In 1 Samuel 16, there was, at the impressive temple of Dagon, a feast of revelry and thousands of Dagon-worshipping Philistines. These blasphemous Philistines were having their moment of glory, having conquered their most evasive and strongest enemy, Samson. This was their victory chant to Dagon on that day:
“Our god has delivered into our hands our enemy,
The destroyer of our land,
And the one who multiplied our dead.”
Samson was there–once a large and cunning man of extraordinary strength and vitality; now a blind slave, working as the human ox of the enemies that he once broke like like dry sticks in his strong hands. Samson wanted revenge so badly that he could taste it. With the help of a God who used a weak and sinful man to pour our his wrath on blasphemous enemies, Samson was about to get that final revenge. And he would die in the process.
Clearly…when the roof collapsed and the walls fell at the temple of Dagon, there were regrets in Samson’s mind:
Flashbacks of his father begging him not to marry the wrong woman.
Flashbacks of foxes and jawbones.
Flashbacks of a tryst with a prostitute.
Flashbacks of his tresses being fingered in the lap of Delilah.
Flashbacks of shrieking pain when his eyes were pierced.
Flashbacks of doing the work of an animal at the hands of cruel enemies.
Samson could not see, but somehow I think he might have been seeing more clearly than ever before. There will be a day, if you and I have minute to think, when we will have some flashbacks. We will clearly see. I know some women now, who are on the precipice of decisions that will forever negatively impact their homes, children and personal eternal destinies. I beg you to live now, so that when your temple is coming down on your head, wherever that might be– when you will waken to meet your Maker—I say, live now so that you will die without significant regret, fully prepared to meet the One who has given you strength though Christ to do all things! Let me help you if there’s some way that I can.
This is probably the toughest one for people who are missing loved ones. You look at an old yearbook when cleaning out a bookshelf and think “Why did I not get this out while Dad was living and get him to tell me about these people he knew in college?”…”Why did I not tease Mother about her senior “ambition”: “to have a lot of money”? Why did I not look through this box of photos with her and let her tell me who these people are? Why did I EVER think it was a chore to change a bed or wash tired feet, when it was really a blessing? Why didn’t I look around and say thank-you more often for intricate wooden toys built in that workshop, for shade trees planted or for the sewing of quilts that warm me now or for handmade dolls and dresses now being passed down to the fourth generation? Why did I not even know about this person she was trying to convert or this person for whom he bought meals or this class that he taught in his youth? I regret spending time counseling others, while at his house, when I could have been conversing with him.