After using the jawbone, he dropped it and moved on. That verse in Judges 15:17—“When he finished speaking, he threw away the jawbone; and the place was called Ramath Lehi”—has stayed with me today. Samson had just used the jawbone of a donkey to defeat a thousand men. It was an unconventional tool, not something anyone would expect to bring about such a victory. And yet, God used it in that moment. But what strikes me most is not just the victory or the odd weapon, but what Samson did afterward—he dropped it. He didn’t hold onto it, frame it, or store it for another fight. He let it go.
That action, so simple and swift, holds a deep lesson. Samson understood that the jawbone had served its purpose. It was a temporary tool for a specific battle. Nothing more. And once the purpose was fulfilled, he moved on. But how many times in my life have I held onto jawbones? Kept things that were meant for a moment but not meant to last? It could be a strategy that worked once but no longer brings life. A relationship that served a season but is now clung to out of fear. Even spiritual habits or routines that God used to grow me—but that I now hold onto more out of tradition than trust.
There’s something comforting about keeping what once worked. We feel secure with what we know. We begin to idolize the tools, forgetting that it was never really the jawbone that brought the victory—it was God. The danger of storing the jawbone is that we start to believe that our help comes from the method instead of the Maker. We become attached to the form instead of the source.
I’ve caught myself doing this recently—relying on old patterns, hoping yesterday’s breakthrough will carry me through today’s storm. But faith is dynamic. It’s not about repeating the same thing forever. Sometimes, God gives us a tool for one moment only, and He expects us to lay it down when the moment passes. Holding on can become a burden. It weighs us down and blinds us to the new things God wants to do.
Letting go is not easy. There’s risk in moving on. There’s a kind of grief involved in releasing something that once helped you. But there’s also freedom. And trust. It’s a statement of belief that says, “God will provide again. He will fight my next battle with whatever tool He chooses. I don’t need to carry yesterday’s weapon into tomorrow’s war.”
The act of dropping the jawbone reminds me that our victories do not depend on cleverness or strength or what we carry—they depend on God’s presence. And when He moves us on, it’s because He has more to teach us, more to give us, more ways to grow us. Could it be that what’s holding me back is not a lack of provision, but my unwillingness to let go of a past provision?
What are the jawbones I’m still carrying? Old hurts that once taught me a lesson but now only weigh down my heart? A role or identity that once gave me purpose but now restricts me? Even a success that I keep reliving because I’m afraid I’ll never experience another one? Each of these can quietly become idols if I’m not careful. But dropping the jawbone is a declaration that I trust God not just for what He did, but for what He will do next.
There’s a rhythm in life, and it includes both receiving and releasing. We pick up what God gives us, we use it with all our heart, and then when the time comes, we lay it down. Not every good thing is meant to last forever. Some are just meant to carry us through a season, a battle, a lesson. The danger of not releasing is that we become people of nostalgia rather than people of faith.
Samson didn’t carry the jawbone with him. He carried the memory of what God had done. That’s what we’re meant to carry too—not the tools, but the testimony. The reminder that God showed up, that He made a way, that He turned something ordinary into something powerful. That is what should stay with us.
So today, I’m asking myself: what am I still gripping that needs to be dropped? What do I need to release so my hands and heart are free for the next thing God is calling me to? It’s not always clear. It’s not always comfortable. But it is necessary if I want to grow.
Maybe you’re carrying something, too—something that once brought victory but now only brings weight. Can you trust that God has more for you than what was? Can you believe that He’ll provide a new jawbone, a new path, a new strength when the time comes? It starts with release. With opening our hands and saying, “Thank You, Lord, for what was. I’m ready now for what’s next.”
Are you ready to drop your jawbone and move on?
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