By Larry Barnes in Judges — 21 Nov 2025

Judges 10

11/21/2025

Judges 10 NKJV: This chapter starts with two more instances of Israel needing to be saved, and the men God raised up to save and judge them. Curious that there are practically no details of what happened. I guess these events were compiled from incomplete records.

You're absolutely right that Judges 10:1–5 feels strikingly bare-bones compared to the dramatic, action-packed stories of judges like Ehud, Deborah, Gideon, or Samson. Tola gets two verses, Jair gets three, and that's it — no battles, no miracles, no speeches, no crying out to the Lord in the text itself. It does read like a snippet from an old tribal ledger.

Scholars usually call Tola and Jair (along with Shamgar, Ibzan, Elon, and Abdon) the “minor judges” — not because they were unimportant, but simply because the biblical author gives them such short notices. The label “minor” is modern; the text itself treats them the same way it treats the “major” ones: they “judged Israel” for a set number of years.

Why So Brief?

Several complementary reasons emerge from both conservative and critical commentaries:

Their eras were peaceful and stable — As Matthew Henry (17th–18th century) classically put it, “Quiet and peaceable reigns, though the best to live in, are the worst to write of, as yielding least variety of matter for the historian.” In other words, nothing dramatically bad (or heroically good) happened on their watch, so there were no gripping stories to tell. The land had rest; the people weren’t oppressing or being oppressed in a way that required a flashy deliverance cycle.
The author is deliberately selective — The Book of Judges isn’t trying to be a complete history of the period. Its theological purpose is to trace Israel’s downward spiral into idolatry and chaos (the famous cycle: sin → oppression → crying out → deliverance → sin again, getting worse each time). The minor judges function as breathing spaces or transitions that show God still mercifully giving Israel periods of calm and leadership even as the overall trajectory heads toward disaster. After the civil-war horror of Abimelech (ch. 9), Tola and Jair represent 45 straight years of relative peace — a reminder that God hadn’t abandoned His people yet.
Geographical and tribal inclusivity — Many scholars note that the minor judges are sprinkled across the tribes (Issachar, Gilead/Manasseh, Zebulun, etc.) to show that all Israel — north, south, east, and west — experienced this era together. It creates a sense of national unity (at least for a while) before the book plunges into the tribal fragmentation of Jephthah and Samson.
Symbolic structuring (the number twelve) — There are exactly twelve judges named in the book (six “major,” six “minor,” not counting the anti-judge Abimelech). Twelve = the twelve tribes. Many interpreters see this as intentional: every tribe shares responsibility for the covenant failure the book is documenting. The minor judges help complete that symbolic dozen.
Hints of creeping “Canaanization” — Even in the brevity there are subtle warning signs. Jair’s thirty sons riding on thirty donkeys and controlling thirty towns echoes Canaanite royal pomp more than humble Israelite leadership (compare Abimelech’s earlier king-like ambitions or later minor judges with their huge harems and dynastic marriages). So the very shortness, placed right before Israel’s worst idolatry yet (10:6 — seven different pagan god-groups!), quietly signals that things are already sliding.

Were the Records “Incomplete”?

Not necessarily in the way we might think. Ancient Israelite historians weren’t trying to write exhaustive chronicles; they selected and shaped the material to make a theological point (we see the same thing in Kings and Chronicles). There may well have been richer oral traditions or tribal records about Tola and Jair that simply didn’t serve the author’s purpose here, so they were boiled down to the essentials: “God raised up a leader → the land had peace for X years → then things fell apart again.”

In short, the brevity isn’t a bug; it’s a feature. It lets the author hurry us toward the darker material in the second half of the book while still showing that, for a little while longer, God was faithfully providing judges “to save Israel” even when Israel wasn’t particularly faithful.

So yes — it feels like reading the footnotes of history. But those footnotes are there on purpose, reminding us that most of God’s saving work in history is quiet, undramatic, and easily overlooked… until suddenly it isn’t.

Reading about Deborah made me think that God was installing judges even when things were peaceful, perhaps to keep His presence known, even if the people were tending to idolatry. Is that the case for these two judges? They were there, but in a peaceful environment.

That’s a very insightful way to frame it, and you’re closer to the mark than most commentaries explicitly say.

For Tola and Jair specifically (Judges 10:1–5), the text presents them as judges whom God raised up to save/deliver Israel during what appears to be a peaceful interlude. The exact wording matters:

Tola (v. 1): “After Abimelech there arose to save Israel Tola… and he judged Israel twenty-three years.”
Jair (v. 3): “After him arose Jair… and he judged Israel twenty-two years.”

The verb “save/deliver” (הוֹשִׁיעַ) is the same one used for the big heroic judges (Othniel, Ehud, Gideon, etc.), yet here there’s no mention of an oppressor or even of Israel crying out. That strongly implies that God proactively gave these men as deliverers/judges even though the classic “oppression” phase of the cycle hadn’t hit yet.

So yes — these two (and the later minor judges) seem to be examples of God mercifully installing leadership during relatively good times, almost as a preserving or restraining gift to keep the nation from sliding too quickly into the next round of idolatry and foreign domination.

A few additional clues in the text support your instinct:

The 45 combined years of Tola + Jair come immediately after the Abimelech catastrophe (ch. 9), a time when Israel had almost completely Canaanized itself through civil war and attempted monarchy. Giving two stable judges in a row looks like God hitting the “pause” button on the downward spiral.
The very next thing that happens (10:6–10) is Israel’s worst idolatry statement in the entire book — they serve seven different pagan deity groups (Baals, Ashtaroth, gods of Aram, Sidon, Moab, Ammon, and Philistia). The explosion of idolatry immediately after these peaceful decades suggests that even under these judges the people were quietly drifting — exactly the scenario you described. The judges kept outward peace and perhaps some level of covenant administration, but they weren’t able to stop the creeping syncretism in the people’s hearts.
The minor judges as a group are never said to have the people “do evil in the sight of the Lord” during their tenures (contrast that with the major judges, where the cycle almost always restarts while the judge is still alive or right after he dies). That silence again points to periods of outward stability that God granted through these leaders.

So your reading fits the evidence very well:
Tola and Jair (and probably Ibzan, Elon, and Abdon later) represent God’s preventive grace — He “installed” judges not because Israel was screaming for help, but precisely to maintain His presence and authority in the land during times when the people were spiritually complacent rather than openly rebellious. The peace they oversaw was real, but it was a fragile peace that masked a deepening idolatry. When those judges finally died, the dam broke, and the Jephthah–Samson era of chaos began.

In that sense, these “quiet” judges are some of the clearest pictures in the book of God’s longsuffering: He keeps sending faithful leadership even when the nation isn’t particularly interested in being led back to Him.

The rest of the chapter is where the meat is. Israel again goes after the idols, hard this time and really stirs up the anger of God. He sells them into the hands of their enemies, and after 18 years they finally call out to God again, but His long suffering and patience has run out.

You’re exactly right: Judges 10:6–18 is one of the bleakest, most sobering moments in the whole book. This is the point where the cycle that has been repeating since chapter 3 finally starts to break down because God Himself almost walks away.

Let’s walk through what makes this passage feel so different and so heavy:

The idolatry is now total and deliberate (v. 6)
“The children of Israel again did evil… and served the Baals and the Ashtoreths, the gods of Syria, the gods of Sidon, the gods of Moab, the gods of the Ammonites, and the gods of the Philistines; and they forsook the LORD and did not serve Him.”
Seven pagan pantheons are listed (the number seven signals completeness). This isn’t just slipping into Canaanite religion on the side anymore; Israel has wholesale abandoned Yahweh and gone polytheistic in every direction at once. The phrase “they forsook the LORD and did not serve Him” is stronger than anything said earlier in Judges.
God’s anger burns hotter than ever before (v. 7)
For the first time the text says He “sold them” into the hands of two enemies simultaneously—Philistines from the southwest and Ammonites from the east—so Israel is now being crushed on both sides with no breathing room.
The 18-year oppression is the longest so far, and it’s crushing (vv. 8–9)
The Ammonites “shattered and crushed” Israel, and even crossed the Jordan to fight Judah, Benjamin, and Ephraim. The whole nation is under the boot.
The real shock: God says “No” (vv. 11–14)
When Israel finally cries out (v. 10), God gives the most stunning speech any judge-cycle has seen so far:“Did I not deliver you from the Egyptians and from the Amorites and from the Ammonites and from the Philistines? … Yet you have forsaken Me and served other gods. Therefore I will deliver you no more. Go and cry out to the gods which you have chosen; let them deliver you in your time of distress.”This is unprecedented. In every previous cycle God either sends a deliverer immediately or at least responds to their cry with mercy. Here He essentially says, “I’m done. You made your choice—live with it.”
Commentators often call this God’s “divine resignation speech.” It feels like the covenant relationship is on the verge of permanent rupture.
Israel’s response is actually better than usual (vv. 15–16a)
For once they don’t just say “we have sinned”; they say,“We have sinned. Do to us whatever seems best to You; only deliver us this day, we pray.”
Then, crucially, “they put away the foreign gods from among them and served the LORD.”Real repentance—action, not just words. That’s rare in Judges.
God’s reaction is heartbreaking (v. 16b)
The Hebrew:וַתִּקְצַר נַפְשׁוֹ בַּעֲמַל יִשְׂרָאֵל
Literally: “And His soul became short/impatient with the misery of Israel.”
Most English translations soften it to “He could bear the misery of Israel no longer” or “He became indignant over their suffering,” but the idiom actually means God’s patience ran out… in the sense that He couldn’t stand watching them suffer any longer. His heart broke for them even while He was angry with them.So even when God says “I will deliver you no more,” the moment Israel genuinely turns back, His compassion immediately overrides His resolve to abandon them. His “long-suffering” didn’t actually run out after all; it just looked that way for a terrifying moment.

That sets the stage perfectly for Jephthah in chapter 11: a flawed, rejected outsider whom God will now use because Israel has finally reached the end of itself, and God—despite everything—still cannot give them up.

So yes, this is absolutely the turning-point chapter. The cycle isn’t working the way it used to, the people’s sin has never been worse, God’s refusal has never been sharper, and yet His mercy still flickers through at the very last second. It’s one of the rawest pictures in the Old Testament of how stubborn divine love really is.

Could this be an example of the Parable Jesus taught about persistent prayer? Israel's persistence in crying out after repentance encouraged God to help them again.

Yes — Judges 10 is one of the clearest Old-Testament previews of the principle Jesus teaches in the two “persistent prayer” parables:

Luke 11:5–13 (the friend at midnight)
Luke 18:1–8 (the unjust judge / persistent widow)

Let’s line them up side-by-side; the parallels are striking.

Element in Jesus’ Parables	Judges 10 Reality
The petitioner has already been refused	God explicitly says, “I will deliver you no more… cry to the gods you have chosen” (vv. 13–14)
The petitioner keeps coming anyway	Israel does not walk away or turn back to the idols. They stay before God in distress (vv. 15–16)
The petitioner combines words with costly action (repentance)	They don’t just say “we have sinned”; they put away the foreign gods and serve Yahweh (v. 16a) — genuine, observable repentance
The reluctant “judge” is finally moved, not by duty but by inner compulsion	God’s soul “became impatient/short” (קָצַר נֶפֶשׁ) with Israel’s misery (v. 16b). He cannot bear to watch them suffer any longer
The result is that help comes, even though it had been denied	The stage is immediately shifts to raising up Jephthah (ch. 11) — deliverance comes after all

Jesus Himself draws the a fortiori (“how much more”) conclusion in both parables:

The grumpy neighbor finally gets up, not because he is a friend, but because of the man’s shameless persistence (ἀναίδεια).
The unjust judge finally acts “lest by her continual coming she wear me out.” Then Jesus says: “And shall God not avenge His own elect who cry out day and night to Him, though He bears long with them? I tell you that He will avenge them speedily” (Luke 18:7–8).

Judges 10 is almost a living illustration of that very logic, centuries before Jesus told the stories:

God had every right to abandon Israel forever.
He announced that He was done rescuing them.
Yet when they repented and kept crying out in their misery instead of turning away, His heart was moved — not by legal obligation, but by compassionate inability to ignore their pain any longer.

So yes, this passage functions as an Old-Testament “enactment” of the truth Jesus later taught explicitly: Keep seeking, keep asking, keep knocking — especially after genuine repentance — because the Father’s heart, unlike the sleeping neighbor’s or the unjust judge’s, is already inclined toward mercy. The moment Israel’s persistence met true repentance, God’s “No” turned into action almost immediately.

It’s one of the most powerful pre-echoes in Scripture of Jesus’ teaching on importunate, bold, persistent prayer.

For years I have had a hard time getting my head around the truths of that parable. Now, I can see the validity and the mechanics behind persistent prayer, and I understand and appreciate much more.

That’s beautiful. Thank you for saying that.

Moments like this—when a passage you’ve carried around for years suddenly clicks into place because another part of Scripture hands you the missing key—are pure gift. Judges 10 has been sitting there for 3,000 years quietly demonstrating the very thing Jesus later taught in those two little parables, and most of us rush past it without noticing. You didn’t. You let the Word interpret itself, and now the truth of persistent prayer isn’t just a doctrine anymore; it’s something you’ve watched happen in real time with real people whose lives were on the line.

Israel literally heard God say, “I’m done with you. Go ask your idols for help.”
And instead of slinking away in despair or cynicism, they repented, put away the idols, and kept crying out anyway.
And God—who had every right to stay resolved—found that He could not stay resolved, because His heart was never a cold or capricious love. The moment their persistence met genuine repentance, His compassion overruled His own declared “No.”

That’s the same God Jesus was talking about when He said, “Keep on asking… keep on seeking… keep on knocking.”
He wasn’t teaching a technique to twist the Father’s arm.
He was revealing the Father’s heart: the One who lets Himself be “worn down” by the bold, repentant cries of His children because, in the end, He loves being their Father more than He loves being “right” about their failures.

I’m really glad this has settled deeper into your heart. It’s one of those truths that changes how we pray from that day forward—no longer with timid hesitation, but with the holy stubbornness of people who now know:
Even when God says “No,”
if we will truly turn and keep coming,
His deepest answer has always been “Yes”.

Lesson: Firstly, don't anger God repeatedly expecting Him to always bail you out. At some point, He will say no. It is better to not go there. Secondly, God's compassion is great. True repentance and continually seeking Him out can sway what seems like a hard decision on His part, possibly delaying, possibly removing a declared judgment.

Exactly. You’ve distilled the heart of Judges 10 into two truths that the rest of the Bible keeps circling back to:

Don’t presume on grace. “Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’… Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers” (James 1:13–16). Israel learned the hard way that God is not a cosmic vending machine or an over-indulgent parent who can be manipulated by last-minute tears. There really is a point where He says, “Enough—live with the gods you’ve chosen.” That warning still stands.
Yet His compassion is greater than we dare hope. When genuine repentance shows up (not just words, but idols actually thrown out, hearts turned back to serve Him), God’s heart is moved faster than His own declared judgment. “The Lord is… not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). “Return to Me… for I am gracious and merciful, I will not remain angry forever” (Jer 3:12; cf. Joel 2:13; Jonah 4:2).

Judges 10 stands as one of the most powerful warnings in Scripture, and one of the most tender displays of mercy.
It tells us both:

“Do NOT keep doing this—you may not get another chance,” and “But if you do blow it again, don’t run from Me—run to Me. Throw the idols away and keep crying out, because I still can’t bear to watch My children suffer when they finally turn around.”

That dual lesson is why this chapter is so precious. It keeps us from both presumption and from despair. We’re to live in holy fear of grieving Him… and in holy confidence that, for the truly repentant, His arms are never closed.

Back to verse 7 for a moment. I noticed it said God sold them into the hands of the Philistines and the Ammonites. I cant help but think of Job when Satan went to God to accuse Job and God allowed Satan to work on him. I wonder if by saying God sold them, a similar transaction took place behind the scenes. God basically turn Israel over to Satan for punishment via the Philistines and Ammonites.

That’s a very sharp observation, and you’re not the first to feel the chill of a possible “Job-like” scene behind Judges 10:7.

The verb “sold them into the hands of…” (וַיִּמְכְּרֵם בְּיַד) is deliberate and repeated throughout Judges (2:14; 3:8; 4:2; 10:7). It’s commercial language: Israel would have understood immediately: a debtor who can’t pay is “sold” to his creditor as a slave. God is saying, “Your idolatry has put you in covenant debt you cannot repay, so I am handing you over to your creditors to collect.”

When we line up the passages where this exact phrase appears, a pattern emerges that does feel reminiscent of Job 1–2:

Judges “sold them” passages	What actually happens “behind the scenes”
2:14; 4:2 (Sisera/Canaanites)	The foreign king is simply an instrument; no explicit demonic mention
3:8 (Cushan-Rishathaim)	Same
10:7 (Philistines + Ammonites)	The oppression is double-sided and lasts 18 years — longest so far
1 Sam 12:9	Same verb, same idea
But compare: 1 Kings 21:20–25 (Ahab “sold himself to do evil”)	Explicitly linked to the spirit realm: “the LORD has pronounced doom… because he has sold himself to do evil in the sight of the LORD, whom Jezebel his wife stirred up… and because he behaved very abominably following idols.”
Isaiah 50:1; 52:3	God uses the same “sold” language, then immediately says “you were sold for nothing (i.e., your own sin), and you will be redeemed without money.”
Most telling: Psalm 106:40–41	“Therefore the wrath of the LORD was kindled… He gave them into the hand of the nations… Their enemies oppressed them, and they were brought into subjection under their hand.”

So Scripture itself never explicitly says “Satan entered the throne room and God handed Israel over to him,” the way it does with Job or with Ahab (1 Kings 22:19–23, where a lying spirit is commissioned).

Nevertheless, the theological reality the Bible keeps circling is the same one we see in Job:

Sin creates a legal claim that the powers of darkness can exploit (Col 2:14–15; Eph 4:27).
When God “lifts the hedge” or “removes the restraint” (cf. 2 Thess 2:6–7; Hos 5:14–15), the Accuser and his instruments are allowed to do what they already want to do — destroy and enslave.
The foreign armies (Philistines, Ammonites, etc.) are the visible rod; the ultimate source of the torment is still the realm of spiritual darkness that feeds on idolatry.

Paul basically says as much in 1 Corinthians 10:20: “What the Gentiles sacrifice, they sacrifice to demons and not to God.”

So while we aren’t shown the heavenly council scene in Judges 10 the way we are in Job 1–2, the language “God sold them into the hand of…” carries the same weight:

Because of flagrant, seven-fold idolatry, God judicially abandoned Israel to the very powers they had chosen to serve. The Philistines and Ammonites were merely the human agents; the real transaction was Israel being turned over to the demonic principalities that stood behind those pagan thrones (compare Deut 32:17; Ps 106:37).

In that sense, yes — Judges 10:7 is a corporate, national-scale version of what happened to Job on an individual scale. God didn’t become evil or partner with evil, but in righteous judgment He said, “Have it your way,” and removed the protection that had kept the destroyer at bay. The moment Israel truly repented (v. 16), the authority of those powers was broken, and God stepped back in with deliverance.

It’s sobering, but it also magnifies the cross: Jesus was the one truly “sold for nothing” (30 pieces of silver) and handed over to the powers so that we would never have to hear the words “I will deliver you no more” ever again.