He’s the man who gave in completely to his lusts, despised his birthright and could not get his father to change his mind, even though he begged and wept for him to do so.1
Esau.
If ever there was anyone who gets written-off in the Bible it’s the elder twin brother of Jacob. His life is a tragic waste, the desperate fruit of the power of sin. Stay away from people like him. Cross the road and keep you eyes down, because he’s history.2
But is that really so? Maybe we need to slow down and back up a little.
It’s certainly the case that his earlier life was just as described. He capitulated to his cravings and in the process became a lasting example of how not to live. The Bible itself uses him as a warning to others3. But, as is often the case, the portrait has other features too.
When Jacob returns from his uncle’s home (Genesis 33), now with two wives and numerous children in tow, he is terribly fearful of meeting Esau. He is deeply anxious his brother will be out for revenge and might even kill him. So Jacob tries to placate him with lavish gifts, but Esau wants none of it. He is simply overjoyed to see his brother again and wishes them to live near each other, a united family once more, something Jacob resists.
What is highly significant in this scene are the words that describe their meeting: “Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him; he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him.” The significance lies in the almost word-for-word repetition of that statement in Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son, referring there to the father’s welcoming home his lost son (Luke 15:20).
The connection is so clear: both Esau and the father genuinely, joyfully, welcome home the returning (apparently repentant) one. To cement that sense of positive appraisal of Esau, Jacob declares that seeing his brother’s face is like seeing the face of God. Receiving Esau’s welcome is like being embraced by God in his mercy.
When Jesus told the parable he had in his sights the prideful Pharisees, for whom people like Esau were a complete write-off. The parable underscores their failure as elder brothers to search for the prodigals and their stubborn refusal to rejoice at them being found. In that they are so different from Jesus himself, and so different, too, from Esau.
And that deliberate contrast must have stung them.
This is actually the second time in a few chapters Luke records the Lord Jesus using the example of a despised person (a Samaritan in Luke 10, the echo of Esau in Luke 15) to expose the hard-heartedness of people like the Pharisees. It is the rejected ones who act with mercy and with godly compassion.
The race to write-off others needs to slow down. We need to back-up quite a way—we get ahead of ourselves far too easily. Such judgements are not ours to make. We see but little of what is actually happening in people’s hearts and lives. Their motivations may often remain hidden from our view and their deepest thoughts from our sight.
The fact is, people’s stories are still being written.
And so are our own. Maybe you’re tempted to write-off not others but yourself. The burden you carry feels like a deadweight that continually crushes your soul. You took some wrong turns, made significant mistakes, gave in to all manner of wrong. Is there grace sufficient, now, for those sins? Can God, in mercy, turn you to himself? Can he, once more, pivot your heart towards repentance? Is he ready and waiting to do so? Is he, even now, looking for you, working towards your return? Will there be a genuine welcome for you to receive?
The answer to all our fears of rejection, to our shame and self-condemnation, is the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Whatever your past holds has been covered and atoned for through the death of the Son of God. Nothing is omitted. The clouds that darken your skies and the terrors that torment your heart can all be dispelled through the sacrificial love of Jesus.
God hasn’t written you off, but continues to pen your tale.
I need Thee, precious Jesus,
for I am full of sin;
my soul is dark and guilty,
my heart is dead within.
I need the cleansing fountain
where I can always flee,
the blood of Christ most precious,
the sinner's perfect plea.
I need Thee, precious Jesus,
for I am very poor;
a stranger and a pilgrim,
I have no earthly store.
I need the love of Jesus
to cheer me on my way,
to guide my doubting footsteps,
to be my strength and stay.
I need Thee, precious Jesus,
I need a Friend like Thee;
a friend to soothe and comfort,
a friend to care for me.
I need the heart of Jesus
to feel each anxious care,
to tell my every trouble
and all my sorrows share.
I need Thee, precious Jesus,
and hope to see Thee soon,
encircled with the rainbow
and seated on Thy throne.
There, with Thy blood-bought children,
my joy shall ever be
to sing Thy praise, Lord Jesus,
to gaze, my Lord, on Thee.
(Frederick Whitfield, 1829-1904)
The words of Hebrews 12:17 are not intended to suggest that Esau wished to repent but could no longer do so. They refer, rather, to his father Isaac being unwilling/unable to change the fact that his blessing had been given to Jacob and not Esau.
The most damning words would appear to be found in Malachi 1:3, quoted in Romans 9:13 - “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.” However, it is perhaps best to see that as to do with the working-out of salvation through people groups (God’s purpose in election - Rom. 9:11) rather than the eternal destiny of the individuals spoken of.
Hebrews 12:16
Thank you for this Richard - very meaningful - also love the words of the hymn.