Voice of Reason
we aren't always good at knowing what is true and what isn't.
This morning I found myself reading through the story of Jacob and Esau—again—and I couldn’t help but notice a glaring detail that I had never noticed before.
22 So Jacob came close to his father Isaac, and he touched him and said, “The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau.” 23 And he did not recognize him, because his hands were hairy like his brother Esau’s hands; so he blessed him. 24 And he said, “Are you really my son Esau?” And he said, “I am.” 25 So he said, “Bring it to me, and I will eat of my son’s game, that I may bless you.” And he brought it to him, and he ate; he also brought him wine and he drank.
Genesis 27:22-25 NASB
Whenever I got to this particular passage, I was reminded of Paul’s words in Romans 10. Faith comes by hearing, and it is by hearing that we are told we are given the choice to accept or reject the good news that we have been presented with. In Isaac’s case, he was presented with a proclamation of good news as well. His beloved first born son had just returned from the field, with a delicious meal in hand—or so he thought. Instead, he is greeted by his younger son, Jacob. Jacob is wearing Esau’s clothes, and using goatskin as a fake beard, and somehow passes as Esau for just long enough to steal Esau’s blessing. How on earth could that be the case?
By this point in Isaac’s life, he was an old man. Though God had blessed him in many ways, his vision was failing him. We are told in the very first verse of Genesis 27 that he he basically had no vision whatsoever. At the end of his life, he was left with nothing more but his senses of hearing, smell, and touch to guide him.
Though he recognized the voice of the man acting like Esau to be that of Jacob’s, he is quickly deceived by his sense of touch and smell, being led to believe that perhaps the man standing before him really is Esau. After all, he smelled like goats.
Notice that it is by hearing that Isaac discerns the truth. He hears the voice before him, and he immediately recognizes the voice of his younger son Jacob. He doesn’t for a second even consider the possibility that the man before him is Esau. Only after touching Jacob’s artificially hairy hands does he second guess himself, quickly changing his mind about who is really in front of him. The way you and I are confronted by constant challenges to the gospel is no different.
We live in an era of individual truth, and that presents unique challenges for those that want to share the good news. We might tell someone the good news of Jesus dying on the cross for their sins and then defeating death and rising again for them, and then the very next moment someone else comes along and changes their mind, telling them that they don’t need the gospel, they need to just look inward to discover who they really are—while leaving behind any hope for finding their true God given identity. There is certainly value in trying to discover who you are, and who God made you to be, but without the gospel of Jesus Christ it is all in vain. It only takes one step down the wrong path and then the next thing you know, you too may find yourself like Jacob, wearing a fake identity—and maybe a fake beard too.
What is even more troubling, to me, is how easily we turn away from the truth that is always right in front of us. It makes me think about how many times in my life I have known something to be true, but for whatever reason, in the moment, I act as though I had no idea what the truth was—slowly corrupting my own soul. Anyone that is preaching anything to you can’t hide who they are. Our words are like maps that guide the rest of the world on the crazy trip inside our minds. It may not be as simple as being able to tell that they are impersonating someone else, but there will always be signs that show you who they really are. I’m sure if you have been reading my work for a decent amount of time, you would probably be able to tell if someone else was writing for me. The way our minds work is always completely unique, and perhaps that is part of the beauty of God allowing for preachers of the gospel.
If you keep reading the story of Jacob and Esau, you’ll soon find that Jacob is fleeing for his life, after lying to his father to steal Esau’s blessing. He is running away from his own personal sin; he is running away from the lies that he allowed to be preached out of his own mouth. As opposed to repenting and seeking forgiveness for his selfish act, he seeks refuge with his uncle.
About 20 years later, God meets him at Penuel, wrestles with him, and lets him win—He does the same for you and me. Soon after, Jacob and Esau meet each other face to face, and instead of their sin destroying them, we are told that they both wept, and embraced each other with open arms. A lie that was first meant to destroy, because of God, is turned into a story of redemption and forgiveness of the highest order.
Our words matter. If faith comes by hearing, there must be someone to speak. Our world is full of people that are just like Isaac: hearing the gospel and having this feeling stirring deep down in their soul that it is true, but they are quickly deceived by the feeling of material things, things of the flesh, that are fashioned to seem real.
The world needs more preachers, and Christians need more of them too. Just because you are saved doesn’t mean that you don’t need constantly reminded of what Jesus did for you. Unfortunately other Christians will let you down just as much. We are all like Jacob at some point—more than we might like to admit. Without the gospel being preached continually, there can be little to no hope for the church as a whole. You need the gospel more than the gospel needs you.
Jesus Christ died for YOU. You were saved from the grips of death in Jerusalem just about 2000 years ago. All you have to do is receive the gift He gave to you all those years ago. If you’re brave enough to open it, you might soon find that it is far more valuable than a new car, a new house, or any amount of money you could ever receive. It is the only gift that time does not take away.