Samson was a punk.
He disrespected his parents and everyone else. He took whatever he wanted. Everyone in the region hated the guy, but could only guess as to whether or not the stories were true or exaggerated. Most played it safe and kept their distance.
One day, in a wild turn of events, Samson’s wife and father-in-law were burned alive as a result of his villainy. Even though he’d scorned her, it was obvious her death had affected him.
Prostitutes, murder, even animal cruelty became a part of the woof and warp of daily life for Samson. Least of his worries was the Nazarite vow.
He’d never even made the vow himself, his parents never missed a chance to remind him they’d “met God” and committed him to the Nazarite life until the day he died.
But “they are idiots,” he thought, and disregarded anything to do with the vow he’d never taken. The only bit he’d followed was that a single hair on his body had never even been trimmed. He kept that one faithfully… His seven iconic braids had grown as mythical to the surrounding nations as all the stories surrounding his name.
When Samson finally told Delilah his hair was the “source of his strength,” he thought he was just being cute. He’d already hinted at this a few times, but honestly liked the fact that she was trying to seduce him.
When he woke the next morning clean shaven he laughed. Sure, he loved his mane, but it was totally worth it to have a woman obsessing over him like that. The chuckle was short-lived, however, when the binds that had snapped under his strength so many times before held fast.
By the end of the day he wasn’t only bald, but blind as well.
There would be no tearing men limb-from-limb this time. After weeks and months and whatever indefinite time passed in prison, his spirit finally broke.
He looked up to heaven and called out to God.
by: Alexandra Beguez