When God Redeems our Mess

The story found in Genesis 27 is one of the most uncomfortable passages in Scripture. It's a narrative filled with deception, favoritism, lies, and family betrayal. There's no hero in this chapter—no character to admire or emulate. Yet somehow, this broken family line becomes the very lineage through which Jesus would eventually come.

This question haunts many of us who wrestle with our own past mistakes, our own family dysfunction, our own moments of choosing flesh over faith. If God can work through this mess, perhaps there's hope for our mess too.

The setting is somber. Isaac, now elderly and blind, believes his death is near. In his physical blindness, he makes a spiritually blind decision—to bless Esau, his favorite son, despite knowing that God had chosen Jacob to carry the covenant promise forward.
Isaac's favoritism mirrors his own father Abraham's initial desire to bless Ishmael instead of Isaac. The pattern of choosing according to human preference rather than divine direction repeats itself across generations.

Meanwhile, Rebekah overhears Isaac's plan. She knows the Lord's word—that Jacob, not Esau, is the chosen one. But instead of confronting her husband or trusting God's sovereignty, she devises an elaborate scheme. She recruits Jacob to deceive his blind father, preparing goat meat to mimic wild game and covering Jacob's smooth skin with goat hide to imitate Esau's hairy arms.

The plan works. Isaac, fooled by touch and smell, bestows the blessing meant for Esau onto Jacob.

Rebekah's dilemma resonates with anyone who has ever grown impatient with God's timing. She knew God's promise. She had received direct revelation that "the older will serve the younger." But when she saw Isaac preparing to act contrary to that promise, she panicked.

The Apostle Paul addressed this exact tendency in Galatians 3:3: "Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?"

This is the trap we all fall into. We start with faith, but when circumstances don't align with what we believe God has promised, we grab the reins. We scheme. We manipulate. We lie to ourselves that the end justifies the means.

But God never calls us to accomplish His purposes through sin. Rebekah could have trusted that the God who promised Jacob's supremacy was powerful enough to ensure it without her deception.

Perhaps the most chilling detail in this entire chapter is that the name "Yahweh" appears only once—and it's spoken as part of Jacob's lie to his father.

When Isaac asks how Jacob found game so quickly, Jacob responds: "Because the Lord your God granted me success."

Using God's name to validate a lie. Claiming divine blessing on human manipulation. This is spiritual darkness at its deepest.

Proverbs 6:16-19 lists seven things the Lord hates, and remarkably, every single one appears in Genesis 27: a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood (Esau's murderous intent), a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that run to evil, a false witness, and sowing discord among brothers.

This family embodies everything God opposes. Yet this is the family God chooses.

As Jesus taught in Luke 8:17, "Nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light."

The moment Isaac finishes blessing Jacob, Esau arrives with the real meal. The deception unravels immediately. Isaac trembles violently—a physical manifestation of rage, betrayal, and perhaps the dawning realization of his own complicity in opposing God's will.

Esau's cry is heartbreaking: "Bless me, even me also, my father!" He weeps, begging for what has already been given away. The blessing he sold for a bowl of stew, the birthright he treated with contempt, now seems precious in its absence.

Isaac's response to Esau sounds more like a curse than a blessing: "By your sword you shall live, and you shall serve your brother."

Esau's response is predictable—hatred and murder in his heart. He vows to kill Jacob as soon as Isaac dies.

Rebekah, having orchestrated this disaster, now must deal with its consequences. She sends Jacob away to her brother Laban, ostensibly to find a proper wife, but really to escape Esau's murderous rage.

She tells Jacob it will only be for "a while"—until Esau's anger subsides. But anger often lasts longer than we expect. Isaac lives another forty years. Rebekah likely never sees her favorite son again.

When we operate in the flesh, we create messes that require more fleshly solutions. One lie demands another. One manipulation necessitates the next. Rebekah's scheme to secure Jacob's blessing ends with her losing him entirely.

Here's the stunning reality: God redeems this story.

Despite the lies, the favoritism, the betrayal, and the family dysfunction, God's purpose moves forward. Jacob does become the father of the twelve tribes. The covenant continues. And ultimately, Jesus Christ comes through this messy, broken lineage.

Genesis 50:20 captures this paradox perfectly: "As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today."

This is not an endorsement of sin. It's not permission to lie and manipulate because "God will work it out anyway." Rather, it's a profound statement about God's sovereignty and grace.

We are all Jacob—smooth-skinned deceivers wearing costumes, pretending to be someone we're not, lying to get blessings we haven't earned. We are all Rebekah—taking matters into our own hands when God seems too slow. We are all Esau—trading eternal value for temporary satisfaction. We are all Isaac—blind to spiritual realities, favoring what appeals to our flesh.

And yet God calls us. Redeems us. Uses us.

If you're reading this and seeing yourself in this dysfunctional family, take heart. Your past mistakes, your family dysfunction, your moments of choosing flesh over faith—none of these disqualify you from God's love and purpose.

The question isn't whether we're worthy. We're not. The question is whether we'll turn from our sin and trust in the God who redeems.

God doesn't need perfect people to accomplish His purposes. He specializes in using broken vessels to display His glory. The line of Jesus includes liars, adulterers, murderers, and cowards—not because God approves of sin, but because His grace is greater than our failure.

The same God who redeemed Jacob's deception can redeem your story. The same grace that covered this family's dysfunction can cover yours.

Stop trying to manipulate outcomes. Stop wearing costumes to earn blessings. Come as you are—smooth-skinned, broken, and desperate—and let the God of Jacob make you new.