Reader: If you missed Delilah's stories from the last week you can click here.
Delilah was a great cook. I'd visited her home the last several evenings, ate dinner, drank wine, and talked.
Those nights were unusual, though.
She made great dinners with the best wines, of course, and we laughed as we talked, but she kept bringing the conversation back to one question: where did I get my strength.
I don't know. Maybe she thought my strength could be shared with someone else, maybe she--I couldn't tell.
So I made up an answer the first two times she asked and didn't think much when she tied me with the fresh bowstrings or the new ropes. They snapped after I barely moved. I thought it was funny. She didn't
Delilah pouted after dinner again the next night. She cried as though I'd hurt her feelings when she asked what could bind my strength, like she didn't think I'd tell her the truth. Of course I wouldn't tell her the right answer. It was a secret.
Another crazy answer to her question popped into my head that time. So I answered: "If you weave the seven lock of my head into the web of a loom I will be as weak as any man." She stopped crying and we had a nice evening.
After dinner the next night, I fell asleep full of food and wine. About the time my dream made me laugh, she woke me shouting, "The Philistines are upon you, Samson!" I jolted upright and searched for the Philistines. None were near.
Another joke played on me. Hah hah. I felt something hanging from my hair. I reached back and found a piece of her loom.
"Delilah. Delilah. You honestly thought this loom would take my strength?" I laughed. She didn't think it was funny. She cried harder than all the other times.
She tucked her face into her apron and sobbed. "How can you say 'I love you' when you heart is not with me? You have mocked me three times refusing to tell me where your strength comes from."
Well, she begged and pleaded and cried and sobbed for days.
My heart ached each time I went to her house.
I decided the only way to make her stop sobbing would be to tell her the truth. "All right, Delilah. Stop crying. Here's the answer." She looked at my eyes and wouldn't move. I had to tell her the truth this time. "No razor has ever come upon my head, for I have been a Nazarite to God while I was still in my mother's womb. If I am shaven, then my strength will leave me." I sighed. "I will become weak like any other man."
A smile popped on her face. She giggled and blinked her eyes. At last, she stopped crying.. She brushed her fingers through my long hair and said, "Thank you."
We laughed and talked like we use to for the rest of the evening until I fell asleep. Maybe I should have told her the secret days ago.
What do you think?
Let's think about this.
*Who gave Samson his strength?
*Why Samson keep the source of his strength a secret?
*Why did Delilah want to know the source of Samson's strength? (hint, look at the last three stories)
*Why did Samson tell Delilah his secret?
*What do you think will happen in the next story?
**What can we learn from this story? (if you need help, ask you parents, Pastor, or email me)