Genesis 28:10-17
You've had, or will have, moments of deep despair. You've had, or will have, hours in which your eyes weep a river, and your heart breaks into a thousand pieces. You've had, or will have, journeys through dry, barren stretches that will leave you exhausted and isolated.
You will feel stripped of all you cherish. You will look around and see no one to comfort you. You will search for strength, but you will search in vain, for strength will not come.
Yet in that desolate moment as you sit near the headstone and cry, on the barstool and drink, or in your bedroom and sigh, God will meet you. You will sense and see Him as never before.
Do not begrudge the barren stretches, for in the barrenness we encounter God.
We find the presence of God. Jacob did. And no one was more surprised than he.
In one fell swoop he'd tricked his brother and aging father. Rebekah, the mom of the twins, saw Esau's rage and raced to warn Jacob. "He's got that look in his eyes. Don't pack a bag. Don't grab a cloak. Don't stop running and don't look back." She told him to hightail it to the land of her brother Laban and to stay there while Esau cooled down.
Jacob did exactly that. He grabbed a waterskin and filled a sack with figs and fruit and, with one final glance at his mother, mounted a camel and left. He set out from Beersheba to go to Mesopotamia (modern-day Turkey): 550 miles.1
Life was in free fall. Jacob left behind a weeping mother, a seething brother, and an aging, angry father. He had no herds. No servants to serve him. No guards to protect him. No cooks to prepare food for him. No companions. No resources.
Nada.
Jacob was raised in Fortune 500 wealth, surrounded by servants, shepherds, and slaves. His grandfather was "rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold" (Genesis 13:2). Abraham and his nephew Lot were so blessed that "the land was not able to support them... their possessions were so great that they could not dwell together" (Genesis 13:6). This affluence was passed down to Abraham's son.
[Isaac] began to prosper, and continued prospering until he became very prosperous; for he had possessions of flocks and possessions of herds and a great number of servants. — Genesis 26:13–14
Jacob was the grandson of a baron. The son of an aristocrat. Had he lived today, he would have been raised in a mansion, pampered by servants, and educated in the finest schools. He had everything he needed. And then, from one moment to the next, he had nothing. He ran for his life, suddenly and utterly alone.
In the first two days he traveled forty-three miles from Beersheba to Bethel, a barren moorland that lay about eleven miles north of Jerusalem.2 The land through which he hiked was scorched and strewn with rocks, bleak like wasteland.
On the evening of the second day, as the sun set over a village called Luz, he stopped for the night. He did not enter the city. Perhaps its occupants were dangerous people. Perhaps Jacob was insecure. Why he stopped short of Luz is not revealed. What we are told is this:
He took one of the stones of that place and put it at his head, and he lay down in that place to sleep. — Genesis 28:11
Without so much as a bedroll for his head, he was the Bronze Age version of the prodigal son. The desert was his pigpen. But the prodigal in the parable did something Jacob did not do. "[He] came to himself" (Luke 15:17). He snapped to his senses. He looked at the pigs he was feeding, considered the life he was leading, and determined, "I will arise and go to my father" (Luke 15:18).
Jacob showed no such initiative. He made no resolve, displayed no conviction of sin, showed no remorse. Jacob did not pray, as did Jonah, or weep, as did Peter. In fact, Jacob's lack of repentance is what makes the next scene one of the great stories of grace in the Bible.
Daylight dulled to gold. The sun slid low like a half-lidded eye. Orange gave way to ebony. Stars began to flicker. Jacob dozed, and in a dream he saw:
A ladder resting on the earth and reaching up into Heaven, and he saw angels of God going up and coming down the ladder. Then Jacob saw the Lord standing above the ladder. — Genesis 28:12–13 NCV
A ziggurat spanned the distance between Jacob's barren, borrowed bed of dirt and Heaven's highest, holiest dwelling. The stairway was aflurry with activity: angels ascending, angels descending. Their moving was a rush of lights, back and forth, up and down. The Hebrew wording of Jacob's response implies raised arms and open mouth. A direct translation would be
There, a ladder! Oh, angels! And look, the Lord Himself! — Genesis 28:16, emphasis added3
When Jacob awoke, he realized that he was not alone. He'd felt alone. He'd assumed he was alone. He appeared to be alone. But he was surrounded by august citizens of heaven!
So are we.
Millions of mighty spiritual beings walk on earth around us. More than eighty thousand angels stood ready to come to the aid of Christ.4 Scripture speaks of "countless thousands of angels in a joyful gathering" (Hebrews 12:22 NLT). When John, the apostle, caught a glimpse of Heaven, he saw "ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands" (Revelation 5:11). Can you do the math on that statement? Nor can I.
- Angels are to Heaven what stars are to the night sky. Too many to count!
What is their task?
All the angels are spirits who serve God and are sent to help those who will receive salvation. — Hebrews 1:14 NCV
There is never an airplane on which you travel or a classroom into which you enter that you are not preceded and surrounded by God's mighty servants.
He has put His angels in charge of you to watch over you wherever you go. — Psalm 91:11 NCV
No comments:
Post a Comment