Then Jacob gave Esau some bread and some lentil stew. He ate and drank, and then got up and left. So Esau despised his birthright. (Genesis 25:34)
Genesis 25 is a fascinating chapter covering a span of a number of years.
It starts with the rest of the life of the father of faith and the chapter ends with the mistreatment of a precious gift in a faithless action.
Abraham loved all his sons, but it was Isaac who got everything. It was Isaac who inherited the birthright, even though he was younger than Ishmael. That pattern of a second son getting what should have gone to the first son is echoed throughout scripture. Abel’s accepted, Cain’s was rejected. Jacob put Joseph’s younger above the older. Solomon gains what bypasses his older siblings. This culminates in Jesus being the second Adam and exhibiting and receiving that which could have gone to the first Adam.
Esau, then, is in good company when it comes to an older brother complex. His actions, however, reveal a man who has no real appreciation of the value of what could have been his. Though we can highlight the manipulative trickery of Jacob, that trickery would have got nowhere if Esau valued what was his.
It is fascinating and sad to see how the lineage of patience, endurance and faithfulness running from Abraham and evidenced in Isaac’s wait for children himself, is not reflected in Isaac’s first of the twins.
I can look on with dismay at Esau’s attitude and tut tut, yet the question can be directed at me: how much do I value the birthright of the child of God? Is it more precious to me than anything? Will I never give it up even when the desires of this world endeavour to entice me? Will I cling onto being a joint heir with Jesus when the pressures of life endeavour to choke any fruitfulness from me? Or will my felt needs overwhelm me in a moment of self-satisfaction? Will the allure of instant gratification cost me an eternity with the Saviour?
Sure there’s grace and mercy. Sure His love lasts forever and He’s a merciful Lord. That does not mean we can afford to take the treasured birthright of being joint heirs with the Master for granted.
Esau stands to remind us that our walk of faith must not be something we treat casually, or like him our birthright can go horribly wrong.
For His Name’s Sake
Shalom
C. L. J. Dryden
