Left-Handed Ehud

 

Ohhh, Ehud! Now that is a story worth grabbing some popcorn for. And not the microwave kind. This one's sharp, sneaky, and soaked in irony and guts (literally). So let’s dive straight into Judges 3, around verses 12–30, and take this apart like Ehud took down Eglon.

Israel had sinned. Again. Shocker. So the Lord allowed them to be oppressed by Eglon, king of Moab, for 18 long years. Eighteen. That’s a whole generation growing up under foreign rule. But when they cried out (the Hebrew word there is za’aq, which means a loud, anguished cry for help), God didn’t ignore them. He raised up a deliverer. Enter: Ehud.

Now here’s where it gets good. Ehud is introduced as the son of Gera, a Benjaminite, which is hilarious because the name “Benjamin” means “son of the right hand.” But Ehud? He’s left-handed! The Hebrew here is itter-yad yemino, which doesn’t just mean he preferred his left hand—it literally says his right hand was “restricted” or “bound.” Some scholars think it means he was disabled in the right hand; others say it was just training. But either way, it made him look harmless. And that was the setup.

So, Israel sends Ehud to deliver tribute to this bloated king Eglon, and Ehud fashions for himself a double-edged sword, about a cubit long (roughly 18 inches), and straps it to his right thigh. Why the right thigh? Because a right-handed man would strap a weapon to his left thigh for a cross-draw. So if you’re frisking someone for weapons, guess which side you’d check? Not the right. Brilliant.

He delivers the tribute, and then says, “I have a secret message for you, O king.” That phrase is loaded with tension—dabar seter li-elekha ha-melekh—and the king, maybe flattered or suspicious, sends all his attendants away. Big mistake.

Ehud walks right up to him, they're alone in the baʿăliyat hameqerêh, the “cool roof chamber,” a private place probably reserved for royal potty breaks and lounging. Then Ehud says, “I have a message from God for you.” And bam, he reaches with his left hand, pulls the sword from his right thigh, and drives it deep into Eglon’s belly. So deep, in fact, that the handle goes in after the blade, and the fat closes over it. The Hebrew says vayeitze ha-parshedon, which could mean “the dung came out.” Yep. It was that graphic.

Then Ehud calmly locks the doors behind him and escapes through the latrine route. While Eglon’s servants think the king is just using the facilities, Ehud is long gone, heading back to the hill country of Ephraim. When he gets there, he blows the shofar and rallies Israel, saying, “Follow me, for the Lord has delivered your enemies into your hands!” They strike down 10,000 Moabites—all robust and valiant men—and not a single one escapes.

The result? Moab was subdued, and Israel had peace for eighty years. That’s the longest peace in the entire Book of Judges. And it all started with one overlooked left-handed man from the tribe known for right-handedness.

Now here’s the thing that hits deep. God didn’t need a perfect man with a dominant hand. He chose someone overlooked, underestimated, and probably mocked by others—someone different. That wasn’t a flaw. It was strategic design. Ehud’s “weakness” was the very tool God used for deliverance.

You see it? God loves using the unexpected to overthrow the oppressive. Ehud wasn’t just left-handed; he was set apart—for a specific moment, a specific enemy, and a specific victory.

So yeah, Ehud’s story may not be one you hear in Sunday School with flannelgraph visuals, but it’s dripping with power. Left-handed? Maybe. But perfectly placed in the right hand of God.

 

 

 

image done by deepdream at my instruction.