Gathered to His People

Euphemisms, we use them all the time. Using a word or phrase in place of another word or phrase that makes us uncomfortable. In my corporate life, we often preferred to talk about “downsizing” rather than “job eliminations.” For those who were caught up in the “downsizing”, they weren’t “fired” they were “let go.”

So, as I’m reading in Genesis this morning, I encounter a phrase that, at first, might appear to be a euphemism. But given that I’m reading the inspired word of God, perhaps I should be chewing on it as a true-ism.

When Jacob had finished giving charges to his sons, he drew his feet into the bed, took his last breath, and was gathered to his people.

(Genesis 49:33 CSB)

Jacob didn’t die, he was gathered to his people.

It’s not the first time I’ve encountered this phrase. Abraham was gathered to his people (Gen. 25:8). As was Ishmael (25:17) and Isaac (35:29). And, looking ahead, Aaron and Moses too will both be gathered to his people (Num. 20:24, Deut. 32:50).

Hmm . . . just trying to soften the harshness of an eventuality awaiting all of us? Or, intentionally trying to say something of the reality beyond that eventuality awaiting all of us? Perhaps saying something like, “It ain’t over when it’s over.”

Whether speaking about the favored son, Isaac, or the cast out son, Ishmael, when they died they were both gathered to their people. I don’t think this means they were interred where their ancestors were interred. Instead, I think it may be intended to remind me of an existence beyond this existence. A reality beyond this reality. That death, whether it’s for those owning God as their God or for those whose god is themselves, is but a doorway to being with their people. That breathing our last on this earth is but an entrance to something beyond this earth.

So, the question then might be, “What people am I going to be gathered to?” What reality beyond this reality can I anticipate?

For followers of Christ — for those who have trusted in Jesus as their Savior and have owned Him as their Lord, we have our own set of non-euphemisms. For us, we’ll talk about “going home.” We’ll say a departed brother or sister has been “promoted into glory.” Paul says it’s to be “away from the body and at home with the Lord” (2Cor. 5:8).

We use such terminology not to lessen the harsh reality of death, but to remind ourselves of the wonderful reality of life everlasting beyond death. And that’s why we are able to “not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1Th. 4:13). Because, for those who have “fallen asleep” in Jesus (1Th. 4:14), we know that they too have been gathered to His people. A people of faith in the finished work of a cross. A people who trust in the power of an empty tomb. A people who rest in the One who said,

“I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in Me, even if he dies, will live. Everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?”

(John 11:25-26 CSB)

Yes Father, I believe this. I believe that Your Son is the risen Savior for all who believe. And I believe that one day I too will be gathered to His people.

Only by Your grace. To You be all the glory.

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Tethered by a Promise

Had one of those “Don’t think I’ve ever noticed this, much less thought about this” encounters with the Word this morning. Reading in a passage I have read in many times before. Seeing things in it I had seen many times before. But then, an encounter of the divine kind with a verse I’ve always skimmed over many times before.

Passage in question? Genesis 48. Big idea? A dying patriarch, Jacob, blesses the boys of his “resurrected” son, Joseph, adopting them as his own and grafting them into what would eventually become known as the twelve tribes of Israel. What’s more, the theme of “the son of favor” continues in Genesis as, rather than following the ways of men and conferring the greater blessing upon the firstborn, Jacob switches hands and blesses the youngest above the oldest. So far, so good. This I remember.

But then, this . . .

Israel said to Joseph, “Look, I am about to die, but God will be with you and will bring you back to the land of your fathers. Over and above what I am giving your brothers, I am giving you the one mountain slope that I took from the Amorites with my sword and bow.”

(Genesis 48:21-22 CSB)

I am giving you the one mountain slope. That’s what grabbed me this morning.

One mountain slope — not even the whole mountain — that’s what Jacob the head over “seventy persons” (Gen. 46:27) gifts to Joseph the ruler over all of Egypt (Gen. 41:41). A piece of land where he pitched his tent that held all his earthly belongings, that’s what Jacob gives to the man who for years has been building grain silo after grain silo and then accumulating, literally, the world’s wealth. One mountain slope in a foreign land — out of sight, but evidently not out of mind — given to one who seemingly already has everything.

Not much to look at really (actually nothing to look at as long as you’re still in Egypt), but what a powerful tether to Joseph’s true identity, himself a favored son. Though Joseph literally has the world at his feet, his father gives him a double portion of a land of promise. Though Joseph is firmly entrenched and preoccupied with a place that has provided for him abundantly, his father reminds him of place God will bless him with eternally.

Hmm . . . sounds familiar.

This world is not my home. No matter how much a part of it I feel, no matter how much of it I’ve accumulated, no matter how much it preoccupies the daily affairs of my life, I too have had one mountain slope, a slice of another land, promised to me.

“In My Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?” ~ Jesus

(John 14:2 CSB)

For Joseph, it was a bequeathed hillside in his father’s homeland. For me, it’s a room being built in my Father’s house. A tie to another place, a reminder of a yet to be realized future. An incentive to not get too entrenched in this place because I was born again for another place.

Being tethered by a promise to a land I’ll live in someday has a way of keeping my internal GPS fixed on my true north today.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Taking Pride = Trusting

At first, this CSB rendering of a well-known ESV verse seems so different. Initially, I’m thinking that the two sets of translators seem to have ended up in very different places. But the more I chew on it this morning, the apparently different things of trusting and taking pride can actually be the same thing.

Psalm 20 is a prayer for those entering into battle, or as the songwriter puts it, entering into “a day of trouble” (20:1). It’s a cry for God to answer, for God to protect, for God to send help, and for God to sustain (20:1-3). It’s a prayer for God to grant the heart’s desire of the king and that the king would know victory (20:4-5, 9). But here’s the thing, it’s not an “I wish I may I wish might” type of prayer, it’s a prayer that is confident God will engage.

Now I know that the Lord gives victory to His anointed;
He will answer him from His holy heaven
with mighty victories from His right hand.
Some take pride in chariots, and others in horses,
but we take pride in the name of the Lord our God.

(Psalm 20:6-7 CSB)

And there it is, verse 7. I recognize the verse because I recoginze the chariots and horses. But it’s not the verse I know. Cue the ESV translation . . .

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.

(Psalm 20:7 ESV)

Hmmm . . . trusting . . . taking pride. At first blush, those don’t seem to line up to me.

Dig a little into the original and you can see why the variation in translation.

Some of chariots, and some of horses, And we of the name of Jehovah our God make mention.

(Psalm 20:7 YLT)

Doesn’t use the word for trust in the original. Nor the word for take pride. Instead, it’s the word remember. As in, when talking of an outcome you remember it or make mention of it.

Okay, so I put myself in the songwriter’s sandals. I’m praying a prayer for victory in a day of trouble. I know I will enter the battle with whatever resources I have, but I am appealing to my God to be there with me, to go there before me. And I anticipate victory. So, how do I anticipate later talking of that victory? How do I anticipate remembering it? How do I imagine boasting about it? Well, if I imagine that I won’t be taking pride in my resources nor in how well I waged warfare — if I’m prepared now not to take pride in my chariots and in my horses but take pride in my God as the One who gives the victory, then am I not trusting in the Lord our God. Thinkin’ I am.

Preparing in advance to take pride in the Lord’s victory there and then has got to be one of the signs that I trust Him for the victory even as I pray for it here and now. Knowing now that my resources and my strength and my abilities are not what will ultimately win the day, even though I am certain I will win the day, is only possible as look to Him alone to win the day. Taking pride in what God is going to do only happens as I am trusting in what God is going to do.

Taking pride in what God is going to do before God does it. Hmm . . . sounds like trusting to me.

By His grace. For His glory.

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A Song Within A Song (A 2015 Rerun)

Reading Psalm 18 this morning and find myself pausing over something that doesn’t quite sit right. Not sure what to do with it. So, I went back and looked on previous meals served up with Psalm 18 ingredients and found I had encountered the same “bad chord” back in 2015. My musings back then were not only helpful this morning, but sparked afresh wonder and worship. Thought I’d rerun that post.


While reading Psalm 18 this morning, I encountered something which, at first glance, just didn’t seem right. It was kind of like I was “listening” to a song when all of a sudden someone hit a bad chord. The notes didn’t quite line up. The melody took a weird turn. But I’m wondering if it isn’t because I am “listening” to a song within a song.

David wrote the Eighteenth Psalm for the choirmaster’s collection. It is a song of deliverance . . . a song of victory . . . a song composed on the occasion of the LORD rescuing him from the hand of all his enemies, and from the hand of Saul. It is a song which starts big . . .

I love You, O LORD, my strength. The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies.

(Psalm 18:1-3 ESV)

The victor in this passage is LORD. The conqueror is the Rock. The “hero” is the Deliverer. And David can’t help but respond with praise and adoration.

The songwriter extols the might of heaven’s great Warrior. Of the LORD’s fierce intervention on the songwriter’s behalf. The earth reels as the LORD thunders in the heavens and rides on the cherub to battle on behalf of His beloved on earth. And the LORD rescues him . . . draws him “out of many waters” . . . brings him into “a broad place.” Why? Because the LORD delights in him (18:7-19).

Good so far. Love the melody. God’s greatness. God’s glory. Acting on behalf of a man he delights in because of God’s grace. I’m groovin’ with the tune!

But then there’s the bad chord . . .

The LORD dealt with me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands he rewarded me. For I have kept the ways of the LORD, . . . I was blameless before him, and I kept myself from my guilt. So the LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness, according to the cleanness of my hands in His sight.

(Psalm 18:20-24 ESV)

Twang!!!! Wait a minute. Back the bus up. That doesn’t sound right. There is none righteous, no not one (Rom. 3:10). All our righteousness is as filthy rags (Isa. 64:6). What’s this about?

What if, at least in part, the explanation lies in the fact that this is a song within a song? While it’s a song about David, what if it’s also a song about the Greater David? One about the king of Israel, but one that also speaks of his offspring, the Anointed, the King of Kings? What if a second battle is in view in this song, one that occurs on a cross centuries into the future. What if the One being delivered is Christ, the Righteous One? What if the Holy Spirit worked through David to write a song within a song?

What if the song within the song is a prophetic song foreshadowing One who, though tempted in all ways as we are, was yet without sin (Heb. 4:15)? One who could truly say He was blameless and kept Himself from guilt? And that the song is about heaven’s war against the enemies from hell who thought they had won the battle on Calvary’s cross, but in fact were defeated as He was drawn from the depths and raised in victorious, resurrected, eternal life.

And what if the song hints at our own deliverance from the enemy because we have been credited with the righteousness of Another?

For this I will praise you, O LORD, among the nations, and sing to Your name. Great salvation He brings to His king, and shows steadfast love to His anointed (the Christ) to David (the Greater David) and His offspring (those born of the Spirit) forever.

(Psalm 18:49-50 ESV with a little PV, Pete’s Version, added in)

Then, what a sweet, sweet song within a song!

Amen?

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Our “No” Being Turned Into A “Yes”

Sometimes it’s just used as more fuel for the fire for those who want to take a shot at “impetuous Peter” as an example of what not to do. As in you don’t say, “No, Lord!” But what if you need to say “No, Lord” once in awhile in order to be ready to say “Yes” to the Spirit?

. . . [Peter] fell into a trance. He saw heaven opened and an object that resembled a large sheet coming down, being lowered by its four corners to the earth. In it were all the four-footed animals and reptiles of the earth, and the birds of the sky. A voice said to him, “Get up, Peter; kill and eat.”

“No, Lord!” Peter said. “For I have never eaten anything impure and ritually unclean.”

(Acts 10:10b-14 CSB)

No, Lord! Okay, gonna admit that’s kind of an oxymoron. Will concede that stopping when you’re told by the Ruler of the universe to be starting probably isn’t the appropriate response. In fact, responding to the clear direction of the One who holds sovereign power over you, and who you have purposed to follow at all cost, with, “By no means,” is sort of a bonehead thing to do. But remember, Christ Jesus came into the world to save boneheads of whom I am chief (or something like that).

It’s not like Peter was in rebellion. Not like he wasn’t abiding in the Lord. Not like he wasn’t giving himself to prayer. Not like he had come up with some new doctrine around unclean animals and the eating of such. Nope, none of the those things. Peter’s “No Lord”, it seems to me, was born of sincere, Scripture-based conviction.

But God was about to open up a new door for the gospel. And it was such a big and radical door for Peter and other devout Jews that God needed first to “open up heaven” and drop in front of Peter a banqueting table of disgusting, forbidden animals and tell him, “Eat!”

Come on. I think we can cut Peter some slack here. Yeah, “No, Lord” wasn’t the right answer. But who was expecting that kind of command?

So, the Lord has Peter right where He wants him.

While Peter was deeply perplexed about what the vision he had seen might mean . . . While Peter was thinking about the vision, the Spirit told him, “Three men are here looking for you. Get up, go downstairs, and go with them with no doubts at all, because I have sent them.”

(Acts 10:17a, 19-20 CSB)

Peter’s paradigm, though based on revelation, is blown away by further illumination. He’s deeply perplexed. He’s deeply in thought. He’s deeply humbled and more than open to reconsidering his “No, Lord.” And so, perplexed and pondering, his heart is ready for the Spirit to speak. Thus, through a “No, Lord” Peter is readied to say, “Yes, Spirit,” and take the gospel to the Gentiles.

Now we don’t live in a day of new revelation trumping old revelation, and neither did Peter. That the promises made to Abraham would bless “all peoples on the earth” had been around since Genesis 12:3. But sometimes things are hidden. Sometimes they’re not fully understood. Sometimes you need the Lord to show you a “No, Lord” sort of thing to be ready for the Spirit to illuminate the “Yes, Lord” way to walk.

We need to be people of conviction, for sure. But we also need to be people humble enough for the Scripture to bring correction so that we might be people who grow in our commitment. We need to be open to our “No” being turned into a “Yes.”

This too, only by the grace of God. This too, only for the glory of God.

Makes sense?

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Fear and Freedom

Growth strategies. That’s been part of the modern church’s lexicon for as long as I’ve been a believer. So we ask ourselves, what do we need to do as a body of believers to become a bigger body of believers? Everything from visitor experience to member ministries is programmed so that people come and people stay. 80% full, if only 20% fully committed. (80% because more than that, so went the prevailing wisdom, and you’re going to lose people because there’s “nowhere” to sit — so make sure you’re building is always expanding too).

Not wanting to be overly simplistic. Not wanting to be critical either. After all, going and making disciples implies growing even as we’re equipping disciples. But something I read this morning in Acts caught my eye, and my attention, as it relates to growing churches. All our strategies, all our programming, really won’t amount to a hill of beans (or our targeted mountain of beings) if they are not sown in the context of some authentic spiritual dynamics. This morning, I’m chewing on fear and freedom.

So the church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria had peace and was strengthened. Living in the fear of the Lord and encouraged by the Holy Spirit, it increased in numbers.

(Acts 9:31 CSB)

The early church grew. It’s “strategy”? Fear the Lord and foster freedom for the Spirit.

Sure, they were doing a lot of stuff. A lot of spiritual stuff like gathering together, learning together, and praying together. And they were doing a lot of practical stuff too, like sharing what they had with one another and caring equitably for the widows in their midst. But that wasn’t part of their strategy in order to meet their targets. It wasn’t part of their “plan” in order to promote their “brand.” It wasn’t a means towards an end. Growing in the things of God while loving the people of God was the end. And it happened as they feared and as there was freedom. They feared the Lord and there was freedom for the Spirit to work.

The fear they knew wasn’t some somber, holy dread of stepping out of line. Rather, as Michael Reeves explains in his book, Rejoice and Tremble, the fear of the Lord they lived in was more of “an ecstasy of love and joy that senses how overwhelmingly kind and magnificent, good and true God is, and that therefore leans on him in staggered praise and faith” (p. 67). It wasn’t the fear experienced by the people at the foot of Sinai, where the Law was given, which caused them to flee. Rather, it was the fear they experienced at the foot of the cross, where they heard afresh the words of Christ, “Come to Me” which drew them to respond boldly by approaching heaven’s throne of grace. As Reeves quotes John Bunyan, “Godly fear flows from a sense of the love and kindness of God. Nothing can lay a stronger obligation upon the heart of God than a sense of, or hope in, mercy” (p. 50). The early church grew because there was in their midst a prevailing fear of God — they were so captivated by the love of God that they wholly submitted themselves to living for God.

But more than just a fear factor in their midst, there was also a freedom factor. They were encouraged by the Holy Spirit. They were called, exhorted, admonished, and persuaded by the One Jesus sent to live in them as individuals and bind them together as a body. Far from quenching the Spirit, they fostered the Spirit. They opened the Scriptures, giving the Spirit “material” with which to transform them by the renewing of their minds. They closed the door on unconfessed, un-dealt with sin, as they repented of their sin and forgave each other as God in Christ had forgiven them. They knew it was not by their might, nor their power that Jesus’s church would grow, but by the Spirit’s active work within them.

Fear of the Lord, freedom for the Spirit. And the church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria had peace and was strengthened and increased in numbers.

How’s that for a growth strategy?

By His grace. For His glory.

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Treasure Management

This morning, I’m hovering over a few verses from Jesus’ sermon on the mount, and it seems to me there might well be a fine line between good stewardship and guileful slavery.

“Don’t store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. . . . No one can serve two masters, since either he will hate one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.” ~ Jesus

(Matthew 6:19-21, 24 CSB)

As a rich person in a rich land (in relation to most people on this planet), when I encounter these verses each year I often pause, consider, and try to calibrate. What is my treasure handling indicating about my heart condition? And, it seems to me, it’s not necessarily a quick check. Not necessarily an easy answer. Because I’m thinking the evidence of faithful stewardship may not be a lot different than the evidence of fettered slavery.

If I think about it for a minute, I’m most often inclined to think about these verses in terms of how I spend my money. But isn’t storing up treasure about not spending? Maybe I should be thinking more about why I save my money. Less about why I open my wallet and more about why I don’t.

If the reasons I’m “careful with my money” tend towards ensuring my secure future rather than investing in a coming kingdom, then perhaps I’m not serving God as much as I like to think I am. If my frugalness is really driven by wanting to make sure that I’m always able to “give me this day my daily bread”, then maybe mammon is really my Jehovah-Jireh (the LORD my Provider).

If the reason I keep the $5 in my pocket rather than bless the guy on the street, or keep the $50 in my wallet rather than give it to the church, or keep the $500 in my bank account rather than enjoy God’s good provision with my family, or keep the $5,000 in the market rather than sacrificially support some ministry — if the reason I do any of that is more because of watching out for me than wanting to live for the kingdom, then my thriftiness might just be a form of bondage.

Not saying we shouldn’t be careful with the funds we’ve been entrusted with. Not saying we don’t plan for the future. Not saying we don’t save to be able to experience the wonder and joy of the world God has provided through the means God has provided. But I am saying I think Jesus is saying that why we save may be an indicator of who or what we’re really serving.

Worth chewing on, I think.

Instruct those who are rich in the present age not to be arrogant or to set their hope on the uncertainty of wealth, but on God, who richly provides us with all things to enjoy. Instruct them to do what is good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and willing to share, storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of what is truly life.

(1Timothy 6:17-19 CSB)

Treasure management. This too, by His grace. This too, for His glory.

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A Limp for a Lifetime

I think it was with Jesus. I think Jacob spent all night in toe-to-toe, hand-to-hand combat with the pre-incarnate manifestation of the the Second Person of the Trinity, the Son of God (Gen. 32:24).

That the King of heaven had determined to go easy on this mere man is evident. How else could the One who made all things still find Himself in a hammerlock after an all night wrestling match with one of His creation? How is it possible that “He could not defeat him” (32:25)?

But morning had dawned and it was time for this mere mortal to see the light.

But Jacob said, “I will not let You go unless You bless me.”
“What is your name?” the man asked.
“Jacob!” he replied.
“Your name will no longer be Jacob,” He said. “It will be Israel because you have struggled with God and with men and have prevailed.”

(Genesis 32:26b-28 CSB)

“Okay, it’s time to get real,” says the Christ who was willing to get up close and personal with this image-bearer. “Time to come clean. Time to own who you are. So tell Me, what’s your name?”

“I am the deceiver,” confesses Christ’s wrestling partner. “Always have been, always will be. Unless You intervene. Unless You make me a new creation. Unless you give me a new name. Unless You bless me, I will never be anything more than Jacob.”

And intervene Jesus does. A new name. A new identity. A new beginning. “Old things have passed away, and look, new things have come” (2Cor. 5:17).

Happy ending, right? Sunshine and roses you’d think. But the new identity came with lifelong injury.

When the man saw that He could not defeat him, He struck Jacob’s hip as they wrestled and dislocated his hip socket.

(Genesis 32:25 CSB)

A limp for a lifetime, that’s the price Jacob paid for struggling with God and “prevailing.” A weakness wherever he went, that’s what he walked away with after having “seen God face to face” (32:30). A future-altering encounter of the divine kind experienced, the holiness of God’s presence survived, and yet he’s humbled forever. Self-sufficiency left on the mat for the prize of being sanctified. Jacob would walk with God, but he would walk with difficulty. Being hobbled came with being set apart for God’s purposes.

If I’m honest with myself, I’m okay struggling with God but I really want it to result in me walking away whole. I want the victory without any vestiges of a battle. I want the crown with little or no evidence of collateral damage. But as I chew on Jacob’s all-nighter, it seems that’s not the way “face to face” encounters with God turn out.

Jacob wrestled with the pre-incarnate Christ in the desert for a night and ended up with a limp for a lifetime. Paul was tutored one-on-one by the risen Christ in paradise and walked away with a thorn in the flesh (2Cor. 12:1-7). I’m thinking the reason it turned out that way for both of them, and the reminder as it turns out for me, is the same.

He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may reside in me. So I take pleasure in weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and in difficulties, for the sake of Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

(2Corinthians 12:9-10 CSB)

A limp for a lifetime. Who knew that was the prize for prevailing?

By His grace. For His glory.

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Stuff

This new CSB continues to upset the apple cart (mildly) this morning. This time by taking a word that I barely thought was a word and all of a sudden making it a biblical word. The word in question? Stuff!

Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, exhausted. He said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stuff, because I’m exhausted.” That is why he was also named Edom.

(Genesis 25:29-30 CSB)

Cruising through a pretty familiar story this morning and then hit the brakes when I encountered a pretty unfamiliar word for holy text, stuff. Only used here in the CSB. Never used in the ESV.

In the original, apparently, it just says, “Let me eat some of this red”, obviously referring to the stew, which is how the ESV translates it. But it doesn’t actually include the word stew. And so, the CSB translators (and it would seem the NASB translators) go with a non-descript term to convey the non-descript nature of the original text. And I as I chew on it (pun kind of intended) it can make a difference as to how you process the rest of the story.

He said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stuff, because I’m exhausted.” That is why he was also named Edom.
Jacob replied, “First sell me your birthright.”
“Look,” said Esau, “I’m about to die, so what good is a birthright to me?”
Jacob said, “Swear to me first.” So he swore to Jacob and sold his birthright to him. Then Jacob gave bread and lentil stew to Esau; he ate, drank, got up, and went away. So Esau despised his birthright.

(Genesis 25:30-34 CSB)

As I noodle on it this morning, it makes a difference in the impact of the story that Esau sold his birthright for stuff generally rather than for stew specifically. He despised who he was for what he wanted — stuff.

Apart from sovereign determination that the older would serve the younger and upset the birthright norm (25:23), it would seem there was, nevertheless, individual accountability. And given that these things were, at least in part, written as examples for our instruction (1Cor. 10:11), I’m thinking there’s a warning here. That the cravings of the flesh are inclined to tempt us to sell out the things of the Spirit. Often, just for stuff.

In Esau’s case, it was selling out who he was for what would fill his belly because he was exhausted and famished (“I’m about to die”, I think, was being a bit over dramatic). But I can’t help but ask myself, what fleshly, sensual, physical, pleasurable, or prideful stuff am I tempted to sell my birthright in Christ for? What stuff draws me to despise my union with Christ for the sake of the world? Did I mention I think this is worth chewing on? Hmm . . .

Oh, that God would protect me from the allure of stuff. Stew or otherwise. Red or whatever color. But that I would hold fast to being born of God (1Jn. 5:1), birthed by the Spirit (Jn. 3:6), and adopted into the brotherhood of Christ (Eph. 1:5).

By His grace. For His glory.

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No Choice in the Matter

Yesterday I confessed I’m struggling with patience. This morning it’s before me that I’m struggling also with silence, as in the need to be so. Yesterday the story concerned a promised son, this morning it’s about his promised bride.

Genesis 24 is the stuff Hallmark movies are made of (not really). Rich, old man wants to make sure handsome, young son, heir to everything he owns, has a wife. But not just any wife, a wife from his homeland, from his own people. So the old man has his faithful servant place his hand under the old man’s thigh (weird) and promise to go and get his son a wife from his people. And so, the servant goes. He goes with no app to use, no blind dates to set up, and without even a groom to weigh in on his future lifelong partner. Instead, the servant heads out on his own with just ten camels loaded “with all kinds of his master’s goods in hand” (24:10).

The servant makes a plan, sends up a prayer, casts a fleece-like net, and finds “the one” on his first try (24:10-27). Next stop, her home. Next encounter, her brother.

And what grabs me this morning is the response of the brother to the old man’s servant after the servant relays to the girl’s family the details of how God’s hand has been in this anything but romantic proposal (24:45-49). Will the brother, speaking on behalf of the family, consent to the servant’s request to take his sister to a foreign land to marry an unknown stranger just because she gave the old man’s servant and his camels a drink of water? (Did I mention it’s the stuff Hallmark movies are made of?)

Here’s how the brother responds:

“This is from the LORD; we have no choice in the matter. Rebekah is here in front of you. Take her and go, and let her be a wife for your master’s son, just as the LORD has spoken.”

(Genesis 24:50-51 CSB)

We have no choice in the matter. That’s the phrase that caught my attention. Pretty clear, says the brother. Not some random coincidence but obviously a divine confluence. So what choice do we have but to submit to what the LORD has spoken?

No choice. Don’t recall ever reading that before. That’s because the ESV uses the more literal rendering referenced in the CSB margin, “we cannot say to you anything bad or good.” If this is of God, and apparently it is, then what’s left to be said? God has spoken so we will not. We have no choice in the matter.

Oh, if I were only more like the brother. Recognizing the hand of the sovereign God in the situation and then realizing that, if God has so moved, I have no choice but to submit. That if God has made apparent that He is working according to sovereign purposes, then I might be wise to respond with silenced pondering. I might not get what is happening, but I can know Who is allowing it to happen. The storyline might not make sense, but I can trust the outcome to Him. So, I have no choice in the matter.

No choice. We aren’t a people who like having no choice. Our culture is not one that encourages submitting and ceding control. We like to debate and argue and make our case and have our way. Sometimes though, maybe more often than we like, there’s really nothing to say. It’s time to be silent. We have no choice in the matter.

Only by God’s grace. Always for God’s glory.

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