Meadowbrooke Church

Meadowbrooke Church
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Podcast for Meadowbrooke Church Season 1 - Identity (Ephesians) Season 2 - Christians Say the Darnedest Things - Season 2 Season 3 - The Shepherd (Psalm 23) Season 4 - Faith & Works (James) Season 5 - Guest Speakers Season 6 - The Tree Season 7 - Unassigned Season 8 - Revelation

  1. DEC 3

    King David and the Enemy Within

    The book of Judges shows us what life looks like when a people try to live without God. Israel was religious, but their religion had drifted far from the God of Adam and Eve, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and Joshua. Judges tells us bluntly that a generation arose “who did not know the LORD, nor yet the work which He had done for Israel” (Judg. 2:10).   Surrounded by nations with kings, Israel wanted one too. Wanting a king wasn’t the problem—God had already promised a coming ruler from Judah: “The scepter will not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until Shiloh comes, and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (Gen. 49:10). He even gave instructions for Israel’s future king in Deuteronomy 17. The issue wasn’t the idea of kingship, but Israel’s motivation. They wanted a king not to be more like God, but to be more like the nations.   Their first king, Saul, looked the part—tall, strong, impressive—but his heart was far from God. He cared more about preserving his image than obeying the Lord. The breaking point came when God commanded him to destroy the Amalekites. The Amalekites were a brutal nomadic tribe who had been Israel’s sworn enemies since the days of Moses, attacking Israel from behind when they were weak and exhausted (Ex. 17). Instead of obeying fully, Saul spared their king and kept what pleased him. So the Lord said through Samuel: “Has the LORD as much delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices As in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than a sacrifice, And to pay attention than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as reprehensible as the sin of divination, And insubordination is as reprehensible as false religion and idolatry. Since you have rejected the word of the LORD, He has also rejected you from being king. (1 Sam. 15:22–23)   Saul finally confessed, “I have sinned… because I feared the people and listened to their voice” (1 Sam. 15:24), but the damage was done. Samuel told him the kingdom had been torn from him and given to “a neighbor of yours, who is better than you” (v. 28). That neighbor was a young Judean shepherd named David—someone no one expected.   When Samuel arrived at the home of Jesse (Boaz and Ruth’s great-grandson), he assumed Israel’s next king would look like one of Jesse’s oldest sons. But God corrected him: “Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God does not see as man sees, since man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7). After seven sons passed by without God’s approval, Samuel asked, “Are these all the boys?” Only then did Jesse mention his youngest—David—so overlooked that even his family hadn’t considered him.   But when David appeared, the Lord said, “Arise, anoint him; for this is he” (v. 12). And from that moment on, “the Spirit of the LORD rushed upon David from that day forward” (v. 13).   David Was God’s Man The first time we are invited to look into David’s heart—and to see what set him apart from everyone else—is in 1 Samuel 17 when he faced Goliath in battle. While Israel’s army stood frozen on the front lines, David had only been sent to deliver food to his brothers. The Philistines had proposed a champion-to-champion battle: Goliath against anyone Israel dared to send. The stakes were high—the losing side would become the servants of the winner.   No one in Israel wanted to step forward. After Goliath roared, “I defy the battle lines of Israel this day; give me a man, that we may fight together!” Saul and all Israel were “dismayed and extremely afraid” (1 Sam. 17:10–11). For forty days, the giant’s taunts filled the valley. And for forty days, young David went back and forth between tending his father’s sheep and tending to his brothers—hearing the escalating tension firsthand.   Eventually David had heard enough. Offended by Goliath’s insults against God and His people, he asked, “What will be done for the man who kills this Philistine and removes the disgrace from Israel? For who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he has dared to defy the armies of the living God?” (v. 26).   When word reached Saul, David was brought before the king. Without hesitation, he said, “May no man’s heart fail on account of him; your servant will go and fight this Philistine” (v. 32). David stepped forward—not with armor, experience, or military strength—but with confidence in Yahweh.   Armed only with a staff, a sling, and five stones, David stood as Israel’s champion. Goliath mocked him, saying, “Am I a dog, that you come to me with sticks?” and cursed him by his gods (v. 43). He then threatened, “Come to me, and I will give your flesh to the birds of the sky and the wild animals” (v. 44). But David’s response revealed everything about his heart and his source of confidence: But David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with a sword, a spear, and a saber, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of armies, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will hand you over to me, and I will strike you and remove your head from you. Then I will give the dead bodies of the army of the Philistines this day to the birds of the sky and the wild animals of the earth, so that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, and that this entire assembly may know that the Lord does not save by sword or by spear; for the battle is the Lord’s, and He will hand you over to us!” (1 Sam. 17:45–47)   David’s confidence was not in his ability, but in God’s character. The God who had rescued Israel before would rescue them again. David slung one stone, struck the giant in the forehead, and killed him with what seemed like nothing more than a slingshot.   There was no earthly guarantee that David would defeat Goliath. But he knew God had promised Abraham that Israel would represent Him among the nations, and that a king would one day rise from Judah, the one to whom “the scepter shall not depart… and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (Gen. 49:9–10). David trusted that God’s purposes could not be stopped by a Philistine giant.   David Was Israel’s Flawed King Under David’s leadership, Israel finally defeated and subdued the Philistines—the nation’s greatest threat throughout the time of the Judges and during Saul’s reign. David had been one of Saul’s most successful military commanders, and the women of Israel even sang, “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands” (1 Sam. 18:7). Under David’s rule the borders of Israel expanded, and the promises made to Abraham appeared closer than ever to becoming reality.   Some of the high points of David’s reign include making Jerusalem the capital of Israel, bringing the ark of the covenant back into the city as the visible sign of God’s presence, preparing the way for Solomon to build the temple, and establishing Jerusalem as the spiritual and political center of the nation. David wanted God to be at the center of everything Israel did, reflecting God’s covenant at Sinai where the people were called God’s treasured possession, His kingdom of priests, and His holy nation (Exod. 19).   But David is also remembered for one of the darkest moments of his life—his adultery with Bathsheba and the murder of her husband in a desperate attempt to cover up his sin. Uriah, one of David’s most loyal soldiers, was a man devoted to his king and to Israel. He also happened to be married to a woman of striking beauty named Bathsheba.   We are told in 2 Samuel 11 that while Israel’s army was out fighting, David remained in Jerusalem—a decision that placed him exactly where temptation could reach him. What follows is one of the most sobering accounts in Scripture: “Now at evening time David got up from his bed and walked around on the roof of the king’s house, and from the roof he saw a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful in appearance. So David sent messengers and inquired about the woman. And someone said, ‘Is this not Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?’ Then David sent messengers and took her, and when she came to him, he slept with her.” (2 Sam. 11:2–4)   Soon after, Bathsheba sent word back to the king: “I am pregnant.” David never imagined his sin would come to light so quickly. Like many who try to hide their sins, he moved from temptation to adultery, and from adultery to deception. He brought Uriah home from battle, attempting to manipulate him into sleeping with his wife so the pregnancy would appear legitimate. But Uriah refused—he would not enjoy the comforts of home while his fellow soldiers risked their lives.   With his plans unraveling, David chose a darker path. He wrote a sealed letter to Joab, the commander of the army, and sent it in Uriah’s own hand as messenger. The letter read: “Place Uriah at the front line of the fiercest battle and withdraw from him, so that he may be struck and killed” (2 Sam. 11:14–15). It was a death warrant. And David made Uriah carry it.   Uriah died just as David intended, and for a moment the king must have felt deep relief—his sin was concealed. But the covering of sin never hides it from God. The Lord sent the prophet Nathan to confront David, and when the truth broke through David’s self-deception, he finally said, “I have sinned against the LORD.”[1]   The difference between David slaying Goliath and David’s failing with Bathsheba was not his strength, his ability, or his status—it was his dependence on God. When David trusted God, giants fell. When David trusted himself, David fell.   We Need a True and Better David It was before

    48 min

  2. NOV 23

    The Moabite & the Kinsman Redeemer

    The story of Ruth begins with these words: “In the days when the judges governed…” (v. 1a). Just before Joshua died after a lifetime of faithful service, he warned all of Israel: “Now therefore fear the LORD and serve him in sincerity and faithfulness. Put away the gods your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD. And if it is evil in your eyes to serve the LORD, choose this day whom you will serve... But as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.” (Josh. 24:14-15)   The book of Judges recounts Israel’s history shortly after entering the promised land, and just in the second chapter, we are told: “Then the sons of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord and served the Baals, and they abandoned the Lord, the God of their fathers...” (Jud. 2:11-12), which characterizes the tone and climate of Israel’s spiritual health.  The book of Judges also concludes with the words: “In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Jug. 21:25).   While in the wilderness, God warned Israel that there would be consequences to their choices, especially when it came to their trust of God and obedience to God: “Beware that your hearts are not easily deceived, and that you do not turn away and serve other gods, and worship them. Otherwise, the anger of the LORD will be kindled against you, and He will shut up the sky so that there will be no rain, and the ground will not yield its produce; then you will quickly perish from the good land which the LORD is giving you” (Deut. 11:16-17)   As we move from Judges into the book of Ruth, the opening five verses immediately shed light on the spiritual condition of Naomi’s husband, Elimelech. These verses reveal how Elimelech, in his role as both husband and father, deeply influenced the direction and well-being of his family. The famine in the land did not just reflect a lack of physical food; it also mirrored the spiritual famine within Elimelech’s own heart and soul.   There are some things I want to point out to you that I believe will help you appreciate just how relevant this book is to us today.    First, let me begin by stating that Bethlehem means “house of bread” yet there was no bread in Bethlehem because there was famine in the land due to Israel’s disobedience. God had promised that He would bless His people if they obeyed Him, so the reason why there was no bread in Bethlehem was because of Israel’s unfaithfulness, not God’s unfaithfulness.  Second, we are told that Elimelech was “a man of Bethlehem in Judah...”, which means that he belonged to the tribe of Judah.  God called Elimelech to live in Bethlehem, yet he chose to move to Moab because he believed that he and his family could thrive in a place outside of where God called him to live.    Some of the things that Elimelech had to know about Moab was that the people originated out of an incestuous relationship after Lot’s older daughter got him drunk for the purpose of having sex with her father so that she could become pregnant with his child (Gen. 19:30-38). Secondly, the Moabites were known for their scheming to get Israel to sin against God (Num. 22-24).  Thirdly, the Women of Moab were known for seducing the Israelite men for the purpose of getting them to worship the gods of Moab (Num. 25).  Moab was not a place for a family to thrive spiritually, but this is the place that Elimelech took his family to live.   The other important detail we need to consider is that while Naomi’s name means “Pleasant” nothing about her life seemed pleasant.  Her husband’s name meant “God is my king” but he certainly did not live like God was his king. The meaning of the names of their two sons were, Mahlon (Weakness, sickness) and Chilion (destruction, failure); both men took for themselves Moabite women who did not grow up worshiping the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; taking Moabite women as wives was something God commanded Israel not to do (see Deut. 7:1-4).  Noami’s husband and both of her sons died, leaving her with nothing but two daughters-in-law who were also destitute with no husband or male child.   Naomi Suffered Loss   When Naomi left Bethlehem with her husband and two sons, she left full. Because of the famine in the land (v. 1), moving to Moab must have felt like the right decision—an act of survival for the sake of their family. But while in Moab, tragedy struck. Her husband, Elimelech, died. Then her two sons married Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth—something God had warned His people against because of the danger of idolatry (Deut. 7:2–3). And after marrying these women, both of Naomi’s sons also died, leaving her with two widowed Moabite daughters-in-law and no descendants of her own.   Naomi had lost the three most important men in her life, along with any hope of lineage, inheritance, or security. There was nothing for her in Moab, and because of her husband’s death after leaving Bethlehem, there was nothing but maybe the kindness of her relatives back in Judah. So when she returned to Bethlehem, it is no surprise that she no longer wanted to be called Naomi, which means “pleasant.” She asked instead to be called Mara, meaning “bitter.” She explained the bitterness in her own words: “The Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty” (vv. 20–21).   Ruth: A Woman of Excellence Naomi failed to recognize the blessing her Moabite daughter-in-law truly was. When Naomi decided to return to Bethlehem, she urged both Orpah and Ruth to go back to their own people and gods in Moab. While Orpah left to go back to her people and her gods, Ruth decided to remain with Naomi and even declared to her mother-in-law: “Do not plead with me to leave you or to turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you sleep, I will sleep. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the LORD do so to me, and worse, if anything but death separates me from you.” (1:16–18).   One reason Naomi discouraged Ruth from coming back with her was concern for Ruth’s safety. There was significant hostility between Moabites and Israelites. This is clear in chapter two, after Ruth entered a field belonging to Boaz. Everyone in the field knew Ruth was a foreigner, as the foreman explained to Boaz, “She is the young Moabite woman who returned with Naomi from Moab.” Boaz’s response reveals the real danger Ruth faced. He spoke kindly to her, saying, “Listen carefully, my daughter. Do not go to glean in another field; furthermore, do not go on from this one, but join my young women here. Keep your eyes on the field which they reap, and go after them. Indeed, I have ordered the servants not to touch you. When you are thirsty, go to the water jars and drink from what the servants draw” (Ruth 2:8–9). Ruth’s foreign status exposed her to rejection, prejudice, and mistreatment—yet she chose to stay with Naomi anyway, embracing uncertainty and risking lifelong exclusion.   Her courage did not go unnoticed. In chapter three, Boaz calls Ruth a “woman of excellence” (3:11)—a term that carries the sense of valor, honor, and strength of character. Remarkably, the same word is used of Boaz in 2:1, while you do not see it in the way the NASB translated Ruth 2:1, just about every other translation does recognize this: “Now Naomi had a relative of her husband’s, a worthy man of the clan of Elimelech, whose name was Boaz.” The parallel is deliberate. The narrator wants us to see that Ruth and Boaz are kindred spirits—two people marked by integrity, bravery, and covenant faithfulness in a time when such qualities were rare in Israel.   Boaz: A Kinsmen Redeemer Boaz is the third important character in the story of Ruth, for he is the only one qualified to serve as Naomi’s kinsman-redeemer. Every kinsman-redeemer had to meet three qualifications:  He had to be a family member,  He had to have the ability to redeem, and  He had to be willing to redeem.   A kinsman-redeemer held several responsibilities in the Old Testament: he could buy back family land lost to famine or debt (Lev. 25:25–30), redeem relatives who had sold themselves into slavery (Lev. 25:47–55), avenge the unlawful death of a family member (Num. 35; Deut. 19; Josh. 20), and step in when a family member faced a wrong they could not fix on their own.   Naomi needed that kind of help. She had lost her husband and both sons. She had no land, no security, and no hope. Ruth could not redeem her, so she went out to glean in the fields—a provision God had given for the poor and the foreigner (Lev. 19:9–10). That’s where we first meet Boaz. He told Ruth, “Do not go to another field… I have ordered the young men not to touch you” (Ruth 2:8–9). Ruth bowed in gratitude, asking why he would show kindness to a foreigner. Boaz told her he had heard of her loyalty to Naomi and her trust in Israel’s God (2:11–13). He saw Ruth as a woman of excellence—worthy of honor and protection.   When Naomi learned how Boaz treated Ruth, she urged Ruth to approach him at the threshing floor. Though the scene might look questionable at first glance, Ruth 3:6–13 makes it clear: both Ruth and Boaz acted with purity and integrity. Ruth lay quietly at his feet, and when Boaz awoke, she said, “Spread your wings over your servant, for you are a redeemer.” She wasn’t tempting him—she was invoking covenant language, the same “wings” imagery Boaz used earlier of the LORD’s care (see 2:12). Boaz responded with joy: “I will do all that you ask, for everyone knows you are a worthy woman” (3:11). He was both willing and able to redeem her.   And he did. “So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife. And he w

    46 min

  3. NOV 16

    The Temple of God and the Towers of Men

    The Garden of Eden was not the whole earth, but a sacred sanctuary God Himself planted—a place where Adam and Eve enjoyed His presence. We know this because they were driven out of Eden (Gen. 3:23), and because God stationed cherubim at its eastward entrance to guard the way to the Tree of Life (Gen. 3:24). Their worship was expressed through faithful obedience and the holy work of tending the garden. In many ways, Eden was heaven on earth—the first dwelling place of God with His people, the first tabernacle where God and humanity met in perfect fellowship.   When Adam and Eve sinned, their innocence was stripped away, but God immediately spoke hope into their judgment. In Genesis 3:15, He promised that a future Son—the Seed of the woman—would crush the serpent’s head. Adam and Eve responded in faith by doing what God commanded from the beginning: they conceived and bore sons beginning with Cain, then Abel, and finally Seth (Gen. 1:28).   But the curse quickly revealed itself. Cain murdered Abel, violence filled families and nations, and by Genesis 6:5, “every intent of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually.” God judged the earth through the flood, yet in His mercy preserved Noah and established a covenant never again to destroy all flesh by water (Gen. 9:8–17). Still, the flood did not cleanse the human heart.   As humanity repopulated the earth and shared one language, their rebellion resurfaced. In Genesis 11, they journeyed east—a biblical sign of moving away from God’s presence—and settled in Shinar. Determined to build something impressive and permanent, they said, “Let us make bricks and fire them thoroughly...” and, “Let us build a city and a tower with its top in the heavens.” Their motives were unmistakable: “Let us make a name (šēm) for ourselves.” Instead of spreading over the earth as God commanded, they sought unity, identity, and greatness apart from Him. It was human pride attempting to reach heaven without God.   As a result, God dispersed the people throughout the earth and confused their language (Gen. 11:8–9). Immediately following this event, the narrative shifts to Abraham—a man whose background included worshiping other gods (Josh. 24:2). God called Abraham, promising to make his descendants exceedingly numerous, to form a great nation from him, and to bless all nations through his lineage. It was from Abraham’s family that the twelve tribes of Israel emerged, including the tribe of Levi, from which Moses and Aaron would later arise.   Through Moses, God delivered the Ten Commandments and the Law (Exod. 20). Through Aaron and his sons, God established the priesthood (Exod. 28). And between the giving of the Law and the ordination of the priests, God commanded Israel to build the Tabernacle (a sanctuary)—a dwelling place for His presence: “Let them make a sanctuary for Me, so that I may dwell among them…exactly according to the pattern I show you” (Exod. 25:8–9).   This brings us to the heart of the matter. Why does the Tabernacle exist, and what does it have to do with Babel—and with you as a Christian today? That is what I want to help you understand.   The Tabernacle: God’s Kingdom is Built by His Presence Before Adam and Eve sinned in Eden, they lived in the immediate presence of God. Eden was the first earthly Tabernacle—the first place where God dwelled with humanity.[1] Adam was commissioned to cultivate the garden, to be fruitful and multiply, and to exercise dominion as a kind of priest-king. The role God gave Adam is echoed later in the ministry of Israel’s priests. Just as Adam was commanded to “work and keep” the garden (Gen. 2:15), the priests who served in the Tabernacle were charged with tending its furnishings and performing its sacred duties (Num. 3:7–8).   After Adam and Eve rebelled, God pronounced judgment yet also extended hope. In Genesis 3:15, He promised that a Deliverer—the Seed of the woman—would one day crush the serpent’s head and undo what sin had destroyed. Yet the immediate consequence of their sin was exile from God’s presence: “So He drove the man out; and at the east of the garden of Eden He stationed the cherubim and the flaming sword…to guard the way to the tree of life” (Gen. 3:24).   To understand the purpose and significance of the Tabernacle, we must begin by asking a foundational question: Why did God command Israel to build it? According to Exodus 25:8–9, God commanded a sanctuary so that He might once again dwell among His people—in a manner that echoed Eden itself.    But human history—from Eden to Babel—shows us that people in their sin insist on approaching God on their own terms rather than His. In Genesis 11, humanity sought to reach heaven through their own greatness. In the same way, the nations worshiped their gods “on the high mountains…on the hills…and under every leafy tree” (Deut. 12:2). Israel was not allowed to imitate this. Deuteronomy 12 makes it clear that there is only one true God, and He must be approached His way, not ours. The Tabernacle existed so that God’s people could meet Him—but only on His terms. The Garden of Eden served as the first tabernacle, and the Tabernacle God instructed Moses to build was intentionally designed to reflect Eden. Consider the parallels: Eastward entrance:The Tabernacle opened to the east (Exod. 27:13–16), just as Eden did when the cherubim were stationed there (Gen. 3:24).   Tree imagery:The lampstand (menorah) was fashioned like an almond tree in bloom (Exod. 25:31–36), recalling the Tree of Life.   Cherubim guardians:In Eden, cherubim guarded the Tree of Life; in the Tabernacle, cherubim covered the mercy seat above the ark (Exod. 25:18–20).   Priestly ministry:Adam served as the first priest; Israel’s priests continued the priestly calling Adam failed to fulfill.   Because the Tabernacle was constructed to be set up and taken down throughout Israel’s wilderness journey, it functioned as a portable Eden—a traveling sanctuary where God’s presence dwelled among His people. For forty years in the wilderness, God Himself led His people by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, visibly demonstrating that He alone was their Guide, Protector, and King. Whenever Israel made camp, the Tabernacle was deliberately placed at the very center of the community. This was no accidental detail; its central position proclaimed a foundational truth: we do not climb our way up to God—He graciously comes down to dwell with us.   To reinforce this truth, the layout of the Tabernacle was divided into three sections, each revealing something of God’s holiness and the reverence required to approach Him. The closer one moved toward the center, the closer one came to the manifest presence of God: The Outer Court — accessible to the people, where sacrifices were brought and offerings were made.   The Holy Place — entered only by the priests, where the lampstand, table of bread, and altar of incense stood.   The Holy of Holies — the innermost chamber where God’s presence rested above the mercy seat, entered only once a year by the High Priest on the Day of Atonement.   Far from being a religious ornament or symbolic tent, the Tabernacle was the tangible expression of God’s desire to dwell with His people. Its daily presence reminded Israel—and reminds us—that humanity was created by God and for God, and that our life, identity, and purpose can only be rightly ordered when He is at the center. And even then, as precious as it was, the Tabernacle pointed beyond itself. It was a signpost leading God’s people toward a greater reality—a true and better Tabernacle who would one day come and dwell with His people fully and forever.   The presence of God was what set Israel apart from every other nation. In Exodus 19, God said to His people: “You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings, and brought you to Myself. Now then, if you will indeed obey My voice and keep My covenant, then you shall be My own possession among all the peoples—for all the earth is Mine; and you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (vv. 4–6).   God did not exist for Israel; Israel existed for God. As His covenant people, they were called to be His representatives before the nations.   The Tower of Babel: Man’s Kingdom is Built by His Pride So what about Babel? Let me state the obvious first: The very name of Babel should immediately bring to mind the Babylon that would rise to empire status 1,500 to 2,000 years later after the events of Genesis 11.  We do not have the time to exhaust all that can be gleaned from Genesis 11, but I will point out some things that will make sense of why Babylon is such a big deal in the Bible.  Here is a list of characteristics from Genesis 11 that captures the spirit of Babylon that we see both in the Bible and the world:   A desire to build Eden without God — a city in their own likeness. They journeyed east (Gen. 11:2), a clue in the Bible that they were moving away from the presence of God (cf. Gen. 3:24; 4:16). Rather than longing for the God of Eden, they attempted to recreate Eden according to their own design—a human-centered world where they defined what was good, beautiful, and true.   The spirit of Babel wants the blessings of Eden without the God of Eden.   Confidence in human ingenuity as the foundation of security. They urged one another, “Come, let’s make bricks and fire them thoroughly.” Their trust was in what they could craft, engineer, and construct apart from the Creator. Their hope rested not on God’s provision but on human innovation, technology, and technique.   The spirit of Babel believes salvation is self-made.   Access to

    52 min

  4. NOV 9

    Moses and the Gods of Egypt

    When Moses was born the Hebrew people had been living in Egypt for quite a time. Initially under the protection of Joseph and Pharoah and welcomed as honored guests; they had become an oppressed and enslaved nation. Fearing their growing strength, Pharaoh ordered every Hebrew boy to be thrown into the Nile. But one mother’s courage defied the king’s decree. She hid her child as long as she could, then placed him in a basket coated with tar and pitch and set him afloat on the Nile river. By God’s providence, Pharaoh’s daughter found the baby and raised him as her own.   Moses grew up amid the luxury of Pharaoh’s court, yet he never forgot his Hebrew roots. His passion for justice—and his temper—would define much of his life. When he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave, Moses struck down the oppressor and hid the body in the sand (Exod. 2:11–12). When the act became known, he fled to the wilderness of Midian, where he spent forty years as a shepherd, husband, and son-in-law to Jethro—waiting for the day when God would call him to lead His people out of bondage.   By the time we reach Exodus 3, Moses had already spent those forty years in Midian tending sheep. Then, before a burning bush, he encountered the living God—the God of Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God entered into Moses’ world in such a way that he would never be the same again. When God called to him from the bush, He said, “Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground” (v. 5). What made the ground holy? The presence of God made it holy. As R.C. Sproul wrote in his classic The Holiness of God: “God alone is holy in Himself. Only God can sanctify something else. Only God can give the touch that changes it from the commonplace to something special, different, and apart.”   The God who spoke to Moses from within the burning bush is not only holy—but faithful. While many Hebrews believed that God had forgotten them, the Lord reminded Moses that He is not only all-seeing, but full of mercy: “I have certainly seen the oppression of My people who are in Egypt, and have heard their outcry because of their taskmasters, for I am aware of their sufferings” (v. 7). Then God said to Moses, “And now come, and I will send you to Pharaoh, so that you may bring My people, the sons of Israel, out of Egypt” (v. 10). To this, Moses humbly replied, “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt?”   All that Moses saw in himself was his own failures and weaknesses. But for God, it didn’t matter how weak Moses was, for He delights to use the foolish to shame the wise and the weak to shame the strong (1 Cor. 1:26–31). What the burning bush reminds us of is not only that God is holy, or that He is omniscient, or that He is faithful to His promises, but that God uses people not because He needs to, but because He wants to. Just as God did not need Noah or Joseph to address the problems of the world, He did not need Moses.  The marvel of the story of God and the people He chooses to use has more to do with that fact that He invites people like us into His mission and the story He is telling.   There is a Mediator Who Stands in Your Place After God revealed Himself to Moses as Yahweh—the covenant-keeping God—He commissioned Moses to return to Egypt. Understandably, Moses questioned, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” God assured him, “I will certainly be with you” (Exod. 3:10–12). And when Moses was to speak to the people of Israel, God instructed him to say, “I AM WHO I AM has sent me to you” (v. 14).   One of the characteristics that distinguishes the God of Abraham from the gods of Egypt is His faithfulness—He keeps His promises. This is expressed beautifully in Exodus 6:2–5, where God tells Moses, “I am the LORD. I appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob as God Almighty, but by my name the LORD I did not make myself fully known to them. I also established my covenant with them to give them the land of Canaan, where they resided as foreigners. Moreover, I have heard the groaning of the Israelites, whom the Egyptians are enslaving, and I have remembered my covenant.” God’s faithfulness is not only in His name but in His actions, His compassion, and His unwavering remembrance of His promises.   Do you remember Leah—the “ugly” wife whom Jacob did not love? Not only was Judah born to her, but so was Levi. About five generations later, we read in Exodus 2:1 of a man from the house of Levi who married a daughter of Levi. Together they had three children: Miriam, Aaron, and Moses.   It was after Miriam and Aaron’s birth—but before Moses was born—that Pharaoh commanded every Hebrew son to be thrown into the Nile (see Exod. 1:20–22). Yet from this very family, God raised up the leaders who would deliver His people. Moses would lead Israel out of bondage, serving as a type of king who would shepherd God’s people through the wilderness. Aaron would become God’s priest, and through him the priestly line would continue (Exod. 28:1–29:9). Miriam would be identified as a prophetess (Exod. 15:20–21).   Don’t miss this: God used all three—Moses, Aaron, and Miriam—to lead His people out of Egypt, yet Aaron and Miriam would serve the people under Moses’ leadership (see Mic. 6:4).  But it was to Moses, that God said, “I have made you as God to Pharaoh, and your brother Aaron shall be your prophet.” And when Miriam and Aaron forgot their place and Moses’ God-ordained role before Israel, God said, “Now hear My words: If there is a prophet among you, I, the Lord, will make Myself known to him in a vision. I will speak with him in a dream. “It is not this way for My servant Moses; He is faithful in all My household; with him I speak mouth to mouth, that is, openly, and not using mysterious language, and he beholds the form of the Lord. So why were you not afraid to speak against My servant, against Moses?” (see Num. 12:1-8).   Follow the Deliverer Who Leads His People Out of Bondage Moses stood before Pharaoh and Israel as a type of shepherd-king—a mediator and prophet who spoke on God’s behalf. Listen to how the Lord described Moses’ role: “As for you, you shall speak all that I command you, and your brother Aaron shall speak to Pharaoh that he let the sons of Israel go out of his land. But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, so that I may multiply My signs and My wonders in the land of Egypt. When Pharaoh does not listen to you, I will lay My hand on Egypt and bring out My armies, My people the sons of Israel, from the land of Egypt by great judgments. Then the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I extend My hand over Egypt and bring out the sons of Israel from their midst.” (Exod. 7:2-5).   When Moses and Aaron appeared before Pharaoh, they declared, “Thus says the LORD, ‘Let My people go.’” (Exod. 5:1). Pharaoh not only refused but mocked the God of Israel: “Who is the Lord that I should obey His voice to let Israel go?  I do not know the Lord, and besides, I will not let Israel go” (5:1-2). To prove that no one would command Pharoah of Egypt, he made the Israelites’ labor even harsher, forcing them to gather their own straw while maintaining the same quota of bricks.   What followed was a succession of ten plagues, each designed to expose the impotence of Egypt’s gods and, in many cases, to mock them directly. The first nine fall naturally into three escalating triads: Plagues of defilement: water turned to blood (7:14–24), frogs overran the land (8:1–15), and gnats or lice tormented Egypt (8:16–19).   Plagues of destruction: swarms of flies invaded (8:20–32); disease killed Egypt’s livestock while Israel’s remained unharmed (9:1–7); and boils afflicted people and animals alike (9:8–12).   Plagues of devastation: hail mixed with fire ravaged the land (9:13–35); locusts devoured the remaining crops (10:1–20); and darkness—a direct assault on Ra, the sun-god—covered Egypt for three days (10:21–29).   Each judgment demonstrated Yahweh’s sovereignty, yet Pharaoh’s heart only grew harder. Enraged, he shouted to Moses—who stood before him as God’s representative: “Get away from me! Be careful, do not see my face again, for on the day you see my face, you shall die!” (10:28).   The cognitive dissonance of Pharaoh towards the God of the Israel was not only irrational, but insane!  He was dealing with the God who He could not defeat, for in the words of the apostle Paul, it was the equivalent of the clay pot accusing the potter that He had no rights over what He created (Rom. 9:19ff.).  In essence, Pharaoh’s heart cried out to the God of Moses, “Who are You to tell me what I can and cannot do?”   Before we shake our heads or point our finger at Pharaoh in disgust, we must ask ourselves: What has God commanded us to release or submit to that we have resisted with the same question— “Who is Yahweh that I should obey His voice?”   Live in the Victory of the Lamb Who Triumphed Over Every Power Before the final plague, Israel was commanded to take a male lamb without defect and keep it for four days—long enough to confirm it was spotless and long enough for it to become, in a sense, their lamb (Exod. 12:1–6). On the fourteenth day, the lamb was to be slaughtered at twilight, and its blood applied “on the two doorposts and on the lintel of the houses in which they eat it” (v. 7). Afterward, the entire household was to eat the lamb together (vv. 8–11).   For what purpose was the perfect and spotless lamb slaughtered?  We are told why in Exodus 12:12, “For I will go through the land of Egypt on that night, an

    51 min

  5. NOV 2

    Judah and the Neglected Wife

    The story of God’s people is best described as dysfunctional. From Adam and Eve to Noah’s family, from Abraham to Isaac and Jacob, each generation reveals broken relationships and deep moral failure. The way the patriarchs treated their wives, the way their wives treated them, and the way their children behaved all display humanity’s constant struggle with sin.   Last week we looked at Jacob’s life and the painful dynamics of his two marriages. Deceived into marrying Leah while his heart belonged to Rachel, Jacob loved one wife and merely endured the other. Leah was the unloved wife, while Rachel was beautiful and favored.   Between his two wives, Jacob fathered seven children with Leah (six sons and one daughter) and two with Rachel—Joseph and Benjamin. Both wives also gave their maidservants to Jacob, through whom he fathered four more sons, bringing the total to twelve. Out of all of them, Jacob’s love for Joseph was unmistakable, and his favoritism fueled jealousy and hatred in his other sons.   Before he ever met Rachel, however, God had already spoken a promise to him in a dream: “I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your descendants. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth… and in you and in your descendants shall all the families of the earth be blessed. Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go… for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you” (Gen. 28:13–15).   Jacob worked many years for Laban to marry Rachel, and nearly fifteen years passed before Joseph was born. Around six years later, Jacob wrestled all night with a “man” he later realized was God, who said, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel; for you have contended with God and with men, and have prevailed” (Gen. 32:28). Soon after, Rachel gave birth to Benjamin, though she tragically died in childbirth (Gen. 35:16–21).   One of Israel’s greatest flaws was his failure as a father. Because Joseph was Rachel’s firstborn—the son of his old age—Jacob loved him more than all his other sons. “Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his other sons, because he was the son of his old age; and he made him a multicolored tunic. And his brothers saw that their father loved him more… so they hated him and could not speak to him on friendly terms” (Gen. 37:3–4). Their jealousy soon grew into hatred (see Gen. 37:5–8). That hatred turned to violence. The brothers conspired to kill Joseph, but Reuben persuaded them not to shed blood. Instead, they threw him into a pit, and while Reuben was away, Judah convinced them to sell Joseph to passing Ishmaelites (Gen. 37:18ff.). Believing him gone forever, they deceived their father: “They took Joseph’s tunic, slaughtered a male goat, and dipped the tunic in the blood… ‘We found this; please examine it to see whether it is your son’s tunic or not.’ Then he examined it and said, ‘It is my son’s tunic. A vicious animal has devoured him; Joseph has surely been torn to pieces!’” (Gen. 37:31–33).  Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth, and mourned for his son many days, refusing to be comforted. Meanwhile, “the Midianites sold him in Egypt to Potiphar, Pharaoh’s officer, the captain of the bodyguard” (Gen. 37:36).   It is in the aftermath of this dark moment—Joseph sold and Jacob deceived—that Scripture turns our attention to Judah. In Genesis 38, we are given a window into the moral and spiritual condition of the man through whom the Messiah would one day come.   Sin Without Repentance Leads to Ruin (vv. 1-11) Throughout the Old Testament, God warned His people not to adopt the ways of the Canaanites, lest they turn from Him. “You shall not intermarry with them; you shall not give your daughters to their sons, nor shall you take their daughters for your sons” (Deut. 7:2–3). Yet Judah did what God forbade. “Judah departed from his brothers and visited a certain Adullamite, whose name was Hirah. Judah saw there a daughter of a Canaanite whose name was Shua; and he took her as a wife and had relations with her” (vv. 1–2). Together they had three sons: Er, Onan, and Shelah (vv. 3–5).   Judah’s moral decline continued when he chose a Canaanite wife for his firstborn, Tamar. Their marriage ended tragically: “But Er, Judah’s firstborn, was evil in the sight of the LORD, so the LORD took his life” (vv. 6–7). Following custom, Judah told his second son, Onan, “Have relations with your brother’s wife and perform your duty as a brother-in-law to her, and raise up a child for your brother.” But Onan refused; “when he had relations with his brother’s wife, he wasted his seed on the ground so that he would not give a child to his brother” (vv. 8–9). Because of this, “what he did was displeasing in the sight of the LORD; so He put him to death also” (v. 10).   In those days, a woman’s security depended on her husband and sons. A widow without children had no protection or inheritance—the deceased man’s property passed to other male relatives. The practice of Levirate marriage was designed to protect such widows: “When brothers live together, and one of them dies and has no son, the wife of the deceased shall not be married outside the family to a strange man… the firstborn to whom she gives birth shall assume the name of his father’s deceased brother, so that his name will not be wiped out from Israel” (Deut. 25:5–6).   After Onan’s death, Judah promised Tamar she could marry his youngest son, Shelah, once he was grown. But fearing he might lose him too, Judah had no intention of keeping his word. Thinking only of his own household and not Tamar’s future, he sent her away to her father’s house—leaving her abandoned to widowhood and shame.   Desperation Without Faith Leads to Deception (vv. 12-23) “Now after a considerable time…” — we are not told exactly how long Tamar waited after Judah sent her away, but by the time we come to verse 12, Judah’s youngest son was grown, and there was still no word from his father. It became clear that Judah had no intention of keeping his promise or fulfilling his duty to care for his daughter-in-law. Judah wanted to forget Tamar existed.   After Judah’s wife died, Tamar learned that he was going to Timnah to shear his sheep. Knowing Judah’s character, she devised a desperate plan: “She removed her widow’s garments and covered herself with a veil, and wrapped herself, and sat in the gateway of Enaim” (v. 14). Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute, knowing her father-in-law’s moral flaws, hoping to secure the child and security she had been denied. When Judah saw her, “...he assumed she was a prostitute, for she had covered her face. So he turned aside to her by the road, and said, “Here now, let me have relations with you’; for he did not know that she was his daughter-in-law. And she said, ‘What will you give me, that you may have relations with me?’” (vv. 15–16).   When Tamar asked, “What will you give me?” He promised a young goat in exchange for sex, but Tamar, knowing that he was not a man of his word, demanded a pledge—his seal, cord, and staff—each a personal identifier (v. 18). If her plan worked, these would prove Judah’s guilt. Even more disturbing is that Judah believed her to be a “cult prostitute,” revealing just how far removed he was spiritually from Abraham, Isaac, and his father Israel.   To be clear, Tamar is no saint either. She used deception and sexual sin to gain what was she believed was rightfully hers. Yet Judah fares no better: he pursued his passions, disregarded God’s covenant, and failed in every moral responsibility as father and leader. The descendants of Abraham were called to pursue justice, truth, and righteousness—virtues Judah utterly lacked.   Grace Without Limit Leads to Redemption (vv. 24-30) Three months later, Judah learned that Tamar was pregnant: “Your daughter-in-law Tamar has prostituted herself, and behold, she is also pregnant by prostitution.” (v. 24). His response exposed his hypocrisy: “Bring her out, and have her burned.” The man who ignored Tamar’s suffering now demanded her death and the death of her unborn child, hiding his own sin behind false righteousness.   But as she was being brought out, Tamar sent Judah his own pledge with the message, “It was while she was being brought out that she sent word to her father-in-law, saying, ‘I am pregnant by the man to whom these things belong.’ She also said, ‘Please examine and see, whose signet ring and cords and staff are these?’” (v. 25). The Hebrew word for “examine” means to recognize or discern—it is as if Tamar were saying, “Look at yourself; see your own sin.”   Then comes Judah’s turning point: “And Judah recognized them and said, ‘She is more righteous than I.’” (v. 26). The one who held the power to condemn her, instead declared her righteous. In that moment, Judah encountered both conviction and grace—the same kind of divine confrontation experienced by Abraham on Mount Moriah when he laid his son Isaac on the altar and Jacob at Peniel when he wrestled with God. Though Judah was deeply flawed, his confession points forward to the need of a greater righteousness—one found only in the coming Son of Judah, whose righteousness is perfect in every way.   Afterward we read, “…he did not have relations with her again.” This brief note signals repentance and transformation. By Genesis 44, we see a changed man—no longer self-serving but self-sacrificing, willing to give his life for his brother’s freedom. Through the tangled sins of Judah and Tamar, God’s grace “broke through,” preserving the line

    54 min

  6. OCT 26

    Jacob and the Ugly Wife

    The Bible never hides the mess that happens when sinful people collide. It doesn’t take much to recognize that since Adam and Eve were promised a descendant who would crush the head of the serpent, the story of God’s people is one of dysfunction. All who make up Jesus’ family tree include broken and messy people.   When we come to Genesis 29, we meet Jacob—a deceiver—and Leah, the woman no one wanted. But their story began long before this moment. God had promised Abraham that through his descendants would come a child who would bless all nations. That promise passed to Isaac, and before his twins were born, God declared, “The older shall serve the younger” (Gen. 25:23).   Jacob deceived his aging father, stole his brother’s blessing, and fled for his life. Alone in the wilderness, with only a stone for a pillow, God met him in a dream. “I am the LORD, the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac. The land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring… and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed. Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go” (Gen. 28:13–15).   God didn’t appear to Jacob because he finally got his act together—He showed up in Jacob’s mess. That’s the beauty of grace: God steps into our brokenness, keeps His promises, and accomplishes His plan through imperfect people. Later, God gave him the name Israel, but for the purpose of this sermon, we will continue to refer to him as Jacob (Gen. 35:9-21).   Outside of Eden We Want Rachel (Gen. 29:1-20) When Laban heard his nephew had arrived, he “ran to meet him, and embraced him and kissed him, and brought him to his house” (Gen. 29:13). Jacob stayed with his uncle for a month, and during that time he fell in love with Laban’s younger daughter, Rachel (v. 18).   Why did Jacob love Rachel? The text tells us: “Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the older was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. And Leah’s eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful in figure and appearance” (vv. 16–17).   We’re not told exactly what it means that Leah’s eyes were “weak.” Some think she was cross-eyed or simply lacked the beauty that her younger sister possessed. Whatever the case, the contrast is clear—Leah was plain, but Rachel was striking. Even their names hint at the difference: Leah may mean “wild cow” or “gazelle,” while Rachel means “ewe” or “lamb”—a softer, more affectionate name. Rachel was beautiful, and Jacob was captivated.   When Laban offered to pay Jacob for his work, Jacob didn’t ask for wages—he offered seven years of labor for Rachel’s hand. Laban agreed. “So Jacob worked seven years to pay for Rachel. But his love for her was so strong that it seemed to him but a few days” (Gen. 29:20, NLT).   Rachel was the apple of his eye—the treasure of his heart. To Jacob, life with Rachel promised the happiness he had always longed for. And isn’t that what we all want? On this side of Eden, every heart searches for a “Rachel”—someone or something we believe will complete us. We might not call it Rachel, but we chase it in our stories, our dreams, and our longings. We don’t want Leah. We want Rachel.   If the Bible repeats something, we need to pay attention to it.  But, if the Bible repeats something three times, it elevates it to the superlative degree as something super important.  Three times we are told of Jacob’s love for Rachel: “Now Jacob loved Rachel, so he said, ‘I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.’” (Gen. 29:18)   “So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him like only a few days because of his love for her.” (Gen. 29:20)   “So Jacob had relations with Rachel also, and indeed he loved Rachel more than Leah, and he served with Laban for another seven years.” (Gen. 29:30)   Guess how many times we are told that Jacob loved Leah.  Zero.  In fact, when it comes to love, here is what we are told: “Now the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, and He opened her womb, but Rachel was unable to have children” (v. 31).   Outside of Eden We Get Leah (Gen. 29:21-30) After Jacob completed the seven years he had promised his uncle, he was ready to receive what his heart had longed for. “Then Jacob said to Laban, ‘Give me my wife, for my time is completed, that I may have relations with her.’ So Laban gathered all the people of the place and held a feast” (Gen. 29:21–22).   Finally, Jacob believed life was about to become sweet. The wedding celebration began, the food was served, and the wine flowed freely. When the bride was brought to him—veiled and under cover of night—Jacob, likely feeling content and confident, welcomed her. “Now in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to him; and Jacob had relations with her.... So it came about in the morning that, behold, it was Leah!” (Gen. 29:23, 25a).   Morning light brought a brutal truth. The woman beside him was not Rachel—the love of his life—but Leah, the weak-eyed daughter whose very name meant “wild cow.” Jacob was furious. He had been deceived—just as he had once deceived his brother Esau. His dream of happiness, shattered. “And he said to Laban, ‘What is this that you have done to me? Was it not for Rachel that I served you? Why then have you deceived me?’” (v. 25).   But Laban, the master manipulator, calmly replied, “It is not the practice in our place to marry off the younger before the firstborn. Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also for the service which you shall serve with me for another seven years” (vv. 26–27).   Jacob was trapped—used for free labor once again. He was tricked into taking the daughter he hadn’t chosen, and bartered into another seven years for the one he loved. Unfortunately for Leah, she was stuck in the middle of all the drama.   Outside of Eden There is Still Hope The marriage that Jacob was tricked into began with a week-long celebration. Laban insisted Jacob complete the festivities with Leah, giving enough time for her to become pregnant. Yet Jacob was eager for the days to end, and as soon as the week was over, he immediately married Rachel. Driven by the selfish motives of both Jacob and Laban, Leah found herself trapped—caught between their desires and loved by no one. Leah was rejected, while Rachel was cherished.   The striking irony in Leah’s story is that, while she was overlooked by everyone else, God loved her: “Now the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, and He opened her womb, but Rachel was unable to have children” (v. 31). Despite God’s blessings with each child, Leah’s deepest longing, which was for her husband’s love, remained out of reach. After every birth, Leah hoped that her husband would finally love her, yet that hope was continually unfulfilled. Consider how Leah responded after each of her first four child were born: “Leah conceived and gave birth to a son, and named him Reuben, for she said, “Because the Lord has seen my affliction; surely now my husband will love me.’” (v. 32)   “Then she conceived again and gave birth to a son, and said, ‘Because the Lord has heard that I am unloved, He has therefore given me this son also.’ So she named him Simeon.” (v. 33)   “And she conceived again and gave birth to a son, and said, ‘Now this time my husband will become attached to me, because I have borne him three sons.’ Therefore he was named Levi.” (v. 34)   “And she conceived again and gave birth to a son, and said, ‘This time I will praise the Lord.’ Therefore she named him Judah. Then she stopped having children.” (v. 35)   I wish Leah’s story ended with her praising the LORD, but it didn’t. She continued to seek Jacob’s affection by giving him what Rachel could not—children.   Just as Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham, Rachel followed the same pattern when she could not conceive, unwilling to trust God’s timing. What followed was a rivalry between Leah and Rachel, each striving to win Jacob’s love by giving him more sons. Both even gave their servants to Jacob, and through them, four more sons were born.   In time, God blessed Leah with two additional sons and a daughter, yet her longing for her husband’s love was never fulfilled (see Gen. 30:19–21). Rachel, meanwhile, bore only two sons—Joseph and, finally, Benjamin, the only son Jacob named. “Then they journeyed on from Bethel; but when there was still some distance to go to Ephrath, Rachel began to give birth and she suffered severe difficulties in her labor. And when she was suffering severe difficulties in her labor, the midwife said to her, ‘Do not fear, for you have another son!’ And it came about, as her soul was departing (for she died), that she named him Ben-oni; but his father called him Benjamin” (Gen. 35:16–18).   Application The irony in Leah’s story is striking: although she was overlooked by her father, unloved by her husband, and scorned by her younger sister, she was shown favor by God. Leah became the mother of seven children, including Levi and Judah. Through Levi, the priestly lineage was established, and through Judah, the royal line was formed—a line that ultimately led to the birth of Jesus Christ!   The promise God made to Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob... was Leah’s promise. Listen to the prophetic blessing pronounced upon Judah by Jacob in Genesis 49:8-10, As for you, Judah, your brothers shall praise you; your hand shall be on the neck of your enemies; your father’s sons shall bow down to you. Judah is a lion’s cub; from the prey, my son, you have gone up. He crouches, he lies down as a lion, and as a lion, who dares to stir him up? The scepter will not depart from Judah, nor the ruler

    53 min

  7. OCT 19

    Abraham and the Only Son

    A man named Jack accidentally fell off the edge of a steep cliff. On the way down he was able to grab ahold of a branch, which temporarily stopped his fall. He looked down and to his horror discovered that there were hundreds of feet between him and the bottom of the canyon. He couldn’t hang onto the branch forever, and there was no way for him to climb up the steep wall of the cliff.  So Jack began yelling for help, hoping that someone passing by would hear him. “HELP! HELP! Is anyone up there? “HELP!” He yelled for a long time, but no one heard him. He was about to give up when he heard a voice. “Jack, Jack. Can you hear me?” “Yes, yes! I can hear you. I’m down here!” “I can see you, Jack. Are you all right?” “Yes, but who are you, and where are you? “I am the Lord, Jack. I’m everywhere.” “The Lord? You mean, GOD?” “That’s Me.” “God, please help me! I promise if, you’ll get me down from here, I’ll stop sinning. I’ll be a really good person. I’ll serve You for the rest of my life.” “Easy on the promises, Jack. Let’s get you off from there, then we can talk.” “Now, here’s what I want you to do. Listen carefully.” “I’ll do anything, Lord. Just tell me what to do.” “Okay. Let go of the branch.” “What?” “I said, let go of the branch.” Just trust Me. Let go.” There was a long silence. Finally Jack yelled, “HELP! HELP! IS ANYONE ELSE UP THERE?”   What is faith?  Here is the way the Bible defines it: “Faith is the assurance of what we hope for and the certainty of what we do not see” (Heb. 11:1; BSB).  Abraham became known for that kind of faith, but it took a lifetime for him to get to the place of utter dependance upon God.  I am not sure what Abraham’s hopes and dreams were before he met God, but his home was in the City of Ur where Nanna, the Mesopotamian Moon god, was worshiped and his wife and family lived.  Although childless, Abraham was prosperous, settled, and old.  What he may or may not have known was that he was a descendant of Noah – ten generations removed.   When Abraham first heard God's calling, he was seventy-five years old, and his wife Sarah was sixty-five (see Gen. 12:4; 17:17). Despite their advanced age and the fact that they had no children, God gave Abraham a remarkable promise: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen. 12:1-3). This was a profound and hopeful message, especially considering that Abraham’s birth name was Abram, meaning “Exalted Father”—a title that must have felt ironic for a man with no children at seventy-five, and a wife (Sarai) ten years his junior. The name Abram brings to mind other individuals who have been given ironic or unfortunate names, such as the character mentioned in the following well-known song lyric: Well, my daddy left home when I was three Didn't leave very much to my mom and me Except this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze Now I don't blame him 'cause he run and hid But the meanest thing that my daddy ever did Was before he left, he went and named me Sue[1]   God made three foundational promises to Abraham: first, He pledged to give him a land of his own; second, He vowed that Abraham would become the father of a vast multitude of descendants; and third, He assured that all nations would be blessed through him, signifying God’s plan of redemption. Trusting in these promises, Abraham left his home in Ur and journeyed to the land that God would reveal to him.   The Promise (Gen. 17:1-9) Before we get to Genesis 17, I need to help you appreciate what Abraham (still Abram) was feeling and experiencing.  When we come to Genesis 15, Abraham and Sarah are still childless about 10 years after they were promised a child!  Abraham followed God out of obedience and brought his wife with him on the basis of a promise made by God that included many descendants, land, and a legacy that would bless multitudes in the future! At 85ish years old, God reassured Abraham (Abram), but what God’s reassurance was is up for debate based on the different ways Genesis 15:1 can be translated. Consider the ways NASB and the NKJV translated this verse: “Do not fear, Abram, I am a shield to you; Your reward shall be very great.”” (NASB2020)   “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your exceedingly great reward.” (NKJV)   So what is it?  Based on God’s promise in Genesis 13:1-3 and how He will reiterate the promise later in Genesis 15, I think it is both.  Here is one way you could paraphrase this verse: “Because I am your reward, your reward will be great.” Abraham was about ready to give up on believing the promise include a biological son, but then God swore on behalf of His own name that He would honor the promise He made to Abram and Sarah.  God then entered into what is called a unilateral covenant of which He was obligated to honor that was not conditioned on anything that Abram did or did not do.  God swore to Abraham (Abram), “One who will come from your own body will be your heir” (15:4b).  What was Abraham’s response? We are told in Genesis 15: “Then he believed in the Lord; and He credited it to him as righteousness.”  Then about a year later, Sarah (still Sarai) developed a plan for her husband to get her maid, Hagar, pregnant; to have the heir God promised through her.  After all, God said the promised heir would come from Abraham a year ago but did not seem to mention Sarai! So again, the forces of darkness were at work to prevent the Descendent promised to Adam and Eve, who would crush the head of the serpent from ever being born.[2]    Hagar did get pregnant with Abraham’s child, but all that did was bring more dysfunction into Abraham’s home, among other problems. Abraham (still Abram) was 86 and Sarah (still Sarai) 76, with no child to show for the promise God made long ago.    Now we come to the promise made yet again in Genesis 17, but this time it is 24 years since the couple left Ur and 13 years since the whole mess they create with Hagar and the birth of Ishmael. Before I go any further, let that settle in your heart and mind for a moment.  For 24 years Abraham and Sarah waited, longed, hoped for the son that Almighty God promised them.  Then 13 years later while Ishmael had reached the age of maturity and Abram resigned that there would be no heir by Ishmael, God appeared to Abraham (still Abram) and spoke yet again: “I am God Almighty; Walk before Me, and be blameless. I will make My covenant between Me and you, and I will multiply you exceedingly” (17:1-2).  It is in this moment that God gave Abram the name Abraham which means “father of a multitude.”    The blessing would not come through Ishmael, but through another son.  So that there would be no room for confusion, God said to Abraham: “As for your wife Sarai, you shall not call her by the name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her, and indeed I will give you a son by her. Then I will bless her, and she shall be a mother of nations; kings of peoples will come from her” (17:15–16).  Abraham’s response is understandable: “Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed, and said in his heart, ‘Will a child be born to a man a hundred years old? And will Sarah, who is ninety years old, give birth to a child?’” (v. 17).  Nearly one year later, when Abraham was 100 years old and Sarah was 90 years old, she gave birth to Isaac, the son of promise (Gen. 21:1-8).    The promise made to Adam and Eve, to Noah, and to Abraham would now come through Isaac.  A promise that included land, descendants (a great multitude), and the blessing of the nations.  Abraham received the promise when he was 75 and his wife past menopause which means to have a child together would have been a miracle at their respective ages, but for 90-year-old Sarah to carry the child of her 100-year-old husband was impossible!  And that is the point, isn’t it?  There was nothing that Abraham or Sarah could do to make God’s promise possible, they could not make it happen sooner, they could not adjust God’s timing, all that they could do is trust and wait for God to do only what He could in His own timing.  Their part in God’s promise was to trust, obey, and wait.    The Promise of a Better Son (Gen. 22) We are not told how many years it was after Isaac’s birth, but when we come to Genesis 22 we are told that God spoke to Abraham and said some of the most horrific words Abraham would ever hear: “Then He said, “Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I will tell you” (Gen. 22:2). Things were different this time; Abraham was different this time, for he had known God for many years since he was first called out of his homeland.  The Bible tells us that that Abraham, “...got up early in the morning and saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him and his son Isaac; and he split wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place of which God had told him” (v. 3).   There were no arguments, no debate, no protest… Abraham simply obeyed because He believed if he followed through with the sacrifice of his own son; God was big enough to raise him up from death to life.  This is why when Abraham took Isaac up the mountain, he told the young men he brought with him: “Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey, and I and the boy will go over there; and we will worship and return to you” (v. 5).   Although the exact number of years between Isaac’s birth and God’s command for Abraham

    44 min

  8. OCT 12

    Noah and the Promise of the Rainbow

    From the Pulpit of Keith Miller The story of Noah and the flood is not for little children.  The story of the flood is horrific, frightening, and tragic.  The flood is the justifiable holocaust of an entire generation with the exception of one solitary family.  Had any of the children that day survived the flood and been asked to draw on paper what they had experienced, I do not believe you would have seen anything close to what we see in our churches today like the image below:   Instead, what you would have seen is something like the pictures some of the children who survived the tsunami of 2004 that killed over 200,000 people drew to illustrate their experience:   After Cain murdered Abel and was driven away from his family to be a wanderer with his wife, we are told that the hearts of his descendants grew increasingly evil.  Cain’s great, great, great grandson Lamech was much more violent than Cain and became known for twisting the institution of marriage by taking two wives instead of one (see Gen. 4:24-24).   After Seth was born, we learn that people began to call upon the name of the God of Adam and Eve (4:26). Through Seth, another bloodline was started to counter the bloodline of Cain.  Cain’s line represents evil, while Seth’s line represents the line through which the promised Deliverer would come.  Cain’s line grew to be both secular and violent, while Seth’s line represented godliness in a world when calling upon the name of the Lord was rare and unpopular.     The Wickedness on the Earth Became Great Through Seth, God would fulfill the promise made to Adam and Eve, but there were dark powers that would seek and strive to keep the Descendant of Eve from ever being born!  It is to that part of the story we now turn our attention: Now it came about, when mankind began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of mankind were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves, whomever they chose. Then the Lord said, “My Spirit will not remain with man forever, because he is also flesh; nevertheless his days shall be 120 years.” The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of mankind, and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown. (Gen. 6:1-4)   Three groups of people are named in Genesis 6:1-4.  There are the sons of God, the daughters of mankind, and the Nephilim.  There are also three main views that have served to explain who these three sets of people were, I will share the three ways theologians throughout the ages have understood who these people are in Genesis and then I will offer a fourth possible way of understanding these verses: The “sons of God” represent the line of Seth, and the “daughters of men” represent the line of Cain. The intermingling of Seth’s descendants with Cain’s line blurred the distinction between those devoted to God and those who had turned away. This union led to a moral collapse that hastened humanity’s corruption and ultimately brought about God’s judgment through the flood.   One widely held perspective is that the “sons of God” (a phrase frequently referring to angels)[1] were fallen angels who took on human appearance and engaged in relationships with human women, referred to as the daughters of men. According to this interpretation, these unions resulted in the birth of the Nephilim—figures described as formidable, possibly giant warriors who were both feared and renowned. This view has been prominent throughout Jewish and Christian tradition.   Another interpretation suggests that the “sons of God” were regional kings who were exalted as divine figures by the people they governed. Much like Lamech, these rulers acted with unchecked authority, taking as many wives from among the “daughters of men” (ordinary women) as they desired, often practicing extensive polygamy. The offspring of these unions became influential princes, celebrated as “mighty men of old, men of renown.” I used to hold to the first view, but have since rejected it, and I have always struggled with the second view for the simple fact that angels are spiritual beings (Heb. 1:14) who do not share our DNA and therefore make it impossible to impregnate human women.  However, I do believe that fallen angels (sons of God) possessed the “sons of god” (regional rulers/kings) who took the daughters of men as wives for themselves. The reason why I believe this is because of what Jude and Peter wrote about concerning Genesis 6:1-4.[2]    According to Jude and Peter, what happened in Genesis 6 was a demonic overstepping so severe that they were judged immediately before the rest of the demons who will eventually be cast into the lake of fire. Let me share with you where I land on what is happening in Genesis 6:1-4 that seems to best fit the context and progression of sin from Cain to the flooding of the earth.   Here is the way I see it: By the time we get to Genesis 6, the culture of humankind has grown exceedingly promiscuous and violent.  Cain killed Abel. Lamech killed a man and a child and took two wives for himself, and then one generation later we are introduced to the “sons of god” taking the “daughters of men” to have children known as the Nephilim.   There was little regard for the sanctity of life and God’s design for sex within the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman. When we come to Genesis 6, we are told, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of mankind was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually” (v. 5).   In light of what we know about the religious practices of the ancient East and that fallen angels are capable of demonic possession of humans (see Mark 5:1-20), It is possible that the sons of God (fallen angels) possessed regional kings who were so wicked that they welcomed the possession of demons they may have worshiped as gods (see Deut. 32:15-17; 1 Cor. 10:20).  It is possible that the regional kings, while under the influence of those fallen angels, took on a harem of women (the daughters of men).  The regional kings of Genesis 6 opened themselves up to being demonized, and that fallen angles used their bodies to further pervert the sanctity of marriage as an institution created and sanctioned by God.    We will certainly see this when we get to the book of Revelation in January, but for now what you should know is that the institution of marriage was always designed to function as a portrait of Christ’s relationship to the Church; the apostle Paul goes as far as to state the original design of the institution of marriage in Genesis 1:26-28 and 2:18-25, “‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. However, let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband” (Eph. 5:31–33). It was because of the violence against the image of God and the perversion of the sanctity of marriage that we are told in the following verses: Then the Lord saw that the wickedness of mankind was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually. So the Lord was sorry that He had made mankind on the earth, and He was grieved in His heart. Then the Lord said, “I will wipe out mankind whom I have created from the face of the land; mankind, and animals as well, and crawling things, and the birds of the sky. For I am sorry that I have made them.” (Gen. 6:5-7).   God’s Infinite Goodness Overcomes the Deepest Wickedness It was only because the wickedness of Noah’s generation was so great, pervasive, and unrelenting that He chose to flood the earth.  Yet, even in the midst of great evil and wickedness, God chose to spare a man and his family to start over, and he did it through Noah’s family (v. 8).  So, God instructed Noah, “The end of humanity has come before Me; for the earth is filled with violence because of people; and behold, I am about to destroy them with the earth. Make for yourself an ark of gopher wood; you shall make the ark with compartments, and cover it inside and out with pitch” (Gen. 6:13-14).    Only Noah, his family, and two of every animal according to their kind were spared, as God intended to begin anew through them (notice that God specified "kind," not "species"). To Noah, God declared, “But I will establish My covenant with you, and you shall enter the ark—you, your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives with you. Of every living creature of all flesh, you shall bring two of every kind into the ark to keep them alive with you; they shall be male and female” (vv. 18-19). So, Noah and his family entered the ark, and then the floodwaters came, resulting in the destruction of thousands under the judgment of a holy God.   Although God could have rightly destroyed every living creature, He chose to spare Noah and his family. Through Noah, his family, and a chosen group of animals, protected in an ark made from wood, God demonstrated mercy. God then assured Noah with a promise: “Now behold, I Myself am establishing My covenant with you, and with your descendants after you.... I establish My covenant with you; and all flesh shall never again be eliminated by the waters of a flood, nor shall there again be a flood to destroy the earth” (vv. 8-9, 11).  What would be the sign of the covenant made with Noah?  Here is what God said: “This is the sign of the covenant which I am making between Me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations; I have set My rainbow in the cloud, and it shall serve as a sign of

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Podcast for Meadowbrooke Church Season 1 - Identity (Ephesians) Season 2 - Christians Say the Darnedest Things - Season 2 Season 3 - The Shepherd (Psalm 23) Season 4 - Faith & Works (James) Season 5 - Guest Speakers Season 6 - The Tree Season 7 - Unassigned Season 8 - Revelation

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  • Creator
    Meadowbrooke Church
  • Years Active
    2019 - 2025
  • Episodes
    100
  • Rating
    Clean
  • Copyright
    © Meadowbrooke Church
  • Show Website
    Meadowbrooke Church