Surely the LORD Is in This Place

Before reading this week’s reflection, I encourage you to slowly read Genesis 27 and 28.

Abraham is gone. Isaac is growing old. And the promise God gave Abraham is about to pass into the hands of another generation.

But the family carrying that promise is fractured by favoritism, deception, anger, and fear. A son will lie to his father. A brother will threaten to kill his brother. A mother will send away the son she loves.

And somewhere in the middle of all that brokenness, the Father will come near.

As you read, keep asking the question we have been asking throughout His-Story:

What does this teach us about the Father?

Surely the LORD Is in This Place

Isaac was old, and his eyes had grown dim.

Believing his death might be near, he called Esau and asked his oldest son to hunt game and prepare the food he loved. Afterward, Isaac would give Esau his blessing.

Rebekah was listening.

Years earlier, before the twins were born, the LORD had told her:

But rather than wait to see how the Father would fulfill what He had spoken, Rebekah made a plan of her own.

She prepared the food Isaac loved, dressed Jacob in Esau’s clothes, and covered his smooth hands and neck with goatskins. Jacob would pretend to be his brother and receive the blessing before Esau returned.

Jacob had entered the world grasping his brother’s heel.

He was still grasping.

When Jacob entered his father’s tent, Isaac was suspicious.

“Who are you, my son?”

“I am Esau your firstborn.”

Isaac wondered how he had returned from the hunt so quickly.

The LORD your God.

Jacob knew the stories. He knew about the God who had called Abraham, given the promise, and miraculously given life to his own father.

But He was still your God.

And Jacob was using His name to tell a lie.

Isaac touched Jacob’s hands and smelled Esau’s clothes. Then he blessed him with the dew of heaven, the richness of the earth, grain and wine, and authority over nations and brothers.

Jacob had what he wanted.

Then Esau came home.

When the deception was discovered, Esau cried out with “an exceedingly great and bitter cry.”

Whatever we may think of Esau for selling his birthright, Genesis lets us hear his pain.

Soon that pain became hatred.

Esau planned to kill his brother after Isaac died, so Rebekah sent Jacob away.

Before he left, Isaac called Jacob to himself once more.

This time there were no goatskins. No disguise. No lie.

Isaac knew exactly who stood before him.

Jacob had schemed for dew and grain, wealth and authority.

But he had not stolen the blessing of Abraham.

Isaac gave it to him knowingly.

Then Jacob left.

Years later he would remember that journey with a single sentence:

The man who had grasped for abundance walked away carrying a stick.

Eventually the sun went down.

Jacob stopped walking.

There was no mother whispering instructions. No father to fool. No brother to outmaneuver. No blessing left to grab.

Just Jacob.

His father had been deceived. His brother hated him. His mother had sent him away. And the last time Jacob had spoken the name of the LORD, he had called Him “the LORD your God” while telling a lie.

Jacob found a place to sleep, placed a stone near his head, and lay down on the ground.

Then he dreamed.

He saw a stairway reaching between earth and heaven, with angels of God ascending and descending.

And the LORD came near.

Then came words Jacob must have recognized.

The land.

Descendants.

A family spreading across the earth.

All the families of the earth being blessed through them.

The promise given to Abraham was now being spoken to Jacob.

And then the Father said:

God knew what Jacob had done.

Yet there was no condemnation in His words. No demand that Jacob first repair what he had broken.

The promise still stood.

And so did the Father.

Jacob’s deception was real, and its consequences would follow him for years. But his failure had not made the Father disappear.

The Father came to Jacob while Jacob was still Jacob.

There is something here that sounds remarkably like the Gospel. God did not come near because Jacob had finally made himself worthy of His presence. He came near while Jacob was still carrying the consequences of his own sin.

Much later, Paul would write:

The Gospel did not introduce us to a different Father.

We have been watching Him from the beginning.

Jacob woke from his sleep.

Perhaps there was something deeply personal in his astonishment.

I didn’t know He was here.

Here, on this road.

Here, in this mess.

Here, with me.

Jacob had gone to sleep knowing about the God of Abraham and Isaac.

He woke discovering that God was present with him.

Centuries later, Jesus would reach back to Jacob’s dream:

Jacob had seen a place where heaven and earth seemed to meet.

Jesus pointed to Himself.

The God who came near to Jacob would one day come nearer still.

Jacob stood the stone upright, poured oil upon it, and called the place Bethel—House of God.

Then he made a vow. If God would truly be with him, protect him, provide food and clothing, and bring him safely home:

There is something beautifully unfinished about those words.

Jacob had heard the stories.

Now he would find out for himself.

The Father had said, “I am with you.”

Jacob had years ahead of him to discover what that meant.

Bethel did not suddenly change Jacob into a different man.

But something had begun.

Jacob had risked almost everything for a blessing of abundance and walked away with a staff.

Yet lying on the ground with almost nothing in his hands, he received something he could never steal, manipulate, earn, or inherit from his father.

The Father gave Jacob Himself.

The God Jacob had called “the LORD your God” had come near and said:

“I am with you.”

And Jacob opened his eyes.

“Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it.”