The Grand Sweep: 365 Days From Genesis Through Revelation

When Genesis draws back the curtain on the Eternal Drama, there’s only one Person on stage. God and Beginning are synonymous. Without God there is no beginning, and there is no beginning before God. So the drama begins, and God quickly establishes lighting (1:3) and time (1:5), then begins moving in scenery—waters, sky, dry land, vegetation.

Then there are creatures with a possibility of being more than scenery: birds, fish, animals, crawling things. At last, human beings (1:26-31), creatures who will play opposite God in this drama. They can fill this role because they are made in God’s image and are therefore able to communicate with God.

It’s an awesome picture, and all the more so because of the simplicity with which it is drawn. The writer sees no need to accumulate adjectives; it is enough that God will say, at intervals, Good! If God feels that way about it, what other word is needed?

I am impressed that the creation is such an intimate process. The Creator might be portrayed as a Master Engineer or the Ultimate Computer. Instead, Genesis tells us that God has soul; he wants to talk with someone. So the creation develops step by step on the framework God said.

Science speaks increasingly of a Big Bang at creation. Genesis tells of a big conversation. But, of course, science is talking about how, while Genesis is telling us about who.

PRAYER: Help me, O God, on this day of new beginnings, to have all my beginnings in you. Amen.

How will my attitude toward the environment be affected if I seriously believe in God as Creator?

Genesis 1 told us we are made in the image of God. That’s exciting, but from practical experience it’s also confusing. We don’t feel that God-like all the time; some days, we don’t feel God-like at all.

Genesis 2 helps by telling us more about ourselves. We are creatures of the dust, which is easy to believe. Our physical person will decay into dust, and our personality is earthy enough to suggest our origins. But into that dust, God breathes something of the divine. Here is both our dilemma and our glory—that we are a bit of sod and a breath from God.

Perhaps the best evidence of our God-likeness is that we desire, like God, to communicate. Genesis 1 pictured both male and female created at once (1:27), but this chapter uses a beautiful story to let us know that we human beings need one another. We are bone of each other’s bone and flesh of each other’s flesh. John Donne underlined the point centuries later by saying that when one person dies, every person is diminished.

The intimacy of which we human beings are capable is uniquely expressed in marriage, partly because in marriage there is the possibility of engaging with God in the creation process.

There is a kind of divine humility in this chapter. Though the man is able to commune with God, he isn’t expected to find fulfillment in God alone. It is not good that the man should be alone (2:18). We need God, but we also need one another.

PRAYER: Help me, I pray, to see every human being as part of my very being. Amen.

If marriage is part of the divine plan, how does a person who has not married, or is divorced or widowed, interpret her or his singleness?

When Genesis 2 ends, all is perfect; man and woman have each other, they are in communion with God, happily employed, and blessed with idyllic housing and food.

Then, enter the villain. He is known by a variety of names, but probably the most significant is Adversary or Accuser. He enters our story making accusations against God, but it is soon evident that the object of destruction is the human creature.

The sin, quite simply, is disobedience to God. What Adam and Eve wanted was itself admirable (as is often the case with sin); they wanted to be like God. But they pursued their goal in the wrong way.

The results were catastrophic. They found themselves distanced from God, from each other, from nature, and from their own selves.

The pain continued into the next generation, and it continues to our own time. All our deeds, for good or ill, have consequences. In Adam and Eve’s case, the tragedy grew monstrous when their older son murdered the younger.

But there’s a note of grace from the very beginning. When Adam and Eve sinned, they received a message that traditional scholars over the centuries have seen as a promise of the Messiah (3:15); and when godly Abel was killed, there was a birth of new hope in Seth.

PRAYER: Save me, O God, from the day of temptation; and if I fall, teach me to repent. Amen.

Analyze your personal experience of temptation by comparing it with Eve’s encounter with the serpent. What was Eve’s experience? What is yours?

There’s much to be learned from reading an obituary column, chief of which is that we will all die. That, as Samuel Johnson would say, concentrates the attention. Genesis 5 is the first obituary column; its brief biographies are identical in their endings: and he died.

All but one. Enoch is a different sort of human being. In a setting of dying, he insisted on living, by means of his extraordinary communion with God.

Genesis 6 is an obituary column of another kind. It portrays a dead society. The smell of destruction is all about it, in proportions so ugly that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually, until at last the LORD was sorry that he had made humankind.

But here, too, there was an element of wondrous life, in the man named Noah. He found favor in the sight of the LORD, for with evil all around him, he was blameless in his generation. Further, he managed to communicate his goodness to his family, so that his wife, his sons, and his daughters-in-law accepted his spiritual leadership.

No one else did, however. Though a New Testament writer calls Noah a herald of righteousness (2 Peter 2:5), his message was not heeded. Perhaps it was achievement enough to be good and godly in a thoroughly perverse time, even to the point of winning his own household.

PRAYER: Grant me, dear Savior, the grace to be a child of life, no matter how great the measure of death around me. Amen.

List several phrases from Genesis 6 that describe the degree of evil that characterized Noah’s time.

If Hollywood were telling this story, a large share of the screen time would be invested in scenes of terrifying destruction. Genesis tells us the proportions of the rain (forty days and nights), the total involvement of nature (the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened [7:11]), and the long wait for the waters to subside; but there is no description of human terror or of vast areas of desolation.

Instead, the emphasis is on restoration. We are told much about what was saved of both animal and human life, and of the patience and faith with which Noah waited for an end to his journey. Then, a moving interaction between Noah and God. Noah builds an altar and presents a sacrifice to God, and God, in turn, expresses divine pleasure at Noah’s act. Never again, God vows, will there be such destruction; seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.

In this scene of judgment the overriding quality is mercy. Judgment has come so a worse fate can be avoided. God’s judgments are never for pointless destruction or revenge, but for redemption.

So, too, the flood is not an end, but a beginning. And what a beginning it is! A human being in trusting worship, and God responding with the assurance of continuing mercy.

PRAYER: When I face judgment, dear Lord, help me to see it as redemption at work; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Describe a rainbow experience in your life—that is, an occasion when a time of suffering or trial concluded with a bright new hope.

The Bible is a book of new beginnings. When sin seems to have destroyed an age or an individual, there is always a place of starting again.

It is as if the flood had washed the earth clean for this new start. The first generation was told to be fruitful . . . and fill the earth (1:28); now Noah and his family are given the same instructions (9:1). And as if recalling the sins of Cain and Lamech, a warning is reiterated against the shedding of blood (9:6).

But things soon began to go wrong. Even as the rainbow of the covenant fades from view, Noah falls into drunkenness and one of his sons mocks his shame. Then, as the descendants of Noah multiply, a new spirit of rebellion appears: Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens (11:4). So the original sin repeats itself: A people would, by their own devices, become like God and perhaps even displace him.

Their effort ends in disarray. When we set ourselves against God, whether as a civilization or as individuals, we put ourselves out of joint with the very nature of things and we are captured by confusion. Not only is communication with others broken, but within our own souls we speak a multitude of tongues.

But now, a new ray of hope: Terah was the father of Abram . . . ; the name of Abram’s wife was Sarai (11:27-29). God has a friend, and who can say what good lies ahead?

PRAYER: Deliver me, dear Savior, from the confusion that comes from my rebellions against your love. Amen.

What was so sinful about the tower of Babel?

Abraham is known as the father of the faithful (Galatians 3:6-7). These two chapters show why he deserves the title. They also show that faith almost always follows an uneven course, because it resides in human vessels.

Abraham’s faith begins in a dramatic act: Get up and go! That could be said to be the essence of faith, because faith leads to action. So Abraham and Sarah, who were partners in the faith venture, left all that was familiar and dear to follow a promise.

But faith, as I said a moment ago, takes an uneven course. In Egypt, Abraham seems to retreat into doubt through his fear of the Egyptians. One would think that a person who was ready to go into the wilderness of the unknown would confront Pharaoh with confidence, but we human beings are rarely that consistent. That’s why we need God’s grace.

Abraham returns to his position of sublime strength, however, when there is conflict with Lot’s herdsmen. He makes a decision based on character and trust, letting Lot have the far better portion, and only after the choice is made is Abraham revisited by God with a message of grand assurance. God said, Raise your eyes now, and look from the place where you are . . . ; all the land that you see I will give to you (13:14-15). And with that, Abraham moved on, and built an altar to the LORD (13:18).

PRAYER: When I fail, dear Savior, help me to trust in you and rise up to try again; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Contrast the qualities of character in Abram that caused him, on one hand, to lie to the pharaoh, and then, on the other, to deal so unselfishly with Lot.

Prayer Time

As I think of Abram and Sarai, who were available for God’s purposes, I will pray that, like them, I may be a friend of God.

I want especially to pray daily for these persons:

How the Drama Develops GENESIS 1–13

I call the Bible a drama because it is. It has love, intrigue, suspense, and tragedy. And it has the two most significant lead characters conceivable—God and our human race.

The truths the Bible seeks to communicate probably could not be communicated in any other way. I remember a fine novelist who said that life’s most important insights must be put into symbolic language because straight factual language isn’t strong enough or sensitive enough to bear them.

The biblical drama—the ultimate drama, from which all other dramas take their plot line—begins with only one Person in view. Call God the First Person Singular. First, indeed—who else, since God is the beginning? Person, indeed—since our very definitions of personhood begin in God. Singular, indeed—in the sense of being unique, for who can be compared with God?

I like the way God creates, speaking everything into existence. I like this because of what it tells us about the kind of God we’re doing business with. We have a communicating God, one who honors the creation by speaking to it with words.

—From Heroes, Rogues, and the Rest:

Lives That Tell the Story of the Bible

(2014); page 4.

But God chooses not to remain alone, and a creation comes into existence. It is perfect in every way until the entrance of a villain. (Is the villain perhaps the very fact of choice itself?) Suddenly the Edenic scene is shattered, and the human race finds itself refugees from perfection. Millennia later, we are still refugees, still looking for our Eden.

Adam and Eve seem to take the seed of the forbidden fruit with them as they leave the garden, because from that point forward, tragedies of sin unfold. First there is the story of Cain and Abel, with murder in the family, springing from ego twisted into jealousy, and born in (of all places) a setting of worship.

And then it gets worse, with humanity becoming so evil that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually (Genesis 6:5). So the Flood comes; it is as if nature itself cannot endure such human evil. The human story begins again, with a redeemed minority of Noah and his family. But the Flood is hardly past when Noah himself stumbles and one of his sons, Ham, compounds the evil. Then, with the passage of still more time, comes Babel. Here is the sin of Eden reenacted, as humans seek to compete with and displace God.

But through all this story is a continual strand of hope. It begins with Abel, who reaches out to God in worship, which the New Testament writer will describe as faith (Hebrews 11:4). And when the world becomes so shamefully, tragically evil, along comes Noah—a righteous man, blameless in his generation (Genesis 6:9).

The chapters following Noah seem to hold little promise. There is the embarrassment within Noah’s own family, then the debacle at Babel, and a series of names that seem inconsequential. But suddenly, there in the midst of those names are Abram and Sarai; and with them, the biblical drama takes a whole new turn. They represent a line of promise that will continue all the way through the Old Testament and will take on new significance in the New Testament as the followers of Jesus Christ are identified as the offspring of Abraham, and heirs with him of God’s promise (Galatians 3:29). The drama is not only unfolding; early in the first act we see the possibilities of an eventual climax.

Seeing Life Through Scripture

If we read the Creation story with faith-sensitive eyes, we can’t help asking ourselves this question: If God has indeed made us, what manner of creatures ought we to be?

And still more, if we are made in God’s image, to what degree are we reflecting that image? How badly blurred is the image of God in my life, as I live out my days in deeds, in words, and in thoughts?

Could a neutral observer—an angel, perhaps—ever see in me evidence that I am made in the image of God and that the breath of God is in me?

I must also remind myself that I live in a world that is at odds with the purposes of God. That’s why we pray, Your will be done, / on earth as it is in heaven (Matthew 6:10). We are refugees not only from the perfection of Eden but also from our own best intentions and from the wholeness of life that God has intended for us.

I don’t want to be part of the personal violence that characterized itself in Cain or of the culture-violence that characterized Noah’s day; nor do I want to become absorbed in the Babel kind of society in which life seems to be a rather meaningless confusion. But I have a pattern—Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abram, Sarai. You and I can be God’s people, personal outposts of a lost Eden, in our time and place.

The Sum of It All

"So God created humankind in his image,

in the image of God he created them;

male and female he created them" (Genesis 1:27).

In those ancient days, wars between city-states went on constantly. Abraham was himself a kind of traveling city, with his 318 trained men; and his little army turned the tide. I think the writer of Genesis sees the victory as an achievement of faith and of Abraham’s skilled leadership.

Abraham refuses any reward for himself, but he gives a tithe to Melchizedek, king of Salem (which means peace, shalom). Melchizedek is a mysterious figure, open to our speculation. The New Testament pays him particular attention (Hebrews 5–7), portraying him as a forerunner of Christ.

But again Abraham struggles. When the Lord says, Do not be afraid, Abram . . . ; your reward shall be very great (15:1), Abraham reminds God that he still doesn’t have an heir. Will his holdings simply pass to his steward, Eliezer of Damascus, a slave born in my house (15:3)? It is a plaintive cry.

What follows is at once inspiring, mysterious, and symbolic. After God has reassured Abraham of the divine plan, God asks him to make a sacrifice. Abraham has to drive scavenger birds away from the sacrifice; they seem like a malevolent force. Then Abraham has a terrifying dream, which reveals some of the peril that will one day threaten his descendants, even as the scavengers have invaded his place of worship.

PRAYER: When I am in a dark and uncertain place, O God, reassure me with your presence and promise; in Christ our Lord. Amen.

Recall a time when, in the face of what seemed impossible, you believed the LORD.

Sarah, who is, of course, as fine an example of faith as Abraham, wavers as does Abraham. In frustration, she attributes her childlessness to God (16:2), and judges (as Abraham seems to have done in Chapter 15) that she will have to take matters into her own hands.

Her solution was probably a rather common one in that time and culture; she and Abraham use her maid as a surrogate mother. But when the maid, Hagar, finds that she has succeeded where her mistress could not, she feels scorn for Sarah. So Ishmael is born; and since the Arab world looks upon him as their ancestor and the Jews upon Isaac as theirs, the strife between Sarah and Hagar continues to our day.

Thirteen years pass, and when Abraham is ninety-nine (17:1) God promises again that he and Sarah will have a son. It has been a long wait! At this moment his name is changed from Abram (exalted ancestor) to Abraham (ancestor of a multitude), and Sarai is changed to Sarah. Still, Abraham wants to cling to what is present and visible: O that Ishmael might live in your sight! (17:18). No wonder, when he and Sarah had waited so long and to no avail.

But God assures Abraham that there will be an Isaac and commands that the covenant mark of circumcision be instituted. From this point on, the Hebrew Scriptures divide the world, by this mark, into the circumcised and the uncircumcised.

PRAYER: Thank you, gracious Lord, for not giving up on me when I wonder and wander! Lead me on, I pray; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Both Abraham and Sarah waver in their faith. How is our faith affected by our doubting?

When the New Testament writer urges that we be hospitable to strangers because by doing so some have entertained angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:2), he may well have had Abraham and Sarah in mind.

These desert visitors brought good news and bad news. Abraham and Sarah are told again, this time with a specific detail, that they will have a son. Sarah laughs—half, I think, in doubt and half in incredulous joy—but the strangers say it will be so. But then they confide to Abraham that Sodom and Gomorrah, whose sins are very grave, will soon be destroyed.

Abraham begins bargaining. He is half saint and half merchant in a Middle Eastern bazaar, and the marvel is this: that it is only when Abraham stops asking that God stops giving. The two cities will be saved if only there are ten righteous.

But the righteous element in Sodom and Gomorrah was almost nonexistent. Even Lot’s attempt to get together a Noah-like family contingent falls short; his sons-in-law think he is jesting. This may say as much about Lot’s quality of witness as about the young men’s sensitivity. At last even Lot’s wife shows how tied she has become to the life and culture of Sodom and Gomorrah.

It is a sad and instructive story, and the postscript about the Moabites and the Ammonites only accentuates the irony.

PRAYER: Give me, please, the faith of Abraham, to plead and work for the redemption of the times in which I live; to your glory. Amen.

Think of history—national, local, or even of a church or a family—and recall instances when a very small number of righteous saved the day.

The Bible is a wonderfully honest book. It portrays us as we are, even as it holds before us the ideal of what God wants us to be. Once again Abraham, the man of faith, conducts himself more like an artful manipulator. God respects the heart integrity of Abimelech (20:6) and—in what may seem almost irony—instructs the king to solicit prayer from Abraham. Because Abraham, whatever his occasional lapses, is a servant of God.

And now the promise is fulfilled and the child Isaac—Laughter—is born. Abraham is a hundred years old, and Sarah is ninety. Are these ages according to our length years? some will ask. Whatever the case, Genesis wants to make one point clear: Abraham and Sarah are far past childbearing age, and Isaac is a miracle, a gift.

But now the tension between the child of logic and the child of faith grows to the point of disaster, and Hagar and Ishmael are forced out. From the Bible’s point of view, Isaac is the issue of the story, because the witnessing line and the redemptive line will come through him and his descendants. Nevertheless, God watches over Hagar and her son. When she reconciles herself to death, an angel chides her: What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid (21:17). Perhaps this is what theologians call common grace; for while Ishmael is not the key figure in the eternal drama, his life is nevertheless preserved and blessed.

PRAYER: Help me, Lord of all, to have room in my heart to see you at work in those who are different from me; in Christ. Amen.

Find some instances from your personal experience or from history where it seems that common grace (as in the story of Hagar and Ishmael) has preserved someone who doesn’t seem to be theologically correct.

When Abraham lifted the knife to kill Isaac, it would a triple murder. He would kill his son, his dream, the product of his faith. The enormity of the act is shown in the command: "Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love" (22:2). Abraham had waited decades for God to fulfill the promise in this son; now he has been asked to destroy him. Even God’s miracle is not allowed to compete with God.

Abraham is faithful; and Isaac, who is strong enough to resist his aged father, cooperates with him. It is an awesome father-son partnership of faith. At the last moment, God’s angel intervenes. Generations later the writer of Hebrews will say that, figuratively speaking, Isaac was raised from the dead (Hebrews 11:19).

Abraham must have asked himself what kind of God it would be who would make such a monstrous request. He must also have wondered how God’s plan could be fulfilled with Isaac gone. But he believed in the face of all his questions. However much this man of faith may have faltered on other occasions, there is no apparent faltering here.

The story stumbles us. We claim to be troubled by its primitive quality, but what bothers us most is its insistence on an ultimate commitment. Our era is not comfortable with ultimate commitments—not in marriage, patriotism, friendship, or faith. It is hard to follow Abraham up this mountain because it is hard to be an ultimate disciple.

PRAYER: Grant me, O Lord, the grace to trust you with all of my being, for all of your purposes; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Identify and describe a time in your faith pilgrimage when it seems you were called to an ultimate sacrifice.

We have had two miracles in Isaac—first his birth, then his preservation. But there will not be a family line through Isaac unless he becomes a father, so there must be a marriage.

That seems simple enough, but Abraham felt otherwise. He was convinced that his son must not marry a daughter of the Canaanites, but he was equally sure that his son must not settle back in the land he and Sarah left so long ago. Both these convictions sprang from Abraham’s understanding of the plan of God in his life and in that of his family.

So he sent his trusted servant (whose name, perhaps significantly, is never mentioned) on an expedition of trust, and the servant brings back a wife for Isaac, the beautiful and clever Rebekah.

The developing plot has its own pain. Rebekah conceives, but finds a war in her womb. The twins, born only a moment apart, are as different as if from alien cultures. As they grow up, Esau is his father’s favorite and Jacob is his mother’s. By convention, Esau should be the primary heir, as the older son, but Jacob is the one who is chosen by God. In many ways, Jacob does not appeal to us; he is too crafty and too ready to dupe his brother. But Esau is interested only in the needs and excitements of the moment, and he gladly sacrifices his birthright to fulfill an evening’s appetite. Whatever his other limitations, Jacob has a better grasp of life’s ultimate values.

PRAYER: Lord of life, teach me to prize what truly matters most; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

What are the flaws in Esau’s character—likable though he may have been—that prevented him from being an effective channel for God’s purposes?

Isaac seems to have inherited something of both his father’s strength and his weakness. He follows the same pattern of deception regarding his wife; yet like Abraham, he enjoys God’s blessing on all he does (26:12-13), and in time God confirms for him the promise that was previously made to his father (26:24). And like his father, Isaac becomes a builder of altars.

Esau continues to be a person who seeks his fulfillments regardless of other commitments, and marries out of the will of his parents. And Jacob continues to be Jacob! This time he has the help of his mother. It is not a pretty story. They combine forces to deceive blind Isaac; and they succeed, so that Jacob receives the blessing that was intended for Esau. In the previous instance, Esau was equally at fault, but this time the sin is all Jacob’s. And Esau, hating Jacob, vows that when his father has died, he will kill his younger brother. It appears that the Cain and Abel story is about to be reenacted.

Yet even from this ugly scenario, some good will come. Rebekah, her own cleverness turning in upon her, knows that she must send her favorite son away. But she uses the crisis to be sure that Jacob marries, as both his father and his mother desire, from other than the Canaanite women. The hour of extremity will become an occasion of opportunity.

PRAYER: Heavenly Father, may I never be so anxious for a desirable end that I use an unworthy means; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

In what ways did Rebekah and Jacob suffer for their act of deception?

Prayer Time

This is a good time to pray for grace and humility, and also for patience with people who seem to me not to be as consistent as they ought to be. I’m thinking of these persons (initials will do), for whom I will pray daily:

How the Drama Develops GENESIS 14–27

If Abram and Sarai (or Abraham and Sarah, as we will later, and more commonly, refer to them) are to be the channel for God’s salvation history, what kind of people are they? Wonderfully courageous and daring, because only such persons would be willing to leave home and kindred—especially late in life—and set out into the unknown. But they are not really consistent. Abraham seems anything but admirable when he compromises his wife because he thinks his life may be in danger, and Sarah clearly loses faith in God’s promise when she suggests they have a child through her servant Hagar. Isaac, in his generation, would demonstrate some of the same inconsistencies.

What is true in miniature in their lives is true also in the grand sweep of faith history. Our biblical drama will not unfold in a shortest-distance-between-two-points, straight line. The story will move several steps forward, then fall back. Sometimes, in fact, it will fall back so far we may feel the cause is almost lost. We will hear such cries of anguish from time to time from the psalmists and the prophets.

And sometimes it seems even God is not on the side of forward movement. Abraham must have wondered as much when he was called to sacrifice his son Isaac—the very carrier of the promise. But in his willingness to do as he thought God wanted, he put his faith in God rather than in the miracle God had given him and Sarah.

The drama continues through the twin sons given to Isaac and Rebekah, and again it follows an unpredictable course. Logic says that the progress should come through the elder son. But he is not a faith carrier; tonight’s dinner means more to him than his birthright. Esau is the ultimate materialist, a person who thinks there’s no use living if his current pressing desires are not met. Jacob, the carrier of the faith-theme, is by no means a consistently admirable or even likable person; but he does have his priorities in order. He knows what values are worth pursuing.

As the plot line unfolds, we are reminded from time to time that life is going along at other levels. For instance, there is the Sodom and Gomorrah story. Here is a rather impressive cultural civilization that must, at the time, have seemed far more significant than Abraham, who was living as a nomad. Yet it is this rustic who struggles to save Sodom and Gomorrah. If he had been successful, nobody in those cities would have known it, of course. We’re told also of the preservation of Hagar and her son Ishmael; they seem at times to be a subplot, and they will reappear in the New Testament in the apostle Paul’s faith discussion (Galatians 4:21-31). And along the way information is interjected about the families of Abraham’s kin (Genesis 22:20-24) and of Abraham’s later children (25:1-6), and it is made clear that these descendants are not part of the faith story.

But the faith story itself touches all of life. So when a wife must be found for Isaac, it is not simply a matter of finding a desirable and worthy person. She must be true to the vision that first impelled Abraham and Sarah, and she must be willing to enter upon the same pilgrimage that has controlled their lives (Genesis 24). The faith plot may seem at times almost to slip from view or be lost in the maze of the secular, but it is always present; and when the issue is crucial, it becomes the dominant factor.

Seeing Life Through Scripture

Faith is not simple, not even for good people, not even for saints. The lives of Abraham and Sarah and Isaac and Rebekah ought to instruct us at that point. We may sometimes be troubled by their inconsistencies (especially if we are momentarily dull to our own), but we might also be encouraged by them. If they made it, and were even crucial to God’s plan, surely there is hope for us!

This is not to justify our sins or our lapses in righteousness but to recognize that goodness doesn’t come easily. There are no sudden saints.

The Bible shows that it is not a propaganda document that tells only the favorable elements in the story, nor is it a sales pitch that suggests that anybody can be a saint. Yes, anybody can; but it won’t be easy. Nor will those who make it be able to boast about the way they achieved. God uses inconsistent people because they are the only kind available, and sometimes the failures of God’s servants become the loom upon which the purposes of God are woven.

So when the drama comes to its close, whether in the ultimate story or in the lives of individual participants, we will prove not only that we are saved by grace but also that the greatest souls have become saints by grace too.

The Sum of It All

God said to Abraham, ‘As for you, you shall keep my covenant, you and your offspring after you throughout their generations’ (Genesis 17:9).

Almost any circumstance of life can be endured if only occasionally there is a Bethel. As it happens, our Bethels often come when the circumstances are most bleak. Jacob is a fugitive now, alone in a trackless wilderness, but God visits him in a dream and promises him blessings for himself and his offspring.

The blessing begins soon thereafter in the household of his uncle Laban, as he falls in love with Laban’s daughter Rachel. But the blessings come with a price, because Jacob and Laban are cut from the same cloth. It’s fascinating to watch these two clever dealers outwitting each other.

Jacob’s cleverness is no match, however, for the problems he encounters in being married to the sisters Leah and Rachel. It is Rachel whom he loves, but it is Leah who is fruitful; and as the years go by he is caught between their jealousies and resentments.

But his family grows, and so does his wealth. Clever as Laban is, Jacob is more clever. He gradually builds a small fortune; and while it is the result of his own ingenuity and hard work, it can also be said that he would never have had the opportunity if it had not been for his father-in-law. Above all, Jacob enjoys the favor and blessing of God. And while his pursuit of God’s purposes is sometimes misguided, it is to Jacob’s credit that he never loses sight of what is best.

PRAYER: Help me this day to keep my eyes fixed on your will, O Lord, that my life may fulfill your purposes; to your glory. Amen.

Make a list of similar characteristics you observe in Laban and Jacob.

Almost all of us have some unfinished business in our lives, and the sooner we deal with it, the better off we’ll be. Jacob had more than his share. These chapters report his handling of each matter.

First, there’s his father-in-law, Laban. When Jacob sensed that trouble was brewing with his brothers-in-law, he fled the territory, but Laban soon caught up with him. In truth, both Jacob and Laban had poor records, and they settled matters in a rather tentative way, a truce of suspicion.

Chapter 32 records the story of Jacob’s encounter with God, but it begins with Jacob’s unfinished business with his brother, Esau. Over twenty years have gone by since Jacob defrauded him and since Esau vowed murderous revenge. Jacob apparently wants to make things right; but when he sends emissaries ahead, he learns that Esau is coming to meet him with four hundred men.

Jacob organizes a diplomatic mission, but he is not at peace. That night he separates himself from every living person, only to find himself confronted by a Stranger.

Jacob and the Stranger wrestle through the night until at last Jacob wins by giving up. The Stranger gives Jacob a new name, Israel, the name that will ever after be that of his people.

Who was the Stranger? Centuries later Charles Wesley, putting himself in Jacob’s place, said, ’Tis Love! ’tis Love! Thou diedst for me. We aren’t surprised that Jacob’s meeting the next day with Esau was successful. Having done business with God, he was ready to meet his brother.

PRAYER: Conquer my soul, O God, till I know your name is Love. Amen.

What connection do you see between Jacob’s apprehension at the coming meeting with his brother Esau and his experience with the Divine Stranger?

If you believe that the Bible is the story of God’s dealings with our human race, as I do, you may wonder why Chapter 34 is included. It is a primitive story, full of violence. It makes clear, however, that Israel was already committed to a higher level of sexual morality than the other nations, and that at least to a degree, there was more respect for women.

But it’s also clear that they expressed their convictions in crude fashion, leaving Jacob in a perilous position. In this crisis Jacob returns to Bethel, with instructions to build an altar. It is as if the bad prospects were forcing him to re-examine his past, remembering his two major encounters with God, and to renew his vows. He remembers that God sustained him in other difficult times, and he turns to God again. It’s good to be able to call back some experiences of mercy to carry one through a current crisis.

Now Benjamin is born, and the family of Israel is complete. Here are the twelve tribes around which the nation’s history will revolve for centuries.

The long list of Esau’s family, constituting the nation of Edom, is not our favorite form of reading, but Genesis considers it essential to the story. As time goes by, the Edomites will appear again and again, generally in strife with Israel. So although Esau and Jacob are at peace (35:29), their descendants will dwell with the sword.

PRAYER: Grant me the grace, I pray, to hold deep convictions with a kindly spirit; to your praise. Amen.

What significance do you find in Jacob’s being called, at this point in his life, to build an altar at Bethel?

We human beings are a complex lot, and we weave strands of life that continually entangle us. Jacob was inclined, it seems, to love much but not wisely; so even as he had loved Rachel to Leah’s hurt, now he loves Rachel’s son Joseph to the resentment of his siblings and to Joseph’s own pain.

And Joseph, though very bright, is nevertheless not tactful enough to handle his dreams and his ambitions well. The smoldering resentment grows into disaster, and the teenager is sold into slavery. Jacob thus pays dearly for his favoritism. He will spend the next long years of his life mourning the son he thinks is dead, while in truth that son is preparing the way for his family’s well-being. Probably much of our mourning comes from our ignorance. If we knew better how faithfully God is working behind the scenes, we would have more peace.

Not only does God work behind the scenes, but also the divine hand reworks many of our misshapen doings. So it is in the story of Judah and Tamar. Again, the story is told with candor; feelings and reputations are not protected. Judah denies his daughter-in-law the protection of the laws that were intended to provide for women, and Tamar uses a clever plan to make her case. Not much can be said for Judah’s conduct, but at least this: He acknowledged his sin (38:26). The end of the story—God at work behind the scenes—comes in the Gospel of Matthew, when we discover that out of this incestuous relationship came a child who is in the line of the Messiah, our Lord Christ (Matthew 1:3).

PRAYER: Give me the faith to see you at work, O God, even in our human sins and shortcomings; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Putting yourself in Jacob’s place, list the positive qualities you see in Joseph. Now, putting yourself in the places of Joseph’s brothers, list the negative qualities you find in him.

Joseph the dreamer must now see his dreams broken and delayed. At first all goes well: The LORD was with Joseph, and he became a successful man (39:2). But his very success and his being handsome and goodlooking make him attractive to Potiphar’s wife. Joseph is admirable in resisting her enticing, and his reasons are admirable. He feels a debt to his master and he knows that if he were to lie with his mistress it would be a sin against God (39:8-9). He has obligations to both God and society, and he means to fulfill them.

But in doing so he loses his position and, even worse, is thrown into prison. Doing what is right does not necessarily bring immediate reward. Perhaps not even on this earth, else what’s a heaven for? Even in prison Joseph’s character and God’s blessing combine for achievement; he is soon as trusted there as he was in Potiphar’s house. A wise writer will say later that if people’s ways please the Lord, even their enemies will be at peace with them (Proverbs 16:7). Joseph seems to demonstrate the point, and when the opportunity comes to exercise his gift of insight through the dreams of his fellow prisoners, Joseph’s future seems very hopeful.

But it is not to be so easy. The chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph, but forgot him (40:23). Sometimes faith shows itself best by our waiting.

PRAYER: If at times, O Lord, I am disappointed in life and in people, grant me the faith to hold steady; to your glory. Amen.

Joseph’s integrity in his conduct with his employer’s wife brings demotion and imprisonment. Recall some incidents, from history or from personal knowledge, where right conduct brought pain or loss.

After two whole years (41:1)! I imagine Joseph waiting almost momentarily after the cupbearer has left the prison; then, slowly, hope dies. But there is a time and a tide. If the cupbearer had told Pharaoh of Joseph immediately upon his return to his office, Joseph’s name would have been filed under applications received. But now Pharaoh is in need of just the talents Joseph has, and now the cupbearer remembers.

Joseph credits God with his gift of insight, as well he should and as well all of us should. Pharaoh sees more in Joseph than simply a diviner of dreams; he also has obvious administrative skills. The bright teenager who alienated his brothers with his dreams has now been matured by life’s buffeting. He is prepared. And he has prospered. Rightly he names his second son, God has made me fruitful in the land of my misfortunes (41:52).

But the best evidence of Joseph’s maturity is yet to be seen. It is sometimes easier to run an empire than to make peace with one’s own family, and easier to execute orders than to forgive injuries. In the course of time Joseph is visited by his brothers. The teenager is now a grown man, dressed in the regal garb of an Egyptian ruler so his brothers don’t recognize him. But he knows them. The situation is dramatically reversed from that dark day when they sold him into slavery. Now they are the suppliants and he is in command.

PRAYER: When I have moments of power, O Lord, help me use my strength with kindness and wisdom; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

When Joseph interprets Pharaoh’s dream, he gives credit to God. How does this compare with his attitude as a boy, reporting his dreams to his family?

When you read these chapters, you realize why the Nobel-prize winning German author Thomas Mann felt driven to expand the story into a four-volume novel. What a plot: Brothers sell their brother into slavery, then are dependent on him years later when he is in a position of absolute power. His father thinks his son long dead but now gets the unbelievable news that the boy is not only alive but as successful as only that boy could have dreamed.

And what a tangle of emotions! Follow the brothers, from resentment to revenge to deception to fear. Or the father, from despair and grief, to fear of losing his other special son, to a fantasy of reunion. And Joseph, of course. Surely during his slave and prison days, and perhaps even more in his position of power, he must have contemplated revenge.

But the issue to the writer of Genesis is more than plot or human psychology. He sees God at work. Even through the ugliness of human jealousy and brutality, even in a motley course of heartbreaks and delay, God is working out the divine will. Joseph is so sure of it that he makes the point three times in one paragraph. The brothers are not to be distressed for what they did,