What Jacob and Esau taught me

This morning, I found myself reading the story of Jacob and Esau over a cup of iced coffee, specifically Genesis 27–28. It's a story I've read many times before, so in theory, I had no real reason to revisit it. But reading the Bible isn't just about picking up new information. It's about letting the Word of God speak into where I am right now, transforming my heart and aligning my character to His. Even familiar passages can hit differently depending on the season I'm in. For me, it's about being reminded, challenged, and encouraged to live out my faith—to be salt and light to the people around me in a deeper, more intentional way.

In a nutshell, I'd describe Jacob and Esau’s relationship in one word: messy.

For a bit of context—Isaac and Rebekah had two sons. Esau was the firstborn, this rugged outdoorsman who loved hunting wild game, especially to impress his dad. Jacob, on the other hand, was more quiet and reserved—a bit of a homebody who preferred staying in the tents. Naturally, this led to some family tension: Isaac favoured Esau, while Rebekah loved Jacob more. So right from the start, you've got favouritism, rivalry, and some serious sibling dynamics brewing. It's not hard to see how things went complicated fast.

As Isaac approached his final days, Rebekah persuaded Jacob to deceive his father and steal Esau's blessing. This came after Esau had already given away his birthright over a bowl of lentils. Taking advantage of Isaac's failing eyesight, she orchestrated the entire plan, and Jacob went along with it. When Esau found out, he was furious and swore to kill Jacob after their father passed away. Rebekah, fearing for Jacob's life, told him to flee. What had once been a united family was now broken and scattered. An unfortunate turn of events—at least for now.

Is this how God intended families to be? I don't think so. God isn't just loving—Heis love. The kind of love that's patient, selfless, and unconditional. He loves everyone equally, and He loved the world so much that He sent His only Son to redeem us. If God were in Isaac and Rebekah's place, I believe He would have loved both Esau and Jacob without choosing favourites.

But the truth is, we're not perfect. Because of original sin passed down from Adam and Eve, our sense of right and wrong—our ability to love purely—is often distorted. As I sat with this story, I started reflecting on my own life. How many times have I let people down by not giving them the love, attention, or grace they needed? More often than I'd like to admit.

And sadly, it's something I've seen in a lot of families. That same favouritism, unspoken tension, or lack of connection—things that start small and then slowly chip away at relationships. The story of Jacob and Esau may be thousands of years old, but it still hits close to home.

Why did God allow all that to happen? Why not just make our families perfect from the start?

The truth is—He could have made us perfect as He is God and He can do anything He wants. But then we wouldn't be free. God gave us free will because real love can't be forced. If we were programmed to love perfectly, our relationships wouldn't be genuine. Love requires choice—and with that choice comes the possibility of pain, misunderstanding, and failure. As Fr. Mike Schmitz said, after the Fall, every kind of love requires sacrifice, and this is one kind of sacrifice that comes with love, including familial love.

God allows us to love, even imperfectly, because He wants to work through our imperfections. He doesn't expect us to get it all right. He knows we'll fall short, play favourites, lose our patience, or let pride get in the way—and that's exactly where His grace steps in. When we can't love the way we should, He fills in the gaps. His love completes what ours lacks.

That's why we're called to build holy families—not perfect ones.A holy family isn't one without problems. It’s a family that invites God in, even in the mess. Rebekah, sadly, missed that point. Instead of trusting God's timing and plan, she instead came up with the plan that would ultimately tear the family apart and have Jacob earn his blessing through deceit. But when we centre our homes on His timing and plan, we create space for healing, growth, and peace.

When families fall apart, society reflects that brokenness. We see it everywhere today—kids growing up lonely, fearful of commitment, unsure of their identity, simply because they didn't receive the love they needed at home. But when families are rooted in God's love, they become a light to the world. They raise children who know how to love, forgive, and serve. They become safe places, where hope is nurtured and faith takes root.

Thankfully, in the chapters that follow, Esau and Jacob eventually reunite and make peace. After years of tension, hurt, and separation, God brings healing and restoration to their fractured relationship. It's a powerful reminder that even the messiest, most broken family situations aren't beyond God's redeeming power. If God could reconcile Esau and Jacob, then He can absolutely heal your family too—no matter how far things feel from perfect right now.

Our families aren't meant to fight each other—they're meant to stand together against the brokenness of the world. With God at the centre, our homes can become powerful forces for good. Not perfect—but holy. And that’s more than enough.