The book of Judges poses many interpretive challenges for the student of Scripture. Filled with stories of the grotesque and the tragic--the rape and subsequent division of the Levite’s concubine into twelve pieces in Judges 19, the undoing of mighty Samson, or the story of Jephthah and his vow to offer up one of his own children as a burnt offering in Judges 11--challenge any contemporary reader’s sensibilities.

Despite these interpretive difficulties and challenges, the book of Judges reveals the all-too human story of our propensity towards idolatry, and the consequences that ensue from misplaced affections. Perhaps no story is more poignant, in this regard, than the story of Gideon. Born the youngest son of the smallest tribe of Israel, the half-tribe of Mannaseh, Gideon grows up in a land oppressed by the Midianites, the Amalekites and the “sons of the east” (Judges 6:3). The text tells us these enemies were so numerous that they “would come in like locusts for number, both they and their camels were innumerable; and they came into the land to devastate it” (6:5-6).

It is for this reason that we find Gideon threshing wheat in a wine press, hiding from his innumerable enemy. Despite his fear, the angel of the Lord addresses him as a “valiant warrior” and appoints this young man as the deliverer of Israel. Sure enough, as the text tells us, Gideon and a mere 300 men defeat the innumerable armies of their enemies. Gideon is the unlikely hero and the Israelites are so impressed by his military leadership that they seek to make him king. “Rule over us, both you and your son, also your son’s son, for you have delivered us from the hand of Midian” (8:22). Gideon rightly persuades these men that the Lord is their king and ruler. Had the text ended there, we would never see the clay feet of our story’s hero.

We are not told why Gideon does what he does, but rather than be rewarded by becoming king over Israel, he instead opts for a monetary remuneration and exacts a spoil from the men who came to make him their ruler; a gold earring from each one totaling 1,700 shekels of gold. Today, that amount is roughly the equivalent of 3 million dollars. But these earrings were in addition to the spoils of war Gideon had already collected from the slain Midianites: crescent ornaments, pendants, purple robes, and even bands from the camels’ necks. And he used this gold to craft a monument of sorts to himself--a golden ephod or decorative vestment--which he had placed in his home city, Ophrah. While the text is not explicit about the reasons for making this ornament, the outcome was disastrous. “Gideon made an ephod, and placed it in his city, Ophrah, and all Israel played the harlot with it there, so that it became a snare to Gideon and his household” (8:27).

While there are many applications to be drawn out of the story of Gideon, we cannot help but see the warning to us all about the perils of misplaced affections. A desire for honor became the snare for all of Israel and perpetuated their propensity towards idolatry. Subtle and seemingly innocuous, our desires can quickly become entities we worship. It is a reminder to us all to ask: “What are our desires, and what do they tell us about what we love?”

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “A person will worship something, have no doubt about that. We may think our tribute is paid in secret in the dark recesses of our hearts, but it will out. That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives, and our character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping we are becoming.” Eventually, what dominates our innermost thoughts and imaginations comes forth as that to which we give our allegiance and worship. Indeed, long before Emerson, Jesus warned similarly that “where our treasure is, there will our hearts be also” (Matthew 6:21).

Margaret Manning is associate writer at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.