When “Good Enough” Isn’t
An abstract of TBC Lead Pastor Connor Kraus’ sermon on January 18, 2026, in the Book of Judges series. Watch the sermon video here.
If you walk around your yard in certain times of the year, you might see little acorns that squirrels buried halfway—distracted mid-task, leaving part of the nut on top of the ground. A job half-done. It probably won't be there when they come back for it in spring.
Which raises an uncomfortable question: Is good enough really good enough? Or do we need to finish what we start?
In Judges chapter 3, we meet the second judge of Israel—a man named Ehud. His story is wild, unconventional, and honestly pretty entertaining. But beneath the surface is a sobering reality: Israel is beginning a downward spiral where they think "good enough" is good enough. And in God's kingdom, that kind of thinking doesn't last.
Even though Israel experiences rest and deliverance from their oppressors, it won't last. Why? Because their circumstances changed, but their hearts didn't. They settled for temporary relief instead of lasting transformation.
Back Into the Cycle (Again)
In Judges 2, we met Othniel—the first judge, the prototype. He was faithful, courageous, and obedient to God. He delivered Israel after eight years of oppression, and the land had peace for 40 years.
But now we're at 18 years of oppression. The length of Israel's suffering is growing, probably because their faith is weakening.
Judges 3:12 tells us: "The people of Israel again did what was evil in the sight of the Lord. And the Lord strengthened Eglon, the king of Moab, against Israel."
King Eglon gathered the Ammonites and Amalekites—enemies of Israel—and crossed the Jordan River to take Jericho (the "City of Palms"). He ruled over Israel for 18 years, taking tribute in the form of food. Israel wasted away while Eglon grew fat on the produce of the land.
This is the situation Israel finds herself in—again—because of disobedience to God and rejection of His promises. After 40 years of peace under Othniel, things were going well, so Israel decided they didn't need God anymore. It went downhill. Eglon came in. And Israel cried out to the Lord.
Enter Ehud: The Left-Handed Assassin
God raised up a deliverer: Ehud, son of Gera, from the tribe of Benjamin. The text tells us he was left-handed—an unusual detail that plays into the story.
At this time, soldiers were trained to be right-handed: sword in the right hand, shield in the left. Being left-handed was atypical. Some commentators think Ehud had a disability in his right hand. Others (and this seems more likely) think he was ambidextrous, which gave him an edge in battle. Later in Judges, we learn about 700 warriors from Benjamin who could use slings with either hand.
Ehud crafted a special weapon: a double-edged dagger about 18 inches long with no crossbar—just one long, sharp piece of metal. He strapped it to his right thigh under his clothes. Why the right thigh? Because the guards who would pat down visitors to the king would check the left side—the normal place for a weapon. This dagger would get past their lazy search.
Ehud went with Israel's tribute caravan to deliver food to King Eglon. After presenting the tribute, he sent everyone else away, turned back, and approached the king with a secret message.
Here's where it gets interesting (and honestly, pretty funny to the original audience).
The Assassination
The most important thing you need to know about King Eglon? He was a very fat man. The text emphasizes this repeatedly—it's part of the mockery.
Ehud said to him, "I have a secret message for you, O king." (In Hebrew, it's even more ambiguous: "I have something secret for you.")
Eglon, intrigued, commanded all his attendants to leave. Not the smartest move.
Ehud approached him in his private roof chamber and said, "I have a message from God for you." Eglon stood up from his seat. Ehud reached with his left hand, grabbed the sword from his right thigh, and thrust it into Eglon's belly.
The text says: "The hilt also went in after the blade, and the fat closed over the blade, for he did not pull the sword out of his belly."
Ehud locked the door and escaped through the porch. When the servants came and found the door locked, they assumed the king was "relieving himself" (going to the bathroom). They waited so long they became embarrassed. Finally, they took a key and opened the door—and found their lord dead on the floor.
By that time, Ehud had escaped miles away.
For ancient Israelites hearing this story, it was hilarious. This "great king" who ruled over them for 18 years was so fat and so foolish that he invited an assassin into his private chamber. The guards were incompetent. The whole thing was shameful for Moab.
The Victory
Ehud rallied the troops of Ephraim and led them to seize the Jordan River crossings—cutting off Moabite reinforcements and trapping 10,000 Moabite soldiers inside the Promised Land. They killed all of them. "Not a man escaped."
Moab was subdued, and the land had rest for 80 years.
Eighty years! Two generations. The longest period of rest in the entire Book of Judges.
So What's the Problem?
This sounds like a victory, right? Real deliverance. Eighty years of peace. Ehud seems like a great leader.
But here's what's troubling: While the deliverance is real, the way it comes—through deception, sneakiness, assassination—is no longer presented as righteous or repeatable. The story doesn't say, "Everyone should be like Ehud!"
When Scripture is silent about a leader's morality, faith, or virtue, we need to ask questions. We don't know what Ehud's faith was like. Yes, he recognizes the Lord, but what about all the underhanded tactics?
In the Bible, deception is rarely lifted up as virtuous. Sometimes it's part of deliverance (like Rahab hiding the spies), but we're not called to model that behavior.
So what's going on here?
Israel is entering a period where they value pragmatism over faithfulness. They care more about results—deliverance, freedom, rest from enemies—than about transforming their hearts in a way that would stop the pattern from repeating.
Eighty years is great. But Israel will dip back into the cycle. Another enemy will come. Why? Because freedom wasn't the finish line they thought it was. Freedom and deliverance should have brought spiritual transformation. Instead, they're satisfied with temporary peace, and the cycle repeats.
Three Lessons We Need to Learn
1. God's Help Is Not God's Approval
Just because we receive grace and mercy from God doesn't mean our actions are righteous.
You know the feeling: you're in a group project, someone drops the ball, you stay up late covering for them, and you get a good grade. The outcome is fine, but it's not sustainable.
Israel's freedom is real—80 years of deliverance. But God's willingness to rescue reveals His mercy, not His approval. He hears those He loves crying out for help, not because they're doing everything right.
God may graciously untangle situations we handled poorly. But that rescue is mercy, not validation.
Do you assume God's blessing means God's approval in your life? This is the prosperity gospel trap: "If you do X, Y, Z, you'll have health, wealth, and success." But think about the disciples—almost all of them were killed for their faith. Blessings aren't always an affirmation of a life well-lived.
Practical step: Look back at a previous crisis or difficult relationship. Reflect on your heart and actions during that period. What would you do differently if your focus was honoring God instead of escaping quickly? How will that change your mindset next time hardship comes?
2. What Works Isn't Always Right
In public life, organizations, even churches, people often praise policies or leaders simply because they "work"—without asking whether the methods honor God's principles of justice, mercy, and integrity.
Pragmatism is tempting. It can feel wise. It can sound good. But it leads to shallow faith.
Ehud's success tempts us to judge faithfulness by outcomes rather than obedience. Do you evaluate decisions by effectiveness or by faithfulness? They're not always the same.
Think about sharing the gospel. Have you ever thought, "I don't want to share with that person because I want to maintain our relationship"? That sounds good on the surface. But if you dig deeper, is it really about maintaining the relationship? Or are you scared, lacking words, more concerned about their opinion of you than their soul?
These decisions don't seem dangerous at first. But when repeated over and over, they produce fragile, weak, thin faith.
Practical step: Whether in your personal life or supporting public policies, seek God's perspective on how decisions are made, not just what the outcome will be. Results matter, but we can't sacrifice God's character in the process.
3. Freedom Isn't the Finish Line
If you become satisfied with "just enough"—temporary relief from your problem—you'll be satisfied for a while, but not eternally.
The transformation Christ brings sets our sights above temporary circumstances, no matter how difficult. We're looking for something that lifts us to what is holy, divine, righteous, and good—even if it's not the most efficient.
Good pastoral ministry isn't efficient. If I handled every situation in 25-minute slots on my calendar, would that make you feel loved? Or would you feel like you're being moved through a pen?
Sometimes you have to anticipate inefficiency—in a good way—because it's what God ultimately desires.
The question is: Do you want God to change your circumstances or to change you?
Your circumstances will change. You're stuck with you forever. It's a better return on investment to change yourself and your heart—how you handle hard situations—instead of always looking for God to deliver you from the next thing.
Practical step: Think about an area of recurring struggle—anger, fear, impatience, anxiety, selfishness, pride. Ask God to work on the pattern, not just the moment. If you're angry, you're angry for more reasons than your current situation. If you're anxious, there are deeper roots than today's problem.
Are You Bold Enough to Ask?
When I was a high school senior, I'd been praying, "Lord, would you humble me? Would you help me with my pride?" That same year, I was crowned King of Courts (backup homecoming king).
When yearbooks came out, there was a leaflet stuck in mine: "There's a printing error. Two pages didn't get printed, but we included them here." Out of 450 pages, the two missing pages? The full spread of King of Courts—completely removed from every single yearbook.
The moment I saw it, I thought, "I get it. Thank you, Lord." That lesson has stuck with me. Anytime I struggle with pride, I remember that leaflet and how easy it was for God to knock me down a few pegs.
I don't want to struggle with cycles. I'd rather have less pride than have my face in 400 yearbooks.
Are you asking God to change your circumstances or to change you? And are you bold enough to ask Him to actually do it?
The Greater Deliverer
As we close the book on Ehud, remember: deliverance can be real and genuine without real heart change. God can rescue us from crises, provide relief, restore what we've broken. But that doesn't mean every method we choose earns His approval.
What works in the moment isn't always right. Freedom without heart change is fragile and prone to continued abuse.
We need a greater Deliverer—one who doesn't give temporary rest but eternal rest. One who has the power to change all the cycles we find ourselves in.
Any sin, any addiction, any struggle, any depression, any debilitating issue—Christ is the one who can carry us through. But we can't conflate God's mercies with His approval. We can't think our actions in the pit of despair are ones God loves.
Even if you're in the struggle right now, the important thing is to seek the Lord in obedience and faith. That's more important than being quickly removed from your situation.
The greater purpose is to seek the eternal things of God, not temporary satisfaction. Look to Christ as your Savior—the one who will deliver you from all worldly trouble and save your soul. Don't become satisfied with the temporary blessings of His grace and mercy. Desire the greater thing that relies on Christ, His cross, and His resurrection.
Join us this Sunday at 9:00 or 10:30 a.m. and discover what it means to seek lasting transformation, not just temporary relief.