Deceived Deceiver

Jacob Works and Secures two brides

Alright, so let’s rewind a bit. Jacob doesn’t just stroll up to Laban’s house out of nowhere—his journey is set in motion by a whole lot of family drama.

Jacob, the younger twin, has always been a bit of a hustler. From birth, he’s grasping at his brother Esau’s heel, and that pretty much sets the tone for their relationship. Fast forward, and Jacob—coached by his mother, Rebekah—pulls off the ultimate con. He tricks his aging, blind father, Isaac, into giving him the blessing meant for Esau, essentially stealing the inheritance and spiritual authority of the family. Esau, a rugged hunter with a short fuse, is furious and swears he’s going to kill Jacob.

Rebekah, knowing Esau isn’t bluffing, tells Jacob to run for his life and head to her brother Laban’s house in Haran. But she smooths it over with Isaac by framing it as a mission to find a good wife—not like those Canaanite women Esau married. Isaac, unaware of the full drama, blesses Jacob again and sends him off.

On the way, Jacob has a life-altering encounter with God. One night, while sleeping in the wilderness with a rock for a pillow, he dreams of a ladder stretching to heaven, with angels ascending and descending. God Himself appears, reaffirming the covenant He made with Abraham and Isaac—promising land, descendants, and blessing. Jacob wakes up in awe, renames the place Bethel (“house of God”), and makes a vow: if God takes care of him, he’ll serve Him.

So, Jacob continues his journey, now carrying both a fresh sense of God’s promise and the weight of his own deception.

And when he finally arrives at a well near Haran, he meets Rachel—Laban’s daughter—and it’s love at first sight.

He moves the stone covering the well (a flex, honestly) and waters her flock, kicking off the next chapter of his wild story.

Jacob rolls up to Uncle Laban’s house, and man, he is head over heels for Rachel. He’s so smitten he’s ready to do whatever it takes—name the price, he’s in.

But here’s the twist: the deceiver is about to get played. Laban, a master of the long con, flips the script on Jacob, pulling a bait-and-switch that leaves him waking up next to Leah instead of Rachel.

Yet, even in the mess of manipulation and broken expectations, God is still moving.

Through Laban’s scheming, the foundations of the twelve tribes of Israel take shape.

What looks like a disaster is actually divine design—God using even the trickery of man to advance His unshakable plan to build a people for Himself.

Genesis 29:1–30 ESV

1 Then Jacob went on his journey and came to the land of the people of the east. 2 As he looked, he saw a well in the field, and behold, three flocks of sheep lying beside it, for out of that well the flocks were watered. The stone on the well’s mouth was large, 3 and when all the flocks were gathered there, the shepherds would roll the stone from the mouth of the well and water the sheep, and put the stone back in its place over the mouth of the well. 4 Jacob said to them, “My brothers, where do you come from?” They said, “We are from Haran.” 5 He said to them, “Do you know Laban the son of Nahor?” They said, “We know him.” 6 He said to them, “Is it well with him?” They said, “It is well; and see, Rachel his daughter is coming with the sheep!” 7 He said, “Behold, it is still high day; it is not time for the livestock to be gathered together. Water the sheep and go, pasture them.” 8 But they said, “We cannot until all the flocks are gathered together and the stone is rolled from the mouth of the well; then we water the sheep.” 9 While he was still speaking with them, Rachel came with her father’s sheep, for she was a shepherdess. 10 Now as soon as Jacob saw Rachel the daughter of Laban his mother’s brother, and the sheep of Laban his mother’s brother, Jacob came near and rolled the stone from the well’s mouth and watered the flock of Laban his mother’s brother. 11 Then Jacob kissed Rachel and wept aloud. 12 And Jacob told Rachel that he was her father’s kinsman, and that he was Rebekah’s son, and she ran and told her father. 13 As soon as Laban heard the news about Jacob, his sister’s son, he ran to meet him and embraced him and kissed him and brought him to his house. Jacob told Laban all these things, 14 and Laban said to him, “Surely you are my bone and my flesh!” And he stayed with him a month. 15 Then Laban said to Jacob, “Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?” 16 Now Laban had two daughters. The name of the older was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. 17 Leah’s eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful in form and appearance. 18 Jacob loved Rachel. And he said, “I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.” 19 Laban said, “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me.” 20 So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her. 21 Then Jacob said to Laban, “Give me my wife that I may go in to her, for my time is completed.” 22 So Laban gathered together all the people of the place and made a feast. 23 But in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to Jacob, and he went in to her. 24 (Laban gave his female servant Zilpah to his daughter Leah to be her servant.) 25 And in the morning, behold, it was Leah! And Jacob said to Laban, “What is this you have done to me? Did I not serve with you for Rachel? Why then have you deceived me?” 26 Laban said, “It is not so done in our country, to give the younger before the firstborn. 27 Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return for serving me another seven years.” 28 Jacob did so, and completed her week. Then Laban gave him his daughter Rachel to be his wife. 29 (Laban gave his female servant Bilhah to his daughter Rachel to be her servant.) 30 So Jacob went in to Rachel also, and he loved Rachel more than Leah, and served Laban for another seven years.

Jacob is Overcome with Desire

Jacob keeps moving after his encounter with God at Bethel, and before long, he rolls up on a well in the middle of a field. Now, this isn’t just any well—this thing is sealed with a massive stone, so heavy that it normally takes a whole crew of shepherds to move it (v. 3).

As Jacob is talking with the shepherds, he finds out they actually know his Uncle Laban. And right on cue, Rachel, Laban’s daughter, comes walking up with her father’s sheep (v. 9). That’s when Jacob does something wild. Overcome with emotion—and, let’s be honest, probably trying to impress her—he steps up and single-handedly moves the enormous stone all by himself (v. 10).

He moves it himself- so this momma’s boy got some strength behind him.

This is the kind of feat that makes you wonder if adrenaline, attraction, or something supernatural is fueling his strength.

Then, without hesitation, Jacob walks straight up to Rachel, kisses her, and immediately starts telling her who he is. This is no casual introduction—this is a man completely captivated. And it doesn’t stop there. Not long after, he’s so taken with Rachel that he tells Laban he’ll work seven years just for the chance to marry her (v. 18).

Seven years! But for Jacob, those years will feel like just a few days—because when love is this strong, the cost doesn’t even register.

What we see unfolding here is more than just a love story—it’s a picture of holy desire, a man wholeheartedly pursuing the woman his heart is set on. Jacob doesn’t just want a wife—he wants Rachel.

Not because she checks off a list of qualities, but because his heart is drawn to her. There’s a romantic intensity here, a single-minded pursuit that Scripture actually celebrates.

We see this same kind of passion in Song of Solomon, where love is not just duty—it’s delight. The Bible never shies away from the reality that sexual attraction is a natural and good part of romantic love.

But—and this is key—it’s not the whole story. Eros, this earthly love, is beautiful when it’s tied to something deeper, when it’s anchored in agape—the self-giving, sacrificial love that reflects God’s heart.

Here’s where culture often gets it twisted. The world tends to define love purely through the lens of attraction and feelings—like love is just something you fall into and out of.

That kind of thinking leads people to chase an emotional high, always searching for that spark, mistaking infatuation for something lasting.

But as Christians, we don’t throw out passion—we just root it in something more solid. Love isn’t just about how you feel in a moment; it’s about who you choose, day after day, with a love that reflects the very heart of God.

There’s something powerful about wells in Scripture—they’re not just places to draw water, but places where divine encounters happen. In Genesis, Jacob, fresh off his encounter with God at Bethel, comes to a well and meets Rachel. Fast forward to John 4, and we see another weary traveler stopping at a well—only this time, it’s Jesus.

Jesus, traveling from Judea to Galilee, stops to rest at Jacob’s well in Samaria (John 4:6). And there, he meets a woman who has no idea that her life is about to change forever. She questions him, asking if he’s greater than their ancestor Jacob (John 4:12). And Jesus, in the way only he can, flips the script. Jacob found water at this well, but Jesus? He is the source of living water. Jacob saw a stairway to heaven in his dream, but Jesus is the fulfillment of that vision—the direct connection between heaven and earth.

And the moment isn’t lost on the Samaritan woman. As soon as Jesus starts revealing who he is, she pivots to worship. It’s no accident that this happens. Jesus tells her that true worship isn’t about location or ritual—it’s about worshiping the Father in Spirit and in truth (John 4:23). In other words, the stairway Jacob saw isn’t just a dream—it’s standing right in front of her, calling her into something greater. What Jacob caught a glimpse of, Jesus is now making a reality.

Jacob was sent on a mission—to find a wife and secure the promise of God through his descendants. And at a well, he found Rachel, the woman he would do whatever it took to pursue. But centuries later, at another well, another pursuit was unfolding—one even greater.

The Samaritan woman, standing before Jesus, brings up the coming Messiah, saying that when he arrives, he’ll explain everything (John 4:25). And in that moment, Jesus makes it clear—she doesn’t have to wait any longer. The promise is standing right in front of her.

But Jesus doesn’t look at this woman the way Jacob looked at Rachel. His love isn’t driven by desire—it’s driven by sacrifice. Jacob was willing to work seven years to win his bride, but Jesus? He’s willing to give everything. He doesn’t just offer her water; he offers living water (John 4:10). He doesn’t just give her a better well; he gives her a better way to worship. No more temples, no more barriers—just a heart fully surrendered to God.

What Jacob did for Rachel is just a shadow of what Jesus does for his people.

At the well, Jesus isn’t just pursuing one woman—he’s making a declaration to all of us.

He will do whatever it takes to win his bride, the Church. The pursuit isn’t based on our worthiness, our past, or our status. It’s based on his love—a love that doesn’t just work for us, but bleeds for us.

While we see this clear Foreshadowing of the Messiah to come- its was also real to Jacob and we see that He was overcome with desire.

But then we see that the Deceiver is deceived.

2. Jacob is Deceived by Laban.

After seven long years of hard work, Jacob is finally ready to claim his bride. He goes to Laban and says, Alright, I’ve held up my end—give me Rachel (v. 21). Laban, always the schemer, doesn’t outright deny him. Instead, he throws what looks like a wedding feast (v. 22), complete with what we can assume is plenty of wine and all the customs of the time—including a heavily veiled bride.

But here’s where things take a turn. The official transfer of the bride doesn’t happen until evening, when Jacob is sent into the marriage tent to consummate the union. There’s no electric lighting, no way to see clearly, and with the combination of darkness, a veil, and probably a little too much celebration wine, Jacob has no idea that the woman he’s with isn’t Rachel.

It’s only when the morning light breaks that the deception is fully exposed. Jacob turns over, expecting to see the face of the woman he loves, but instead, he finds Leah. The text is blunt—Rachel was “shapely and beautiful” (v. 17), while Leah is described only as having “tender eyes,” a phrase that suggests she lacked the same outward beauty.

Jacob, the deceiver, has just been deceived. The man who tricked his own father into giving him a blessing meant for someone else now wakes up to a bride he never intended to marry. It’s a hard, ironic moment—one that reminds us that sometimes, God teaches through the very things we’ve done to others.

Jacob wakes up, sees Leah beside him, and immediately storms off to confront Laban. What have you done to me? he demands. Wasn’t it Rachel I worked for? Why did you deceive me? (v. 25). The frustration, the anger, the sting of betrayal—it’s all there. But Laban? He plays it cool, hiding behind cultural customs as if this was all just a misunderstanding. Oh, didn’t you know? In our country, we don’t marry off the younger daughter before the older one (v. 26). Right. Convenient timing for that little detail.

The irony is thick. The man who tricked his blind father into blessing the younger son instead of the older one has now been tricked into marrying the older sister instead of the younger. And here’s the kicker—Jacob uses the same Hebrew word for “deceive” that his father Isaac used when he realized Jacob had tricked him (v. 25; cf. 27:35). It’s as if God is holding up a mirror to Jacob’s own life. The deceiver has become the deceived.

Jacob thought he was in control, thought he could outmaneuver his way to what he wanted. But now he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. And yet, even in this mess, God is at work. Because through Leah—through the wife Jacob never wanted—God will bring about Judah. And from Judah’s line will come the Lion, Jesus Christ. What Jacob sees as betrayal, God is using for something far greater than he could ever imagine.

Laban, ever the master manipulator, doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t try to make things right. Instead, he makes another deal. Work for me another seven years, and you can have Rachel too (v. 27). And Jacob? He doesn’t hesitate. No anger, no argument—just immediate agreement. Because for him, Rachel is worth it.

So just one week after his wedding to Leah, Jacob marries Rachel as well.

In the span of seven days, he goes from a man desperate for one wife to a man with two.

Charles Spurgeon had this to say about this situation.

We do not excuse Laban for his dishonesty, but we scruple not to learn from the custom which he quoted as his excuse. There are some things which must be taken in order, and if we would win the second we must secure the first. The second may be the more lovely in our eyes, but the rule of the heavenly country must stand, and the elder must be married first. For instance, many men desire the beautiful and well-favoured Rachel of joy and peace in believing, but they must first be wedded to the tender-eyed Leah of repentance.

Every one falls in love with happiness, and many would cheerfully serve twice seven years to enjoy it, but according to the rule of the Lord’s kingdom, the Leah of real holiness must be beloved of our soul before the Rachel of true happiness can be attained. Heaven stands not first but second, and only by persevering to the end can we win a portion in it. The cross must be carried before the crown can be worn. We must follow our Lord in his humiliation, or we shall never rest with him in glory.

But the story doesn’t end with happily ever after. The text makes it painfully clear: He loved Rachel more than Leah (v. 30).

And here’s where the heartbreak sets in. Leah, the wife Jacob never wanted, will spend years longing for the love of a husband who will never truly choose her.

Rachel, the wife Jacob worked so hard for, will soon find herself in her own struggle with infertility and jealousy.

This family is marked by tension from the very beginning.

But even in the middle of this mess, God is still writing a bigger story—one that stretches far beyond Jacob’s love and Laban’s schemes.

Because through this broken, complicated family, God will bring about the twelve tribes of Israel, and through them, the Savior of the world.

3. The birth of the 12 Tribes

Let’s Finish off the chapter.

Genesis 29:31–35 ESV

31 When the Lord saw that Leah was hated, he opened her womb, but Rachel was barren. 32 And Leah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Reuben, for she said, “Because the Lord has looked upon my affliction; for now my husband will love me.” 33 She conceived again and bore a son, and said, “Because the Lord has heard that I am hated, he has given me this son also.” And she called his name Simeon. 34 Again she conceived and bore a son, and said, “Now this time my husband will be attached to me, because I have borne him three sons.” Therefore his name was called Levi. 35 And she conceived again and bore a son, and said, “This time I will praise the Lord.” Therefore she called his name Judah. Then she ceased bearing.

Leah is hated (v. 31). She’s the wife Jacob never wanted, the one he didn’t choose, the one living in the shadow of Rachel’s beauty and affection. And yet, while Jacob’s love is withheld from her, God’s love is not. The Lord sees Leah. He has compassion on her. And in a world where barrenness was considered a curse, God opens Leah’s womb and fills her arms with children.

But Leah’s heart is still aching. She’s desperate for Jacob’s approval, longing for his affection, hoping that with each son she bears, his heart will turn toward her. And that longing is written in the names she gives them:

Reuben—"The Lord has seen my affliction; surely my husband will love me now" (v. 32). She believes that maybe, just maybe, this child will make Jacob see her.

Simeon—"The Lord heard" (v. 33). heard what? That she is hated. The pain hasn’t gone away, and she’s still crying out for love.

Levi— meaning adhered or attached. "At last, my husband will become attached to me" (v. 34). Three sons in, and she’s still grasping for Jacob’s heart.

But something shifts when she gives birth to her fourth son:

Judah—"to Praise or to Thank" (v. 35).

With Judah, Leah’s focus changes. Instead of chasing after Jacob’s approval, she turns her eyes to God. And in that, we see something remarkable—because from this son, from Judah’s line, will come the Messiah. The unloved wife, the rejected woman, the one who spent years striving for her husband’s affection, will become the mother of the tribe that brings forth Jesus Christ.

Leah longed for Jacob’s love, but what she got was far greater—God’s plan unfolding through her, a legacy leading to the Savior of the world.

While Leah is having child after child, Rachel is left waiting. Barren. Empty. And her heart fills with something dark—envy (30:1). The love Jacob lavishes on her isn’t enough anymore. She watches her sister give him son after son, and bitterness takes root. Her frustration spills over onto Jacob, and their marriage begins to strain under the weight of her unmet desires.

And yet, even in the midst of Leah’s rejection and Rachel’s jealousy, God is weaving something far bigger than either of them can see.

Leah—the unwanted, unloved wife—becomes the mother of Israel’s priests and kings.

From Levi will come the priests who will serve in God’s temple.

And from Judah will come the kings—culminating in the King of Kings himself, Jesus Christ.

Through Leah, the Messiah’s lineage is established. She becomes, in a sense, the spiritual grandmother of every believer. The woman who spent her life longing for human love ends up playing a central role in God’s redemptive plan.

But Leah never sees this. She lives out her days feeling overlooked, unchosen, and bitter. From her perspective, life feels like a series of painful rejections. Yet all along, God is at work. What she saw as a life of disappointment, heaven saw as the unfolding of redemption.

This is what God does. He takes what looks desperate, what feels broken, and uses it for his glory. Leah’s story is a reminder to every weary, overlooked soul—you are seen, you are known, and God is doing something bigger than you can imagine.

This truth should bring comfort to us. Leah didn’t get to see the full picture—she lived and died feeling unwanted, unaware that through her, the line of the Messiah was being established. But we? We know more. We stand on the other side of history, with the clarity of the gospel in front of us.

Jacob clung to a promise he barely understood. We know the name of the Messiah. We know where he was born.

We know how he lived, how he died, and how he rose again. The fulfillment of Abraham’s seed isn’t some distant mystery to us—it’s Jesus.

And we know what Jacob and Leah couldn’t: that God is working all things, even suffering, even rejection, even pain, to conform us to the image of Christ (Rom. 8:28–30).

So when trials come—and they will—we don’t have to respond with anger or mistrust. Instead, James tells us to count it all joy (Jas. 1:2–3).

Not because suffering is easy, not because pain doesn’t hurt, but because we know that God is doing something in it.

Leah didn’t get to see what God was building through her, but she was never forgotten. And neither are we.

this is a messy, dysfunctional family. Deception, jealousy, heartbreak—it’s all there. And yet, this is the family God chooses to build his people through.

Leah, the unloved wife, becomes the matriarch of the majority of Israel’s tribes.

Rachel, her envied sister, and their two servants, Bilhah and Zilpah, bear the rest. It’s not a clean, picture-perfect family story. It’s complicated. It’s broken. But God isn’t limited by human messiness—he works through it.

Out of this tangled web of relationships, the twelve tribes of Israel are born. And out of one of those tribes—Judah—comes Jesus, the Messiah.

The Savior of the world emerges from a family full of rivalry and pain, proving once again that God’s plan isn’t thwarted by human weakness. If anything, he delights in using the unexpected to bring about his glory.

The thread runs all the way from Leah’s tear-stained prayers to the final pages of Scripture. Out of this complicated, pain-filled family, Jesus will one day call twelve men to help lead his mission.

And through those twelve apostles, God will establish his church—a movement that doesn’t stop with them but grows into something beyond imagination.

John’s vision in Revelation pulls the camera back even further: 144,000 sealed, a symbolic number that represents the fullness of God’s people (Rev. 7:4).

But then the vision keeps expanding—beyond Israel, beyond counting. What started with twelve tribes grows into a vast, innumerable multitude of worshippers from every nation, tribe, and tongue.

And it all traces back to this—a dark and painful marriage, born from deception, yet sovereignly used by God.

Leah never knew the magnitude of what God was doing through her.

But that’s the thing about God’s faithfulness—it’s not dependent on our ability to see it. He was blessing her, even when she felt forgotten. And if he did it for Leah, he can do it for us.

Jesus doesn’t just come from someone like Leah—he comes for people like Leah. That’s the beauty of the gospel.

In a spiritual sense, every single one of us—outside of Christ—is just as undesirable, just as unchosen, just as neglected as Leah was to Jacob. We bring nothing to the table that should make God want us. And yet, in his mercy, he does.

Jesus doesn’t go after the strong, the put-together, the ones who seem like obvious picks. He seeks out the weak, the forgotten, the overlooked.

The ones the world disregards. The ones carrying rejection deep in their bones. Because that’s what grace does—it chooses the unloved and calls them beloved.

But Tim Keller powerfully observes that the reason God goes after Leah and not Rachel, why he makes the girl who [sic] nobody wanted into the mother of Jesus, the bearer of the Messianic line, the bearer of salvation to the world, is not just that he likes the underdog, but because that is the gospel.

Leah’s story isn’t just a footnote in history. It’s a preview of the gospel itself.

May we be reminded of that.

Jesus comes from the unlovable, and he comes for the unlovable.

Let’s pray.