Judges Chapter 19
Showing all 30 verses for Judges Chapter 19.
The People's Bible is written by people, for the people. Each verse below shows:
"And it came to pass in those days, when there was no king in Israel, that there was a certain Levite sojourning on the side of mount Ephraim, who took to him a concubine out of Bethlehemjudah. "
"In those days, when Israel had no king, there was a Levite living as an outsider in the hill country of Ephraim. He took a concubine (a secondary wife) from Bethlehem in Judah."
The book keeps repeating 'no king in Israel' because when people abandon God's rule, ordinary choices start curdling into cruelty - here, a man takes a concubine rather than a wife, treating a woman as a lesser possession before the story even begins. Jesus wants you to see that how you treat the people closest to you, especially those with less power than you, is never a private matter - it shapes everything that follows.
"And his concubine played the whore against him, and went away from him unto her father’s house to Bethlehemjudah, and was there four whole months. "
"His concubine was unfaithful to him and left him, going back to her father's house in Bethlehem, where she stayed for four months."
Whatever went wrong in this relationship, the woman leaves and returns to her father's house - a place of safety rather than staying somewhere unsafe or unloved. Jesus never condemns someone for seeking refuge from a broken situation; he is far more concerned with how she is treated next than with assigning blame for her leaving.
"And her husband arose, and went after her, to speak friendly unto her, and to bring her again, having his servant with him, and a couple of asses: and she brought him into her father’s house: and when the father of the damsel saw him, he rejoiced to meet him. "
"Her husband set out after her to talk things over and win her back, bringing his servant and two donkeys with him. She brought him into her father's house, and when her father saw him, he was glad to welcome him."
The Levite goes after her 'to speak friendly unto her, and to bring her again' - and her father welcomes him with real joy, a small, human moment of reconciliation before the story turns dark. Jesus delights in every genuine effort at forgiveness and reunion, however small, because pursuing peace with someone you have wronged or been wronged by always matters to him.
"And his father in law, the damsel’s father, retained him; and he abode with him three days: so they did eat and drink, and lodged there. "
"His father-in-law urged him to stay, and he remained with him for three days - eating, drinking, and lodging there."
Three days of shared meals and hospitality between father-in-law and son-in-law show that ordinary kindness and welcome can exist even in a story that will soon turn horrific. Jesus notices and honours these unremarkable acts of hospitality - eating together, resting together - as genuinely good, even when darker chapters lie ahead.
"And it came to pass on the fourth day, when they arose early in the morning, that he rose up to depart: and the damsel’s father said unto his son in law, Comfort thine heart with a morsel of bread, and afterward go your way. "
"On the fourth day, they got up early and he prepared to leave, but his father-in-law said, "Have something to eat first, then go on your way.""
'Comfort thine heart with a morsel of bread' is the voice of a father who simply wants his guest fed and glad before he travels - a small tenderness worth noticing amid a grim narrative. Jesus cares about these ordinary gestures of care between people; not every verse in a hard chapter carries darkness, and he wants you to recognise goodness wherever it appears.
"And they sat down, and did eat and drink both of them together: for the damsel’s father had said unto the man, Be content, I pray thee, and tarry all night, and let thine heart be merry. "
"So they sat down and ate and drank together, because the father had said to him, "Please, stay content, spend the night, and enjoy yourself.""
The father presses his son-in-law to stay, to eat, to let his heart be merry - hospitality pressed almost too far, but rooted in genuine affection. Jesus values a generous heart that wants others to feel welcome and glad, even when, as here, the timing of that generosity turns out to have tragic consequences later.
"And when the man rose up to depart, his father in law urged him: therefore he lodged there again. "
"When the man got up to leave, his father-in-law pressed him to stay, so he spent another night there."
Urged again, the man stays a second time - human relationships are full of these small pressures and persuasions, not always sinister, just people wanting more time together. Jesus does not demand we resist every request from those who love us; he asks us to walk wisely, discerning when to yield and when the road ahead requires courage to leave.
"And he arose early in the morning on the fifth day to depart: and the damsel’s father said, Comfort thine heart, I pray thee. And they tarried until afternoon, and they did eat both of them. "
"On the fifth day he got up early to leave, but the father said, "Please, have something to eat first." So they stayed until the afternoon and ate together."
Even on the fifth day the father delays him further, and the man lingers until afternoon - a warning, in hindsight, about how easily good intentions can drift into poor timing. Jesus is patient with our indecision, but he also calls us to discernment, because the hour we choose to act can carry real consequences for those who depend on us.
"And when the man rose up to depart, he, and his concubine, and his servant, his father in law, the damsel’s father, said unto him, Behold, now the day draweth toward evening, I pray you tarry all night: behold, the day groweth to an end, lodge here, that thine heart may be merry; and to morrow get you early on your way, that thou mayest go home. "
"When the man got up to leave - along with his concubine and his servant - his father-in-law said to him, "Look, the day is nearly over. Please stay the night. The day's almost done - stay here and enjoy yourself, then get an early start tomorrow so you can go home.""
The father's repeated urging to stay one more night, however well meant, becomes part of the chain of decisions that leads this small group into danger at nightfall. Jesus does not blame him for kindness, but the verse quietly teaches that even loving intentions need wisdom attached to them, because love without discernment can still lead people into harm's way.
"But the man would not tarry that night, but he rose up and departed, and came over against Jebus, which is Jerusalem; and there were with him two asses saddled, his concubine also was with him. "
"But the man refused to stay the night. He got up and left, and travelled as far as Jebus (that is, Jerusalem), with his two saddled donkeys and his concubine along with him."
The man finally refuses to stay another night and presses on towards Jebus with the daylight fading - a decision made in weariness of hospitality rather than careful planning. Jesus meets us in our poorly timed choices too; he does not abandon us to the consequences of a bad decision, but stays present even as danger nears.
"And when they were by Jebus, the day was far spent; and the servant said unto his master, Come, I pray thee, and let us turn in into this city of the Jebusites, and lodge in it. "
"By the time they reached Jebus, it was very late in the day, and the servant said to his master, "Come on, let's stop here in this Jebusite city and spend the night.""
The servant sensibly suggests staying in Jebus, a Jebusite city, rather than pressing on in failing light - practical wisdom offered by someone lower in status than his master. Jesus honours good counsel wherever it comes from; he never measures the value of advice by the rank of the one giving it, and neither should you.
"And his master said unto him, We will not turn aside hither into the city of a stranger, that is not of the children of Israel; we will pass over to Gibeah. "
"But his master replied, "We won't turn in here, into a foreign city that doesn't belong to Israel. We'll go on to Gibeah instead.""
The master refuses to lodge among foreigners, choosing instead to trust a Benjamite town of his own people - a choice that tragically proves far more dangerous than any stranger's city would have been. Jesus warns us gently here: familiarity and shared identity are no guarantee of safety or goodness, and we must not assume 'our own' are automatically trustworthy.
"And he said unto his servant, Come, and let us draw near to one of these places to lodge all night, in Gibeah, or in Ramah. "
"He said to his servant, "Come on, let's try to reach one of these towns to spend the night - either Gibeah or Ramah.""
He presses on towards Gibeah or Ramah, still hoping to find safe lodging among his own people before nightfall. Jesus understands the ordinary human hope for safety and rest, and he grieves all the more when that hope, so reasonable, is about to be violently betrayed by the very community that should have offered shelter.
"And they passed on and went their way; and the sun went down upon them when they were by Gibeah, which belongeth to Benjamin. "
"So they carried on, and the sun set on them just as they reached Gibeah, in the territory of Benjamin."
The sun goes down on them right by Gibeah - a simple detail of timing that becomes the hinge of the whole tragedy. Jesus does not promise us that every sunset finds us safely arrived; he calls us instead to trust him even when circumstances outrun our planning and darkness falls sooner than we hoped.
"And they turned aside thither, to go in and to lodge in Gibeah: and when he went in, he sat him down in a street of the city: for there was no man that took them into his house to lodging. "
"They turned in to spend the night in Gibeah. Once inside, he sat down in the town square, because no one offered to take them in for the night."
They turn aside into Gibeah only to find no one willing to take them in, and the traveller sits exposed in the open street - a stark picture of a community that has abandoned basic hospitality and care for the stranger. Jesus notices every person left sitting alone in the street with no one to welcome them, and he calls his people to be the ones who open the door.
"And, behold, there came an old man from his work out of the field at even, which was also of mount Ephraim; and he sojourned in Gibeah: but the men of the place were Benjamites. "
"Then an old man came in from working in the fields that evening - he was also originally from the hill country of Ephraim, but was living in Gibeah as an outsider, even though the local men were Benjamites."
One old man, himself a foreigner living in Gibeah, finally comes in from his work and notices the stranger sitting unwelcomed - it takes an outsider's compassion to do what the townsmen would not. Jesus often finds his truest disciples among the overlooked and the outsiders; kindness does not depend on belonging to the majority, and neither does your capacity to show it.
"And when he had lifted up his eyes, he saw a wayfaring man in the street of the city: and the old man said, Whither goest thou? and whence comest thou? "
"He looked up and saw the traveller sitting in the town square, and asked him, "Where are you going, and where have you come from?""
The old man's simple questions - where are you going, where have you come from - show genuine interest in a stranger's story rather than suspicion or indifference. Jesus wants you to notice people the way this man did: really seeing them, asking, caring enough to find out who they are before deciding whether they matter.
"And he said unto him, We are passing from Bethlehemjudah toward the side of mount Ephraim; from thence am I: and I went to Bethlehemjudah, but I am now going to the house of the LORD; and there is no man that receiveth me to house. "
"He replied, "We're travelling from Bethlehem in Judah to the hill country of Ephraim, where I'm from. I went to Bethlehem, and now I'm heading home - but no one here will take me in.""
The Levite explains he is travelling to the house of the LORD, yet no one in this town of Israelites will take him in - a bitter irony that religious identity means nothing without practical love for the stranger. Jesus is blunt about this: claiming to serve God while shutting your door to someone in need is empty religion, and he calls us instead to let our faith show in how we actually treat people.
"Yet there is both straw and provender for our asses; and there is bread and wine also for me, and for thy handmaid, and for the young man which is with thy servants: there is no want of any thing. "
""There's straw and feed for our donkeys, and bread and wine for me, for your servant here, and for the young man with us - we don't need anything else, just somewhere to stay.""
The traveller insists he needs nothing, that he has provision enough for everyone - he is not asking for charity, only for a roof and safety. Jesus notices how little it would have cost this town to simply open a door; sometimes the kindness we withhold from others costs us nothing at all except our willingness.
"And the old man said, Peace be with thee; howsoever let all thy wants lie upon me; only lodge not in the street. "
"The old man said, "You're welcome here. Whatever you need, let me provide it - just don't spend the night in the street.""
The old man's warm welcome - 'let all thy wants lie upon me' - stands as one bright light of genuine generosity in an otherwise dark chapter. Jesus treasures this kind of open-handed care, and he wants you to know that even a single person's kindness can be a real testimony to him, whatever fails around them.
"So he brought him into his house, and gave provender unto the asses: and they washed their feet, and did eat and drink. "
"So he took him into his home, fed the donkeys, and they washed their feet and had food and drink."
Feet washed, animals fed, food and drink shared - the ordinary rhythms of hospitality finally happen, offering a brief moment of peace before the horror to come. Jesus delights in these simple acts of care for the body - washing, feeding, welcoming - because they are never beneath his notice, even as darker events gather just outside the door.
"Now as they were making their hearts merry, behold, the men of the city, certain sons of Belial, beset the house round about, and beat at the door, and spake to the master of the house, the old man, saying, Bring forth the man that came into thine house, that we may know him. "
"While they were enjoying themselves, suddenly the men of the city - a violent, worthless crowd - surrounded the house, pounded on the door, and demanded of the old man, the homeowner, "Bring out the man who came to your house, so we can rape him.""
As they are enjoying this rare kindness, wicked men surround the house demanding to abuse the guest - a chilling echo of Sodom's sin, showing how thoroughly a community can lose its moral compass. Jesus never minimises evil like this; he calls it exactly what it is, even while offering hope that such darkness is not the end of the story for anyone willing to turn to him.
"And the man, the master of the house, went out unto them, and said unto them, Nay, my brethren, nay, I pray you, do not so wickedly; seeing that this man is come into mine house, do not this folly. "
"The homeowner went out to them and said, "No, my friends, please don't do this evil thing. This man is a guest in my house - don't do something so vile.""
The host bravely pleads with the mob, calling their demand wicked and folly, refusing to let his guest be harmed even at personal risk. Jesus honours anyone who stands between a vulnerable person and a violent crowd; courage exercised in defence of another's safety is exactly the kind of love he calls us to.
"Behold, here is my daughter a maiden, and his concubine; them I will bring out now, and humble ye them, and do with them what seemeth good unto you: but unto this man do not so vile a thing. "
""Look, here's my virgin daughter and his concubine - I'll bring them out to you now. Do what you want with them. But don't do this terrible thing to this man.""
Here the host's courage collapses into horrifying compromise, offering the women to the mob instead - a devastating reminder that even someone doing right a moment before can still fail catastrophically. Jesus never excuses this; scripture records human failure honestly, and he offers no approval here, only the sober truth that without him, even good intentions curdle into terrible sin.
"But the men would not hearken to him: so the man took his concubine, and brought her forth unto them; and they knew her, and abused her all the night until the morning: and when the day began to spring, they let her go. "
"But the mob wouldn't listen to him. So the man [the Levite] took his concubine and pushed her out to them. They raped her and abused her all night long until morning, and let her go only as dawn broke."
This verse records one of the most horrific acts in scripture, done to a defenceless woman by a violent mob while everyone else stood by. Jesus weeps with every victim of such cruelty; the Bible does not sanitise this evil or explain it away, and he calls his people instead to protect the vulnerable, never to abandon them as this household did.
"Then came the woman in the dawning of the day, and fell down at the door of the man’s house where her lord was, till it was light. "
"As dawn was breaking, the woman came back and collapsed at the door of the house where her husband was, and lay there until it was fully light."
She crawls back to the door where her husband was staying and collapses there until daylight - abandoned in her suffering by the very man meant to protect her. Jesus sees every person left to suffer alone at someone else's threshold, unheard and unhelped, and he holds that neglect as seriously as the violence itself.
"And her lord rose up in the morning, and opened the doors of the house, and went out to go his way: and, behold, the woman his concubine was fallen down at the door of the house, and her hands were upon the threshold. "
"Her husband got up in the morning, opened the door of the house, and came out ready to leave on his journey - and there was his concubine, collapsed at the doorway, her hands stretched out on the threshold."
Her husband opens the door in the morning and finds her fallen there, hands on the threshold - and the text gives us no word of grief or tenderness from him, only his blunt command to get up. Jesus grieves this callousness deeply; a person's worth is never measured by how conveniently others treat them, and he calls us to far greater compassion than this man shows.
"And he said unto her, Up, and let us be going. But none answered. Then the man took her up upon an ass, and the man rose up, and gat him unto his place. "
"He said to her, "Get up, let's go." But there was no answer. So he put her on the donkey and set off for home."
We are told simply that 'none answered' - she may already have died from what was done to her, and still her husband speaks to her as if she has merely overslept. Jesus is present in this silence too; he does not turn away from the worst moments of human suffering, and he promises that no death, however unjust or unmourned by others, goes unseen by him.
"And when he was come into his house, he took a knife, and laid hold on his concubine, and divided her, together with her bones, into twelve pieces, and sent her into all the coasts of Israel. "
"When he got home, he took a knife, took hold of his concubine's body, and cut her into twelve pieces, bone and all, sending a piece to each region of Israel."
The Levite's horrifying act of dismembering her body and sending the pieces throughout Israel is not held up as righteous - it is a desperate, brutal cry meant to shock a numb nation into recognising the horror that occurred. Jesus does not endorse this violence; scripture is showing us, unflinchingly, how far a society sinks when it has turned from God, so that we might long all the more for a better way.
"And it was so, that all that saw it said, There was no such deed done nor seen from the day that the children of Israel came up out of the land of Egypt unto this day: consider of it, take advice, and speak your minds. "
"And everyone who saw it said, "Nothing like this has ever happened or been seen since Israel came up out of Egypt. Think it over, discuss it, and speak your minds.""
Israel itself admits nothing like this had ever been seen since leaving Egypt, and calls the nation to 'consider, take advice, and speak your minds' - a rare moment of collective moral reckoning. Jesus welcomes this kind of honest confrontation with evil; he never wants sin minimised or excused, but named clearly so that real repentance and change can follow.