Deborah and Auntie Margaret

DEBORAH

Again the Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord…….  Judges 4:1

Yes, we’re back in this cycle again……Jabin king of Canaan is in charge. His commander Sisera exploits the Israelites for twenty years. The Israelites call out to God for help. And he sends them a deliverer.

Well, He tells Deborah, a woman, a prophetess, the judge of all the disputes at the time, to encourage Barak son of Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali to lead the Israelite army to victory. And after twenty years of suffering and exploitation, he needs a lot of encouragement. Deborah believes God when He says he will give Sisera and his army into the hands of the Israelites. Barak needs convincing.

If you go with me, I will go; but if you don’t go with me, I won’t go.  Judges 1:8

Deborah is merely the messenger here. Barak is the deliverer that God has called. But he will not go without here by his side.

There is a price to pay for this of course. Barak will not be remembered. Deborah will. He will not take the honour for this victory, because he has asked Deborah to go with him – God will deliver Sisera and his army into the hands of a woman.

In fact, Sisera dies at the hand of another woman. He flees on foot to to the tent of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite. He thinks he’s going to be safe because there is an alliance between the Kenites and the king. But he is not. Maybe because Jael has seen the atrocities he has committed. Maybe because the Kenites are descendants of the the mighty Moses’ brother-in-law…..

Whatever the reason, she invites him in, covers him with a blanket, tells him not to be afraid, gives him some milk to drink…….and then hammers a tent peg through his temple into the ground.

Barak struggled to trust. He struggled to obey. He forgot who God was and what He had already done.

And so he had to live with the consequences.

On this occasion, the women had the last word.

AUNTIE MARGARET

Which leads me on nicely to my Auntie Margaret. Who had a daughter called Deborah.

When I was 17, my parents moved to Nottingham for my Dad’s work. I had one year left at school and did not want to leave. So I went to live with my Auntie Margaret and Uncle David and their youngest son Jonathan (of violin fame). Their older three children had already left home by this stage. So she took me in without question because this is what anyone would do for her sister.

Even though we all lived in Ipswich, I wouldn’t have said I knew the family particularly well. And yet Auntie Margaret welcomed me into her home. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. She didn’t fuss over me. She didn’t try to get to know me and bond with me and deal with all my issues. She kind of let me be. It was all very understated.

Which was exactly what I needed I think. She provided a stability and routine and safe place at a time when my emotions were in absolute chaos. She was the calm to my storm.

And boy, did she know how to work. I have never seen a work ethic like it.

She was like my mum and I was like my mum, but she took dedication and determination and focus to a whole new level. At a time, when I was struggling with being like my mum (because that’s what all 17 year old girls do, right?), she offered another version of who I was and could be that was easier to embrace.

Every day after tea, she would clear away and she and Uncle David would get all their work out at the table and work all evening. I quite often joined them. I enjoyed working and they made that OK. She showed me that working hard was not something to be scorned. It was OK to love learning and studying. She had a passion for words and language. She had a thirst for knowledge. She had a deep desire to give of her best and be the best she could be in every part of her life. She took her responsibilities seriously.

Auntie Margaret was not one for extravagance, but she had her simple pleasures. Every night, she would get into bed and sigh ‘Oooo lovely, lovely bed. I could never be a missionary.’

In some ways I was quite different. I’m not sure she can have approved of some of what I was and did, but I did not sense her disapproval. I did go out quite a bit. I was more demonstrative and outwardly emotional than she was probably comfortable with. But I felt like she seemed to accept me and like me being around. That was so important to me. She allowed me to be different and yet also brought out the dedication and determination and focus that were within me.

She challenged me to give of my best. She inspired me to work hard at everything I did. She led by example.

That was my Auntie Margaret to me.