Shamgar's blood leaped in him with indignation, and he struck for his own birthright and for Israel's honour and for Jehovah's glory. I sometimes think that, unless a man has been duly trained and conforms to recognised custom, he has no right to fight the battle. I frown upon all masterful earnestness and all unauthorised attacks on the Philistines. But Christ yearns for a soul which will forget its decorum in its devotion to Him. Let that soul be mine.

I would not have Shamgar the son of Anath condemn me in the Judgment.