Reflections

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 ...

Today I was reading Genesis 16:7–9, a portion of Scripture that captures Hagar’s escape from Sarai. Verse 6 sets the stage: Sarai “dealt harshly” with her, and in response, Hagar ran away. Let’s just pause and imagine the scene for a moment. Hagar was pregnant. Perhaps she was nauseous, exhausted, emotionally drained. I don’t know what time of day she fled, or how much she carried with her—though I can’t imagine it was much. Her energy must have been low. She was probably weeping as she ran. And we need to remember—she was already in a foreign land. An Egyptian woman, likely brought into service when Abram and Sarai had visited Egypt, now escaping into the unknown wilderness. Eventually, she found a spring. Maybe she caught her breath there, rested in the shade, quenched her thirst. In that lonely, desperate place, the angel of the Lord found her. That phrase stuck with me—He found her. I wonder what that moment looked like. Did the angel appear in radiant glory? Maybe not, because unl...

Today’s reading from Genesis 16:1–6 really stirred something in me. It’s the story of Sarai, Hagar, and Abram—but at the heart of it, it’s a story about frustration, longing, and the dangerous pull of external validation. It had been ten years since Sarai and Abram left their homeland, following the promise of God. Ten years is a long time to wait. Still no child. No visible sign that God’s promise was unfolding. And in Sarai’s world, being childless wasn’t just heartbreaking—it was humiliating. Society had already cast its silent judgment, and she likely bore the brunt of it every single day. I can only imagine what that kind of pressure must have felt like. Sarai, carrying this shame, finally reached a point where she couldn’t take it anymore. So she did what many of us might do when we feel cornered—she acted. She came up with what must have seemed like a “reasonable” plan: she asked Abram to sleep with her Egyptian servant, Hagar, hoping the child born could be considered her own. ...

Today, I was reading Genesis 11:1-9—the story of the Tower of Babel. At first glance, it seems like a story of divine disruption, where God confuses mankind and scatters them across the earth. However, when viewed in the broader context of God's plan, it becomes clear that this was an act of love rather than mere interference. Blatant Disobedience In Genesis 9:7, God had given a clear command to Noah and his descendants: > "Be fruitful and multiply. Increase greatly on the earth and multiply in it." God’s intention was for humanity to spread, fill the earth, and flourish. However, in Genesis 11, we see mankind acting in direct disobedience to this command: > "Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth." (Genesis 11:4) Not only did they resist God's command to disperse, but they also sought to build an identity apart from Him—“to...

Today, I was reading from Genesis 6—the story of Noah. This passage recounts how Noah found favor in God’s eyes, receiving knowledge and instructions that no one else had. God told Noah to build an ark and gave him precise details about its construction and who should enter it. One phrase in particular stood out to me: " keep them alive with you. " God repeats this instruction, emphasizing Noah’s role in preserving life. Through Noah’s obedience, animal life continued beyond the flood. In this way, Noah became a savior for animal kind, ensuring their survival and multiplication after the flood. As I reflected on this passage, I saw three divine privileges that God granted to Noah: 1. God Shared His Thoughts and Plans with Noah This is a remarkable privilege. To have access to divine knowledge—to hear God’s plans directly—is an extraordinary gift. Noah didn’t arrive at this understanding by his own wisdom; God revealed it to him because Noah had found favor in His sight. 2. G...

In Genesis 3:22-24, we see a pivotal moment in humanity’s history—a moment of separation. God, recognizing the risk of man reaching out to eat from the tree of life and living forever in a fallen state, takes decisive action: 1. Man is driven from the Garden of Eden. 2. A cherubim and a flaming sword are placed to guard the way to the tree of life. This passage is profound, as it highlights the consequences of sin. Not only was humanity driven away from God’s presence, but a barrier was also established, signifying restricted access to the holiness and life found in God. The Barrier of Sin This separation paints a bleak picture of life under the curse of sin. The tree of life, once accessible, was now guarded, representing the loss of intimacy and fellowship with God. The consequences of sin were not merely physical; they were spiritual, eternal, and deeply relational. The Promise of Restoration But this is not where the story ends. The Bible’s narrative arcs beautifully from Genesis t...

Genesis 3:17-19 captures the profound curse pronounced on man after the fall. This passage, though sobering, also offers deep insights into the reality of work, frustration, and the hope we have in Christ. The Curse on the Ground The words “cursed is the ground” stand out vividly. While this curse originally referred to the soil, in today’s context, the “ground” could symbolize the foundation, base, or substratum of our work—whatever underpins our daily labor. The curse manifests itself in the waste we encounter in our work: Efforts that yield unexpected or undesirable results. Inefficiencies that frustrate our progress. Challenges that remind us of the thorns and thistles woven into every human endeavor. This truth explains why no work is completely free from flaws or setbacks. Even the best efforts produce some element of waste. It underscores a sobering reality: anything good we do is accompanied by some form of bad. These “thorns and thistles” are unavoidable, a direct result of th...

Genesis 3:1-6 recounts one of the most pivotal moments in human history—the fall of man. This passage offers profound insights into the nature of sin, the craftiness of the enemy, and the devastating consequences of disobedience. It also reminds us of the redemption that comes through Jesus Christ. The Craftiness of the Serpent The serpent’s approach is subtle but calculated. He begins by asking a deceptively innocent question: “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” This question plants a seed of doubt in the woman’s mind, leading her to question God’s word and His goodness. This tactic is familiar even today. The enemy often starts by sowing doubt, leading us to question the truth of God’s promises and commands. Once doubt takes root, deception follows. The serpent’s first blatant lie, “You will not surely die,” directly contradicts God’s warning. He then entices the woman with visions of wisdom and godlike knowledge, painting a picture that is alluring...

Genesis 2:10-14 paints a vivid picture of God’s abundant provision in the Garden of Eden. It describes rivers flowing out of paradise, nourishing the earth, and providing life-giving water. This passage, set within the larger context of Genesis 2, offers profound insights into God’s character, His provision for humanity, and the role He assigns to us. God’s Creation and Provision From nothing, God created everything. He formed man from dust, breathed life into him, and made him a living being. He planted a garden filled with trees that were not only good for food but also pleasant to the eyes. This acknowledgment of the beauty of nature reflects God’s intentional design in creating a world that is not only functional but also aesthetically pleasing to humanity. The rivers of paradise—flowing out of Eden and dividing into four streams—symbolize the abundance and sustenance God provides. This river system ensured that the earth was watered, creating an environment of flourishing life. Go...