Jacob and Esau

In the ancient lands where Abraham and Isaac had walked with God, there lived a man named Isaac who had married Rebekah, a woman of great faith and wisdom. For many years, they longed for children, but Rebekah remained barren. Isaac prayed earnestly to the Lord for his wife, and God heard his prayer.

When Rebekah finally conceived, she experienced such turmoil within her womb that she cried out, “If this is how it will be, why do I exist?” She went to inquire of the Lord, and God spoke to her with words that would echo through generations:

“Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you will be separated; one people will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger.”

When the time came for Rebekah to give birth, she indeed bore twins. The first to emerge was red and covered with hair like a garment, so they named him Esau, meaning “hairy.” As he was being born, his brother came out grasping Esau’s heel, so they called him Jacob, meaning “he grasps the heel” or “supplanter.”

From their earliest days, the twins were as different as night and day. Esau grew to be a skillful hunter, a man of the open fields who loved the wilderness and the thrill of the chase. His body was strong and powerful, covered with coarse red hair, and his voice was deep and commanding. He was impulsive and lived for the moment, caring little for tomorrow as long as today brought adventure and satisfaction.

Jacob, in contrast, was a quiet man who preferred to stay among the tents. He was thoughtful and contemplative, always planning and scheming, his mind constantly working on ways to improve his position. Where Esau was direct and honest, Jacob was cunning and strategic. Where Esau was loved for his boldness, Jacob was respected for his intelligence.

Isaac, perhaps seeing something of his own adventurous spirit in his elder son, loved Esau more and delighted in the wild game that Esau would bring from his hunting expeditions. The savory meat that Esau prepared for his father created a special bond between them, and Isaac would tell Esau stories of his own youth while they shared these meals together.

Rebekah, however, loved Jacob more. She saw in her younger son a depth of character and a spiritual sensitivity that reminded her of the promise God had made. She sensed that Jacob, despite his flaws, had a hunger for spiritual things that Esau seemed to lack entirely.

As the years passed, this favoritism created tension in the household. Esau knew he was his father’s favorite and took pride in his position as the firstborn, which entitled him to a double portion of the inheritance and the family blessing. Jacob, aware of his mother’s preference and his own secondary status, began to resent the accident of birth that had made him second.

One day, when Jacob was cooking a stew of red lentils, Esau returned from hunting in the wilderness. He had been out for many days, following game deep into the desert, and had returned empty-handed and famished. The aroma of Jacob’s stew filled his nostrils, and his empty stomach cramped with hunger.

“Please,” Esau said to his brother, his voice hoarse with exhaustion, “let me eat some of that red stew, for I am famished!” His hunger was so intense that he could think of nothing else.

Jacob looked up from his cooking pot, and in that moment, an idea formed in his calculating mind. Here was an opportunity he had long dreamed of—a chance to gain what birth order had denied him.

“First sell me your birthright,” Jacob said calmly, continuing to stir the stew as if discussing the weather.

Esau stared at his brother in disbelief. “Look, I am about to die of hunger. What good is a birthright to me if I’m dead?”

“Swear to me first,” Jacob insisted, not moving toward the stew.

The smell of the food was driving Esau to distraction. In his hunger and exhaustion, the future seemed far less important than the immediate need for sustenance. “What does it matter?” he thought. “If I die of hunger, the birthright will do me no good anyway.”

So Esau swore an oath, selling his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of stew and some bread. He ate and drank, and then he got up and left, treating the whole transaction as if it were of no importance.

But Jacob treasured what he had gained. He had always felt that the birthright should be his, and now, legally and before God, it was. He had not stolen it or taken it by force—Esau had willingly traded it away for a momentary satisfaction.

Years passed, and Isaac grew old. His eyes became so weak that he could barely see, and he sensed that his time on earth was drawing to a close. One day, he called for Esau, his beloved elder son.

“My son,” Isaac said, his voice trembling with age.

“Here I am, father,” Esau replied, approaching his father’s bedside.

“I am now an old man and don’t know the day of my death. Now then, get your equipment—your quiver and bow—and go out to the open country to hunt some wild game for me. Prepare me the kind of tasty food I like and bring it to me to eat, so that I may give you my blessing before I die.”

Esau’s heart leaped with joy. The blessing of the firstborn was the most precious gift a father could give, worth far more than any material inheritance. It carried with it not only wealth and authority but also the spiritual covenant that God had made with Abraham and Isaac.

“Yes, father,” Esau said eagerly. “I will bring you the finest game and prepare it exactly as you like.” He kissed his father’s forehead and hurried out to gather his hunting gear.

But Rebekah had been listening from outside the tent, and when Esau left for the hunt, she quickly went to find Jacob.

“Listen,” she said urgently, “I overheard your father talking to your brother Esau. He told him to hunt some game and prepare him a meal, so that he might bless him before he dies. Now, my son, listen carefully and do what I tell you.”

Jacob felt his heart race. The blessing—the most important thing in the world—was about to be given to Esau. But his mother was speaking as if there might be another way.

“Go out to the flock,” Rebekah continued, “and bring me two choice young goats, so I can prepare some tasty food for your father, just the way he likes it. Then you will take it to your father to eat, so that he may give you his blessing before he dies.”

Jacob stared at his mother. The plan was brilliant, but dangerous. “But my brother Esau is a hairy man while I have smooth skin. What if my father touches me? I would appear to be tricking him and would bring down a curse on myself rather than a blessing.”

Rebekah’s eyes blazed with determination. “My son, let the curse fall on me. Just do what I say; go and get them for me.”

Jacob hurried to the flock and selected two tender young goats. Rebekah took them and prepared the kind of savory food that Isaac loved, seasoning it with the herbs and spices that she knew would please her husband’s palate.

Then she took the best clothes belonging to Esau that were in the house and put them on Jacob. She covered his hands and the smooth part of his neck with the goatskins, so that he would feel hairy to the touch. Finally, she gave Jacob the tasty food and the bread she had made.

Jacob’s hands trembled as he approached his father’s tent. Everything depended on the next few minutes.

“My father,” he called softly.

“Yes, my son,” Isaac replied. “Who is it?”

Jacob took a deep breath. “I am Esau your firstborn. I have done as you told me. Please sit up and eat some of my game, so that you may give me your blessing.”

Isaac was surprised. “How did you find it so quickly, my son?”

“The Lord your God gave me success,” Jacob replied, the lie burning his tongue.

Isaac was puzzled. Something seemed different about his son today. “Come near so I can touch you, my son, to know whether you really are my son Esau or not.”

Jacob’s heart pounded as he approached his father. Isaac reached out and touched his hands and neck, feeling the goat hair that Rebekah had attached.

“The voice is the voice of Jacob,” Isaac murmured, “but the hands are the hands of Esau.” Still, he did not recognize Jacob, because his hands were hairy like those of his brother Esau.

“Are you really my son Esau?” Isaac asked once more.

“I am,” Jacob said, the second lie feeling even heavier than the first.

Isaac asked Jacob to bring the food near so he could eat. After he had eaten and drunk wine, Isaac said, “Come here, my son, and kiss me.”

As Jacob leaned down to kiss his father, Isaac caught the scent of Esau’s clothes that Jacob was wearing. Convinced at last, Isaac began to speak the blessing:

“Ah, the smell of my son is like the smell of a field that the Lord has blessed. May God give you heaven’s dew and earth’s richness—an abundance of grain and new wine. May nations serve you and peoples bow down to you. Be lord over your brothers, and may the sons of your mother bow down to you. May those who curse you be cursed and those who bless you be blessed.”

The words of blessing flowed over Jacob like water in a desert. Everything he had ever wanted was being spoken over him—prosperity, authority, and most importantly, the spiritual inheritance of his forefathers.

As soon as Isaac finished blessing Jacob, and Jacob had scarcely left his father’s presence, Esau came in from his hunting.

Esau too prepared tasty food and brought it to his father. “My father,” he said confidently, “please sit up and eat some of my game, so that you may give me your blessing.”

Isaac’s blood ran cold. “Who are you?”

“I am your son,” Esau replied, confusion creeping into his voice, “your firstborn, Esau.”

Isaac trembled violently. “Who was it, then, that hunted game and brought it to me? I ate it just before you came and I blessed him—and indeed he will be blessed!”

When Esau heard his father’s words, he burst out with a loud and bitter cry. “Bless me—me too, my father!”

“Your brother came deceitfully,” Isaac said, his voice heavy with sorrow, “and took your blessing.”

“Isn’t he rightly named Jacob?” Esau said bitterly. “This is the second time he has taken advantage of me: He took my birthright, and now he’s taken my blessing!” Then, with desperation in his voice, he pleaded, “Haven’t you reserved any blessing for me?”

Isaac’s heart broke for his elder son. “I have made him lord over you and have made all his relatives his servants, and I have sustained him with grain and new wine. So what can I possibly do for you, my son?”

“Do you have only one blessing, my father?” Esau cried, tears streaming down his face. “Bless me too, my father!” And Esau wept aloud.

Isaac, moved by his son’s anguish, spoke what blessing he could:

“Your dwelling will be away from the earth’s richness, away from the dew of heaven above. You will live by the sword and you will serve your brother. But when you grow restless, you will throw his yoke from off your neck.”

From that day forward, Esau held a grudge against Jacob because of the blessing his father had given him. He said to himself, “The days of mourning for my father are near; then I will kill my brother Jacob.”

When Rebekah was told what her older son Esau was planning, she sent for Jacob and said, “Your brother Esau is planning to avenge himself by killing you. Now then, my son, do what I say: Flee at once to my brother Laban in Harran. Stay with him for a while until your brother’s fury subsides.”

So Jacob left Beer-sheba and set out for Harran, carrying little more than a staff and the clothes on his back. Behind him, he left a broken family and a brother whose hatred burned like fire.

For twenty years, Jacob lived in exile with his uncle Laban, working as a shepherd, marrying Laban’s daughters Leah and Rachel, and building a large family of his own. During these years, God blessed Jacob greatly, giving him twelve sons who would become the fathers of the twelve tribes of Israel.

But always in Jacob’s heart was the knowledge that he had wronged his brother, and always in his mind was the fear of Esau’s anger.

Finally, after two decades, God told Jacob it was time to return to the land of his fathers. As Jacob traveled back toward Canaan with his wives, children, and large flocks, his anxiety grew. What would Esau do when he saw him? Would his brother still seek revenge after all these years?

Jacob sent messengers ahead to Esau with a humble message: “Your servant Jacob says: I have been staying with Laban and have remained there till now. I have cattle and donkeys, sheep and goats, male and female servants. Now I am sending this message to my lord, that I may find favor in your eyes.”

When the messengers returned, they brought news that made Jacob’s blood run cold: “We went to your brother Esau, and now he is coming to meet you, and four hundred men are with him.”

Four hundred men! Surely this was an army coming for revenge. In great fear and distress, Jacob divided his people and flocks into two groups, thinking, “If Esau comes and attacks one group, the group that is left may escape.”

That night, Jacob prayed desperately to God: “Save me, I pray, from the hand of my brother Esau, for I am afraid he will come and attack me, and also the mothers with their children.”

The next morning, Jacob selected a gift for Esau from his flocks: two hundred female goats and twenty male goats, two hundred ewes and twenty rams, thirty female camels with their young, forty cows and ten bulls, and twenty female donkeys and ten male donkeys.

He sent them on ahead in separate droves, instructing his servants: “When Esau my brother meets you and asks, ‘Who do you belong to, and where are you going, and who owns all these animals in front of you?’ then you are to say, ‘They belong to your servant Jacob. They are a gift sent to my lord Esau, and he is coming behind us.’”

As Jacob’s family approached the place where Esau waited, Jacob could see in the distance a large group of men. His heart pounded as he arranged his family carefully, putting the servant girls and their children in front, then Leah and her children, and finally Rachel and Joseph at the rear.

Then Jacob himself went on ahead and bowed down to the ground seven times as he approached his brother.

But instead of the attack Jacob expected, Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him. He threw his arms around his neck and kissed him, and they both wept.

“Brother!” Esau cried, his voice thick with emotion. “My brother Jacob!”

Twenty years of anger and hurt melted away in that moment. Esau looked at the women and children behind Jacob. “Who are these with you?”

“They are the children God has graciously given your servant,” Jacob replied, still hardly able to believe that Esau had forgiven him.

One by one, the servant girls and their children came and bowed down, then Leah and her children, and finally Rachel and Joseph.

“What’s the meaning of all these flocks and herds I met?” Esau asked.

“To find favor in your eyes, my lord,” Jacob said.

“I already have plenty, my brother,” Esau said with a smile. “Keep what you have for yourself.”

“No, please!” Jacob insisted. “If I have found favor in your eyes, accept this gift from me. For to see your face is like seeing the face of God, now that you have received me favorably.”

And so the brothers were reconciled. The hatred that had burned for twenty years was extinguished by forgiveness and love. They spoke together of their father Isaac, who had died during Jacob’s exile, and of their families and their flocks.

Though they chose to live in different regions—Esau in the hill country of Seir and Jacob in Canaan—they remained at peace with each other for the rest of their lives. When the time came to bury their father Isaac, they stood together at his tomb, united once again as brothers.

The story of Jacob and Esau teaches us that even the deepest family wounds can be healed through forgiveness, that God can work through our mistakes and failures to accomplish His purposes, and that it is never too late to make things right with those we have wronged.

Jacob, who had grasped his brother’s heel at birth and later grasped his blessing through deception, learned that the greatest victories come not through cunning but through humility and reconciliation. And Esau, who had initially cared so little for spiritual things that he traded away his birthright, discovered that some things—like the love of a brother—are worth far more than any material inheritance.

Their story reminds us that God’s plans are bigger than our failures, His grace is greater than our sins, and His love is strong enough to heal even the most broken of relationships.