Several years ago, South Korea’s National Intelligence Service (NIS) filed a complaint with prosecutors against a former director on charges of leaking classified information related to North Korea’s military and Kim Jong-il. This same individual had previously stirred controversy by exposing himself to the media after negotiating with the Taliban to secure the release of a missionary team from Saemmul Church that had been kidnapped in Afghanistan.
At one time, the motto of the NIS was: “Working in the shadows, aiming toward the light.” Concealing one’s identity for the sake of accomplishing the mission is fundamental to intelligence work. Yet this man appeared to have a strong interest in making himself visible. A certain professor criticized him, claiming that his actions were deliberately staged to restore the fallen reputation of the NIS and perhaps to position himself for a future presidential run.
Every human being has a desire to be recognized. Leaders are no exception. A leader obsessed with displaying his achievements may simply be shallow and driven by vanity. Among church leaders, such blatant self-promotion is rare. Yet our desire for self-exaltation often reveals itself in more subtle ways.
After Gideon delivered Israel from the Midianites, the people asked him to become their king. His answer was firm:
“I will not rule over you, nor will my son rule over you. The LORD will rule over you.” (Judges 8:23)
Gideon, a man of God who refused without hesitation the opportunity to become the first king of a tribal confederation—so it seemed. Yet instead of accepting kingship, he asked the people to give him the gold earrings they had taken as plunder.
The Israelites willingly gave him the gold earrings from their spoils—along with the crescent ornaments, other jewelry, the purple garments worn by the Midianite kings, and even the ornaments from their camels. It was an enormous quantity of gold (v. 26). With this gold, Gideon made an ephod and placed it in his hometown, Ophrah.
Observe Gideon’s quiet contradiction.
In the ancient world, plunder belonged to the king. The amount and value of gold given to Gideon were enough to fill a royal treasury. Furthermore, he kept the royal garments and ornaments of the Midianite kings without hesitation. That was not all. He used the donated gold to make an ephod—a priestly garment—and set it up in his own city.
Now he was sacralizing his hometown. And naturally, he stood at the center of that religious structure. The situation was becoming increasingly troubling.
On the day the Ark of the Covenant entered Jerusalem, David danced with such joy that he was unaware his garments were slipping off. He was joyful, of course. By capturing Jerusalem—formerly the city of the Jebusites, belonging neither to Israel nor Judah—and establishing it as the capital, David demonstrated political neutrality. As a result, he secured the political support of both Israel and Judah.
When the Ark of the Covenant entered the City of David, he also became, in effect, the central figure in Israel’s religious life. In the ancient world, the political leader was also the religious leader. Even today, the monarch of England is the head of the Church of England. Why would David not dance with joy?
The most formidable enemy a leader must fight always resides within.
Scripture exposes the outcome of Gideon’s subtle thirst for power:
“It became a snare to Gideon and his family” (Judges 8:27).
Though he declared that he had no interest in becoming king, everything he did gradually positioned him as one. Such temptation did not come only to Gideon. If a church leader succumbs to this temptation, he will inevitably pursue his ambition through deceptive means.
We are most often deceived by ourselves. We fall into the very traps we set. One lie gives birth to another. One act of deception demands another. And the end of deception is destruction.