The Fracture: Building Our Own Name
Notes
Transcript
Good morning. I’m glad you’re here.
We’re beginning a new series today that speaks to what we’re all experiencing right now. Our world feels broken. People are split by politics, culture, race, and beliefs. But most of us agree on this: we need unity.
But we rarely pause to ask: what types of unity are there, and what are they based on?
Scripture teaches that not every kind of unity is good. Some unity is built on fear, a need for control, or lifting ourselves up. Not all togetherness brings life. In fact, when unity is based on these things, it can even speed up our turning away from God.
That’s why today we’re looking at Genesis 11. It’s not just a children’s story about languages, but a serious look at our hearts and our longing for security, identity, and lasting meaning without God.
My prayer this morning is simple: that we let God’s Word show us where we’ve tried to build our own towers, and that we start to see true unity comes not from us reaching up, but from God coming down. May He help us be humble, give us wisdom to see our pride, and bring us closer together through His grace and truth.
Let’s begin by asking the Lord to meet us in His Word.
Father in heaven,
We come to You this morning because we need Your truth more than our own opinions,
and Your wisdom more than our instincts.
We admit that we often long for unity, security, and peace.
But too often, we try to find these things without You.
We are quick to build, quick to strive, and slow to trust.
As we open Your Word, help us see our hearts. Guard us from defensiveness.
Help us reject pride within us and choose humility instead.
Give us humility to receive Your words, even when they confront us.
Thank You that You come down—not to crush us, but to rescue us.
You do not leave us scattered, but gather us in grace.
By Your Spirit, help us hear, believe, and respond in faith.
We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.
Why Babel Still Matters
Unity. We hear this word everywhere these days.
People say we need unity in our nation, our communities, our workplaces, and even our families. That makes sense because division is painful. Fragmentation wears us out, and most of us feel it every day.
But the Bible asks us to pause and consider a deeper question. It’s not just about wanting unity, but about the kind of unity we are seeking.
Scripture makes it clear that not all unity is good, and not every kind of togetherness brings life.
This is why Genesis 11 is so important. It’s not just an odd story hidden in the early chapters of the Bible. It acts like a mirror, showing us what happens when people unite around the wrong things—when unity is based on fear, control, and pride instead of trust in God.
At Babel, people were united. They spoke one language, shared one purpose, and had one vision. Their goal was, “Let us make a name for ourselves.” They wanted security, lasting success, and control.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: those desires don’t seem strange to us. In fact, they feel very familiar.
We still build towers today, though not with bricks and mortar. Instead, we use systems, ideas, technology, and identities that promise safety and meaning, often leaving God out. We’re tempted to think that building bigger, stronger, or more united will give us security on our own terms.
But Babel teaches us a hard lesson: unity that is built on ourselves will always break apart.
Yet this is crucial: Genesis 11 is not about God losing patience and leaving. It’s about a God who comes down, who steps in, and who will not let people destroy themselves with a false unity that cannot save.
That’s why this series is called The Fracture. Before God heals, He reveals what is broken. Before He gathers, He scatters. Before He creates real unity, He takes apart what is false.
Throughout this series, we’ll return to a simple but powerful truth: True unity does not come from us reaching up, but from God coming down.
Genesis 11 shows us what unity looks like without God. But it also prepares us for what God will one day do, when He comes down not to confuse, but to redeem.
Let’s open our Bibles to Genesis 11 and ask God to challenge our assumptions and change how we understand true unity in our lives today.
Let’s examine Genesis 11, starting at verse 1.
Now the whole earth had one language and the same words.
The passage immediately establishes the setting: unity in communication. With one language and the same words, there are no barriers to cooperation. They can organize, execute, and expand efficiently.
This distinction is important. The passage does not condemn unity itself. The concern is how their unity is used. Unity is powerful and can be directed toward worship or rebellion.
The in Verse 2 we read:
And as people migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there.
After describing their movement and settlement, the narrative highlights a strategic location: flat, open land suitable for centralization and growth. The text identifies this as Shinar, later associated with Babylon. This is significant because the Bible signals that this is not only a geographic detail but also a theological one. The spirit of Babel will resonate throughout Scripture.
Then in verse 3 we read:
And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar.
This appears to be a simple construction detail, but it carries deeper significance.
In the ancient world, stone was a common building material, but the plains lacked an accessible supply. In response, they innovated by manufacturing thoroughly baked bricks and using bitumen, or tar, as mortar.
Given these details, what's the main point?
The point is that humanity is not weak. They are not scattered nomads, but capable, organized, and advancing through technology, coordination, and a shared vision.
Again, the Bible does not suggest that human ability is inherently wrong. The real question is what they are building and why.
Now verse 4 gives us the heart:
Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.”
This moment is central to the passage. It serves as Babel’s manifesto, which can be divided into three key parts.
First, “Let us build ourselves a city…”
A city represents permanence, centralization, security, and identity. It provides stability and serves as a center of gravity. And notice the phrasing: “for ourselves.” The goal is not obedience to God. The goal is not worship. It’s self-directed: we will establish our own center, our own system, our own safety.
Next, “…and a tower with its top in the heavens…”
This is often misunderstood as God being threatened by a tall building, but that is not the case.
In their context, this “tower” likely refers to a ziggurat, a stepped structure associated with temple worship and seen as a man-made “mountain.” The intent was not to reach God physically, but to create a controlled access point to the divine—a religious center asserting, "We manage the sacred here."
The tower represents not only architectural ambition, but also spiritual ambition.
It symbolizes humanity reaching for the divine on its own terms.
Finally, “Let us make a name for ourselves…”
This phrase is central to the passage.
A “name” in Scripture isn’t just a label. It’s reputation, identity, legacy—what you are known for, what gives you weight, what out lives you.
Their aim is to secure significance apart from God.
The motive clause reveals their underlying concern:
“…lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.”
This is rooted in fear.
It is not only fear of separation, but also fear of losing control, vulnerability, insignificance, dependence, and lacking a self-made identity.
These motives are not limited to the ancient world; they are modern and personal as well.
While we may not use bricks and bitumen, we continue to build our own forms of security, control, and self-made identity.
So before we go further, notice what the text is showing us:
They have unity.
They have capacity.
They have ambition.
But they do not have submission to God.
Their unity is not neutral; it is directed toward self-salvation.
And that’s why Babel becomes such a warning to us.
Whenever people unify around themselves, seeking security and significance apart from God, it does not lead to life. Instead, it results in a more organized form of rebellion.
And that’s why this refrain matters, right here at the start: At Babel, humanity sought unity by making a name for themselves. However, true unity is not achieved by human effort, but by God coming down.
In the following verses, we will see how God responds when humanity is unified in the wrong direction, as God will come down.
God Comes Down
God Comes Down
Look at verse 5:
And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built.
There is a deliberate irony present, one that the original audience would have readily recognized.
Humanity says, “Let us build a tower to the heavens.”
And the text responds, “The Lord came down to see it.”
Regardless of how impressive this project appeared from a human perspective, it remained small, finite, and limited when viewed from heaven. God is not threatened by human achievement; He does not urgently act to prevent a tower from reaching His domain.
This response is not characterized by panic; rather, it reflects careful evaluation.
God 'comes down' not due to distance, but as an expression of His engagement. He examines both humanity's actions and, more significantly, their motivations. This engagement becomes increasingly evident in the subsequent verses.
Now listen carefully to verse 6:
And the Lord said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.
This verse warrants careful consideration and prompts further reflection.
God does not say, “They are weak.”
He does not say, “They are foolish.”
He says, “They are one.”
Their unity is real. Their capacity is real. Their potential is real.
And God says, “This is only the beginning.”
This realization is sobering.
This is significant because unified humanity, when disconnected from God, does not gradually become neutral; rather, it rapidly moves toward rebellion. The issue at Babel is not the act of building itself, but that humanity builds without limits, without submission, and without reference to God.If left unchecked, this unity would not lead to humanity's salvation; instead, it would result in increased hardness of heart. With this context, consider God's subsequent actions.
So what does God do?
Look at verse 7:
Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech.”
Notice the language carefully.
Humanity said earlier, “Come, let us build.”
Now God says, “Come, let us go down.”
This parallel is intentional.
This is not chaos for its own sake; rather, it represents divine restraint.
God does not wipe them out.
God does not erase humanity.
God intervenes to limit the damage they can do together.
This act constitutes judgment, but not a cruel one. It is a restraining judgment, a form of mercy expressed through disruption.
God knows something we often forget: At times, the greatest danger for sinful humanity is the experience of unchecked success.
Therefore, God confuses their language, not to humiliate them, but to prevent them from uniting around a falsehood that offers no salvation.
At this point, it is necessary to reconsider our understanding of God's opposition.
God is not opposing unity itself.
He is opposing false unity—unity that claims life without Him.
And this is where our refrain presses in again: True unity is not built by reaching up—but by God coming down.
The narrative now transitions from a focus on restraint to one of redemption.
At Babel, God comes down in restraint.
Later, He will come down in redemption.
But in both cases, God intervenes because He refuses to let humanity define salvation on its own terms.
In the subsequent verses, we observe the outcomes of this intervention: the scattering of the people, the naming of Babel, and the unexpected grace present within apparent loss.
Scattered, Yet Preserved
Scattered, Yet Preserved
Consider verses 8 and 9:
So the Lord dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city.
Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth. And from there the Lord dispersed them over the face of all the earth.
These verses describe the outcome of God’s intervention, which initially appears to be a loss.
The city is abandoned.
The tower is unfinished.
The unified project collapses.
As a result, their efforts come to a halt.
Notice that the text does not say God destroyed the city; it states they stopped building. The judgment is not annihilation but interruption. God halts the project, not the people.
The word “dispersed” appears twice.
This repetition is significant.
Earlier, in verse 4, the people said, “lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” That was their fear. They feared scattering because scattering meant loss of control, loss of identity, loss of security.
In response, God does what they feared most.
However, their fear does not define the act; God’s purpose does.
This scattering is not random. It is purposeful, and not merely punitive but also protective
.Remember the creation mandate in Genesis 1:
“Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.”
Humanity refused to trust God with that calling, seeking instead to centralize and secure permanence through self-made unity.
In light of this, God enforces in grace what they would not do in obedience.
At this point, it is important to recognize the concept of common grace.
God restrains humanity from unified evil by dispersing them. He limits how quickly sin can organize, entrench, and dominate. Scattering slows the spread of corruption and preserves the possibility of redemption.
Babel is not the end of God’s plan. It is a pause, a restraint that allows the story to continue.
The naming of the place is also significant.
The city is called Babel, a name permanently associated with confusion. Humanity sought to make a name for itself, but instead receives a name that highlights the futility of self-made salvation.
This is sobering, yet also gracious.
God does not allow humanity to succeed in a lie that would ultimately destroy them.
At this stage, it is helpful to consider the broader perspective.
Babel is not only about the past. It explains the divided world we live in now: nations, languages, and cultures remain separated. It also clarifies why God’s redemptive work does not begin with humanity building upward.Instead, redemption will begin when God comes down.
This is why the story does not end in Genesis 11. It points forward to Abraham, to Israel, to Christ, and ultimately to Pentecost, when languages will no longer hinder the proclamation of God’s mighty works.
Genesis 11 teaches that human unity built on fear and pride cannot save.
God’s judgment is often an act of mercy.
And even in scattering, God is preserving a future gathering.
This brings us back, one final time, to the central truth of this story: True unity is not achieved by reaching up, but by God coming down.
Where Are We Building?
Where Are We Building?
At this point, Genesis 11 asks us a question we can’t ignore. This passage doesn’t just explain why the world is fractured; it also invites us to consider where we’ve tried to secure life on our own terms.
Babel isn’t just a place. It’s a pattern.
The danger with a pattern like this is that it often seems reasonable while we’re following it.
Think about what the people at Babel wanted. They wanted security, stability, a future they could count on, and unity. None of that sounds wrong at first. In fact, many of us pray for these things.
The problem was not what they wanted.
The problem was where they placed their trust.
So let’s bring this closer to home.
Most of us aren’t tempted to build towers out of bricks and bitumen. But we do try to build systems of safety, structures of control, and identities based on our own meaning. We often do this quietly, sincerely, and sometimes without even noticing.
Some of us build our towers through achievement, thinking that if we work hard enough, perform well enough, or succeed in front of others, we’ll finally feel secure.
Others build through ideology, finding identity and unity in political groups, cultural movements, or social circles that promise belonging if we fit in.
Some of us turn to technology, trusting that efficiency, connection, or new ideas will fix what’s broken in us and around us.
Others build towers in religious ways, believing that if we do the right things, say the right words, or look the part, we can manage our relationship with God instead of trusting Him.
Genesis 11 shows us a sobering truth:
You can be united, capable, and sincere, but still be building something that cannot save you.
That’s why this story matters so much for the church.
The church isn’t immune to Babel. We can come together around programs, preferences, personalities, or platforms and mistake togetherness for faithfulness. We might value efficiency more than obedience or choose stability over submission. Over time, without noticing, we can start reaching up instead of resting in the God who comes down.
So here’s the question this text invites us to ask, not in theory, but personally:
Where am I tempted to build a “tower” for myself?
Where do I look for security apart from trusting God?
Where do I fear being scattered—losing control, losing status, losing comfort?
Where have I tied my identity to something I can manage rather than to the grace of God?
And if God were to disrupt that structure or interrupt that plan, would I see it as cruelty or as mercy?
Genesis 11 reminds us of something we don’t always believe: sometimes God loves us too much to let our false securities remain.
God opposed Babel not because He enjoys scattering, but because He loves saving. He interrupts false unity so that one day He can create true unity, a unity that doesn’t depend on fear, performance, or control.
This is where the gospel starts to shine, even in a difficult passage like this.
Babel shows us what happens when people try to reach up. But the rest of Scripture shows us something better: a God who comes down. He doesn’t wait for us to build our way to Him, but steps into our confusion, our fear, and our broken attempts to save ourselves.
Don’t see Genesis 11 as a call to tear everything down. Instead, see it as an invitation to let go of what was never meant to hold your hope.
Remember, this is the truth that anchors us, not just today, but throughout this whole series: True unity isn’t built by reaching up, but by God coming down.
So What? — What Does This Mean for Me?
So What? — What Does This Mean for Me?
So what?
So what does all of this mean for me—for my life, my faith, and the way I walk with God this week?
It means that Genesis 11 is not calling us to fear unity. It’s calling us to examine the foundation beneath it.
Because unity built on fear will always fracture.
Unity built on control will always collapse.
Unity built on self will never save.
Babel shows us that God is not impressed by how high we can build—but He is deeply concerned with where we place our trust.
So here’s the heart-level question each of us has to answer:
What am I trusting to give me security, identity, and hope right now?
If your sense of peace rises and falls with circumstances you can manage…
If your identity depends on a role, a success, or a label you’ve built…
If your unity with others depends on shared enemies rather than shared worship…
Then Genesis 11 is lovingly warning you: that foundation cannot hold.
But here is the good news—because the Bible never leaves us with exposure alone.
God does not tear down false unity simply to leave us scattered. He restrains what cannot save so that He can later give what will. Babel is not God abandoning humanity; it is God preserving a future for redemption.
And that means this week, faith may look less like building and more like trusting.
It may mean releasing a false sense of control.
It may mean loosening your grip on an identity you’ve been guarding.
It may mean seeing disruption not as punishment, but as mercy.
Because the hope of Genesis 11 is not found in what humanity failed to build—but in what God Himself will do.
And as we move through this series, we will see that the answer to Babel is not better bricks or higher towers. It is a God who comes down—first in restraint, then in redemption, and finally in glory.
So as you leave today, take this with you—not as a slogan, but as a lens through which to see your life: True unity is not built by reaching up—but by God coming down.
And if God has interrupted something in your life, don’t assume He is against you. He may be clearing the ground for a better foundation than you could ever build yourself.
From Scattering to Hope
From Scattering to Hope
As we wrap up today, Genesis 11 leaves us in a place that feels both unusual and real.
It doesn’t end with resolution.
It doesn’t end with healing.
It ends with scattering.
Languages are confused.
People are dispersed.
Human unity collapses.
This ending can feel unsettling because unfinished stories often make us want quick answers. We might hope the story of Babel would wrap up neatly. But Scripture teaches us something important: sometimes God pauses the story to protect it.
Babel shows what happens when people try to find unity without God, looking for security, identity, and meaning on their own. God steps in—not to cause trouble, but to keep us from heading toward harm through a kind of unity that can’t truly save us.
But Babel is not the final word.
The confusion of languages is not permanent.
The scattering of people is not God’s end goal.
It is a restraint that holds the world together just long enough for redemption to arrive.
So Genesis 11 isn’t only about judgment. It’s also about hope that is still on the way.
The same God who once came down to confuse languages will come down again—not to scatter, but to gather. Not to hold back, but to redeem. Not to stop human ambition, but to change human hearts.
That’s where the story is headed.
Next week, we’ll see that reversal start. In Acts chapter 2, God comes down again, this time with fire and Spirit. Languages are no longer a barrier; they become a bridge. Confusion turns into clarity. Scattering starts to move toward gathering.
Babel shows us what unity looks like without God.
Pentecost shows us what unity looks like because of God.
So as you go this week, keep this truth close—not just as a belief, but as hope: True unity doesn’t come from us reaching up, but from God coming down.
Amen.
Let us pray.
Father,
we thank You for Your Word,
for its honesty, its clarity, and its mercy toward us.
We admit that we often try to build what seems safe, protect what feels unsure, and depend on what we can manage.
Too often, we look for unity, identity, and peace without fully trusting in You.
Forgive us for building out of fear or pride, for trusting our own strength instead of Your grace. Thank you for loving us enough to stop what cannot save us.
Help us now to trust You, especially where you have disrupted our plans, slowed our progress, or exposed our false securities.
Teach us to recognize Your restraint as an act of mercy and to see Your correction as a sign of Your love. As we move ahead, help us set our hope not on what we can make, but on what You have promised to do.
We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ,
The One who came down to save us.
Amen.
Go now together as one people, shaped by grace, not by pride.
May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you and keep you united.
Remember:
True unity does not come from us reaching up,
but from God coming down to us.
Go in peace.
Be blessed to be a blessing.
