Meadowbrooke Church

The Moabite & the Kinsman Redeemer

The story of Ruth begins with these words: “In the days when the judges governed…” (v. 1a). Just before Joshua died after a lifetime of faithful service, he warned all of Israel:
“Now therefore fear the LORD and serve him in sincerity and faithfulness. Put away the gods your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD. And if it is evil in your eyes to serve the LORD, choose this day whom you will serve... But as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.” (Josh. 24:14-15)
 
The book of Judges recounts Israel’s history shortly after entering the promised land, and just in the second chapter, we are told: “Then the sons of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord and served the Baals, and they abandoned the Lord, the God of their fathers...” (Jud. 2:11-12), which characterizes the tone and climate of Israel’s spiritual health.  The book of Judges also concludes with the words: “In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Jug. 21:25).
 
While in the wilderness, God warned Israel that there would be consequences to their choices, especially when it came to their trust of God and obedience to God: “Beware that your hearts are not easily deceived, and that you do not turn away and serve other gods, and worship them. Otherwise, the anger of the LORD will be kindled against you, and He will shut up the sky so that there will be no rain, and the ground will not yield its produce; then you will quickly perish from the good land which the LORD is giving you” (Deut. 11:16-17)
 
As we move from Judges into the book of Ruth, the opening five verses immediately shed light on the spiritual condition of Naomi’s husband, Elimelech. These verses reveal how Elimelech, in his role as both husband and father, deeply influenced the direction and well-being of his family. The famine in the land did not just reflect a lack of physical food; it also mirrored the spiritual famine within Elimelech’s own heart and soul.
 
There are some things I want to point out to you that I believe will help you appreciate just how relevant this book is to us today. 
 
First, let me begin by stating that Bethlehem means “house of bread” yet there was no bread in Bethlehem because there was famine in the land due to Israel’s disobedience. God had promised that He would bless His people if they obeyed Him, so the reason why there was no bread in Bethlehem was because of Israel’s unfaithfulness, not God’s unfaithfulness. 
Second, we are told that Elimelech was “a man of Bethlehem in Judah...”, which means that he belonged to the tribe of Judah.  God called Elimelech to live in Bethlehem, yet he chose to move to Moab because he believed that he and his family could thrive in a place outside of where God called him to live. 
 
Some of the things that Elimelech had to know about Moab was that the people originated out of an incestuous relationship after Lot’s older daughter got him drunk for the purpose of having sex with her father so that she could become pregnant with his child (Gen. 19:30-38). Secondly, the Moabites were known for their scheming to get Israel to sin against God (Num. 22-24).  Thirdly, the Women of Moab were known for seducing the Israelite men for the purpose of getting them to worship the gods of Moab (Num. 25).  Moab was not a place for a family to thrive spiritually, but this is the place that Elimelech took his family to live.
 
The other important detail we need to consider is that while Naomi’s name means “Pleasant” nothing about her life seemed pleasant.  Her husband’s name meant “God is my king” but he certainly did not live like God was his king. The meaning of the names of their two sons were, Mahlon (Weakness, sickness) and Chilion (destruction, failure); both men took for themselves Moabite women who did not grow up worshiping the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; taking Moabite women as wives was something God commanded Israel not to do (see Deut. 7:1-4).  Noami’s husband and both of her sons died, leaving her with nothing but two daughters-in-law who were also destitute with no husband or male child.
 
Naomi Suffered Loss  
When Naomi left Bethlehem with her husband and two sons, she left full. Because of the famine in the land (v. 1), moving to Moab must have felt like the right decision—an act of survival for the sake of their family. But while in Moab, tragedy struck. Her husband, Elimelech, died. Then her two sons married Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth—something God had warned His people against because of the danger of idolatry (Deut. 7:2–3). And after marrying these women, both of Naomi’s sons also died, leaving her with two widowed Moabite daughters-in-law and no descendants of her own.
 
Naomi had lost the three most important men in her life, along with any hope of lineage, inheritance, or security. There was nothing for her in Moab, and because of her husband’s death after leaving Bethlehem, there was nothing but maybe the kindness of her relatives back in Judah. So when she returned to Bethlehem, it is no surprise that she no longer wanted to be called Naomi, which means “pleasant.” She asked instead to be called Mara, meaning “bitter.” She explained the bitterness in her own words: “The Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty” (vv. 20–21).
 
Ruth: A Woman of Excellence
Naomi failed to recognize the blessing her Moabite daughter-in-law truly was. When Naomi decided to return to Bethlehem, she urged both Orpah and Ruth to go back to their own people and gods in Moab. While Orpah left to go back to her people and her gods, Ruth decided to remain with Naomi and even declared to her mother-in-law: “Do not plead with me to leave you or to turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you sleep, I will sleep. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the LORD do so to me, and worse, if anything but death separates me from you.” (1:16–18).
 
One reason Naomi discouraged Ruth from coming back with her was concern for Ruth’s safety. There was significant hostility between Moabites and Israelites. This is clear in chapter two, after Ruth entered a field belonging to Boaz. Everyone in the field knew Ruth was a foreigner, as the foreman explained to Boaz, “She is the young Moabite woman who returned with Naomi from Moab.” Boaz’s response reveals the real danger Ruth faced. He spoke kindly to her, saying, “Listen carefully, my daughter. Do not go to glean in another field; furthermore, do not go on from this one, but join my young women here. Keep your eyes on the field which they reap, and go after them. Indeed, I have ordered the servants not to touch you. When you are thirsty, go to the water jars and drink from what the servants draw” (Ruth 2:8–9).
Ruth’s foreign status exposed her to rejection, prejudice, and mistreatment—yet she chose to stay with Naomi anyway, embracing uncertainty and risking lifelong exclusion.
 
Her courage did not go unnoticed. In chapter three, Boaz calls Ruth a “woman of excellence” (3:11)—a term that carries the sense of valor, honor, and strength of character. Remarkably, the same word is used of Boaz in 2:1, while you do not see it in the way the NASB translated Ruth 2:1, just about every other translation does recognize this: “Now Naomi had a relative of her husband’s, a worthy man of the clan of Elimelech, whose name was Boaz.” The parallel is deliberate. The narrator wants us to see that Ruth and Boaz are kindred spirits—two people marked by integrity, bravery, and covenant faithfulness in a time when such qualities were rare in Israel.
 
Boaz: A Kinsmen Redeemer
Boaz is the third important character in the story of Ruth, for he is the only one qualified to serve as Naomi’s kinsman-redeemer. Every kinsman-redeemer had to meet three qualifications: 
He had to be a family member, 
He had to have the ability to redeem, and 
He had to be willing to redeem.
 
A kinsman-redeemer held several responsibilities in the Old Testament: he could buy back family land lost to famine or debt (Lev. 25:25–30), redeem relatives who had sold themselves into slavery (Lev. 25:47–55), avenge the unlawful death of a family member (Num. 35; Deut. 19; Josh. 20), and step in when a family member faced a wrong they could not fix on their own.
 
Naomi needed that kind of help. She had lost her husband and both sons. She had no land, no security, and no hope. Ruth could not redeem her, so she went out to glean in the fields—a provision God had given for the poor and the foreigner (Lev. 19:9–10). That’s where we first meet Boaz. He told Ruth, “Do not go to another field… I have ordered the young men not to touch you” (Ruth 2:8–9). Ruth bowed in gratitude, asking why he would show kindness to a foreigner. Boaz told her he had heard of her loyalty to Naomi and her trust in Israel’s God (2:11–13). He saw Ruth as a woman of excellence—worthy of honor and protection.
 
When Naomi learned how Boaz treated Ruth, she urged Ruth to approach him at the threshing floor. Though the scene might look questionable at first glance, Ruth 3:6–13 makes it clear: both Ruth and Boaz acted with purity and integrity. Ruth lay quietly at his feet, and when Boaz awoke, she said, “Spread your wings over your servant, for you are a redeemer.” She wasn’t tempting him—she was invoking covenant language, the same “wings” imagery Boaz used earlier of the LORD’s care (see 2:12). Boaz responded with joy: “I will do all that you ask, for everyone knows you are a worthy woman” (3:11). He was both willing and able to redeem her.
 
And he did. “So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife. And he went in to her, and the Lord gave her conception, and she bore a son” (4:13). Through Boaz, Naomi’s emptiness was replaced with joy, and Ruth was blessed with a godly husband and a son. The women of the town celebrated:
Then the women said to Naomi, “Blessed is the Lord who has not left you without a redeemer today, and may his name become famous in Israel. May he also be to you one who restores life and sustains your old age; for your daughter-in-law, who loves you and is better to you than seven sons, has given birth to him.” Then Naomi took the child and laid him in her lap, and became his nurse. And the neighbor women gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi!” So they named him Obed. He is the father of Jesse, the father of David. (4:14-17)
 
What began in sorrow ended in joy. What started with loss ended in redemption. God used a barley field, a faithful woman, and a willing redeemer to bring about His plan—not just for Naomi and Ruth, but through Boaz and Ruth the line of the kings would come with the birth of David by whom all other kings would be compared in Israel.
 
This leaves us with the point of this little book in the Bible.
 
There is a True and Better Redeemer
Boaz was not only Naomi’s redeemer—he was also a picture of the Redeemer who would one day come through his and Ruth’s own bloodline.  Boaz was only a shadow of a true and better Boaz.  Remember the announcement of Jesus’ birth delivered by the angels to lowly shepherds: And so the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David [Bethlehem] there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11). 
 
It was the disobedience of Israel that led to the famine that compelled Naomi’s husband and sons to leave where there was no bread to a place that led to a deeper and more severe famine that left Naomi empty.  God used all of the hard things in Naomi’s life so that another Son would be born in that same city to do what no other person was able to do; Jesus said of Himself: “I am the bread of life; the one who comes to Me will not be hungry, and the one who believes in Me will never be thirsty” (John 6:35).
 
When Adam and Eve bit into the forbidden fruit, creation was cursed and humanity was lost. Eden was forfeited, and mankind was expelled from God’s presence. The only way for Eden to be restored and the curse removed was for another Adam to come—one who was related to humanity, who had the ability to redeem what was lost, and who was willing to carry out the redemption. Ruth and Boaz had a son named Obed; Obed fathered Jesse; Jesse fathered David. Many generations later, Jesus was born to Mary—conceived supernaturally while she remained a virgin—qualifying Him uniquely as the Kinsman-Redeemer mankind and creation needs. How was Jesus qualified?
 
Jesus had to be a family member of humanity, and He was, as demonstrated by the human bloodline recorded in Scripture.
Jesus had to have the ability to redeem, which He had because the virgin birth made Him both fully God and fully man—perfectly qualified to redeem creation.
Jesus had to be willing to redeem, and that willingness led Him to the cross, where He became our curse and took our sin upon Himself.
 
Jesus did not remain dead. On the third day He rose in victory! Our Kinsman-Redeemer lived the perfect life we could not live, died as the sin-bearer though He was spotless, and then conquered death itself. All of heaven rejoices that the Redeemer who was slain now stands—alive—interceding for us: “Worthy are You to take the scroll and to break its seals, for You were slaughtered, and You purchased people for God with Your blood from every tribe, language, people, and nation. You have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they will reign upon the earth” (Rev. 5:9–10).  And maybe that’s where you need hope today.
Perhaps you are living with the consequences of choices you made years ago.
Perhaps bitterness has taken root because life did not turn out the way you imagined.
Perhaps, like Naomi’s family, you have wandered far into “Moab”—far from God, far from joy, far from where you began.
 
But hear the good news: the book of Ruth declares that no one is too far for God’s love, grace, and mercy to reach.
If God can take a famine, a foreigner, and a broken widow and weave them into the lineage of King David and ultimately Jesus Christ Himself—He can redeem your story too!

The Temple of God and the Towers of Men

The Garden of Eden was not the whole earth, but a sacred sanctuary God Himself planted—a place where Adam and Eve enjoyed His presence. We know this because they were driven out of Eden (Gen. 3:23), and because God stationed cherubim at its eastward entrance to guard the way to the Tree of Life (Gen. 3:24). Their worship was expressed through faithful obedience and the holy work of tending the garden. In many ways, Eden was heaven on earth—the first dwelling place of God with His people, the first tabernacle where God and humanity met in perfect fellowship.
 
When Adam and Eve sinned, their innocence was stripped away, but God immediately spoke hope into their judgment. In Genesis 3:15, He promised that a future Son—the Seed of the woman—would crush the serpent’s head. Adam and Eve responded in faith by doing what God commanded from the beginning: they conceived and bore sons beginning with Cain, then Abel, and finally Seth (Gen. 1:28).
 
But the curse quickly revealed itself. Cain murdered Abel, violence filled families and nations, and by Genesis 6:5, “every intent of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually.” God judged the earth through the flood, yet in His mercy preserved Noah and established a covenant never again to destroy all flesh by water (Gen. 9:8–17). Still, the flood did not cleanse the human heart.
 
As humanity repopulated the earth and shared one language, their rebellion resurfaced. In Genesis 11, they journeyed east—a biblical sign of moving away from God’s presence—and settled in Shinar. Determined to build something impressive and permanent, they said, “Let us make bricks and fire them thoroughly...” and, “Let us build a city and a tower with its top in the heavens.” Their motives were unmistakable: “Let us make a name (šēm) for ourselves.” Instead of spreading over the earth as God commanded, they sought unity, identity, and greatness apart from Him. It was human pride attempting to reach heaven without God.
 
As a result, God dispersed the people throughout the earth and confused their language (Gen. 11:8–9). Immediately following this event, the narrative shifts to Abraham—a man whose background included worshiping other gods (Josh. 24:2). God called Abraham, promising to make his descendants exceedingly numerous, to form a great nation from him, and to bless all nations through his lineage. It was from Abraham’s family that the twelve tribes of Israel emerged, including the tribe of Levi, from which Moses and Aaron would later arise.
 
Through Moses, God delivered the Ten Commandments and the Law (Exod. 20). Through Aaron and his sons, God established the priesthood (Exod. 28). And between the giving of the Law and the ordination of the priests, God commanded Israel to build the Tabernacle (a sanctuary)—a dwelling place for His presence: “Let them make a sanctuary for Me, so that I may dwell among them…exactly according to the pattern I show you” (Exod. 25:8–9).
 
This brings us to the heart of the matter. Why does the Tabernacle exist, and what does it have to do with Babel—and with you as a Christian today? That is what I want to help you understand.
 
The Tabernacle: God’s Kingdom is Built by His Presence
Before Adam and Eve sinned in Eden, they lived in the immediate presence of God. Eden was the first earthly Tabernacle—the first place where God dwelled with humanity.[1] Adam was commissioned to cultivate the garden, to be fruitful and multiply, and to exercise dominion as a kind of priest-king. The role God gave Adam is echoed later in the ministry of Israel’s priests. Just as Adam was commanded to “work and keep” the garden (Gen. 2:15), the priests who served in the Tabernacle were charged with tending its furnishings and performing its sacred duties (Num. 3:7–8).
 
After Adam and Eve rebelled, God pronounced judgment yet also extended hope. In Genesis 3:15, He promised that a Deliverer—the Seed of the woman—would one day crush the serpent’s head and undo what sin had destroyed. Yet the immediate consequence of their sin was exile from God’s presence: “So He drove the man out; and at the east of the garden of Eden He stationed the cherubim and the flaming sword…to guard the way to the tree of life” (Gen. 3:24).
 
To understand the purpose and significance of the Tabernacle, we must begin by asking a foundational question: Why did God command Israel to build it? According to Exodus 25:8–9, God commanded a sanctuary so that He might once again dwell among His people—in a manner that echoed Eden itself. 
 
But human history—from Eden to Babel—shows us that people in their sin insist on approaching God on their own terms rather than His. In Genesis 11, humanity sought to reach heaven through their own greatness. In the same way, the nations worshiped their gods “on the high mountains…on the hills…and under every leafy tree” (Deut. 12:2). Israel was not allowed to imitate this. Deuteronomy 12 makes it clear that there is only one true God, and He must be approached His way, not ours. The Tabernacle existed so that God’s people could meet Him—but only on His terms.
The Garden of Eden served as the first tabernacle, and the Tabernacle God instructed Moses to build was intentionally designed to reflect Eden. Consider the parallels:
Eastward entrance:The Tabernacle opened to the east (Exod. 27:13–16), just as Eden did when the cherubim were stationed there (Gen. 3:24).
 
Tree imagery:The lampstand (menorah) was fashioned like an almond tree in bloom (Exod. 25:31–36), recalling the Tree of Life.
 
Cherubim guardians:In Eden, cherubim guarded the Tree of Life; in the Tabernacle, cherubim covered the mercy seat above the ark (Exod. 25:18–20).
 
Priestly ministry:Adam served as the first priest; Israel’s priests continued the priestly calling Adam failed to fulfill.
 
Because the Tabernacle was constructed to be set up and taken down throughout Israel’s wilderness journey, it functioned as a portable Eden—a traveling sanctuary where God’s presence dwelled among His people. For forty years in the wilderness, God Himself led His people by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, visibly demonstrating that He alone was their Guide, Protector, and King. Whenever Israel made camp, the Tabernacle was deliberately placed at the very center of the community. This was no accidental detail; its central position proclaimed a foundational truth: we do not climb our way up to God—He graciously comes down to dwell with us.
 
To reinforce this truth, the layout of the Tabernacle was divided into three sections, each revealing something of God’s holiness and the reverence required to approach Him. The closer one moved toward the center, the closer one came to the manifest presence of God:
The Outer Court — accessible to the people, where sacrifices were brought and offerings were made.
 
The Holy Place — entered only by the priests, where the lampstand, table of bread, and altar of incense stood.
 
The Holy of Holies — the innermost chamber where God’s presence rested above the mercy seat, entered only once a year by the High Priest on the Day of Atonement.
 
Far from being a religious ornament or symbolic tent, the Tabernacle was the tangible expression of God’s desire to dwell with His people. Its daily presence reminded Israel—and reminds us—that humanity was created by God and for God, and that our life, identity, and purpose can only be rightly ordered when He is at the center. And even then, as precious as it was, the Tabernacle pointed beyond itself. It was a signpost leading God’s people toward a greater reality—a true and better Tabernacle who would one day come and dwell with His people fully and forever.
 
The presence of God was what set Israel apart from every other nation. In Exodus 19, God said to His people: “You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings, and brought you to Myself. Now then, if you will indeed obey My voice and keep My covenant, then you shall be My own possession among all the peoples—for all the earth is Mine; and you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (vv. 4–6).
 
God did not exist for Israel; Israel existed for God. As His covenant people, they were called to be His representatives before the nations.
 
The Tower of Babel: Man’s Kingdom is Built by His Pride
So what about Babel? Let me state the obvious first: The very name of Babel should immediately bring to mind the Babylon that would rise to empire status 1,500 to 2,000 years later after the events of Genesis 11.  We do not have the time to exhaust all that can be gleaned from Genesis 11, but I will point out some things that will make sense of why Babylon is such a big deal in the Bible.  Here is a list of characteristics from Genesis 11 that captures the spirit of Babylon that we see both in the Bible and the world:
 
A desire to build Eden without God — a city in their own likeness.
They journeyed east (Gen. 11:2), a clue in the Bible that they were moving away from the presence of God (cf. Gen. 3:24; 4:16). Rather than longing for the God of Eden, they attempted to recreate Eden according to their own design—a human-centered world where they defined what was good, beautiful, and true.
 
The spirit of Babel wants the blessings of Eden without the God of Eden.
 
Confidence in human ingenuity as the foundation of security.
They urged one another, “Come, let’s make bricks and fire them thoroughly.” Their trust was in what they could craft, engineer, and construct apart from the Creator. Their hope rested not on God’s provision but on human innovation, technology, and technique.
 
The spirit of Babel believes salvation is self-made.
 
Access to the heavens on human terms rather than God’s terms.
They resolved, “Come, let’s build ourselves a city, and a tower whose top will reach into heaven…” The structure was almost certainly a ziggurat—an artificial mountain intended to bridge earth and heaven. Babel is humanity’s attempt to redefine God, remake Him in their own image, and gain access to the divine realm without submission to divine rule.
 
The spirit of Babel wants God’s realm without God’s rule.
 
A mission driven by human greatness instead of God’s glory.
Their ambition was explicit: “Let us make a name for ourselves…” Yet God had commanded humanity to fill the earth with His glory through image-bearing worshipers (Gen. 1:28; 9:1). Instead, they gathered to consolidate power, exalt themselves, and build a city like Eden—but rooted in pride rather than worship. Their identity was tethered to reputation, not to obedience. Their mission was fame, not faithfulness.
 
The spirit of Babel builds kingdoms for the greatness of man instead of the greatness of God.
 
So, what is the point?  Why is Babel an important theme that runs through the Bible? Babel serves as the prototype for every empire founded on human arrogance—whether Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Rome, or any contemporary nation that pursues greatness apart from God. 
 
Why did God instruct Moses and the Israelites to build the Tabernacle after their deliverance from the bondage of slavery in Egypt?  The Tabernacle is the blueprint of God’s kingdom—marked by humility, obedience, sacrifice, and God’s presence among His people.
 
What we learn from Deuteronomy 12, is that God must be worshiped on His terms, not ours. Not on the high places we create on our terms. Not under the leafy trees we desire. But in the place where He chooses to make His name dwell.
 
Conclusion
The tower of Babel and the Tabernacle represent two kingdoms and two ways to live. 
Babel represents man’s attempt to reach up to the heavens. The Tabernacle is about the God who came down.
Babel exalts human greatness. The Tabernacle revealed God’s glory and holiness.
Babel glorifies humanity. The Tabernacle gathered a people for God’s glory.
Babel is fueled by human pride, rebellion, and independence. The Tabernacle symbolized the grace, redemption, and freedom only God can provide.
 
The spirit of Babel is most clearly seen in the rise of national superpowers and empires throughout history. We see this vividly in the book of Daniel, where Daniel and many others from Judah were exiled into the heart of the Babylonian empire. In Daniel 2, King Nebuchadnezzar received a dream from God in which he saw a massive statue—a single image made of four different materials. That statue represented four successive world empires, each of which embodied the same proud, self-exalting spirit of Babel: Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece, and Rome.
 
But in the dream, something remarkable happened. The king saw a stone “cut out without hands”—not made by human ingenuity or empire-building power. This stone struck the statue on its feet, shattering the entire image and reducing every kingdom to dust carried away by the wind. Of this stone, Daniel declared to the king: “In the days of those kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that will never be destroyed… It will crush and put an end to all these kingdoms, but it will itself endure forever” (Dan. 2:44–45).
 
Brothers and sisters, there is One who is greater than the Tabernacle!  The Tabernacle and the sacrifices and worship that took place within it all pointed to that first Christmas when God made His dwelling among us through Jesus His Son: “And the Word became flesh, and dwelt [tabernacle] among us; and we saw His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).  The Tabernacle pointed to the day when mankind would experience God as Immanuel: “Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and she will name Him Immanuel [God with us]” (Isa. 7:14).
 
Where Babel said, “Let us climb up to heaven,” Jesus said, “I will come down from heaven.”
 
Where Babel said, “Let us make a name for ourselves,” the Word of God declares: “His name is above every name, and at the Name of Jesus every knee will bow, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under earth.” (Phil. 2:9-11)
 
Where Babel used bricks to build a monument to their greatness, Jesus gave Himself as the Lamb of God to build His Church and Kingdom for the glory of the Father.
 
Where Babel confused languages, the gospel of Jesus Christ unites every tribe and tongue in worship because the Lion of Judah conquered as the Lamb of God.
 
We learn from Deuteronomy 12 that we come to God on His terms to worship in the place where He chooses to make His name dwell.  For you Christian, that place is not a tent or a building, but Christ Himself! Is our Tabernacle, He is our High Priest, He is our sacrifice, He is our Mediator and our access to the Father!
 
Every empire built on the spirit of Babel—whether ancient or modern—will fall. Only the kingdom established by God will stand forever. And the stone not cut by human hands points us directly to the true King — Jesus Christ, whose eternal kingdom will crush every Babel that rises against God.
 
There is coming a day when Babylon will be defeated!  Our faithful High Priest who entered the Holy of Holies once and for all will return and when He comes, we will experience the promise that the people of God have longed for since the first Eden:
“Behold, the tabernacle of God is among the people, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.” (Rev. 21:3-4)
 
[1] On the earthly Tabernacle as a model of the heavenly Tabernacle, see Hebrews 8:4-5, “Now if He were on earth, He would not be a priest at all, since there are those who offer the gifts according to the Law; who serve a copy and shadow of the heavenly things, just as Moses was warned by God when he was about to erect the tabernacle; for, ‘See’ He says, ‘that you make all things by the pattern which was shown to you on the mountain.’”

Moses and the Gods of Egypt

When Moses was born the Hebrew people had been living in Egypt for quite a time. Initially under the protection of Joseph and Pharoah and welcomed as honored guests; they had become an oppressed and enslaved nation. Fearing their growing strength, Pharaoh ordered every Hebrew boy to be thrown into the Nile. But one mother’s courage defied the king’s decree. She hid her child as long as she could, then placed him in a basket coated with tar and pitch and set him afloat on the Nile river. By God’s providence, Pharaoh’s daughter found the baby and raised him as her own.
 
Moses grew up amid the luxury of Pharaoh’s court, yet he never forgot his Hebrew roots. His passion for justice—and his temper—would define much of his life. When he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave, Moses struck down the oppressor and hid the body in the sand (Exod. 2:11–12). When the act became known, he fled to the wilderness of Midian, where he spent forty years as a shepherd, husband, and son-in-law to Jethro—waiting for the day when God would call him to lead His people out of bondage.
 
By the time we reach Exodus 3, Moses had already spent those forty years in Midian tending sheep. Then, before a burning bush, he encountered the living God—the God of Adam and Eve,
Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God entered into Moses’ world in such a way that he would never be the same again. When God called to him from the bush, He said, “Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground” (v. 5). What made the ground holy? The presence of God made it holy. As R.C. Sproul wrote in his classic The Holiness of God: “God alone is holy in Himself. Only God can sanctify something else. Only God can give the touch that changes it from the commonplace to something special, different, and apart.”
 
The God who spoke to Moses from within the burning bush is not only holy—but faithful. While many Hebrews believed that God had forgotten them, the Lord reminded Moses that He is not only all-seeing, but full of mercy: “I have certainly seen the oppression of My people who are in Egypt, and have heard their outcry because of their taskmasters, for I am aware of their sufferings” (v. 7). Then God said to Moses, “And now come, and I will send you to Pharaoh, so that you may bring My people, the sons of Israel, out of Egypt” (v. 10). To this, Moses humbly replied, “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt?”
 
All that Moses saw in himself was his own failures and weaknesses. But for God, it didn’t matter how weak Moses was, for He delights to use the foolish to shame the wise and the weak to shame the strong (1 Cor. 1:26–31). What the burning bush reminds us of is not only that God is holy, or that He is omniscient, or that He is faithful to His promises, but that God uses people not because He needs to, but because He wants to. Just as God did not need Noah or Joseph to address the problems of the world, He did not need Moses.  The marvel of the story of God and the people He chooses to use has more to do with that fact that He invites people like us into His mission and the story He is telling.
 
There is a Mediator Who Stands in Your Place
After God revealed Himself to Moses as Yahweh—the covenant-keeping God—He commissioned Moses to return to Egypt. Understandably, Moses questioned, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” God assured him, “I will certainly be with you” (Exod. 3:10–12). And when Moses was to speak to the people of Israel, God instructed him to say, “I AM WHO I AM has sent me to you” (v. 14).
 
One of the characteristics that distinguishes the God of Abraham from the gods of Egypt is His faithfulness—He keeps His promises. This is expressed beautifully in Exodus 6:2–5, where God tells Moses, “I am the LORD. I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as God Almighty, but by my name the LORD I did not make myself fully known to them. I also established my covenant with them to give them the land of Canaan, where they resided as foreigners. Moreover, I have heard the groaning of the Israelites, whom the Egyptians are enslaving, and I have remembered my covenant.” God’s faithfulness is not only in His name but in His actions, His compassion, and His unwavering remembrance of His promises.
 
Do you remember Leah—the “ugly” wife whom Jacob did not love? Not only was Judah born to her, but so was Levi. About five generations later, we read in Exodus 2:1 of a man from the house of Levi who married a daughter of Levi. Together they had three children: Miriam, Aaron, and Moses.
 
It was after Miriam and Aaron’s birth—but before Moses was born—that Pharaoh commanded every Hebrew son to be thrown into the Nile (see Exod. 1:20–22). Yet from this very family, God raised up the leaders who would deliver His people. Moses would lead Israel out of bondage, serving as a type of king who would shepherd God’s people through the wilderness. Aaron would become God’s priest, and through him the priestly line would continue (Exod. 28:1–29:9). Miriam would be identified as a prophetess (Exod. 15:20–21).
 
Don’t miss this: God used all three—Moses, Aaron, and Miriam—to lead His people out of Egypt, yet Aaron and Miriam would serve the people under Moses’ leadership (see Mic. 6:4).  But it was to Moses, that God said, “I have made you as God to Pharaoh, and your brother Aaron shall be your prophet.” And when Miriam and Aaron forgot their place and Moses’ God-ordained role before Israel, God said, “Now hear My words: If there is a prophet among you, I, the Lord, will make Myself known to him in a vision. I will speak with him in a dream. “It is not this way for My servant Moses; He is faithful in all My household; with him I speak mouth to mouth, that is, openly, and not using mysterious language, and he beholds the form of the Lord. So why were you not afraid to speak against My servant, against Moses?” (see Num. 12:1-8).
 
Follow the Deliverer Who Leads His People Out of Bondage
Moses stood before Pharaoh and Israel as a type of shepherd-king—a mediator and prophet who spoke on God’s behalf. Listen to how the Lord described Moses’ role:
“As for you, you shall speak all that I command you, and your brother Aaron shall speak to Pharaoh that he let the sons of Israel go out of his land. But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, so that I may multiply My signs and My wonders in the land of Egypt. When Pharaoh does not listen to you, I will lay My hand on Egypt and bring out My armies, My people the sons of Israel, from the land of Egypt by great judgments. Then the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I extend My hand over Egypt and bring out the sons of Israel from their midst.” (Exod. 7:2-5).
 
When Moses and Aaron appeared before Pharaoh, they declared, “Thus says the LORD, ‘Let My people go.’” (Exod. 5:1). Pharaoh not only refused but mocked the God of Israel: “Who is the Lord that I should obey His voice to let Israel go?  I do not know the Lord, and besides, I will not let Israel go” (5:1-2). To prove that no one would command Pharoah of Egypt, he made the Israelites’ labor even harsher, forcing them to gather their own straw while maintaining the same quota of bricks.
 
What followed was a succession of ten plagues, each designed to expose the impotence of Egypt’s gods and, in many cases, to mock them directly. The first nine fall naturally into three escalating triads:
Plagues of defilement: water turned to blood (7:14–24), frogs overran the land (8:1–15), and gnats or lice tormented Egypt (8:16–19).
 
Plagues of destruction: swarms of flies invaded (8:20–32); disease killed Egypt’s livestock while Israel’s remained unharmed (9:1–7); and boils afflicted people and animals alike (9:8–12).
 
Plagues of devastation: hail mixed with fire ravaged the land (9:13–35); locusts devoured the remaining crops (10:1–20); and darkness—a direct assault on Ra, the sun-god—covered Egypt for three days (10:21–29).
 
Each judgment demonstrated Yahweh’s sovereignty, yet Pharaoh’s heart only grew harder. Enraged, he shouted to Moses—who stood before him as God’s representative: “Get away from me! Be careful, do not see my face again, for on the day you see my face, you shall die!” (10:28).
 
The cognitive dissonance of Pharaoh towards the God of the Israel was not only irrational, but insane!  He was dealing with the God who He could not defeat, for in the words of the apostle Paul, it was the equivalent of the clay pot accusing the potter that He had no rights over what He created (Rom. 9:19ff.).  In essence, Pharaoh’s heart cried out to the God of Moses, “Who are You to tell me what I can and cannot do?”
 
Before we shake our heads or point our finger at Pharaoh in disgust, we must ask ourselves: What has God commanded us to release or submit to that we have resisted with the same question— “Who is Yahweh that I should obey His voice?”
 
Live in the Victory of the Lamb Who Triumphed Over Every Power
Before the final plague, Israel was commanded to take a male lamb without defect and keep it for four days—long enough to confirm it was spotless and long enough for it to become, in a sense, their lamb (Exod. 12:1–6). On the fourteenth day, the lamb was to be slaughtered at twilight, and its blood applied “on the two doorposts and on the lintel of the houses in which they eat it” (v. 7). Afterward, the entire household was to eat the lamb together (vv. 8–11).
 
For what purpose was the perfect and spotless lamb slaughtered?  We are told why in Exodus 12:12, “For I will go through the land of Egypt on that night, and fatally strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the human firstborn to animals; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments—I am the Lord.” Who would God strike? The firstborn sons—both human and animal—and the gods (elohim) of Egypt. These “gods” were not merely lifeless idols but spiritual powers, demonic forces that animated Egypt’s sorcery and who also held Pharaoh and his people captive[1] (see Deut. 32:17; 1 Cor. 10:20–22).[2]
 
So what fueled Pharaoh’s hatred of Yahweh and his oppression of Israel? His sin and pride, certainly—but beneath that rebellion lay a demonic conflict. The showdown between Moses and Pharaoh, Israel and Egypt, was not merely political or personal; it was spiritual warfare. As Paul later wrote, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12).
 
Every plague before the tenth was a call to repentance—a chance for Pharaoh, for Egypt, and even for any Hebrew who had turned to Egypt’s idols, to turn back to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But only through the blood of the lamb would anyone experience deliverance and victory. But, why the firstborn? 
 
At the summit of Egypt’s pantheon stood Ra (Re), the so-called “god of gods,” depicted with the head of a falcon and the solar disk encircled by a cobra—a symbol of divine power and kingship. Pharaoh was worshiped as the son of Ra, and his own firstborn son was regarded as the next embodiment of divine rule. In one decisive act, Yahweh crushed the head of Egypt’s god for the purpose of liberating captive Israel and any Egyptian who wished to turn to the true Creator, and He did it through the blood of the lamb!
 
Conclusion
Through this series, you’ve been reminded of the true and better Adam who embraced a tree for our redemption and life. You’ve seen the true and better Isaac, who carried His cross to the place of execution for sins we committed, that we might become children of God through His willing death. There is a true and better Israel, who pursued the unfaithful bride and redeemed her to be clothed in white, never again enslaved to sin. And there is a true and better Moses—the Prophet who perfectly represents God, the High Priest who intercedes for us, and the flawless Shepherd-King whose lordship demands our obedience.
 
Behind Egypt’s gods stood a master deceiver—the father of lies, the ancient serpent—who twists truth and opposes the purposes of God. When Moses stood before Pharaoh, he wasn’t merely confronting a ruler; he was standing against the spiritual powers of darkness. In that moment, Moses foreshadowed the One who would intercede perfectly on our behalf.
 
Jesus is the true and better Moses—the long-promised Deliverer, the Lion of Judah who became the Lamb of God to set captives free. He alone is the sinless Son of the Father, who took on flesh and dwelt among us—the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. But His death did more than address our guilt; it triumphed over sin, death, and every power opposed to God’s kingdom. Through His cross and resurrection, Jesus destroyed “the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil” (Heb. 2:14), and “the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8).
 
When we turn to the book of Revelation, we witness a dramatic, global reenactment of the Exodus story: the seven seals, seven trumpets, and seven bowls each unleash escalating judgments, echoing the plagues that struck Egypt. Yet, just as Pharaoh stubbornly hardened his heart, so too does humanity in the final days. Scripture warns, “The rest of mankind, who were not killed by these plagues, did not repent of the works of their hands; they continued to worship demons and idols of gold, silver, brass, stone, and wood—idols that can neither see, hear, nor walk. They refused to repent of their murders, their sorceries, their sexual immorality, or their thefts” (Rev. 9:20-21).  So we must ask regarding ourselves: “Who is Yahweh that I should obey Him?”
 
The true and better Moses, the Lamb of God, was slain to liberate us from such things. For the true Christian, Colossians 2:13–15 declares our victory:
And when you were dead in your wrongdoings and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He made you alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our wrongdoings, having canceled the certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us, which was hostile to us; and He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. When He had disarmed the rulers and authorities, He made a public display of them, having triumphed over them through Him. (Col. 2:13-15)
 
If you are in Christ, your victory and freedom are found in the Lamb who reigns as the Lion of Judah. Jesus is the true and better Mediator who stands in your place. Jesus is the true and better Deliverer who leads His people out of bondage. The true Son of God is your salvation—before whom every ruler and demon, all who are rich and poor, those who are known and unknown will one day bow.  And on that Day, may Revelation 12:10–11 be said of you:
Then I heard a loud voice in heaven, saying, “Now the salvation, and the power, and the kingdom of our God and the authority of His Christ have come, for the accuser of our brothers and sisters has been thrown down, the one who accuses them before our God day and night. And they overcame him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony, and they did not love their life even when faced with death. (Rev. 12:10-11)
 
      [1] “And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, in whose case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving so that they will not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” (2 Cor. 4:3-4)
      [2] “No, but I say that things which the Gentiles sacrifice, they sacrifice to demons and not to God; and I do not want you to become partners with demons. You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons; you cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons. Or do we provoke the Lord to jealousy? We are not stronger than He, are we?” (1 Cor. 10:20-22)

Judah and the Neglected Wife

The story of God’s people is best described as dysfunctional. From Adam and Eve to Noah’s family, from Abraham to Isaac and Jacob, each generation reveals broken relationships and deep moral failure. The way the patriarchs treated their wives, the way their wives treated them, and the way their children behaved all display humanity’s constant struggle with sin.
 
Last week we looked at Jacob’s life and the painful dynamics of his two marriages. Deceived into marrying Leah while his heart belonged to Rachel, Jacob loved one wife and merely endured the other. Leah was the unloved wife, while Rachel was beautiful and favored.
 
Between his two wives, Jacob fathered seven children with Leah (six sons and one daughter) and two with Rachel—Joseph and Benjamin. Both wives also gave their maidservants to Jacob, through whom he fathered four more sons, bringing the total to twelve. Out of all of them, Jacob’s love for Joseph was unmistakable, and his favoritism fueled jealousy and hatred in his other sons.
 
Before he ever met Rachel, however, God had already spoken a promise to him in a dream: “I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your descendants. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth… and in you and in your descendants shall all the families of the earth be blessed. Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go… for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you” (Gen. 28:13–15).
 
Jacob worked many years for Laban to marry Rachel, and nearly fifteen years passed before Joseph was born. Around six years later, Jacob wrestled all night with a “man” he later realized was God, who said, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel; for you have contended with God and with men, and have prevailed” (Gen. 32:28). Soon after, Rachel gave birth to Benjamin, though she tragically died in childbirth (Gen. 35:16–21).
 
One of Israel’s greatest flaws was his failure as a father. Because Joseph was Rachel’s firstborn—the son of his old age—Jacob loved him more than all his other sons. “Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his other sons, because he was the son of his old age; and he made him a multicolored tunic. And his brothers saw that their father loved him more… so they hated him and could not speak to him on friendly terms” (Gen. 37:3–4). Their jealousy soon grew into hatred (see Gen. 37:5–8).
That hatred turned to violence. The brothers conspired to kill Joseph, but Reuben persuaded them not to shed blood. Instead, they threw him into a pit, and while Reuben was away, Judah convinced them to sell Joseph to passing Ishmaelites (Gen. 37:18ff.). Believing him gone forever, they deceived their father: “They took Joseph’s tunic, slaughtered a male goat, and dipped the tunic in the blood… ‘We found this; please examine it to see whether it is your son’s tunic or not.’ Then he examined it and said, ‘It is my son’s tunic. A vicious animal has devoured him; Joseph has surely been torn to pieces!’” (Gen. 37:31–33).  Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth, and mourned for his son many days, refusing to be comforted. Meanwhile, “the Midianites sold him in Egypt to Potiphar, Pharaoh’s officer, the captain of the bodyguard” (Gen. 37:36).
 
It is in the aftermath of this dark moment—Joseph sold and Jacob deceived—that Scripture turns our attention to Judah. In Genesis 38, we are given a window into the moral and spiritual condition of the man through whom the Messiah would one day come.
 
Sin Without Repentance Leads to Ruin (vv. 1-11)
Throughout the Old Testament, God warned His people not to adopt the ways of the Canaanites, lest they turn from Him. “You shall not intermarry with them; you shall not give your daughters to their sons, nor shall you take their daughters for your sons” (Deut. 7:2–3). Yet Judah did what God forbade. “Judah departed from his brothers and visited a certain Adullamite, whose name was Hirah. Judah saw there a daughter of a Canaanite whose name was Shua; and he took her as a wife and had relations with her” (vv. 1–2). Together they had three sons: Er, Onan, and Shelah (vv. 3–5).
 
Judah’s moral decline continued when he chose a Canaanite wife for his firstborn, Tamar. Their marriage ended tragically: “But Er, Judah’s firstborn, was evil in the sight of the LORD, so the LORD took his life” (vv. 6–7). Following custom, Judah told his second son, Onan, “Have relations with your brother’s wife and perform your duty as a brother-in-law to her, and raise up a child for your brother.” But Onan refused; “when he had relations with his brother’s wife, he wasted his seed on the ground so that he would not give a child to his brother” (vv. 8–9). Because of this, “what he did was displeasing in the sight of the LORD; so He put him to death also” (v. 10).
 
In those days, a woman’s security depended on her husband and sons. A widow without children had no protection or inheritance—the deceased man’s property passed to other male relatives. The practice of Levirate marriage was designed to protect such widows: “When brothers live together, and one of them dies and has no son, the wife of the deceased shall not be married outside the family to a strange man… the firstborn to whom she gives birth shall assume the name of his father’s deceased brother, so that his name will not be wiped out from Israel” (Deut. 25:5–6).
 
After Onan’s death, Judah promised Tamar she could marry his youngest son, Shelah, once he was grown. But fearing he might lose him too, Judah had no intention of keeping his word. Thinking only of his own household and not Tamar’s future, he sent her away to her father’s house—leaving her abandoned to widowhood and shame.
 
Desperation Without Faith Leads to Deception (vv. 12-23)
“Now after a considerable time…” — we are not told exactly how long Tamar waited after Judah sent her away, but by the time we come to verse 12, Judah’s youngest son was grown, and there was still no word from his father. It became clear that Judah had no intention of keeping his promise or fulfilling his duty to care for his daughter-in-law. Judah wanted to forget Tamar existed.
 
After Judah’s wife died, Tamar learned that he was going to Timnah to shear his sheep. Knowing Judah’s character, she devised a desperate plan: “She removed her widow’s garments and covered herself with a veil, and wrapped herself, and sat in the gateway of Enaim” (v. 14). Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute, knowing her father-in-law’s moral flaws, hoping to secure the child and security she had been denied. When Judah saw her, “...he assumed she was a prostitute, for she had covered her face. So he turned aside to her by the road, and said, “Here now, let me have relations with you’; for he did not know that she was his daughter-in-law. And she said, ‘What will you give me, that you may have relations with me?’” (vv. 15–16).
 
When Tamar asked, “What will you give me?” He promised a young goat in exchange for sex, but Tamar, knowing that he was not a man of his word, demanded a pledge—his seal, cord, and staff—each a personal identifier (v. 18). If her plan worked, these would prove Judah’s guilt. Even more disturbing is that Judah believed her to be a “cult prostitute,” revealing just how far removed he was spiritually from Abraham, Isaac, and his father Israel.
 
To be clear, Tamar is no saint either. She used deception and sexual sin to gain what was she believed was rightfully hers. Yet Judah fares no better: he pursued his passions, disregarded God’s covenant, and failed in every moral responsibility as father and leader. The descendants of Abraham were called to pursue justice, truth, and righteousness—virtues Judah utterly lacked.
 
Grace Without Limit Leads to Redemption (vv. 24-30)
Three months later, Judah learned that Tamar was pregnant: “Your daughter-in-law Tamar has prostituted herself, and behold, she is also pregnant by prostitution.” (v. 24). His response exposed his hypocrisy: “Bring her out, and have her burned.” The man who ignored Tamar’s suffering now demanded her death and the death of her unborn child, hiding his own sin behind false righteousness.
 
But as she was being brought out, Tamar sent Judah his own pledge with the message, “It was while she was being brought out that she sent word to her father-in-law, saying, ‘I am pregnant by the man to whom these things belong.’ She also said, ‘Please examine and see, whose signet ring and cords and staff are these?’” (v. 25). The Hebrew word for “examine” means to recognize or discern—it is as if Tamar were saying, “Look at yourself; see your own sin.”
 
Then comes Judah’s turning point: “And Judah recognized them and said, ‘She is more righteous than I.’” (v. 26). The one who held the power to condemn her, instead declared her righteous. In that moment, Judah encountered both conviction and grace—the same kind of divine confrontation experienced by Abraham on Mount Moriah when he laid his son Isaac on the altar and Jacob at Peniel when he wrestled with God. Though Judah was deeply flawed, his confession points forward to the need of a greater righteousness—one found only in the coming Son of Judah, whose righteousness is perfect in every way.
 
Afterward we read, “…he did not have relations with her again.” This brief note signals repentance and transformation. By Genesis 44, we see a changed man—no longer self-serving but self-sacrificing, willing to give his life for his brother’s freedom. Through the tangled sins of Judah and Tamar, God’s grace “broke through,” preserving the line that would one day bring forth the Redeemer Himself.  Tamar was not only pregnant with one child, but pregnant with twins!
 
When the day came that Judah’s two sons were born, they not only served to replace the two sons he lost to death, but they served as a way for redemption:
It came about at the time she was giving birth, that behold, there were twins in her womb. Moreover, it took place while she was giving birth, that one baby put out a hand, and the midwife took and tied a scarlet thread on his hand, saying, “This one came out first.” But it came about as he drew back his hand that behold, his brother came out. Then she said, “What a breach you have made for yourself!” So he was named Perez. Afterward his brother came out who had the scarlet thread on his hand; and he was named Zerah. (Genesis 38:27–30)
 
The name “Perez” means “breaking through.”  This is how the grace and mercy of God invaded the lives of both Judah and Tamar: It broke through into their hearts and lives in such a way it changed them forever.  The grace and mercy of God “broke through” into Tamar’s life with the redemption of what she lost as a widow through the birth of her first born.  The grace and mercy of God “broke through” into Judah’s life by forcing him to see his heart for what it was and compelling him to repent and become a new man. 
 
The Lion of Judah and the Triumph of Grace (Conclusion)
About 20 years or so after what happened between Judah and Tamar, we come to another scene where a great famine brought Judah and his brothers before a powerful Joseph who God had elevated second to Pharaoh for such a time as this, to shelter, protect, and preserve the 12 tribes of Israel (see Gen. 42-47)!
Joseph’s brothers stood before him not knowing that it was their younger brother, the one they sold into slavery that was before them while Israel and his youngest and now favored son, Benjamin was back in the famine-stricken land of Canaan. Through a series of events, Joseph tested his brothers to see if they had changed, so he had them go back to Canaan to bring Benjamin back with them to prove that they did not kill the youngest brother like they had intended to kill Joseph. 
 
When Benjamin arrives in Egypt, Joseph threatened to keep the son who was loved by their father, accusing him of taking what did not belong to him. Unknown to all the brothers, Joseph had a silver cup put in Benjamin’s sack to make it appear that he committed a crime.  It appeared to Judah and his brothers that Benjamin was guilty and that Joseph was justified in keeping Benjamin.
 
It is at this point in the story that Judah stood up to offer himself as a substitute to rescue the son who was loved by his father (see 44:1ff)!  Judah, now a changed man, who was completely innocent of the crime Benjamin was accused of, offered himself up in Benjamin’s place to rescue the son whom his father loves.  Upon hearing Judah’s sacrificial offer, Joseph revealed himself to his brothers and they were reconciled to the brother they once sought to kill. 
 
After Israel was brought to Egypt to be with his sons, he pronounced a blessing upon each of the sons.  The blessing that was pronounced upon Judah, the son of the ugly wife, was to become the son of preeminence:
“Judah is a lion’s cub;From the prey, my son, you have gone up.He crouches, he lies down as a lion,And as a lion, who dares to stir him up?
 
The scepter will not depart from Judah,Nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet,Until Shiloh comes;And to Him shall be the obedience of the peoples.” (Gen. 49:9-10)
 
Judah could not have understood all that God was doing in and through his life, but through the ugliness of sin and the actions of both Judah and Tamar, God brought forth a son of promise! From Perez, the son of Judah and Tamar, would come Boaz, and out of Boaz would come King David, and out of David would come Jesus who would become the substitute for a sinful people in the darkest night of sin!
 
There is a story similar to Judah and Tamar’s story. Only the prophet Hosea was told to marry a promiscuous woman by the name of Gomer, and the Lord God said to his prophet Hosea, “Go, take for yourself a wife inclined to infidelity, and children of infidelity; for the land commits flagrant infidelity, abandoning the Lord.”  Hosea obeyed the Lord, and it was not long before Gomer, the wife of Hosea, prostituted herself into slavery. In Hosea 3:1-3 we learn that God told Hosea to purchase (redeem) Gomer and to clothe her in white and to love her, and this is what Hosea said to his wife: “You shall live with me for many days. You shall not play the prostitute, nor shall you have another man; so I will also be toward you” (Hos. 3:3).
 
The apostle Peter borrowed language from Hosea’s story and applied it to our story, the story of Christ’s church: “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a Holy nation, a people for God’s own possession, so that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light; for you once were not a people, but now you are the people of God; you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy” (1 Pet. 2:9-10).
 
Brothers and sisters, there is a true and better Judah who was born of a virgin, lived a sinless life in our place, died for our sins as our substitute, and rose from the grave! He is the One we read about in Revelation 5: “Behold, the Lion that is from the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has overcome...” (v. 5).  He is also the Lamb who became our sin, in our place, of whom all of heaven rejoices, “Worthy are You to take the scroll and to break its seals; for You were slaughtered, and You purchased people for God with Your blood from every tribe, language, people, and nation” (v. 9).

Jacob and the Ugly Wife

The Bible never hides the mess that happens when sinful people collide. It doesn’t take much to recognize that since Adam and Eve were promised a descendant who would crush the head of the serpent, the story of God’s people is one of dysfunction. All who make up Jesus’ family tree include broken and messy people.
 
When we come to Genesis 29, we meet Jacob—a deceiver—and Leah, the woman no one wanted. But their story began long before this moment. God had promised Abraham that through his descendants would come a child who would bless all nations. That promise passed to Isaac, and before his twins were born, God declared, “The older shall serve the younger” (Gen. 25:23).
 
Jacob deceived his aging father, stole his brother’s blessing, and fled for his life. Alone in the wilderness, with only a stone for a pillow, God met him in a dream. “I am the LORD, the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac. The land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring… and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed. Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go” (Gen. 28:13–15).
 
God didn’t appear to Jacob because he finally got his act together—He showed up in Jacob’s mess. That’s the beauty of grace: God steps into our brokenness, keeps His promises, and accomplishes His plan through imperfect people. Later, God gave him the name Israel, but for the purpose of this sermon, we will continue to refer to him as Jacob (Gen. 35:9-21).
 
Outside of Eden We Want Rachel (Gen. 29:1-20)
When Laban heard his nephew had arrived, he “ran to meet him, and embraced him and kissed him, and brought him to his house” (Gen. 29:13). Jacob stayed with his uncle for a month, and during that time he fell in love with Laban’s younger daughter, Rachel (v. 18).
 
Why did Jacob love Rachel? The text tells us: “Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the older was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. And Leah’s eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful in figure and appearance” (vv. 16–17).
 
We’re not told exactly what it means that Leah’s eyes were “weak.” Some think she was cross-eyed or simply lacked the beauty that her younger sister possessed. Whatever the case, the contrast is clear—Leah was plain, but Rachel was striking. Even their names hint at the difference: Leah may mean “wild cow” or “gazelle,” while Rachel means “ewe” or “lamb”—a softer, more affectionate name. Rachel was beautiful, and Jacob was captivated.
 
When Laban offered to pay Jacob for his work, Jacob didn’t ask for wages—he offered seven years of labor for Rachel’s hand. Laban agreed. “So Jacob worked seven years to pay for Rachel. But his love for her was so strong that it seemed to him but a few days” (Gen. 29:20, NLT).
 
Rachel was the apple of his eye—the treasure of his heart. To Jacob, life with Rachel promised the happiness he had always longed for. And isn’t that what we all want? On this side of Eden, every heart searches for a “Rachel”—someone or something we believe will complete us. We might not call it Rachel, but we chase it in our stories, our dreams, and our longings. We don’t want Leah. We want Rachel.
 
If the Bible repeats something, we need to pay attention to it.  But, if the Bible repeats something three times, it elevates it to the superlative degree as something super important.  Three times we are told of Jacob’s love for Rachel:
“Now Jacob loved Rachel, so he said, ‘I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.’” (Gen. 29:18)
 
“So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him like only a few days because of his love for her.” (Gen. 29:20)
 
“So Jacob had relations with Rachel also, and indeed he loved Rachel more than Leah, and he served with Laban for another seven years.” (Gen. 29:30)
 
Guess how many times we are told that Jacob loved Leah.  Zero.  In fact, when it comes to love, here is what we are told: “Now the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, and He opened her womb, but Rachel was unable to have children” (v. 31).
 
Outside of Eden We Get Leah (Gen. 29:21-30)
After Jacob completed the seven years he had promised his uncle, he was ready to receive what his heart had longed for. “Then Jacob said to Laban, ‘Give me my wife, for my time is completed, that I may have relations with her.’ So Laban gathered all the people of the place and held a feast” (Gen. 29:21–22).
 
Finally, Jacob believed life was about to become sweet. The wedding celebration began, the food was served, and the wine flowed freely. When the bride was brought to him—veiled and under cover of night—Jacob, likely feeling content and confident, welcomed her. “Now in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to him; and Jacob had relations with her.... So it came about in the morning that, behold, it was Leah!” (Gen. 29:23, 25a).
 
Morning light brought a brutal truth. The woman beside him was not Rachel—the love of his life—but Leah, the weak-eyed daughter whose very name meant “wild cow.” Jacob was furious. He had been deceived—just as he had once deceived his brother Esau. His dream of happiness, shattered. “And he said to Laban, ‘What is this that you have done to me? Was it not for Rachel that I served you? Why then have you deceived me?’” (v. 25).
 
But Laban, the master manipulator, calmly replied, “It is not the practice in our place to marry off the younger before the firstborn. Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also for the service which you shall serve with me for another seven years” (vv. 26–27).
 
Jacob was trapped—used for free labor once again. He was tricked into taking the daughter he hadn’t chosen, and bartered into another seven years for the one he loved. Unfortunately for Leah, she was stuck in the middle of all the drama.
 
Outside of Eden There is Still Hope
The marriage that Jacob was tricked into began with a week-long celebration. Laban insisted Jacob complete the festivities with Leah, giving enough time for her to become pregnant. Yet Jacob was eager for the days to end, and as soon as the week was over, he immediately married Rachel. Driven by the selfish motives of both Jacob and Laban, Leah found herself trapped—caught between their desires and loved by no one. Leah was rejected, while Rachel was cherished.
 
The striking irony in Leah’s story is that, while she was overlooked by everyone else, God loved her: “Now the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, and He opened her womb, but Rachel was unable to have children” (v. 31). Despite God’s blessings with each child, Leah’s deepest longing, which was for her husband’s love, remained out of reach. After every birth, Leah hoped that her husband would finally love her, yet that hope was continually unfulfilled. Consider how Leah responded after each of her first four child were born:
“Leah conceived and gave birth to a son, and named him Reuben, for she said, “Because the Lord has seen my affliction; surely now my husband will love me.’” (v. 32)
 
“Then she conceived again and gave birth to a son, and said, ‘Because the Lord has heard that I am unloved, He has therefore given me this son also.’ So she named him Simeon.” (v. 33)
 
“And she conceived again and gave birth to a son, and said, ‘Now this time my husband will become attached to me, because I have borne him three sons.’ Therefore he was named Levi.” (v. 34)
 
“And she conceived again and gave birth to a son, and said, ‘This time I will praise the Lord.’ Therefore she named him Judah. Then she stopped having children.” (v. 35)
 
I wish Leah’s story ended with her praising the LORD, but it didn’t. She continued to seek Jacob’s affection by giving him what Rachel could not—children.
 
Just as Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham, Rachel followed the same pattern when she could not conceive, unwilling to trust God’s timing. What followed was a rivalry between Leah and Rachel, each striving to win Jacob’s love by giving him more sons. Both even gave their servants to Jacob, and through them, four more sons were born.
 
In time, God blessed Leah with two additional sons and a daughter, yet her longing for her husband’s love was never fulfilled (see Gen. 30:19–21). Rachel, meanwhile, bore only two sons—Joseph and, finally, Benjamin, the only son Jacob named.
“Then they journeyed on from Bethel; but when there was still some distance to go to Ephrath, Rachel began to give birth and she suffered severe difficulties in her labor. And when she was suffering severe difficulties in her labor, the midwife said to her, ‘Do not fear, for you have another son!’ And it came about, as her soul was departing (for she died), that she named him Ben-oni; but his father called him Benjamin” (Gen. 35:16–18).
 
Application
The irony in Leah’s story is striking: although she was overlooked by her father, unloved by her husband, and scorned by her younger sister, she was shown favor by God. Leah became the mother of seven children, including Levi and Judah. Through Levi, the priestly lineage was established, and through Judah, the royal line was formed—a line that ultimately led to the birth of Jesus Christ!
 
The promise God made to Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob... was Leah’s promise. Listen to the prophetic blessing pronounced upon Judah by Jacob in Genesis 49:8-10,
As for you, Judah, your brothers shall praise you;your hand shall be on the neck of your enemies;your father’s sons shall bow down to you.
Judah is a lion’s cub;from the prey, my son, you have gone up.He crouches, he lies down as a lion,and as a lion, who dares to stir him up?
The scepter will not depart from Judah,nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet,until Shiloh comes;and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples.
The ugly wife was loved by God! Leah couldn’t have seen it then, but the beauty God would bring through her lineage is staggering. Her name may mean weary, exhausted, gazelle, or even wild cow—yet through her would come the Deliverer promised to Adam and Eve, to Noah, to Abraham and Sarah, to Isaac, and now to Jacob. She was the wife no one loved or treasured, except God Himself.
 
From Leah’s sons came the tribe of Levi, the tribe set apart to oversee the worship and sacrificial life of Israel. From the Levites, God appointed the High Priest, chosen from Aaron’s line, to mediate between God and His people. Upon his chest he wore a sacred breastplate adorned with twelve precious stones, each set in gold and engraved with the name of one of Israel’s tribes. The first stone, sardius—a deep red ruby—represented Reuben, whose name means “Behold, a son!” The last stone, jasper, represented Benjamin, meaning “son of my right hand.”
 
Leah’s legacy was not measured by Jacob’s affection but by God’s covenantal love. Through the unloved wife, God brought forth the priesthood that pointed to the Great High Priest—Jesus Christ.
 
Conclusion
Now, permit me to show you something from Revelation 4-5.  In Revelation 4, John is invited to see the heavenly throne room of God.  Notice what it is that John sees:
After these things I looked, and behold, a door standing open in heaven, and the first voice which I had heard, like the sound of a trumpet speaking with me, said, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after these things.” Immediately I was in the Spirit; and behold, a throne was standing in heaven, and someone was sitting on the throne. And He who was sitting was like a jasper stone and a sardius in appearance; and there was a rainbow around the throne, like an emerald in appearance.
 
John is ushered into heaven’s throne room, and what captures his attention is that the One seated on the throne radiates with the colors of jasper and sardius—the first and last stones on the High Priest’s breastplate. This is not accidental imagery. It is intentional revelation. What shines from the throne is He who is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. When you pair the meanings of those names— “Behold, a Son” and “Son of My right hand”—you hear the gospel proclaimed from the very throne of God.
 
Who is this Son at the right hand of the Father? Revelation 1:17–18 gives the answer: “Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living One; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of death and Hades.” The One radiant like sardius and jasper is none other than Jesus Christ. And how do we know He sits at the right hand of the Father? Because Paul— who himself was from the tribe represented by the jasper stone—declares in Romans 8:31–34: “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things? Who will bring charges against God’s elect? God is the one who justifies; who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is He who died, but rather, was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who also intercedes for us.” This is the One who is worthy to open the scroll in the Father’s hand.
 
Revelation 5:5 tells us, “...behold, the Lion that is from the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has overcome so as to be able to open the scroll and its seven seals.” The elder tells John to look at the Lion of Judah. But when John turns, he doesn’t see a lion. He sees a Lamb. “A Lamb standing, as if slaughtered...” (Rev. 5:6). Jacob chased after a beautiful woman whose name meant “sheep,” but through Leah—the unloved, weary wife—would come the Lamb of God. The Lamb who stands before the throne as the triumphant Redeemer. And all of heaven erupts in worship: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered to receive power, wealth, wisdom, might, honor, glory, and blessing” (Rev. 5:12).
 
What is the point of Leah’s story? God redeems what is ugly, weary, and rejected. He takes what the world despises and uses it to accomplish His glorious plan of redemption. This is why the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders sing a new song to Leah’s descendant: “Worthy are You to take the scroll and to break its seals; for You were slaughtered, and You purchased people for God with Your blood from every tribe, language, people, and nation” (Rev. 5:9).
 
And here is where the story turns deeply personal. We are Leah. We are the unlovely bride. We are the weary, broken, and undeserving. But instead of being repulsed by us, Jesus loves us. He makes us His Bride. Paul writes, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38–39).
 
Leah’s story ends not in sorrow, but in the songs of heaven. The woman who was unloved became the vessel through whom the Lamb of God would come. The tribe she bore would point to the Great High Priest, and the Son of her body’s lineage would one day stand at the right hand of the Father. “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain.” That is our story too. If you belong to Christ, then your shame, your weariness, and your rejection are not the end of the story. The throne is. The Lamb is. His love is.

Abraham and the Only Son

A man named Jack accidentally fell off the edge of a steep cliff. On the way down he was able to grab ahold of a branch, which temporarily stopped his fall. He looked down and to his horror discovered that there were hundreds of feet between him and the bottom of the canyon. He couldn’t hang onto the branch forever, and there was no way for him to climb up the steep wall of the cliff.  So Jack began yelling for help, hoping that someone passing by would hear him. “HELP! HELP! Is anyone up there? “HELP!” He yelled for a long time, but no one heard him. He was about to give up when he heard a voice.
“Jack, Jack. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, yes! I can hear you. I’m down here!”
“I can see you, Jack. Are you all right?”
“Yes, but who are you, and where are you?
“I am the Lord, Jack. I’m everywhere.”
“The Lord? You mean, GOD?”
“That’s Me.”
“God, please help me! I promise if, you’ll get me down from here, I’ll stop sinning. I’ll be a really good person. I’ll serve You for the rest of my life.”
“Easy on the promises, Jack. Let’s get you off from there, then we can talk.”
“Now, here’s what I want you to do. Listen carefully.”
“I’ll do anything, Lord. Just tell me what to do.”
“Okay. Let go of the branch.”
“What?”
“I said, let go of the branch.” Just trust Me. Let go.”
There was a long silence.
Finally Jack yelled, “HELP! HELP! IS ANYONE ELSE UP THERE?”
 
What is faith?  Here is the way the Bible defines it: “Faith is the assurance of what we hope for and the certainty of what we do not see” (Heb. 11:1; BSB).  Abraham became known for that kind of faith, but it took a lifetime for him to get to the place of utter dependance upon God.  I am not sure what Abraham’s hopes and dreams were before he met God, but his home was in the City of Ur where Nanna, the Mesopotamian Moon god, was worshiped and his wife and family lived.  Although childless, Abraham was prosperous, settled, and old.  What he may or may not have known was that he was a descendant of Noah – ten generations removed.
 
When Abraham first heard God's calling, he was seventy-five years old, and his wife Sarah was sixty-five (see Gen. 12:4; 17:17). Despite their advanced age and the fact that they had no children, God gave Abraham a remarkable promise: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen. 12:1-3). This was a profound and hopeful message, especially considering that Abraham’s birth name was Abram, meaning “Exalted Father”—a title that must have felt ironic for a man with no children at seventy-five, and a wife (Sarai) ten years his junior. The name Abram brings to mind other individuals who have been given ironic or unfortunate names, such as the character mentioned in the following well-known song lyric:
Well, my daddy left home when I was threeDidn't leave very much to my mom and meExcept this old guitar and an empty bottle of boozeNow I don't blame him 'cause he run and hidBut the meanest thing that my daddy ever didWas before he left, he went and named me Sue[1]
 
God made three foundational promises to Abraham: first, He pledged to give him a land of his own; second, He vowed that Abraham would become the father of a vast multitude of descendants; and third, He assured that all nations would be blessed through him, signifying God’s plan of redemption. Trusting in these promises, Abraham left his home in Ur and journeyed to the land that God would reveal to him.
 
The Promise (Gen. 17:1-9)
Before we get to Genesis 17, I need to help you appreciate what Abraham (still Abram) was feeling and experiencing.  When we come to Genesis 15, Abraham and Sarah are still childless about 10 years after they were promised a child!  Abraham followed God out of obedience and brought his wife with him on the basis of a promise made by God that included many descendants, land, and a legacy that would bless multitudes in the future! At 85ish years old, God reassured Abraham (Abram), but what God’s reassurance was is up for debate based on the different ways Genesis 15:1 can be translated. Consider the ways NASB and the NKJV translated this verse:
“Do not fear, Abram, I am a shield to you; Your reward shall be very great.”” (NASB2020)
 
“Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your exceedingly great reward.” (NKJV)
 
So what is it?  Based on God’s promise in Genesis 13:1-3 and how He will reiterate the promise later in Genesis 15, I think it is both.  Here is one way you could paraphrase this verse: “Because I am your reward, your reward will be great.”
Abraham was about ready to give up on believing the promise include a biological son, but then God swore on behalf of His own name that He would honor the promise He made to Abram and Sarah.  God then entered into what is called a unilateral covenant of which He was obligated to honor that was not conditioned on anything that Abram did or did not do.  God swore to Abraham (Abram), “One who will come from your own body will be your heir” (15:4b).  What was Abraham’s response? We are told in Genesis 15: “Then he believed in the Lord; and He credited it to him as righteousness.”  Then about a year later, Sarah (still Sarai) developed a plan for her husband to get her maid, Hagar, pregnant; to have the heir God promised through her.  After all, God said the promised heir would come from Abraham a year ago but did not seem to mention Sarai! So again, the forces of darkness were at work to prevent the Descendent promised to Adam and Eve, who would crush the head of the serpent from ever being born.[2] 
 
Hagar did get pregnant with Abraham’s child, but all that did was bring more dysfunction into Abraham’s home, among other problems. Abraham (still Abram) was 86 and Sarah (still Sarai) 76, with no child to show for the promise God made long ago. 
 
Now we come to the promise made yet again in Genesis 17, but this time it is 24 years since the couple left Ur and 13 years since the whole mess they create with Hagar and the birth of Ishmael. Before I go any further, let that settle in your heart and mind for a moment.  For 24 years Abraham and Sarah waited, longed, hoped for the son that Almighty God promised them.  Then 13 years later while Ishmael had reached the age of maturity and Abram resigned that there would be no heir by Ishmael, God appeared to Abraham (still Abram) and spoke yet again: “I am God Almighty; Walk before Me, and be blameless. I will make My covenant between Me and you, and I will multiply you exceedingly” (17:1-2).  It is in this moment that God gave Abram the name Abraham which means “father of a multitude.” 
 
The blessing would not come through Ishmael, but through another son.  So that there would be no room for confusion, God said to Abraham: “As for your wife Sarai, you shall not call her by the name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her, and indeed I will give you a son by her. Then I will bless her, and she shall be a mother of nations; kings of peoples will come from her” (17:15–16).  Abraham’s response is understandable: “Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed, and said in his heart, ‘Will a child be born to a man a hundred years old? And will Sarah, who is ninety years old, give birth to a child?’” (v. 17).  Nearly one year later, when Abraham was 100 years old and Sarah was 90 years old, she gave birth to Isaac, the son of promise (Gen. 21:1-8). 
 
The promise made to Adam and Eve, to Noah, and to Abraham would now come through Isaac.  A promise that included land, descendants (a great multitude), and the blessing of the nations.  Abraham received the promise when he was 75 and his wife past menopause which means to have a child together would have been a miracle at their respective ages, but for 90-year-old Sarah to carry the child of her 100-year-old husband was impossible!  And that is the point, isn’t it?  There was nothing that Abraham or Sarah could do to make God’s promise possible, they could not make it happen sooner, they could not adjust God’s timing, all that they could do is trust and wait for God to do only what He could in His own timing.  Their part in God’s promise was to trust, obey, and wait. 
 
The Promise of a Better Son (Gen. 22)
We are not told how many years it was after Isaac’s birth, but when we come to Genesis 22 we are told that God spoke to Abraham and said some of the most horrific words Abraham would ever hear: “Then He said, “Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I will tell you” (Gen. 22:2). Things were different this time; Abraham was different this time, for he had known God for many years since he was first called out of his homeland.  The Bible tells us that that Abraham, “...got up early in the morning and saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him and his son Isaac; and he split wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place of which God had told him” (v. 3).
 
There were no arguments, no debate, no protest… Abraham simply obeyed because He believed if he followed through with the sacrifice of his own son; God was big enough to raise him up from death to life.  This is why when Abraham took Isaac up the mountain, he told the young men he brought with him: “Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey, and I and the boy will go over there; and we will worship and return to you” (v. 5).
 
Although the exact number of years between Isaac’s birth and God’s command for Abraham to sacrifice his son is not specified in the text, we can make a reasonable estimate based on several clues about Isaac’s age. First, Isaac was old enough to walk alongside his father for the entire three-day journey while Abraham, advanced in years, rode a donkey. Second, Isaac had the strength to carry the wood for the burnt offering up the rugged slope of Mount Moriah after days of travel. Third, Isaac was old enough to make a critical observation: “Isaac spoke to his father Abraham and said, ‘My father!’ And he said, ‘Here I am, my son.’ And he said, ‘Look, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?’” (v. 7). These details suggest that Isaac was not a small child; my guess is that he was at least 13 years old.
 
There is something else you should be aware of about Abraham and Isaac’s journey and what was said to the young men just before Abraham and Isaac made their way up Mt. Moriah:
The journey would take 3 days to get to the place of Isaac’s sacrifice.
Most scholars believe that Mt. Moriah was the site where Jerusalem would eventually be built.
On the third day, Abraham said to the young men, “Stay here with the donkey, and I and the boy will go over there; and we will worship and return to you” (v. 5). In other words, Abraham believed that there would be a resurrection after he slaughtered his son... ON THE THIRD DAY!
 
So what happened?  Did Abraham follow through with what God commanded?  Abraham had seen too much to doubt God’s ability and character to do what He had promised.  God promised a child through whom would come a great multitude and the nations would be blessed.  Here is what happened:
Then they came to the place of which God had told him; and Abraham built the altar there and arranged the wood, and bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. And Abraham reached out with his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not reach out your hand against the boy, and do not do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.” Then Abraham raised his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram caught in the thicket by its horns; and Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering in the place of his son.
 
Abraham would have followed through with killing his one and only son had God not stopped him because no longer did he put God in a box… He was too big for any boxes because now He knew His God.  What was God’s response?  He simply reiterated His covenant promise: “By Myself I have sworn, declares the Lord, because you have done this thing and have not withheld your son, your only son, indeed I will greatly bless you, and I will greatly multiply your seed as the stars of the heavens and as the sand, which is on the seashore; and your seed shall possess the gate of their enemies. And in your seed all the nations of the earth shall be blessed, because you have obeyed My voice” (Gen. 22:16-18).
 
Why did God command Abraham to sacrifice his son, and why did He refer to the child as, “your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac” (v. 2)? The significance lies in the foreshadowing of a greater Son who would come from Isaac’s lineage—Jesus Christ, God’s own Son. In other words, Isaac’s story points forward to a future sacrifice on another mount known as Golgotha, God the Father would do what He prevented Abraham from doing: He would slaughter His only unique Son, whom He loved, for the sins of the multitudes to redeem a people for himself by the blood of the greater and more perfect Isaac!
 
While the "lesser Isaac" was confused and unsure of the purpose for the wood he carried, the "greater Isaac," Jesus Christ, carried a wooden cross fully aware of why He was doing it and with unwavering commitment to die in our place as the Lamb of God. Where God provided a ram to spare Isaac, Jesus willingly became our substitute, submitting to the Father's will and taking on the penalty for our sins. Isaac had to be bound before being placed on the altar, but Jesus embraced the cross freely, allowing sinful men to bound Him to the cross on our behalf. Oh dear brothers and sisters, Jesus Christ is the true and better Isaac of whom the Scriptures testify: “God made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21).
 
[1] Johnny Cash, “A Boy Named Sue,” performed by Johnny Cash, written by Shel Silverstein, recorded at San Quentin State Prison, 24 Feb. 1969, released on At San Quentin, Columbia Records, 1969.
[2] “Now Sarai, Abram’s wife, had not borne him a child, but she had an Egyptian slave woman whose name was Hagar. So Sarai said to Abram, “See now, the Lord has prevented me from bearing children. Please have relations with my slave woman; perhaps I will obtain children through her.” And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai.” (Gen. 16:1–2)

Noah and the Promise of the Rainbow

From the Pulpit of Keith Miller
The story of Noah and the flood is not for little children.  The story of the flood is horrific, frightening, and tragic.  The flood is the justifiable holocaust of an entire generation with the exception of one solitary family.  Had any of the children that day survived the flood and been asked to draw on paper what they had experienced, I do not believe you would have seen anything close to what we see in our churches today like the image below:
 
Instead, what you would have seen is something like the pictures some of the children who survived the tsunami of 2004 that killed over 200,000 people drew to illustrate their experience:
 
After Cain murdered Abel and was driven away from his family to be a wanderer with his wife, we are told that the hearts of his descendants grew increasingly evil.  Cain’s great, great, great grandson Lamech was much more violent than Cain and became known for twisting the institution of marriage by taking two wives instead of one (see Gen. 4:24-24).
 
After Seth was born, we learn that people began to call upon the name of the God of Adam and Eve (4:26). Through Seth, another bloodline was started to counter the bloodline of Cain.  Cain’s line represents evil, while Seth’s line represents the line through which the promised Deliverer would come.  Cain’s line grew to be both secular and violent, while Seth’s line represented godliness in a world when calling upon the name of the Lord was rare and unpopular.  
 
The Wickedness on the Earth Became Great
Through Seth, God would fulfill the promise made to Adam and Eve, but there were dark powers that would seek and strive to keep the Descendant of Eve from ever being born!  It is to that part of the story we now turn our attention:
Now it came about, when mankind began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of mankind were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves, whomever they chose. Then the Lord said, “My Spirit will not remain with man forever, because he is also flesh; nevertheless his days shall be 120 years.” The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of mankind, and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown. (Gen. 6:1-4)
 
Three groups of people are named in Genesis 6:1-4.  There are the sons of God, the daughters of mankind, and the Nephilim.  There are also three main views that have served to explain who these three sets of people were, I will share the three ways theologians throughout the ages have understood who these people are in Genesis and then I will offer a fourth possible way of understanding these verses:
The “sons of God” represent the line of Seth, and the “daughters of men” represent the line of Cain. The intermingling of Seth’s descendants with Cain’s line blurred the distinction between those devoted to God and those who had turned away. This union led to a moral collapse that hastened humanity’s corruption and ultimately brought about God’s judgment through the flood.
 
One widely held perspective is that the “sons of God” (a phrase frequently referring to angels)[1] were fallen angels who took on human appearance and engaged in relationships with human women, referred to as the daughters of men. According to this interpretation, these unions resulted in the birth of the Nephilim—figures described as formidable, possibly giant warriors who were both feared and renowned. This view has been prominent throughout Jewish and Christian tradition.
 
Another interpretation suggests that the “sons of God” were regional kings who were exalted as divine figures by the people they governed. Much like Lamech, these rulers acted with unchecked authority, taking as many wives from among the “daughters of men” (ordinary women) as they desired, often practicing extensive polygamy. The offspring of these unions became influential princes, celebrated as “mighty men of old, men of renown.”
I used to hold to the first view, but have since rejected it, and I have always struggled with the second view for the simple fact that angels are spiritual beings (Heb. 1:14) who do not share our DNA and therefore make it impossible to impregnate human women.  However, I do believe that fallen angels (sons of God) possessed the “sons of god” (regional rulers/kings) who took the daughters of men as wives for themselves. The reason why I believe this is because of what Jude and Peter wrote about concerning Genesis 6:1-4.[2] 
 
According to Jude and Peter, what happened in Genesis 6 was a demonic overstepping so severe that they were judged immediately before the rest of the demons who will eventually be cast into the lake of fire. Let me share with you where I land on what is happening in Genesis 6:1-4 that seems to best fit the context and progression of sin from Cain to the flooding of the earth.
 
Here is the way I see it: By the time we get to Genesis 6, the culture of humankind has grown exceedingly promiscuous and violent.  Cain killed Abel. Lamech killed a man and a child and took two wives for himself, and then one generation later we are introduced to the “sons of god” taking the “daughters of men” to have children known as the Nephilim.   There was little regard for the sanctity of life and God’s design for sex within the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman. When we come to Genesis 6, we are told, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of mankind was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually” (v. 5).
 
In light of what we know about the religious practices of the ancient East and that fallen angels are capable of demonic possession of humans (see Mark 5:1-20), It is possible that the sons of God (fallen angels) possessed regional kings who were so wicked that they welcomed the possession of demons they may have worshiped as gods (see Deut. 32:15-17; 1 Cor. 10:20).  It is possible that the regional kings, while under the influence of those fallen angels, took on a harem of women (the daughters of men).  The regional kings of Genesis 6 opened themselves up to being demonized, and that fallen angles used their bodies to further pervert the sanctity of marriage as an institution created and sanctioned by God. 
 
We will certainly see this when we get to the book of Revelation in January, but for now what you should know is that the institution of marriage was always designed to function as a portrait of Christ’s relationship to the Church; the apostle Paul goes as far as to state the original design of the institution of marriage in Genesis 1:26-28 and 2:18-25, “‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. However, let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband” (Eph. 5:31–33). It was because of the violence against the image of God and the perversion of the sanctity of marriage that we are told in the following verses:
Then the Lord saw that the wickedness of mankind was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually. So the Lord was sorry that He had made mankind on the earth, and He was grieved in His heart. Then the Lord said, “I will wipe out mankind whom I have created from the face of the land; mankind, and animals as well, and crawling things, and the birds of the sky. For I am sorry that I have made them.” (Gen. 6:5-7).
 
God’s Infinite Goodness Overcomes the Deepest Wickedness
It was only because the wickedness of Noah’s generation was so great, pervasive, and unrelenting that He chose to flood the earth.  Yet, even in the midst of great evil and wickedness, God chose to spare a man and his family to start over, and he did it through Noah’s family (v. 8).  So, God instructed Noah, “The end of humanity has come before Me; for the earth is filled with violence because of people; and behold, I am about to destroy them with the earth. Make for yourself an ark of gopher wood; you shall make the ark with compartments, and cover it inside and out with pitch” (Gen. 6:13-14). 
 
Only Noah, his family, and two of every animal according to their kind were spared, as God intended to begin anew through them (notice that God specified "kind," not "species"). To Noah, God declared, “But I will establish My covenant with you, and you shall enter the ark—you, your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives with you. Of every living creature of all flesh, you shall bring two of every kind into the ark to keep them alive with you; they shall be male and female” (vv. 18-19). So, Noah and his family entered the ark, and then the floodwaters came, resulting in the destruction of thousands under the judgment of a holy God.
 
Although God could have rightly destroyed every living creature, He chose to spare Noah and his family. Through Noah, his family, and a chosen group of animals, protected in an ark made from wood, God demonstrated mercy. God then assured Noah with a promise: “Now behold, I Myself am establishing My covenant with you, and with your descendants after you.... I establish My covenant with you; and all flesh shall never again be eliminated by the waters of a flood, nor shall there again be a flood to destroy the earth” (vv. 8-9, 11).  What would be the sign of the covenant made with Noah?  Here is what God said: “This is the sign of the covenant which I am making between Me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations; I have set My rainbow in the cloud, and it shall serve as a sign of a covenant between Me and the earth” (Gen. 9:12-13).
 
The rainbow stands as a powerful reminder—to us and to God—that He has set aside His warrior’s bow, placing it in the sky as a sign of peace. The flood cleansed the blood stained soil of the earth caused by the wickedness of humanity and washed away the rampant perversion that became a part of the culture. God’s promise to Adam and Eve that a deliverer would come—the hope they saw in Seth and his descendants—was kept through Noah, who remained righteous in a corrupt world. God overcame human wickedness with the flood, but in His goodness, He also provided a way for the coming of Christ.
 
Not long after Noah and his family were saved from the judgment of God, we are reminded that no flood can remedy the problem of the human heart.  In Genesis 9:20-29, we learn that Noah got drunk and passed out naked and his son Ham looked upon his father’s nakedness in a way that was shameful and disrespectful.  Ham was cursed to become a servant of the descendants of his older brothers, while Shem would carry on the bloodline that would eventually lead to the birth of Jesus Christ.
 
The sins of Adam, Cain, Lamech, Noah, and Ham are our struggles too. We all have a heart problem that only Christ can fix. The trees provided the gopher wood that saved Noah and his family from the flood of God’s wrath, and yet it was also a tree—the cross—where Jesus, the descendant of Adam, Seth, Noah, and Shem, was nailed to bear the curse we deserved. Although Noah was considered righteous in God’s sight, he still struggled with the same sin-problem that plagued every generation before him. In contrast, Jesus was perfectly righteous, as Scripture declares: “For Christ also suffered for sins once for all time, the just for the unjust, so that He might bring us to God…” (1 Peter 3:18a).
 
Conclusion
Please listen closely to what I am about to share. The rainbow, given by God as a sign of His covenant with Noah, was never meant to be used as a justification to redefine, distort, or undermine the institution of marriage or the sacredness of sex within the covenant of marriage between one man and one woman. God did not create the sun to shine and its light to form the beautiful arc of colors in the sky through rain, so that anyone might feel free to alter the biological nature with which they were created and choose an identity apart from His design.
 
The rainbow is a powerful reminder that God takes all sin seriously—including heterosexual sins such as sex before marriage and any form of sexual relations with anyone other than your spouse. It calls us to recognize that God’s standard for purity and faithfulness within marriage apply to everyone and serves as a visible sign of both His justice and His mercy.[3]   
 
The rainbow serves as a vivid reminder of God’s undeserved mercy, highlighting the justice that, by all rights, should fall upon us. When we see a rainbow stretched across the sky, it’s not a testament to our worthiness and rights, but instead displays God’s compassion that permits us to behold it. We must understand that, according to God’s perfect justice, we deserve not only death but eternal separation from Him. Yet, by His mercy alone, we are given the blessing of another day—not so we can pursue our own desires, but so we may be drawn to the cross where God’s Son was slaughtered for our sins.
 
Ultimately, it is only through the cross of Christ that we can be saved from God’s just wrath. Jesus alone is qualified and able to bear the judgment our sins deserve, offering us true hope and redemption.  The tree that Christ was cursed upon in our place is not permission to run to our sin, but the demand to run from our sin to the One who bore all of it, for our salvation from the floods of God’s wrath that we each deserve.Man
 
[1] The term “sons of God” refers to angels in several Old Testament passages, specifically in Job 1:6, 2:1, 38:7, and Psalms 29:1 and 89:6.
[2] Jude 6–7.  “And angels who did not keep their own domain but abandoned their proper dwelling place, these He has kept in eternal restraints under darkness for the judgment of the great day, 7 just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities around them, since they in the same way as these angels indulged in sexual perversion and went after strange flesh, are exhibited as an example in undergoing the punishment of eternal fire.”
 
2 Peter 2:4. “For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to pits of darkness, held for judgment...”
 
[3] “Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterers.” (Heb. 13:4)

The War Between Two Seeds

I once heard a story that I would like to share with you and then I would like to follow it up with a question. A man is on death row for murder, the day of his execution has come, and you have been invited to spend 30 minutes with the man.  You ask the man if he is guilty; his answer seems sincere and heartfelt: “It was years ago when I committed that crime, but it is true that I am guilty of murder.”  He continues to explain how year after year he and his lawyers have tried to appeal his death sentence, but all his appeals have failed. Now his only hope is the small chance his lawyers may be able to get the court, or even the governor, to agree to a stay of execution.
 
Just before your 30 minutes are up the man learns that there will be no stay of execution and within the next hour, he will die by lethal injection.  You decide to stay to see if by some chance a reprieve might be granted.  The time of execution arrives, and the man is ushered to the room where he will be executed. He passes by as you watch, and through his loud sobs, you hear the man repeat, “I am so sorry, I am so sorry! I am so sorry!” 
 
My question for you is this: Is the man sorry that he took the life of another human, or is he sorry that he will never be able to murder again? 
 
The account of the first family provides valuable insight into what genuine love for God and true worship look like. Following their disobedience in the garden, God gave Adam and Eve a promise: a Descendant—a seed— who would come to defeat and destroy the deceiver who had led them astray. Their reaction to God’s promise in the midst of their failure becomes a powerful example of repentance and worship. To truly grasp what led Cain to kill his brother, we must first consider how Adam and Eve responded to God’s assurance and what it reveals about the heart of repentance and worship. 
 
Before Adam and Eve’s sin, they were commanded to fill the earth with children and not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  The two trees in the center of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  Every day that Adam and his wife passed by those trees, they were given the option to choose life and blessing by eating from the tree of life, or to choose death and cursing by disobeying God by eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  As you know, they chose death and cursing. 
 
After God found them, His promise of good news to the couple was that One would come through their decedents who would crush the serpent.  Their response to their sin and God’s promise is found in Genesis 3:20 - 4:1, and it was beautiful! Adam named his wife “Eve” which means “mother of all the living.”  God’s response after Adam named his wife was to cover them with animal skins, which means that God shed the blood of an animal to cover their shame.  God then sent them out of the Garden which was the consequence of their sin and the new reality of the curse they would now live under. Then, even after they were no longer permitted to live in the garden, Adam and Eve responded in faith to the promise of God by finally choosing to have children with the birth of Cain and then Abel; when she gave birth to Cain, Eve said, “I have obtained a male child with the help of the Lord.’”
 
The expectation Adam and Eve had for their son Cain was one of hope, filled with dreams that they also shared for Abel. When it came to the worship of Yahweh, Cain brought a portion from his labors from the ground while Abel brought “the firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions” in worship to the Lord.  What this tells us is that Adam and Eve shared the stories of their God with their two sons; they also instructed them in the way they were to worship God out of thanksgiving and reverence that all that they had was from the Lord.  Both Adam and Eve understood that the Deliverer promised to them would either be one of their sons or one who would come by way of the sons of their children.
 
Although Cain and Abel grew up in the same household, raised by the same parents, and taught the same values, their lives and choices could not have been more different. Cain chose to work the soil as a farmer, while Abel became a shepherd, tending flocks (4:2). There was nothing wrong with Cain’s occupation, nor was his offering itself unacceptable. The real issue lay in the condition of Cain’s heart—spiritually, his attitude and motivation before God was deeply flawed.
 
Worship is More than What You Do
The offering that Cain and Abel brought to the Lord was their way of thanking God; it was their way of worshiping Him for all the good that He brought into their lives through their respective occupations.  Cain was a farmer, so he brought the produce of His work to God not because God needed it, but as a way of worshiping Him.  Abel was a shepherd, so he brought a portion of his labor before the Lord as an offering.  In verse three we are told that Cain brought his offering, “In the course of time..” which is probably a reference to the end of the agricultural season.  So, this was not the first time Cain or Abel worshiped God through their respective offerings.
 
Abel’s offering was that of the “firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions.”  The reason for the detail here is that Abel’s offering was thought out, carefully prepared, and the best of what he had to offer God, while Cain’s offering was not.  The point is that Cain came to God on his own terms, while Abel came to God on God’s terms.  Cain’s offering was motivated out of obligation and duty, while Abel’s was motivated by reverence and love.  We know Abel’s offering was motivated by his love and reverence of God for two reasons: First, according to verse 5, “…but for Cain and his offering He had no regard.  So Cain was very angry and his face was gloomy.”  The second reason is found in Hebrews 11:4, “By faith Abel offered to God a better sacrifice than Cain, through which he was attested to be righteous, God testifying about his gifts, and through faith, though he is dead, he still speaks.”
 
What I find amazing about this story is that God did not ridicule Cain for his half-hearted worship, but instead instructed him as to how his offering could be accepted just like his brother’s was: “If you do well, will your face not be cheerful? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; and its desire is for you, but you must master it” (v. 7). 
 
Worship is a Matter of the Heart
Abel worshiped God as one who understood who he himself was in light of who God is (Abel was poor in spirit), he understood that his only righteousness was to be found in God (he mourned over his sins), and his offering came out of a spirit of humility before God (Abel was meek).  For Abel, worship was not a duty, but a delight. 
 
Cain’s response to God’s favor for Abel over himself reveals everything we need to know about the man.  He first responded in anger (Cain believed what he had was enough), Cain did not listen to God (he did not see his sin for what it was), he was jealous of his brother’s relationship with God (Cain’s pride was wounded).  Instead of repenting, Cain chose to murder his brother instead!
 
Cain had the opportunity to respond to God's displeasure with genuine repentance and humility, seeking forgiveness. Rather than mastering his sin, Cain allowed it to dominate him, channeling his rage into a tragic act: “Cain talked to his brother Abel; and it happened that when they were in the field Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him” (v. 8). The beast that God warned Cain about was not sitting at the door of his heart, it was lurking within his heart! 
 
Faced with a choice between life and death, Cain chose death by taking his brother's life. The profound tragedy of Cain's actions lies in his motivation—he killed Abel not only out of anger, but because Abel's devotion reminded him of the holiness of God. While Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit in their desire to be like God, Cain murdered out of spite, resenting his brother's sincere worship of God.
 
After Cain murdered his brother, God did not wait for Cain to confess; rather, He confronted Cain directly, asking, “Where is Abel your brother?” Cain’s reply, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” (v. 9), which reveals not just his guilt, but also his attempt to deceive God. Cain committed not only the act of murder but compounded his sin by lying to God. Despite having witnessed his parents’ experience—knowing that nothing can be hidden from God—Cain’s response illustrates the irrationality of sin. He wrongly assumed his actions could be concealed from God and tried to cover them up with dishonesty. Where Adam shifted blame for his own wrongdoing, Cain chose to respond with outright deceit. 
 
Cain’s calloused answer to God regarding his brother is deafening. Yet the Lord approached Cain anyway: “What have you done?  The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground.  And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand.  When you work the ground, it shall no longer yield to you its strength.  You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth” (vv. 10-12).  What Cain failed to consider was that although dirt covered the corpse of his murdered brother, the blood of Abel screamed for justice, and that is what God gave Cain.
 
As is often the case with sin, Cain’s actions had lasting consequences on his relationships. Once able to nurture life from the soil, Cain now found the earth to be hostile toward him. Overwhelmed by the severity of his punishment, Cain lamented, “My punishment is more than I can bear. Today you have driven me from the land, and I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on the earth, and whoever finds me may kill me” (vv. 13-14).  
 
What amazes me most about this story is that, even after Cain murdered his brother and responded to God with callousness and deceit, God still heard Cain’s desperate plea for mercy. Instead of abandoning him, God responded with unexpected grace: “Then the LORD said to him, ‘Not so! If anyone kills Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold.’ And the LORD put a mark on Cain, lest any who found him should attack him. Then Cain went away from the presence of the LORD and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden” (vv. 15-16).
 
Ever since Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, humanity's condition has not improved but has only deteriorated. The serpent tricked Adam and Eve into thinking they could be like God, but Cain escalated the rebellion by taking a life—something only God has the authority over—when he murdered his brother. Just a few generations later, human wickedness intensified. By the time we come to Genesis 6, we see that the sin of Adam and Eve had infected every generation, spreading like a disease until Scripture declares, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually” (Gen. 6:5).
 
Application
I can hardly fathom the grief and devastation Adam and Eve felt upon discovering that their firstborn son had taken the life of his brother Abel. With Cain under judgment and Abel gone, Adam and Eve were left childless, and the promise God made to them in the Garden must have seemed shattered and out of reach.  
 
Although Adam and Eve’s sin resulted in a curse, they ultimately experienced redemption, forgiveness, and the hope of salvation. In contrast, Cain was condemned to wander the earth under a curse, and his life was irrevocably changed. From Cain’s story, much like Adam and Eve’s, we discover that sin always comes at a high price—it never fulfills its promises, it destroys peace, brings shame, and robs the sinner of true joy.  
 
When darkness seemed to overwhelm and hope appeared lost under the weight of the curse, Adam and Eve conceived again and bore a third son and gave him the name “Seth” which means “appointed.”  This time, Eve’s words reflected a shift in perspective: rather than saying she had a child with the help of the Lord, she instead said: “God has appointed me another child in place of Abel, because Cain killed him” (v. 25). With Seth’s birth, Scripture notes that people began to “call upon the name of the Lord” (v. 26).  As S.A. Sacks observed, “Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams.” From the brokenness of the first family, God brought forth hope once more—specifically, through Seth and the enduring promise of a Deliverer. 
 
The slaughter of Abel as an innocent representation of the God he served was a foreshadowing of the One who would come through the bloodline of Abel’s younger brother, Seth.  Listen to Hebrews 12:24, “…and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood, which speaks better than the blood of Abel.” Abel’s shed blood screams for vengeance, while the innocent shed blood of Jesus screams forgiveness and complete atonement.  Abel’s blood screams: Judgment!  Jesus’ blood screams: Salvation!  When Abel’s blood was shed, it stained the ground, because of Jesus’ blood being shed, our sin can be washed away so that we can be made righteous. 
 
When it comes to sin and temptation, the Bible says: “But each one is tempted when he is carried away and enticed by his own lust. Then when lust has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it has run its course, brings forth death” (Jas. 1:14-15).  How does one master sin?  The story of Cain provides us with three principles that will help us fight against our own sin in a way that Cain failed to do:
Recognize that victory over sin begins in your mind. The battle against sin is first fought—and won—within your mind. Fill your thoughts with God’s Word to build a strong line of defense (2 Cor. 10:4-6).
 
Remember, you are never trapped by your sin where there is no escape from it; God always provides a way out. Just as He offered Cain an escape, God offers you one too—don’t cling to the temptation by lingering before it. (1 Cor. 10:13).
 
Run to Jesus, your Deliverer. When temptation strikes, turn immediately to Jesus. Fill your mind with His words, seek His redemption instead of dwelling in the shame of your failure (Heb. 12:1-2)
 
Rely on the Holy Spirit’s strength—not your own—to overcome sin. Because Jesus defeated sin and death, you can experience genuine freedom. He has given you the Holy Spirit to equip and empower you to live a victorious life in Him (Eph. 6:10-11).
 
Before you this day are two trees.  One is a tree that provides life, and it is the Cross of Christ.  The other tree is one of death and cursing; it is the tree Cain chose.  People who see you may not know what is going on in your heart and mind, but God sees it all! My appeal to you is to choose life by running to Jesus.

The Serpent and the Seed

In his book, The Warrior Savior, Owen Strachan states in the very first three sentences in the first chapter the point of every page in the Bible: “It was a tree that damned us. It was a tree that redeemed us. And it will be a tree that heals us in the age to come—time beyond all time.”[1]  I want to borrow and use Strachan’s opening statement in his book as the point of this sermon series.  It is the big idea of the overall message of the seventeen sermons that will make up this series that I have titled, The Tree. 
 
I assume that you already know this, but just in case you don’t, here it is: We are in a war! If you are a Christian as I am, then WE are at war. The war we are in is both spiritual and supernatural for we are warned: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12).
 
We are told that there is a domain of darkness (Col. 1:13; 1 Pet. 2:9) over which a powerful malevolent being rules (John 8:44; Eph. 2:2).  Before we look into how it is that the domain of darkness came into existence, let me read something for you, and see if what you hear sounds like a commentary on the kinds of things that seem to be more and more common:
But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, arrogant, slanderers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy, unloving, irreconcilable, malicious gossips, without self-control, brutal, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, holding to a form of godliness although they have denied its power... (2 Tim. 3:1-5)
 
So, how did we get here?  Where are we going? What hope do we have that it will ever get better? To answer that question, we need to go to the beginning.
 
The Tree of Life and It’s Life-Giving Fruit
Like all stories, our story also has a beginning. Genesis 1:1 begins in the same way all good stories begin: “In the beginning...” What happened in the beginning?  “God created the heavens and the earth” (v. 1). This is how we tell stories: “Once upon a time…” “A long, long time ago…” In a galaxy far, far away…”  Like all other stories, our story begins in the mind of God.  When, “And the earth was a formless and desolate emptiness, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters” (v. 2), God spoke into the emptiness and created out of nothing that which did not exist previously.  
 
Out of the imagination of the mind of God came forth a world brimming with life and worship.  On the first day God created the heavens and the earth; day and night.  On the second day He divided the heavens from the earth.  On the third day God created the land, sea, and vegetation.  On the fourth day He created the sun, moon, and stars.  On the fifth day, God created creatures great and small.  On the sixth day, God created land animals and finally mankind.  And, on the seventh day… God rested. 
 
The crowning moment of creation was when God said, “Let us make mankind in Our image, according to Our likeness.... So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them” (vv. 26, 27). Humanity was born—not simply another creature, but a unique reflection of the Creator Himself. Among all living things, only human beings bear the image of God, set apart to represent Him in the world He created with design, beauty, and purpose.  God blessed the man and his wife and commanded them to, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth” (v. 28). 
 
Owen Strachan makes the point concerning Adam: “Adam, the first man, was a priest and a king onto God. He lived and ruled under the divine regency of his Maker.”[2] The woman, later to be called Eve in the story, came from Adam’s body and God brought her to Adam as his wife and helper to join him in the mission to exercise dominion on the earth and fill it with humans like themselves and so that they too would walk in obedience and love with their Creator.  
 
When God created, He didn’t use special effects or any tricks; He spoke, and everything in the universe and beyond came into existence.  When He had finished with creation, God declared it to be “very good” (v. 31).  “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1:1) when he took the blank canvas of nothing and then painted the beauty of creation with the brush of His omnipotent Word.
 
Before Eve was brought to Adam as a helper, God gave Adam another command: “Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to cultivate it and tend it. The Lord God commanded the man, saying, ‘From any tree of the garden you may freely eat; but from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for on the day that you eat from it you will certainly die.’” (2:15-17).
 
The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and It’s Curse-Producing Fruit
Before God formed Adam from the dust, He had already created trees on the third day. Among all the trees He made, two were of great significance: the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Both of these were placed at the center of the Garden of Eden (Gen. 1:11; 2:9). The fruit from the Tree of Life was available for Adam and Eve to freely enjoy, and by eating it, they could live forever (3:22). In contrast, eating the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil would lead to death. In this way, God presented humanity with a choice in Eden: each day, Adam and Eve could choose life by lovingly obeying God, or they could choose death by turning away from Him in disobedience and rebellion.
 
Just as J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit begins with the memorable line, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” introducing the humble yet unexpectedly heroic Bilbo Baggins, Genesis 3 ushers us into a pivotal moment with the arrival of a seemingly ordinary serpent. However, unlike Bilbo, whose heroism gradually unfolds, the serpent in Genesis 3 is far from harmless—he is revealed as the true antagonist of humanity’s story.  
 
It’s important to remember Adam’s unique role in the garden: he was appointed by God to serve both as priest and king, entrusted to live and rule under God’s authority. The significance of Genesis 3:1 cannot be overstated, as it marks the moment when the serpent targets Eve, the wife of God’s chosen representative, with cunning intent. The serpent’s temptation comes in the form of a subtle question, challenging God’s word: “Did God really say...?” (v. 1). This question sets the stage for the unfolding drama of deception and a choice that will shape the course of human history.
 
The root of the temptation was to question the goodness of God because He withheld fruit from only one tree in the garden.  In other words, Satan was tempting Eve to doubt the goodness of God.  Thomas Watson once wrote concerning sin, “Sin first tempts and then damns.  It is first a fox and then a lion.”[3]  So Eve, “saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, she took some of its fruit and ate...” But she did not stop there, “...and she also gave some to her husband with her, and he ate” (Gen. 3:6).  Their innocence was violated by their rebellion, “Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves waist coverings” (v. 7).  Instead of choosing life, Adam and Eve chose death; they believed the lie of the serpent and thought that by eating the forbidden fruit that they would be God’s equal. They were wrong. They doubted the truthfulness of God’s word and His faithfulness to honor all of His promises and what they received was a curse instead of the blessing the serpent promised.   
 
The serpent was much more than what Adam and Eve believed him to be.  Jesus said of the serpent, that he, “was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth because there is not truth in him. Whenever he tells a lie, he speaks from his own nature, because he is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44).
Throughout the Bible, we learn that the serpent is also the Accuser (Rev. 12:10), the Adversary (1 Pet. 5:8), the Beast (Rev. 14:9-10), and Beelzebub (Matt. 12:24). He is the dragon (Rev. 12:9), the evil one (John 17:15), the father of lies (John 8:44), and the god of this age (2 Cor. 4:4). The serpent is the lawless one (2 Thess. 2:8-10), the prince of the power of the air (Eph. 2:1-2), the ruler of demons (Luke 11:15), the tempter (Matt. 4:3), the thief (John 10:10), and the wicked one (Eph. 6:16). In every description, he is the embodiment of evil who “disguises himself as an angel of light” (2 Cor. 11:14).  Yet, the serpent was, is, and always will be no more than a created being whose desire to be like God preceded his temptation of Adam and Eve to be like God.
 
The serpent’s motive in tempting Adam and Eve to sin was rooted in his deep-seated hatred for God and for humanity—God’s unique creation made in His own image. Yet, it was not the devil’s decision that caused Adam and Eve to fall; rather, it was their own deliberate choice to disobey God. By choosing to sin, Adam and Eve forfeited the life and relationship with God that He had originally designed for them.  It was not the serpent who chose death over life for the couple, but Adam and Eve who chose death instead of life.
 
The Promise of Another Tree
In Genesis 3, it was the snake who spoke first out of his own deception that he would have the last word.  Yet, it was not the serpent, but God who had the final word.  The response of Adam and Eve was that of shame and hiding, yet it was God who came near and found them in their shame! Do not miss what happens next in the story and how God approached the couple. 
 
We are told in Genesis 3:8, “...the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” Then, we come to Genesis 3:9!  “Then the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, ‘Where are you?’”  God did not call to both Adam and Eve, but only to Adam.  Why?  Was it not Eve who gave the forbidden fruit to Adam; was she not also guilty of sinning against God?  Though both Adam and Eve sinned, it was Adam who represented mankind as the first priest and king.  He was made first and was placed in the created order as head over his wife. He had headship and also served as the representative on behalf of all mankind; this is the point of Romans 5:12, “Therefore, just as through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all mankind, because all sinned...”
 
This is why God called to Adam and not to Eve.  The couple could not hide from God; when God called Adam to account for his actions, he pointed his finger at his wife: “The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me some of the fruit of the tree, and I ate” (v. 12).  In other words, according to Adam, it was ultimately everyone else’s fault that he chose to sin.  The truth is that Adam failed to protect his wife through obedience God.  When Eve was asked what it was that she had done, she also shifted the blame but was more truthful than Adam, she admitted that she ate because she was deceived (v. 13).
 
God could have chosen to begin again. He was fully justified in withholding mercy and delivering only justice through His wrath. Yet, instead, He gave Adam and Eve what they did not deserve: which was mercy, love, and grace. God had the final word, and it was good news!  Yes, death would spread to all mankind from one generation to the next because of Adam and Eve’s sin.  Eve would experience great pain through giving birth to life, and Adam would experience great toil through bringing life from the earth (3:15-19).  Suffering, pain, and thorns would serve as continual reminders of a world under the weight of the curse. Nevertheless, this is not how the story ends!  God had the final word, and it came in the form of a promise that would lead to the destruction of the serpent and life for mankind:
“And I will make enemies
Of you and the woman,
And of your offspring and her Descendant;
He shall bruise you on the head,
And you shall bruise Him on the heel.” (3:15)
 
From Adam and Eve would come a Deliverer who would crush the head of the great serpent-like-dragon under His heal. Although Adam and Eve were not given all the details, God had already determined that the Deliverer would be His own Son who would obediently choose a different tree in another garden, that would then result in His cursing for our redemption (see Gal 3:13).
 
Although the consequence of Adam and Eve’s sin was expulsion from Eden and the presence of God, there was coming another Day when the Descendant would remove the curse of sin and make all things new.  Although they were driven from Eden and forbidden to eat from the tree of life, God would make the forgiveness of sins and eternal life available through a different kind of tree, namely the cross of Christ. 
 
Conclusion
We are told throughout the Bible that the choice of life over death is before mankind.  Just before the Hebrew people were permitted to enter the land promised to them through Abraham, Moses said to the people:
“I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have placed before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants, by loving the Lord your God, by obeying His voice, and by holding close to Him; for this is your life and the length of your days, so that you may live in the land which the Lord swore to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give them.” (Deut. 30:19-20).
 
The question we must all answer remains unchanged from the one asked throughout Scripture: Will you choose life or death?  
 
Permit me to leave you with six lessons from Genesis 1-3 in closing:
Sin is always costly.  Consider what Adam and Eve’s sin cost them; it cost them their intimacy with God, their intimacy with each other, and it robbed them of a joy that far exceeded what their sin could have delivered.
 
Sin never delivers what it promises.  Adam and Eve were told that if they sinned against God by eating the forbidden fruit that they would be just like God, but what they received is pain and death. 
 
Sin destroys peace.  Before the fall, Adam and Eve enjoyed peace in the garden.  There was harmony and continuity in the garden, but their sin disturbed what they once enjoyed.  Sin vandalizes the peace of God.
 
Sin brings unwanted shame.  The moment Adam and Eve sinned against God; their innocence was turned into shame.  They once enjoyed each other’s company naked and unashamed, but their sin resulted in their need to cover up their shame by covering up their nakedness.   
 
Sin will rob you of genuine joy.  Adam and Eve were made to enjoy, experience, and bring forth life, but their sin robbed them of life and delivered only death.  
 
No Sin is bigger than God’s mercy, love, and grace.  Even though there were consequences to their sin, Adam and Eve experienced the overpowering grace of God over their sin.
 
[1] Owen Strachan, The Warrior Savior (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing; 2024), 1.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Thomas Watson. The Mischief of Sin (Morgan, PA: Soli Deo Gloria Publications; 1994), p. 20.
 

Mephibosheth (Exterminating the Idol)

I know that title may sound alarming, as in, how could a sermon about a guy whose name I can’t pronounce, be of any interest to me at all?
 
But I think you will be surprised and pleased, as Mephibosheth and David paint a perfect picture of the relationship between us as the Church, and Christ; how God the Father can look at us but only see the righteousness of His Son.  But before we can see that, we have some background to develop.
 
We start in I Samuel 18. This takes place immediately after David kills Goliath and Saul inquires as to whose son he is.  David tells him at the end of chapter 17.
 
I Samuel 18:1-4
 
Now it came about, when he had finished speaking to Saul, that Jonathan committed himself to David, and Jonathan loved him as himself [The soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David and Jonathan loved him as his own soul]. And Saul took him that day and did not let him return to his father’s house. 3 Then Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him as himself. 4 Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was on him and gave it to David, with his military gear, including his sword, his bow, and his belt.
 
This event has spiritual significance because Jonathan, as Saul’s son, is switching his allegiance from his natural birth family to David.  He might know, but probably doesn’t, that God has already ordained David as king of Israel in his father’s place (this occurs in I Samuel 16:13).  Saul represents the flesh, David represents the Spirit, and Jonathan is choosing David over his father’s household.  In so doing, Jonathan is giving up his rightful pathway to the throne of Israel, and instead choosing to follow David.  This is a picture of us giving up dominion of self and allowing Christ to rule over us. 
 
When Jonathan and David make a covenant, they literally cut a covenant, walking a figure 8 between an animal that is cut in two and laid with the halves opposite each other.  They would pronounce blessings and curses on each other for obedience to or neglect of the covenant.  (Scriptural references to covenant practices are found in Genesis 15:8-20; Genesis 26:26-33.)
 
So now we have a covenant between Jonathan and David, but there is more to the story. 
 
 
 
 
As Galatians 4:29 says, “But as at that time the son who was born according to the flesh persecuted the one who was born according to the Spirit, so it is even now.”
 
The flesh always persecutes the Spirit.  The two are in constant battle, and much of biblical conflict is a picture of this.  So it is with Saul and David.  After Jonathan and David cut a covenant, Saul gets jealous of David and wants to kill him (flesh persecuting the Spirit).  Saul assures Jonathan that he has no animosity toward David, but that’s a lie. In I Samuel 20:12-17, Jonathan extends his covenant with David to include not just themselves, but their lineage.  In verse 15, Jonathan says,
 
“And you shall never cut off your loyalty to my house, not even when the LORD cuts off every one of the enemies of David from the face of the earth.”
 
Now, David is bound by covenant not only to Jonathan personally, but to all of Jonathan’s descendants as long as David is alive (and since Christ is eternal, our covenant relationship with the Father is also eternal). 
 
Now, the sad end of Jonathan.  David must flee Saul, and years pass.  But in Chapter 31 of I Samuel, Saul and his sons, including Jonathan, are killed in battle by the Philistines.
 
At this point, David is now free to become king over Israel. That occurs in 2 Samuel, Chapter 5.
Before that, however, in Chapter 4, we learn about Mephibosheth, Jonathan’s son. 
 
In verse 4, we are told:
 
“Now Jonathan, Saul’s son, had a son who was disabled in both feet.  He was five years old when the news of Saul and Jonathan came from Jezreel, and his nurse picked him up and fled.  But it happened that in her hurry to flee, he fell and could no longer walk.  And his name was Mephibosheth.”
 
This is the first mention of Mephibosheth.  He is the son of Jonathan, and heir of a covenant with David about which he knows absolutely nothing.  All he knows is that David would likely kill him if he learned about him because he would be a rightful heir to Saul’s throne, who was David’s enemy.  
 
To make matters much, much worse, David develops a loathing for crippled people because of what happens in Chapter 5 of 2 Samuel:
 
 
2 Samuel 5:6-8
 
6 Now the king and his men went to Jerusalem against the Jebusites, the inhabitants of the land; and they said to David, “You shall not come in here, but even those who are blind and those who limp will turn you away,” thinking, “David cannot enter here.” 7 Nevertheless, David captured the stronghold of Zion, that is, the city of David. 8 And David said on that day, “Whoever strikes the Jebusites is to reach those who limp and those who are blind, who are hated by David’s soul, through the water tunnel.” For that reason they say, “People who are blind and people who limp shall not come into the house.”
 
So, David hates those who are blind and lame because of the taunt of the Jebusites, and Mephibosheth is lame!  Something has to give, but what is it?
 
Similarly, our sin is hated by God, just as David hated the lameness of Mephibosheth, but can a covenant relationship create holy blindness?  Let’s see!
 
In Chapter 9 of 2 Samuel, David has conquered all his enemies and is somehow reminded of his covenant with Jonathan.
 
9 Then David said, “Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul, so that I could show him kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” 2 Now there was a servant of the house of Saul whose name was Ziba, and they summoned him to David; and the king said to him, “Are you Ziba?” And he said, “I am your servant.” 3 Then the king said, “Is there no one remaining of the house of Saul to whom I could show the kindness of God?” And Ziba said to the king, “There is still a son of Jonathan, one who is disabled in both feet.”
 
 
Ziba tells David there is a descendant of Jonathan, but that he is lame in both his feet, no doubt thinking that David would have no further interest since David has declared that the blind and lame will never be welcomed in his presence.  Imagine Ziba’s surprise with David’s response:
 
 
4 So the king said to him, “Where is he?” And Ziba said to the king, “Behold, he is in the house of Machir the son of Ammiel, in Lo-debar.” 5 Then King David sent [a]messengers who brought him from the house of Machir the son of Ammiel, from Lo-debar.
Lo-debar means, “without pasture.”  It was a howling wasteland, where Mephibosheth was living in fear from King David.  This is a picture of us before salvation, fearing God, hiding from Him, thinking all he wants to do is destroy us. 
6 Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan the son of Saul, came to David and fell on his face and prostrated himself. And David said, “Mephibosheth.” And he said, “Here is your servant!”
 
At this point, Mephibosheth must surely think that he has been brought to David for execution, to rid David of another rival to his throne.  But that is not what happens.
 
7 Then David said to him, “Do not be afraid, for I will assuredly show kindness to you for the sake of your father Jonathan, and I will restore to you all the [a]land of your [b]grandfather Saul; and you yourself shall [c]eat at my table regularly.” 8 Again he prostrated himself, and said, “What is your servant, that you should be concerned about a dead dog like me?”
This is the good news of the gospel!  Surely, as sinners, God wants nothing to do with us.  But David IGNORES the lameness of Mephibosheth, looking instead at the fact that Mephibosheth, warts and all, is a descendant of Jonathan and beneficiary of the covenant that Jonathan has with David.  That relationship covers Mephibosheth’s lameness!  Just like Jesus’ blood covers our sin!
 
And notice Mephibosheth’s reaction.  He doesn’t say, “Well, it’s about time you recognized my worthiness to be with you in spite of my lameness.  You really need to get over that, King David.”
No, instead he says, “What is your servant, that you should be concerned about a dead dog like me?”
That’s humility.  That’s a beggar realizing they have nothing to offer the King. That’s The Beatitudes, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  
9 Then the king summoned Saul’s servant Ziba and said to him, “Everything that belonged to Saul and to all his house I have given to your master’s [a]grandson. 10 You and your sons and your servants shall cultivate the land for him, and you shall bring in the produce so that your master’s grandson will have food [b]to eat; nevertheless Mephibosheth, your master’s grandson, shall [c]eat at my table regularly.” Now Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants. 11 Then Ziba said to the king, “In accordance with everything that my lord the king commands his servant, so your servant will do.” So Mephibosheth ate at [d]David’s table as one of the king’s sons. 12 Mephibosheth had a young son whose name was Mica. And all who lived in the house of Ziba were servants to Mephibosheth. 13 So Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, because he ate at the king’s table regularly. And he was disabled in his two feet.
 
Mephibosheth was brought in daily to the King’s dining room to eat at his table just as the King’s sons were.  Even though he was lame in his two feet.  His disability did not in any way detract from his status as a son of the King.  This, folks, is how God sees us when we trust in the blood of His Son as our righteousness!  Nothing else matters to the Father. We honor the Son, so the Father honors us. 
 
When we start to think we aren’t worthy of the King’s favor, let’s remember that neither was Mephibosheth.  He was unworthy, but he benefited from the covenant between Jonathan and David, a covenant in which Mephibosheth entered without effort!  So, too, when we trust in the blood of Christ as our righteousness, we enter into a covenant relationship with the Father without effort on our part!  The work is done by Christ. Praise God for His mercy and grace, and for leaving us a visible picture of how we too can benefit from a covenant sacrifice made by others.