Isaac's Children

Genesis 25:21-34. It would seem that the story of Isaac should be chronicled immediately following his father’s death, but Moses is in a hurry to tell the more eventful, and perhaps more significant story, of Isaac’s twin sons, Jacob and Esau. Derek Kidner comments that “The succession is so important that the story of the heirs interrupts Isaac’s story.”

Barrenness is again an issue in this family, and Isaac prays that God will give children to Rebekah. Fortunately, he and Rebekah did not have as long to wait for their prayers to be answered as his parents had waited. Rebekah became pregnant, a pregnancy that must have become quite uncomfortable, since the Scriptures describe twin babies “jostling each other within her”. In her discomfort she asked why such a thing was occurring, and God revealed to her that she actually was carrying twins. From her body, two nations would be born, nations that would not be cohesive (“two peoples from within you will be separated”), and incredibly, the younger child would have precedence over the elder.

These twins could not have been more dissimilar. The older son, Esau, was hairy and red, and no doubt, stronger. The second son made his mark on the family situation early, as he grasped his elder brother’s heel as they exited from the womb. Their different natures and interests would not have bound them naturally together. Esau was an outdoor athlete, a hunter who won the favour of his father. Jacob, was quiet and steady, preferring to live in the comfort of the tent community, and he was his mother’s favourite.

Their natures were so different, in fact, that Jacob was able to take advantage of his brother’s weakness. Returning home fatigued and hungry from a day out hunting, Esau was willing to sell his birthright to younger brother, Jacob, for a bowl of stew. The text tells us that “Esau despised his birthright.”

My modern western mind looks askance at what happened here. Jacob decidedly took advantage of his brother’s weak character, and finagled the family inheritance from him. Jacob appears to me to be devious and hateful while Esau appears to be weak and shallow, willing to give up his future to assuage his growling stomach. The birthright that Esau was so ready to relinquish indicated his status as the first-born son and meant the future headship of the family, as well as the eventual inheritance of a double share of the estate (Deut. 21:17). In Esau’s case, though, this inheritance also involved the special covenantal relationship with God that had been initially established with Abraham, and then with Isaac. The promises of God were at the heart of this birthright. Esau’s flippant contempt of God’s promises was at the heart of his willingness to trade them off for a bowl of soup. It seems that Moses regards Esau’s attitude toward the birthright as a far more serious sin than even Jacob’s conniving (Gen. 25:24).

I would like to leave the story as it stands, but of course, I cannot read this passage without thinking of the Doctrine of Election, and Paul’s reference to this story in Romans 9:10-16. Why did God chose to bless Jacob over Esau? What caused Him to exercise His sovereign will so that Jacob became a patriarch of Israel? What does he mean, when Paul writes, in reference to this story, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated”? Paul asks the question for me: “Is God unjust?” Both the Genesis account and the Romans commentary clearly indicate that God has the sovereign right to do what He wills. And Paul emphatically says that we do not receive God’s favour and forgiveness on the basis of our own merit. I can live with the fact that God is sovereign and has the right to show mercy to whom He will show mercy, but does He really hate some people? Is He unjust?

This issue was poignantly expressed to me recently by a young philosopher, who said, “What if I’m an Esau?” Theologians have written reams on Romans 9, and argued over Paul’s meaning. I do not have the training nor the inclination to explain the theological intricacies of this passage, but I am thankful for John Stott’s explanation of some of these issues in his commentary on the book of Romans. He writes: “The second Scripture says: Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated. This bald statement sounds shocking in Christian ears and cannot be taken literally.” Stott goes on to explain that Paul is using the Hebrew tool of antithesis to show preference. He compares it to Jesus’ statement in Luke 14:26 that we cannot be his disciples unless we hate our family members. Jesus does not mean that we are literally to hate our family, but rather, He forbids us to love them more than we love Him. So Paul is using a literary device to say, not that He hated Esau, but that He chose to give precedence to Jacob. Esau himself would receive a blessing, but his descendants would not be God’s chosen people. Professor Doug Stuart points out that the inclusion of Esau’s descendants in Genesis 36 indicates that, although Edom is not God’s chosen nation, the blessings to all nations promised to Abraham in Genesis 12 are available to Edom as well. The listing of Edomites shows, as Stuart says, that “God cares for them too.”

Actually, I find the Doctrine of Election comforting. If my standing with God were based on my merits, I would fall. When I can throw myself on His grace, knowing that He loves me in spite of myself, I can rejoice and worship. There is no way I can completely understand God’s sovereign will in election, but I can rest in the fact that God is full of grace and mercy, and He will not reject the contrite in heart.

Stott says that it is essential to remember two truths in regard to election. (1) Jesus taught the doctrine. “I know those I have chosen.” (John 13:18) (2) “Secondly, election is an indispensable foundation of Christian worship, in time and eternity. It is the essence of worship to say: ‘Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name be the glory.’ (Ps. 115:1) If we were responsible for our own salvation, either in whole or even in part, we would be justified in singing our own praises and blowing our own trumpet in heaven. But such a thing is inconceivable…. Why? Because our salvation is due entirely to his grace, will, initiative, wisdom and power.” (Stott, Romans, p. 268)

I do not fully understand God’s ways. But God would not be God if He were not sovereign. Scripture reveals enough of His love and grace for me to trust that He will not make arbitrary choices, but will work out His will in human lives in a way that is just and merciful.

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My Dad: David Lehman Madeira

My Dad: David Lehman Madeira
December 7, 1922 – November 29, 2006

I’m back in Ireland after a month home, following the death of my amazing and wonderful Dad. Before I start back to blogging about the book of Genesis, I’d like to post some of the thoughts I wrote my mother, a week or so after Dad passed away. These thoughts were written on December 7th, 2006.

Just over a week ago, I got home from the gym to find a message from my mother saying in a broken voice that “Dad is gone.” Since my time zone is 5 hours earlier than Mom’s, she could phone me at 3 a.m. her time and not worry about waking me. Between that call and tonight, what would have been Dad’s 84th birthday, I haven’t had much time to meditate on Dad and the wonderful gift he was. Instead, I’ve been busy flying across the Atlantic and jumping right in (with the assistance of our wonderful kids) to help Mom with all the arrangements that a death brings. In Dad’s case, because he was loved by so many hundreds of people, arranging for his funeral is kind of like planning a wedding. And I suppose, in the midst of the grief, there is a similar joy, because he is finally home, and more himself than he ever was.

The grieving process has included readings lots of cards and notes, and this reading about Dad has given me the chance to process some of the memories and feelings that have been swirling around me. So Mom, it’s time for me to write about Dad and let you know just how much he meant to me.

One of my best memories of growing up is remarkably prosaic. Remember how Dad, Dave and I used to do the supper dishes together? It’s actually one of my happiest memories—just having the time with Dad before he went off to yet another meeting. Dad was really remarkable for a husband in the fifties; he did the growing shopping, washed the kitchen floor, and the dishes—plus probably a million other domestic chores I don’t remember.

The Friday “Family Nights” were happy too. We’d watch West Point Story, eat popcorn and play games, and we always knew that Fridays were our night with you and Dad. Even though you were both busy, I knew you loved us and cared about our needs and wants and emotions. You sacrificed for us—piano lessons were not in the budget, I’m sure—nor were braces!

Dad was an incredibly consistent Christian. Of course, he was not a perfect man, but he came mighty close. When I think about his life from an adult’s vantage point, I realize that he had remarkable integrity. I can’t remember what person the Bible was describing in the verse about there “being no guile in him”, but that was certainly true of Dad. I’ve been so impressed about two refrains in all the notes you’ve received: many people came to know Jesus personally because of Dad, and his life was characterized by Christlikeness.

I think Dad really spoiled me. I hated riding the bus to high school, and generally walked home, carrying not only a significant stack of books, but my rather heavy trumpet as well. But Dad took the time to drive me to school in the mornings. I’m not sure why he did that except for sheer love. Buses were provided after all. But Dad went out of his way to give me a lift to school.

It is really not at all surprising to me that I wanted to enter “full-time Christian ministry”. Obviously, I believe my calling was a divine call, and it certainly was encouraged by the missions-emphasis of Barrington Baptist Church, but it could have been shipwrecked by bad parenting. You and Dad were so committed to serving God, as well as committed to loving us, that I never had any sense of being second-tier importance in your hearts and minds. I knew you were absolutely convinced of the veracity of what you preached, so why would I not want to give my life in just the same way you and Dad had done?

There are lots of childhood memories. Poor Dad when you tricked him by pouring water down on him when he roared up the heating shaft in the bathroom to tease us! I have this hazy picture of him in pyjamas making us oatmeal when you were in the hospital having Phil. Then there were Maine vacations, lobster on the back porch, trips to Grandma Madeira’s where we could have free ice cream!

I think my adult memories are also of significance though. It was so wonderful when you and Dad came to visit us in Honduras—offering an opportunity for our young children to get to know you. I saw another Dad when he devoured my Chaim Potok novels; I never thought he might get into such “frivolous reading”.

When we moved back to Charlton, MA, God gave us the amazing and remarkable gift of living near you and being mentored by you and Dad. It was such a source of encouragement and pleasure to be able to drop the children off at school on Monday mornings and come down and visit you. We’d sit with the sunlight streaming through the dining room windows and drink coffee and eat cardamom bread. Sometimes there’d be ministry issues to discuss, but sometimes it was just enough to be together. What a luxury (little did I realize it then!) to be able to take so many walks to see the boats at Haines Park or walk on the bike path together. What a treat to take a picnic lunch to Colt Park and smell the sea and enjoy the sound of the surf and the wind.

Dad retired from Barrington Baptist and assumed the position of director of Seminary of the East—Worcester. Since I was the office administrator of the Seminary, I got to see Dad at least once a week, and often more times than that. Dad would often come to stay overnight on Thursdays, as the school day started early on Friday. We’d sit and watch Jeopardy together in the evening, and head off to work early the next day. I loved seeing Dad relate with warmth, humility and genuine caring towards the students—and they adored him. I loved having the chance to eat lunch with him, or just enjoy a cup of coffee together.

Working as closely as I did with Dad, though, meant that I saw those first uneasy twinges of the Alzheimer’s that was to entrap him so severely. Instead of mingling with students and faculty, he became withdrawn and unsure of himself. Our Monday morning visits with you did not have quite the same carefree quality they had had in earlier days. Over time, we had to assist you in caring for this lovely man, and help you move from the home where you had lived for more than 40 years. Those were painful days, but bittersweet in that we had the opportunity to show Dad the kind of care and love he had lavished on us for so many years.

I absolutely hated the effect Alzheimer’s had on Dad. At the same time, I think we experienced a “severe mercy” because Dad never lost his essence of love and gentleness. How pleased I was that he remembered Jim (“Jim who?”) for so long. And how wonderful to feel, even the last time I saw him, that he knew I was someone special, even if he couldn’t quite ascertain who that special person was.

Emmylou says that you kept Dad’s personality alive, and she is absolutely right. You have been an example of selfless care and love for over 13 years now. It awes me, that even in the midst of exhaustion, you never seemed to realize that caring for Dad and keeping him as engaged as possible, took tremendous energy. So I do not only give tribute to Dad, but I give tribute to you as well. I am so grateful to God for giving me parents like you and Dad who so beautifully exemplified what Christ did for us in laying down his life. I love you both.

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