You don’t get to choose your ancestors. Each of us are born into families filled with wonderful people, along with those we tend to not discuss. All our people are sinners, of course, so we inherit that trait along with crooked teeth and stringy hair. We are broken people who come from broken people. Which is why the grace of God means so much.

Jesus came from the tribe of Judah, and the paterfamilias carried his own baggage. Judah joined his brothers in getting rid of Joseph, their younger brother. They debated killing him, but Judah had a better idea. He argued, What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? Come, let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites. After the transaction they claimed Joseph was killed to their father, who mourned for years.

Judah next cheated his daughter-in-law Tamar out of her rights as a widow. Only after being found out in a most dramatic fashion did Judah finally admit to his guilt. God put two of his sons to death, because they were wicked in the sight of the Lord. All to say, Jesus didn’t come from the purest of stock. His family tree contained men and women of great faith, and others so corrupt God ended their lives prematurely.

My forbearers, near and far, may not measure up to certain ideals. But upon closer inspection neither do I. Thankfully, the Lord redeems each of us based on our own response to Him. Jesus, The Lion of Judah, inherited good and bad from his family history, and certainly overcame the villainous people of his lineage. The Lord empowers you and I to do so as well.

Genesis 37 & 38

Photo by Anne Nygård

Jacob wrestled with God. On a move to a new land with his family and all his earthly possessions, Jacob separated himself from the main camp for the night. While he was alone, a man wrestled with him until the break of day. The man wrenched Jacob’s hip from the socket and left him with a permanent limp. But Jacob didn’t let go and demanded a blessing, clearly sensing the divine nature of his opponent.

The man responded, Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.

Jacob battled with everyone around him. He cheated his brother out of his blessing, butted heads with his father-in-law over his daughters and his wages, and endured ongoing drama between his wives as they vied for his wandering attention.

Jacob battled with God as well, and God left him wrestle away. Perhaps this is what Jacob needed, to encounter the One whom he could not manipulate or deceive. As Jacob exhausted himself, the angelic wrestler left him with a permanent injury, reminding him of his dependence on God. Then he gave his a new name—Israel—meaning one who strives with God.

I find hope in this story because Jacob didn’t just doubt God, or whine to God, or pout before God. He violently grappled with God. The Lord doesn’t fear our doubts or anger or frustrations or questions. He meets us as we seek him, even with our doubtful mindsets and flawed lifestyles.

It’s okay to wrestle with God. In fact, it seems the Lord rather likes wrestling. Go get you some, as it might be just the encounter with God you need.

Genesis 32:22-32

Painting by Eugène Delacroix (1861)

Our church doesn’t pass the plate anymore. By that I mean we don’t regularly hand an offering basket through the rows of congregants on Sunday mornings. The practice was paused during the Covid days, and now one gives either online, or by dropping a contribution into boxes at the back of the sanctuary.

I never watch people drop checks into the offering box, but Jesus did. I wonder how often? One day he observed several rich people dropping in large sums, so it must have been obvious what they gave. Part of the show of wealth, I suppose. But then a poor widow humbly placed two copper coins in the box, worth about a penny. In today’s values, even less than that.

Jesus called his disciples over and said, Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.

Such a challenge. While I try to be a good giver, I don’t hand over everything I have to live on, not even close. Sounds crazy. But I do notice that as I give, God returns his favor. Also, I can give of my time, talents, influence, expertise and labor along with my finances. Opportunities arise on every side.

I don’t have near enough faith to give away everything I possess. Nor do I feel that God is asking me to do so. But this teaching bounces around in my head. What can I give, or what should I give? What needs draw my eyes? Maybe a better way to say it is, what copper coins do I cling to that would serve better by donating them to the kingdom of God?

It’s worth some consideration. A humble widow, giving a minuscule amount, sparked generous giving for two thousand years. God certainly multiplied her gift. He can do the same for you and me as well.

Mark 12:41-44

Photo by Leiada Krözjhen

In an abrupt interaction, Jesus responded to a Gentile woman who begged him to deliver her daughter from demonic torments. Clearly in distress, she rushed up to Jesus and fell as his feet.

Then he said to her, Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs. Which sounds rather rude, but Jesus hoped to unearth this woman’s faith. She answered him, Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.

Recognizing her clear faith, Jesus responded, For this statement you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter. She then ran home to find her little girl lying in bed and demon-free.

Two wonderful truths emerge from this story. First, Jesus opened his arms to all people, Gentiles included. Christianity will spread far beyond Israel to encompass the entire world, good news for you and me.

Second, it only takes a tiny bit of faith for the Lord to work. If you maneuver onto a frozen pond with piddling faith that the ice will hold you, yet the ice is two feet thick, you’ll be fine. If you have all the faith in the world and the ice measures one half inch, you’re headed for a dunking. Faith is not the point—it’s the object of our faith that matters.

Merely a crumb. Doesn’t feel like much, but a sliver of faith can change the world.

Mark 7:24-30

Photo by Yue Iris