Born to Be... What, Exactly?
In Judges 13, Samson’s story begins before he even enters the world. A woman who has been unable to have children is told by a messenger that she will bear a son. He is to follow a Nazirite lifestyle from birth—no wine, no haircuts, and no contact with the dead. He is also described as someone who will "begin to deliver Israel from the hand of the Philistines."
Purpose with a Side of Impulse
The idea of being set apart before birth is hard to wrap my head around. What does it mean to be born into a role or purpose? And what happens when the person doesn’t seem to live up to the expectations that come with it?
Samson’s later actions—fighting, riddling, reacting in anger—don’t fit neatly into the image of someone who has taken a vow of dedication. If anything, he seems driven by personal impulses. He touches a dead lion, later eats honey from its carcass, and pushes for a marriage with someone his parents disapprove of. And yet, the story continues to position him as someone through whom change happens.
The Labels We Wear (and Sometimes Ignore)
It raises questions for me about what "set apart" even means. Is it about behavior, identity, or something else entirely? Does being set apart mean someone will always act with clarity and purpose? Or can a person be part of a larger story even when their choices feel messy or inconsistent?
His parents are also interesting here. They respond to the messenger with seriousness. His father asks for guidance on how to raise the child. There’s a sense that they want to do this well, even if they don’t fully understand what they’re being asked to participate in. I wonder how they felt years later, watching Samson make choices that probably didn’t align with what they imagined for him.
Set Apart... Somehow
There’s a tension in these chapters between what is expected of Samson and how he actually lives. He is born into a special role, but he doesn't follow a clear path. Still, the story suggests he remains a key figure in a broader historical moment.
Maybe that's part of what this text is trying to show: that purpose doesn’t always look like discipline or predictability. Sometimes it looks chaotic. Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether someone is fulfilling their role at all. And maybe those questions are part of the story, too.
I don’t have a clear takeaway from these chapters. But I’m left thinking about how identity, expectation, and action don’t always line up neatly—and how ancient texts like this leave space for those contradictions.