Jacob and Esau
Genesis • Sermon • Submitted • Presented
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Genesis 25:19-34
Genesis 25:19-34
Nations at War from the Beginning.
Here we go again—same struggle, different generation. Just like Sarah before her, Rebekah can’t have kids. And listen, this isn’t just a personal frustration; this is a crisis for the promise of God. If Abraham’s line is supposed to produce a nation, infertility looks like a major roadblock. But watch what happens—Isaac doesn’t scheme, doesn’t take matters into his own hands like his dad did. He prays. He goes straight to God and pleads for his wife. And here’s the thing: God hears him. Not only does Rebekah conceive, but she’s carrying twins. Because when God moves, He doesn’t just meet the need—He goes above and beyond. That’s His character.
Infertility is heavy. It’s real, it’s painful, and for some couples, it feels like a never-ending season of waiting and wondering. Some will eventually conceive after years of struggle. Others won’t. And let’s be honest—that’s a hard reality. The Bible doesn’t give a blanket promise that every couple longing for a child will have one, but it does give something better: the unshakable goodness of God. Again and again, we see Him work in ways that don’t make sense—opening wombs that were declared closed, showing mercy where there was only despair. But here’s what we’ve got to get—our hope isn’t ultimately in having kids. Our hope is in the God who sees, who hears, and who loves us right in the middle of our longing and waiting. He answers prayers—not always in the way we expect, but always in the way that’s best. So for those carrying the weight of infertility, know this: You are not forgotten. You are deeply loved by a God who is always faithful.
So check this out—in verse 22, Moses doesn’t say Rebekah just had ‘something’ inside her. He says she had children inside her. Two real, living, image-bearing human beings. Not just potential life. Not just tissue. Actual people, already displaying personalities before they’ve taken their first breath. And we see it—they’re not just hanging out in there; they’re struggling. That tension between Jacob and Esau? It starts in the womb. And here’s the bigger truth Scripture makes crystal clear: from the moment of conception, every baby carries the worth and dignity of being made in God’s image. There’s no debate here. Life in the womb isn’t an accident, an inconvenience, or a ‘what if.’ It’s precious. It’s intentional. And because of that, it’s absolutely worthy of protection.
Rebekah’s feeling the chaos inside her—these babies aren’t just kicking; they’re wrestling. So she asks God, ‘What is even happening here?’ And God’s answer? ‘This isn’t just about two kids. This is about two nations.’ See, this is part of the promise God made to Abraham—his line wouldn’t just grow, it would multiply. And now, through Rebekah, that’s unfolding. From Esau, the Edomites. From Jacob, Israel. What God told Isaac and Rebekah isn’t just a baby announcement—it’s a declaration of history in the making. Because God’s plan isn’t small. It’s not just about one family; it’s about nations, about a story bigger than they can see. And that’s how God works—answering prayer in ways that don’t just meet the need but shape the future.
From the moment they’re born, the differences between these two boys are impossible to miss. Esau comes out first, and he’s covered in red hair—like, full-on wilderness mode from day one. He grows up strong, a hunter, the kind of guy you’d expect to lead a nation. If you were picking a founder of a people, you’d probably bet on Esau. He’s the obvious choice. But here’s the thing—God doesn’t operate by human expectations. Before these boys even take their first breath, God has already made His choice. And it’s not Esau. The weaker, younger son—Jacob—is the one who will carry the promise. Why? Because God’s plan has never been about human strength or ability. It’s about His sovereignty. He doesn’t choose based on who looks the part. He chooses based on His purposes. And that’s really good news for the rest of us.
Malachi looks back at Jacob and Esau and makes it plain—God chose Jacob. Not because he was better, stronger, or more deserving, but simply because God chose him. And Paul picks this up in Romans 9:11-13
11 though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls—
12 she was told, “The older will serve the younger.”
13 As it is written, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.”
to make a huge point: God made this decision before these boys were even born, before they had done anything good or bad. Why? So that it would be clear—God’s purpose stands, not by human effort, but by His call. Paul quotes Genesis: ‘The older will serve the younger.’ Then he drops this bomb—‘Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.’
And that messes with us, right? Because we want to say, ‘That’s not fair!’ But Paul isn’t backing down. He’s saying, ‘Look, if this was about fairness, none of us would stand a chance.’ God’s mercy isn’t something we earn.
It’s not based on what we do. It’s His to give. And that’s actually really good news. Because if salvation depended on us, we’d be in trouble. But it depends on God, and He is faithful, sovereign, and merciful. So instead of arguing fairness, we need to throw ourselves at the feet of the One who gives mercy freely."
Paul makes it crystal clear—Jacob doesn’t get the promise because he’s any better than Esau. In fact, Jacob’s name means ‘deceiver.’ He’s a man who could never earn God’s favor any more than Esau could. So why does God choose Jacob? Not because of merit, but because of His own sovereign will and electing purpose. And here’s the thing—neither Jacob nor his descendants have any reason to boast in this election. This isn’t about them, it’s about God’s grace.
Now, for us as Christians, this truth should bring both warning and hope. The warning is that there’s nothing we can do to earn God’s favor. There’s nothing in us that makes us worthy of His blessing. It’s all a gift. That should humble us, cause us to cherish God’s grace like we’ve never cherished anything before. But here’s the hope: God’s election is based entirely on His will and His grace in Christ. When we realize that we didn’t earn the blessing of God, we also realize that we can’t lose it. We didn’t earn it, so we can’t un-earn it. Ephesians 1:3-6 says that in Christ, God has already chosen us, and He will always be faithful to His promise. That’s grace we can stand on."
An Appetite of Destruction
Isaac and Jacob couldn’t be more different, and that sets up a battle for the inheritance. Esau’s the rugged outdoorsman, the expert hunter—he’s out there, living wild, bringing home the game. Meanwhile, Jacob’s the quiet, stay-at-home type. And here’s the kicker: Isaac and Rebekah, the parents, have their own preferences too, which only makes things worse. Isaac favors Esau because, well, Esau brings him the food he likes. In other words, Isaac’s the one receiving the gifts in this story, not giving them. Unlike the picture Jesus paints in the Gospels, where fathers are praised for giving good gifts (Luke 11:11–13), Isaac is more like a man who receives in order to love. He doesn’t love Esau just because he’s his son—Esau earns his love by feeding him. And on the flip side, Rebekah spends more time with Jacob, and so she favors him. This favoritism sets the stage for a deeper division between the two boys, and it’s a mess.
The tension between the brothers grows as Esau makes a decision that will haunt him—he gives up his birthright. The birthright was his by right as the firstborn son, the inheritance that should have been his to carry on the family name and legacy. But here’s where it all goes wrong: Esau comes back from hunting one day, starving and exhausted. And right in front of him, Jacob’s cooking up a red stew—something he’s probably learned to make from his mom, during all the time he’s spent at home. Esau smells it, sees it, and his hunger takes over. He asks for some, and Jacob, recognizing the opportunity, offers him a bowl in exchange for Esau’s birthright. One meal. That’s all it takes for Esau to throw away what should have been his future, his inheritance, for a momentary craving. And Moses doesn’t mince words—he says, ‘Esau despised his birthright.’ That’s what happens when we trade the eternal for the temporary. It’s foolishness.
Esau’s foolish decision to despise his birthright doesn’t just stay in Genesis. The writer of Hebrews points to this moment as a warning for us today. Esau is called ‘immoral’ and ‘irreverent,’ and the evidence is right here in Genesis 25. Why? Because he let his fleshly appetites control him. Hebrews warns us not to fall into the same trap, where we chase after our own desires at the cost of God’s best. The path of the flesh gives in to those urges, those cravings, while the path of the Spirit teaches us to govern them wisely.
16 But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.
Galatians 5:16–26 spells it out—the flesh indulges, but the Spirit empowers us to walk in self-control. Esau couldn’t see past the immediate. He traded his long-term inheritance for a short-term hunger.
We see this type of decision making every day in our world. We see temporary solutions at the expense of the big picture.
How many people have raked up Credit Card debt because they had to have something right at that moment and next thing you know they are behind in the bills all because they have to buy things they don’t need, with money they don’t have, to impress people they don’t like.
We all have short-term things for short-term benefits.
And here’s the thing: apart from Christ, we all do the same thing and fall into that.
We chase after what’s temporary, we ignore what’s eternal.
But we are called to be good stewards of all that God has given us.
When we think- more is mine- we have already lost. Thats why God calls us to give our first and our best, not the left overs. It has to do with our hearts not with our That’s the danger, and that’s why we need the grace of God in Jesus to break that cycle.
When we compare Esau’s decision to the example of Jesus, it makes Esau’s rejection of his birthright even more staggering. Think about it—Jesus, in the wilderness, is faced with a temptation that mirrors Esau’s moment. He’s starving, exhausted, at the end of His strength, and Satan offers Him food. The difference? Jesus’ meal will cost Him His inheritance. Satan’s words in Matthew 4:3 are tempting, ‘If you’re the Son of God, make yourself a meal. Satisfy your hunger.’ But Jesus refuses. Not because eating is sinful, but because He knows that the inheritance He’s been given by the Father is far more important than a moment of temporary satisfaction. Jesus doesn’t give in to the instant gratification Esau craved. He chooses the eternal over the immediate.
When Esau despises his birthright, he’s not just making a bad decision—he’s cutting himself off from the promises of God. By satisfying his hunger in that moment, he forfeits the blessing that was his by right, the inheritance that would come through Jesus, the greatest Son of Abraham. And here's the thing: we face the same choice. Will we give in to the flesh, gratifying our appetites and persisting in unbelief, or will we rule over them in faith, valuing the inheritance promised to us in Christ? Paul puts it like this in Philippians 3:7-9—everything we gain in this world is nothing compared to the surpassing worth of knowing Christ. The inheritance is far too valuable to trade for momentary satisfaction. Our choice is clear: we either live for the fleeting or we live for the eternal.