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What Are We “Putting On”? Reflections from Genesis 27:14–17

Today’s reading from Genesis 27:14–17 brought into focus a troubling downward spiral inside Isaac and Rebekah’s home—a spiral of distrust, manipulation, and intentional deceit. What stands out most is the partnership between Rebekah and Jacob. Rebekah masterminds the plan; Jacob willingly participates. Together, they scheme against their own family . When we look closely, Moses highlights three deliberate actions Jacob performs, and five intentional steps Rebekah takes. Rebekah, especially, keeps putting things on Jacob—layer after layer—so he can appear to be someone he is not. 1. She puts on Esau’s best clothes so Jacob smells like Esau. 2. She puts on goat skins over Jacob’s smooth arms and neck so he feels like Esau. 3. She puts the prepared food and bread into Jacob’s hands so he can serve Isaac like Esau. This repeated phrase— “she put… she put… she put…” —isn’t accidental. It becomes a picture of someone intentionally clothing another person in falseho...

Faithful in the Wilderness: Lessons from Hagar and Ishmael

Title:  Scripture: Genesis 21:15–21 This passage in Genesis feels almost like déjà vu for Hagar. Years ago, she had fled into the wilderness as a pregnant woman. Now, she finds herself back there—this time with her teenage son, Ishmael, facing a different kind of distress. The water is gone. The heat is relentless. And hope is slipping. In a moment of despair, Hagar does something both heartbreaking and human: she places her son under a bush and walks away. Not too far, but just far enough. “A bowshot away,” Scripture says. Far enough that she wouldn’t have to watch him suffer, yet close enough that she could still see him. It’s a powerful image of inner conflict—wanting to run away, yet not being able to completely let go. A mother torn between despair and hope. What’s striking is that in her anguish, Hagar seems to have forgotten two very important truths—truths that were right in front of her: The meaning of her son’s name— Ishmael , which means “God hears.” The promise G...

Partial Obedience is still Disobedience

As I continued meditating on Genesis 19, I found myself drawn into the unfolding journey of Lot—not just his physical escape from Sodom, but his spiritual response to God’s mercy. It’s a sobering reflection on how we sometimes respond to divine direction with hesitation, negotiation, and even partial obedience. In the narrative, we see the angels urging Lot, his wife, and his two daughters to leave Sodom immediately. The city was moments away from divine judgment, and yet, Lot lingered. God’s mercy is so clearly visible here: despite Lot’s delay, the angels take hold of their hands and bring them out of the city. That’s grace—rescue in spite of reluctance. But what happens next is even more thought-provoking. Once safely outside, the angels give a clear command: “Escape to the hills. Do not look back.” Yet again, Lot negotiates. He acknowledges God’s kindness but still asks for a compromise. He requests to flee to a small nearby city instead of the hills. The angel relents, and God s...

Don’t linger when God calls

Today I was reading from Genesis 19. The chapter recounts the unsettling events surrounding Lot as angels arrive in Sodom. What follows is a narrative marked by tension, warning, disbelief, and a critical pause—one that says so much about the human heart and God’s grace. Lot is introduced here as someone of significance. He sat at the gate of the city, a place reserved for the influential—leaders, elders, decision-makers. And yet, when the time came to influence those closest to him for their own salvation, he fell short. After witnessing a deeply distressing encounter where the depravity of Sodom is exposed, the angels urge Lot to gather anyone who belongs to him and leave. The city is to be destroyed. Lot understood the urgency. He had just seen a supernatural act—the blinding of the mob at his doorstep. Still, when he went to speak with his family, they laughed. They thought he was joking. And what did Lot do next? He lingered . That word struck me. Why linger after receiving su...

When the Battle Drains and the Banner Stands

Today’s reading from Psalm 60 came like a whispered reassurance from God, piercing through the noise of uncertainty and the ache of weariness. In this psalm, David is at war—battles rage around him, and he’s not blind to the weight of the fight. What stood out to me was how deeply honest David is about his situation. He names the pain, the turmoil, and even points out that it is the Lord who has allowed these things. “You have rejected us… You have broken our defenses… You have made us see hard things.” There’s something so raw and yet so comforting in the way David speaks to God. He doesn’t mask his emotions. He names them, and then—in the very next breath—he turns them into prayer. After acknowledging the chaos, he prays, “O restore us… Repair its breaches.” His laments are always threaded with longing for God’s intervention. And then, in the middle of the psalm, comes a turning point. David, in all his anguish, utters a declaration of hope: “You have set up a banner for those who fe...

When Change Hurts

Reading from Genesis 17:9–14, I was struck by God's covenant with Abraham, especially the instruction on circumcision. After declaring His blessings and promises, God speaks of Abraham's part in the covenant: every male among them was to be circumcised. At first glance, this might seem like a peculiar choice. But the more I reflected on it and researched, the more I saw depth and significance in this act. Why circumcision? Why was this chosen as the outward sign of a holy covenant? There are many reasons, but what caught my attention was the role of pain or hurt in driving seriousness about the covenant. It Involved blood – this is what truly gripped me. The shedding of blood made it serious, binding, and sacred. It wasn’t to be taken lightly. And just as the old covenant was sealed with blood, so is the new covenant through Jesus' sacrifice. This act of circumcision brought me to a deeper meditation on the role of pain in change. Change, especially spiritual change, is not...

El Roi – The God Who Sees and Cares

Today I was reading from Genesis 16, and one phrase captivated my heart: "You are the God who sees me." In this chapter, Hagar—an Egyptian servant, alone and pregnant in the wilderness—has a profound encounter with God. Sarai had dealt harshly with her, and in despair, Hagar fled. It was there, in her lowest and most vulnerable moment, that the Lord found her. What moved me deeply was how Hagar described the God she met. First, she obeys the Lord’s instruction to name her son Ishmael, which means “the Lord hears.” Then, in verse 13, she gives a name to the Lord Himself: El Roi, “the God who sees me.” She even names the place where she met Him after this attribute of God. And she adds something beautiful: “Have I truly seen the One who sees me?” or, in some translations, “Have I seen Him who looks after me ?” That phrase—“looks after me”—stopped me in my tracks. It isn’t just that God saw her from afar. It’s that He cared. She was pregnant, vulnerable, abandoned, and possibly ...