Stairway to Heaven

There's something profoundly comforting about discovering that God works through broken people. Not despite their brokenness, but often because of it. The story of Jacob's ladder—that mysterious dream of a stairway connecting earth to heaven—reveals a truth that echoes through the ages: no amount of dysfunction can separate us from God's redemptive purposes.

The family drama surrounding Jacob reads like a modern soap opera. Isaac, the father, neglected his parental duty to find appropriate wives for his sons. Esau married women who brought grief to his parents. Jacob deceived his father and stole his brother's blessing. Rebekah conspired with her favorite son against her husband. This wasn't just a dysfunctional family—it was a masterclass in how not to do relationships.

Yet this is precisely the family through whom God chose to bless the entire world.
Isaac finally takes action, sending Jacob away with clear instructions: "Do not marry a Canaanite woman." The Canaanites practiced a form of worship repugnant to followers of Yahweh, including child sacrifice to the god Baal. Instead, Jacob was to journey to Paddan Aram and marry within his extended family—the same place where Abraham had found a wife for Isaac.

This command carries profound spiritual significance for us today. The principle isn't about ethnicity but about spiritual alignment. As 2 Corinthians 6:14-18 reminds us, believers should not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. What fellowship can light have with darkness? What harmony exists between Christ and the forces opposed to Him?
This doesn't mean isolation from unbelievers—we're called to be salt and light in the world. But in the most intimate partnerships of life—marriage, business, spiritual fellowship—alignment matters deeply.

Esau's story contains a poignant truth many can relate to: the desire to please parents, even when we've disappointed them. After Jacob left, something finally clicked for Esau. He realized how much his Canaanite wives grieved his father Isaac. His response? He married another wife—this time from Ishmael's family.

It was too little, too late, and honestly, not the best solution. Adding another wife to correct the problem of wrong marriages doesn't exactly solve anything. But it reveals something important: Esau was beginning to understand that his problems weren't entirely someone else's fault.

How often do we carry a victim mentality through life? Everything that goes wrong is because of our parents, our siblings, our circumstances, our bad luck. We wear our victimhood like a badge, proclaiming our innocence in all our troubles.

But God doesn't want us to be victims. He wants us to be victors in Christ.

Recognizing our own contribution to our problems is the first step toward real change. It's never too late to approach those we've hurt and say, "I messed up. Please forgive me." Even if correcting the situation completely isn't possible, acknowledgment and repentance open doors that blame keeps firmly shut.

Seventy miles from home, alone in the wilderness with nothing but the provisions on his back, Jacob stopped for the night. No tent, no comfortable bedding—just a stone for a pillow. He was fleeing the consequences of his deception, heading to a strange land, separated from everything familiar.

He was also about to encounter the living God.
In his dream, Jacob saw a stairway—or perhaps a great heap of mountains forming natural steps—reaching from earth to heaven. Angels ascended and descended on it, representing God's active involvement with humanity. At the top stood the Lord Himself, making promises that would echo through millennia:

"I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go."

When Jacob woke, he was afraid—but it was that peculiar fear that draws you toward what you're shrinking back from. He declared, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it. How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven."

He took his stone pillow, set it up as a memorial, poured oil on it, and named the place Bethel—"house of God."

Centuries later, Jesus would reveal the full meaning of Jacob's vision. Speaking to Nathanael, He said, "I tell you the truth, you shall see heaven open and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man" (John 1:51).

Jesus was declaring Himself to be the ladder—the stairway between heaven and earth.
This is crucial: there aren't multiple paths to God. There aren't various ladders we can choose from based on our preferences. Jesus said it plainly: "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). Paul echoed this: "For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus" (1 Timothy 2:5).

The chasm between humanity and God is too vast for us to bridge. We can't jump across it with good works. We can't build our own tower high enough to reach heaven. Every human attempt falls desperately short.

But Jesus bridges the gap. He had to be both God and man—fully divine to reach heaven, fully human to reach us. His death on the cross paid the penalty for our sin. His resurrection proved His victory over death. He is the only ladder that actually reaches all the way to heaven.

Jacob's response to his encounter with God was immediate and practical. He made a vow: "If God will be with me and will watch over me on this journey I am taking and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear so that I return safely to my father's house, then the Lord will be my God."

He committed not just his life but his resources to God, promising to give back a tenth of everything God gave him. This wasn't obligation—it was voluntary worship, an act of trust that God would provide.

Tithing teaches us that we're trusting God, not ourselves. When we give back to God from what He's given us, we acknowledge that everything belongs to Him anyway. We're simply stewards, not owners.

The most beautiful truth in this story is that God pursued Jacob—the deceiver, the schemer, the one who grabbed his brother's heel and stole his blessing. God didn't wait for Jacob to clean up his act. He met Jacob in the wilderness, alone and afraid, and made him promises that would change the course of history.

If you feel too dysfunctional for God to use, Jacob's story is for you. If your family is a mess, if you've made terrible mistakes, if you've hurt people you love—there's hope. God specializes in redeeming broken people and dysfunctional families.

This world isn't our final home. We're pilgrims passing through a strange land. But we're not alone. Angels ascend and descend on Jesus, ministering to those who believe. Access to the Father has been made possible through Christ.

The question isn't whether you're good enough. You're not, and neither is anyone else. The question is whether you'll turn to the One who bridges the gap, who provides the stairway to heaven, who transforms dysfunctional people into vessels of His glory.

Jesus is waiting. The ladder is there. Will you climb?