The final book of the Old Testament was written around 400BC—words of the prophet Malachi. Following Malachi, we don’t have any prophetic Biblical writings for the next four centuries. Sometimes Christians will then describe John the Baptist as the prophet who breaks the 400 years of silence.

But chronologically, the first person in the New Testament described as a prophet is actually Anna, a widow who spent her days worshipping, praying, and fasting in anticipation of the redemption of her people (Luke 2:36-38).

Prophecy is not just good surveillance, skilled observation, or intuition. Prophecy is a ministry of the Holy Spirit speaking words of God that accomplish something in the lives of God’s people. Sometimes prophets call us to repentance or warn of condemnation. Other times prophets offer words of comfort or reminders of faithfulness. But the purpose of Prophecy is always in service of creating Holy People growing deeper in hope, peace, joy, and love.

This Advent we give special attention to the women’s stories in the orbit of Jesus’ nativity, as well as women in the Hebrew scriptures that preceded them. Their lives and words bring us profound insight into the ways of God against despair, violence, sadness, and apathy. Like all good prophets, they teach us to look for Christ in the places we don’t often look first.

The story of Joseph may live only as a musical drama with a flashy coat in some of our minds, but in the biblical narrative, Joseph’s story takes up 13 of the 50 chapters of Genesis. And there is far more to this tale than mere teenage jealousy between brothers.

The story of Joseph takes us deep into the heart of a decades long family conflict that illuminates the effects of sibling rivalry and the power of blood in the context of relationships. There is something about family that tests our limits in ways other relationships don’t. Family relationships hold the power to hurt and the longing to heal in ways other relationships don’t.

Joseph’s story is not merely instructive for our understanding of kinship in our physical families. It also invites us to reflect on how blood calls us to be reconciled to one another in the body of Christ. Joseph’s response to the mistreatment he endured at the hands of his brothers foreshadows that of our older brother, Jesus, who endured the harsh realities of the cross to “bring many sons to glory” (Hebrews 2:10). We hope you’ll join us for our one-week sprint through the Joseph story before we land at the communion table to remember our common belonging to one another.

Consistency is one of the main things we look for in honorable people.  Will they do what they say they will do? Do their behaviors resemble their values? One of the repeating themes in the stories of Genesis is that our protagonists are sadly quite inconsistent.

There is a tragic irony that on one page of the Bible a character can be noble and courageous, and then on the very next page they make a "heel-turn" and become faithless and vain. Despite the fact Abram and Sarai have been commended for their faith, in their impatience for a child to carry on their name they hatch an unholy plan that involves exploiting a vulnerable immigrant, sexual impropriety, cruelty, and irresponsibility (Genesis 16:1-16).

The bitter irony is that they know what it's like to be on the receiving end of those things! The Bible is never afraid to show the people of God their deep flaws, but the God of Abraham always holds the door open for redemption. Their stories are a warning for us to look for our own inconsistencies and repentantly turn to Christ for our own redemption. 

There is a cliche that is often true: silence speaks volumes. In last week's scripture we read of a profound encounter Jacob has with God. Yet as we turn the page in Genesis, the Almighty seems absent from the story that follows and its effects are chilling.

We read a dark tale from the next generation of Abraham's family: a daughter is assaulted, a father is silent (negligent), brothers become duplicitous, and justice perverts into vengeance (Genesis 34:1-31). Sometimes the lessons of the Bible are not moral examples, but a look into what life is like without attention to God's holiness and righteousness.

This Sunday we'll consider what it means to be God's holy people and the victims who suffer from our half-hearted obedience. While our motivations and commitments might be hopelessly mixed, we worship a savior who was selflessly devoted to every assault victim because the gospel tells us God in Christ actually became the ultimate victim of violence! But in his selfless sacrifice and perfect holiness, he dismantles the cycles of vengeance when he, "entrusted himself to him who judges justly" (1 Peter 2:23).

Last week we met a character in Genesis with an unflattering name. The name Jacob means, "supplanter" and it rhymes with words like "heel-grabber" and "trickster". His name resembles his conduct. Jacob is a scoundrel who extorts and deceives (Genesis 25 & 27). Following this he spends 20 years living as an exile in a strange place, and becomes the victim of another's trickery! (Genesis 29-31)

These years are humbling Jacob the trickster, and he is compelled to return to his home in hope of reconciliation. But this won't happen before a dramatic moment of conversion and transformation-- one of the most spellbinding stories in the Bible, a night of wrestling a mysterious stranger that ends with a new name and a lifelong disability (Genesis 32:22-31). 

Almost everyone desires some kind of change within themselves, but true transformation rarely happens without outside forces working upon us to confront our sin, draw out strength we don't know we have, and ultimately show us undeserved kindness and mercy. The story of Jacob is the story of the gospel, his wrestling with God is a confrontation with sin and the receiving of grace. When we believe and are baptized we too receive a new name from our sparring partner: we are no longer called slaves, but our Lord calls us brothers and sisters (Hebrews 2:11).

There are few things in life that can get as complicated and messy as family. Our relationships with parents, siblings, spouses, and children are some of the most important we'll ever have, but they are the ones most fraught with discord. The book of Genesis is full of these kinds of stories and this week we'll look at one of the most famous: the sons of Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob & Esau (Genesis 25:19-34, 27:1-28:2).

Their story has some warnings and lessons for us about the ways favoritism, envy, ambition, and dishonesty can bring trouble; but more importantly their story reminds us of the nature of the blessings of God. Esau treats God's blessings too trivially, Jacob seeks God's blessing too ambitiously, yet God's faithfulness is unchanging. As our journey through Genesis enters new generations, we'll see some familiar patterns start to emerge-- and in them all the opportunity to reflect on our own apathies and ambitions, and God's graciousness and faithfulness despite these things.

Here in chapters 21-22 of Genesis we get to some of the most troubling passages in the book: two stories of children endangered by adults. In chapter 21 Abraham and Sarah send the firstborn (Ishmael) out to the desert to die. In chapter 22 it appears for a moment God asks Abraham to offer the second born (Isaac) as a sacrificial offering. In both situations, God intervenes to prevent the death of the child. These are stories that feel dark, chilling, and confusing. Let me suggest they are supposed to feel that way.

When you look at the book of Genesis with "a view from 30,000 feet," a certain theme rises from the book: how do we believe in a good God in a world full of terrible evil? While human eyes often fixate on the strange and destructive acts of God in the book of Genesis, the book is actually a profound indictment of how cruel and violent human beings are. And yet God's persistent love for human beings moves him to mercifully intervene to preserve life, not destroy it. The Bible is not a book of fairy tales to make us feel good about humanity. It is a raw and real book about the inhumanity of man but the divine kindness of God. The prophet Micah once asked, "Shall I present my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" No, God does not demand human sacrifice for our sin, but in Christ he offers himself to interrupt our sin that we might, "do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly" (Micah 6:7-8).

My mom was a teacher for over 30 years before she retired two years ago. Throughout my childhood I heard about the collective bargaining that went on between her teacher’s union and the schools as salaries, benefits, and school calendars were negotiated.

As we continue on in our Genesis sermon series, we’re continuing to look at the Sodom and Gomorrah story through Abraham’s eyes (Genesis 18:16-33). As a chosen man of God, Abraham takes on the role of collective bargainer, kind of like a union rep, seeking to keep the cities from destruction. It’s an interesting tactic and as we consider Abraham’s negotiation and God’s response we learn a lot about their characters. A human bold enough to make an appeal to the divine and a God who loves righteousness so much he excuses the wicked. This is good news for us today as part of the human race where “all have turned away, all have become corrupt there is no one who does good, not even one” (Psalm 14:3).

Sometimes words and names have the ability to generate an immediate connotation. For example, simply saying “Sodom and Gomorrah” likely conjures up images of fire, sulfur, violence, sexual sin and maybe the odd ending of a human being turned into a pillar of salt. The mere mention of this city can be used as shorthand for wicked living or warnings to steer clear of serious punishment exacted by God’s wrath.

But the story of Sodom and Gomorrah is far more complex than jokes about judgment or extreme statements about a sinful city. While we generally attribute the sin of the city as sexual in nature, the words of the prophets in scripture reveal there is something else that is of grave concern to God. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus makes a strong statement about Sodom and Gomorrah, but it is not about its sexual sin. What Jesus says suggests that while the sexual sin isn’t off the table, it may not be the main dish. Church, may we come humbly to this text and hungry to hear the lessons it has for us.

I've been living in Minnesota for fourteen years now. In some ways those 14 years feel like they've gone by fast, but in other ways my old life back in Chicago feels like a very long time ago. Had someone made a promise to me when I first moved to Minnesota that hasn't yet come to pass, I imagine I'd be getting impatient by now.

That seems to be what's happening in our scripture reading this week. Abram and Sarai are going on 15+ years since they first heard the voice of God declare they would become parents of a new nation, so Abram is starting to wonder when the waiting is over? (Genesis 15:2). God answers Abram with an invitation to a ritual of slaughtered animals and a fever dream (15:9-12).

With a little historical-cultural background to help understand, this strange scene actually becomes an incredible illustration of the nature of God's relationship to his people. God's promise (his "covenant") is not a set of rules one must follow to be accepted. The foundation of life in God is the covenant-promise that God will graciously endure what is necessary for us to be in union with Him.