Some people have odd choices for heroes—mine, as a young Christian, before I discovered how ‘naughty’ he had been, was Samson – not to be mistaken with Samsung.
There’s something deeply fascinating about Samson, no matter how you approach him. He’s one of those biblical figures we almost caricature because his story is so larger than life. He’s the guy with supernatural strength, a lion-slayer, a Philistine-crusher, a one-man army who carried off the gates of Gaza like they were his aeroplane hand luggage.
And then there’s that famous, well-kept secret—his hair. Or is it? The intrigue is immense as you read the narrative and, like many of the larger-than-life Bible stories, it comes to you with little warning or announcement. In this case, Samson’s story is unpacked with a small dose of intrigue—as we’ll see.
A good starting point for us is that when the writer of Hebrews lists Samson in chapter 11, it’s not his exploits or his size (which Scripture doesn’t even mention) that gets him into the hall of faith. It’s not his muscular build, his ninja-like or barbarian warrior prowess, or even his record-breaking jawbone count. It’s simply his faith. Somehow, in all the drama of Samson’s life—through his upbringing, triumphs, failures, and ultimate redemption—the spotlight shines very brightly… not on Samson’s strength, but on the God who gave it. And that’s where, for us, the real story begins.
The Spirit’s strength, not Samson’s size
We have a misconception to clear up straight away. As I have already inferred and reiterate, the Bible doesn’t say Samson was built like a six-foot-tall bodybuilder with bulging biceps and thighs like tree trunks. Neither was he likely to be a frail figure akin to Smithers from The Simpsons. In fact, Samson’s strength was so out of the ordinary that the Philistines didn’t assume it came from his physique—they wanted to know the source. Judges 16:5 tells us that they begged Delilah to “seduce him and see where his great strength lies.” If he’d looked like an ancient Arnold Schwarzenegger, they wouldn’t have needed to ask. Today they would ask, “Is it steroids? Some other performance-enhancing drugs?”
Samson’s strength, it needs to be said, was spiritual before it was physical. The author of the book of Judges (perhaps Samuel) repeatedly uses a phrase: the Spirit of the Lord “rushed upon him” (Judges 14:6, 19; 15:14). It was actually the Spirit who empowered him to tear apart lions and defeat entire armies, not any innate calisthenics or human ability. This really matters for us because we live in a culture obsessed with ego and appearances. From fitness apps to social media and their appearance-changing (or ‘transforming’) filters, it’s all about the external, but the challenge is this: God looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7) He sees our most hidden agenda.
Samson’s strength wasn’t about what could be seen; it was about what God was doing within him and through him—good news for us on this side of the story because this same God delights in using the unlikely, the overlooked, and the ordinary to accomplish His extraordinary purposes.
Consecration and calling
Samson’s strength was tied to his consecration to God. Before he was even born, the angel of the Lord appeared to his mother and told her, “The child shall be a Nazirite to God from the womb, and he shall begin to save Israel from the hand of the Philistines” (Judges 13:5). It was a big, consequential announcement—it’s what happens when you are expecting an easy ride, but God has your heart. Nazirite? It was a big ask. A Nazirite vow meant separation. It meant being set apart—no wine, no unclean things, no haircut. (I may have gone adrift there!)
But Samson played fast and loose with his calling. He didn’t take it seriously, didn’t respect or treasure it, and broke nearly every part of his vow. Time for his conviction list: He touched a dead lion’s carcass to scoop out honey (Judges 14:8–9), threw a wild feast in Philistine territory—likely involving wine (Judges 14:10), and then, of course, he let Delilah cut his hair. His downfall wasn’t just about the crewcut haircut; it was about his deliberate and repeated failure to honour the God who had called and empowered him. He wouldn’t pass the visa requirements for a visit to Australia.
What does that matter to us today? Here’s the hard truth: when we compromise our consecration—our separation from sin in cooperation with the Holy Spirit—we compromise our strength, friendship, and fellowship with the Holy Spirit.
Samson’s story is a cautionary tale for anyone who thinks they can ‘mess’ or toy with sin like a cat playing with a mouse and still live in the power of God’s Spirit. Holiness matters. I don’t hear that said much today. Obedience also matters—not because God is withholding something from us, but because these things keep us connected to the source of all strength—Him.
The anointing you don’t feel
The adventures of Samson are well known, including his misdemeanours, but eventually, as the story takes an unexpected turn, we come to that haunting moment in Judges 16:20. Samson wakes up to find his hair gone, the Philistines upon him, and the Spirit of the Lord has departed—we know that, but he doesn’t. The mood manic. What an awful, Ichabod moment for Samson: “But he did not know that the Lord had left him.” He didn’t know; he assumed, as he had so many times before, that his strength would be there, but this time, it wasn’t. It was his kryptonite moment. The power that had carried him through so many battles was gone – he didn’t know it – but his day is about to go from bad to awful in a matter of minutes – “Wake up Samson!” He’ll wish he’d stayed asleep.
Samson’s story challenges our modern obsession with feelings and raises a question: how often do we equate God’s presence with our emotions? We may mistakenly think the Spirit is moving when the music swells, when the goose bumps rise, or when we feel energised, but the anointing of God isn’t about a feeling—it’s about His faithful presence. The Spirit’s empowering work isn’t always something you sense in the moment—it’s simply there because He’s there. I like the way John Wimber would often pray for the sick and engage the gifts of the Spirit with no background music.
That’s both comforting and sobering, isn’t it? Comforting because God’s presence in our lives isn’t dependent on how we feel; sobering because, like Samson, we can live so disconnected from the Spirit that we don’t even realise when we’ve grieved Him. It’s a dramatic story but also a wake-up call!
Weakness, faith, and victory
Here’s what’s remarkable: even after all his failures, Samson isn’t remembered in Hebrews 11 for his downfall—no, he’s remembered for his faith. Hebrews 11:32 lists him among the heroes who, through faith, “were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight.” On further inspection, Samson’s greatest act of faith came in the final moments of his life; blinded, humiliated, and chained in a Philistine temple but with his hair restored, he cried out to God: “O Lord God, please remember me and strengthen me only this once, O God” (Judges 16:28).
What a prayer. It makes you lean forward, pay attention… That prayer was a confession, a recognition that his strength had never been his own and in that moment of brokenness, God used him to deliver Israel in a way that only God could.
There’s a pattern here. Samson’s story is a microcosm of the gospel. God works through weakness. He takes the flawed, the broken, and the repentant, and He accomplishes His purposes in ways that defy human understanding. It’s not about your strength. It’s about His.
The greater deliverer
Samson’s story isn’t just about Samson; it points to a greater deliverer. Samson’s death, while heroic, was destructive—he killed the Philistines but also himself. Jesus’ death, by contrast, was redemptive. He laid down His life not to destroy sinners but to save them. Both Samson and Jesus achieved victory through apparent defeat, but only Jesus’ victory is eternal. Where Samson’s strength failed, Christ’s strength endures forever.
In this sense, when you read Samson’s exploits, you have to view it that Samson is a shadow of Christ, a flawed and imperfect judge-deliverer for the people of Israel pointing toward the perfect Saviour. Hebrews 11 does right to include him, not because of his successes or failures, but because his faith, however faltering, ultimately rested in the God who is faithful.
Living in the Spirit’s strength
Where does this leave us? Samson’s story challenges us to depend not on our own strength, but on the Spirit of God. Jesus said in John 15:5, “Apart from me you can do nothing.” The Christian life isn’t about trying harder or being stronger; it’s about abiding in Christ, staying connected to the source of all strength. Happily for us, unlike Samson, we don’t live under a temporary anointing—the Spirit of the Lord doesn’t just “rush upon” us for a moment; He dwells within us permanently (John 14:16–17; Ephesians 1:13–14), which means the power that raised Jesus from the dead is at work in you (Romans 8:11), not because of anything you’ve done, but because of who God is.
I hope you’ve realised the secret or mystery of Samson’s strength wasn’t in his hair, his size, or his charisma. It was in his God—and that same God is with you—whether you feel it or not.
His power is made perfect in your weakness, so trust Him. Lean into Him and let His Spirit do what only He can.
