Anxious Hesitations of an Iconoclast

based on Judges 6

He crouched in the dark
sledge in hand, axe in belt.
Ten servants at his back 
in the brush
hiding torches.
Was it time? Was it now?
There were the altars and no one nearby.
But reticent he cowered
saying nothing
save in mind.

How could he do this?
Kick his people when down?
Their town leveled, sheep stolen, 
blood spilt on the streets.
What had they left but the altar,
the pole, and the seven-year bull.
How could he kill his father's best
on the razed edifice 
of Baal and Asherah,
gods of men and women
of prosperity and pleasure?
Where would they lift their eyes, 
if he hewed that tall pole?
Where would they find their strength,
if he tore down their last stronghold?
And dare he trample the traditions
that thrilled him in youth?
Ought he to respect them
for his elder's sake?
After all, he owed them much,
as he did his father,
who'd surely disown him
if he went ahead with this.
Manasseh would betray. 
Abierzrites recoil.
Could he bear their scorn
heaped on the family name?
Why proceed?
Why not lie low?
It wasn't too late to hang the axe
and return the bull.
Maybe at the assembly,
someone would suggest
an altar to the Lord 
just there beside the others.
A gradual change, that was judicious.
After all, wise warriors knew when to wait 
as much as to act.

He shivered in the dark 
biting lip and feeling sick
tormented by futures imagined or real
and the vision of that meeting 
burned in memory's eye:
the winepress of threshed wheat, 
of a bowl of broth-soaked meat 
bread unleavened,
a staff bursting flame, 
and a man calling his name.
"Mighty warrior. Man of valor."
In a flash, he saw himself
Gideon: The Idol Smasher.
And his fears were swallowed 
in illusions of greatness.
He alone would be righteous.

A crash behind 
made him jump.
His servant's dropped jug
cracked pottery on stone
exposing torches to moonlight.
Silent they froze. Waiting.
No trumpets alarmed.
Nothing disturbed
save his own wavering mind
jarred to resolve.

"We go!" he yelled. 
"Tear down the altar
and hew the pole.
Hold nothing back.
Do it for me and the Lord."
So to servants he said
spurred by pride and a crash
to will God's command
and take action at last.
But there remained in his soul
the harder work still
to crack stone-hard heart
and love what God had willed.