by Mike Benson

My mind reels every time I read this story. The day had finally arrived for Jacob. For seven years he had looked forward to making Rachel his wife (Gen. 29:18). He had served the better part of a decade for his bride-to-be and it had seemed but a few days to him (v. 20).

Following the "wedding reception" (v. 22), Jacob's father-in-law, Laban, brought his new bride to him in the evening. The newly-married couple then spent their first intimate night alone (vv. 21, 23):

"It was the custom to have a great festive week after a wedding, beginning with a banquet on the nuptial night, with many male guests invited. At the proper time, when the wedding formalities had been observed, Laban presented his daughter to Jacob as his wife.

Although Leah was veiled, Jacob never questioned that it was really Rachel. The two sisters were no doubt sufficiently alike in stature and general mien, probably even in tone of voice, that the deception was fairly easy to accomplish on the unsuspecting Jacob. When he took her into his chambers and into his bed, it was dark, and no doubt much of the conversation that night was in whispers and in brief words of love. Probably also Leah had been arrayed in Rachel's clothing and perfumes. It was not until the morning that Jacob actually saw he had been grievously deceived" (Henry Morris, "Jacob and Laban," The Genesis Record, Baker, 461).

Amazing, isn't it? Rather than sleeping with Rachel, Jacob had spent the first night of his honeymoon alone with Leah (v. 17) — and he didn't even know it!

We can only imagine the anger and shock that he felt at the moment of discovery. The Bible says, "So it came to pass in the morning, that behold, it was Leah. And he said to Laban, 'What is this you have done to me? Was it not for Rachel that I served you? Why then have you deceived me?'" (v. 25). Jacob's kinfolk had conspired against him (1), and he found himself in bed not with the beautiful daughter of Laban, but with the tender-eyed(2) daughter of Laban. He must have been hurt.

May I suggest that Jacob is not the only person to have ever experienced this kind of "morning revelation"? Every day, newlyweds around the world awaken to the realization that they've married the wrong person. Like Jacob, they discover that they've joined themselves to someone far below their expectations:

"I never knew he had a drinking problem..."

"I always assumed she would attend worship with me..."

"I never realized he had such a temper..."

"I never imagined she could be so careless with money..."

"I never noticed when we were dating that he could be so possessive and controlling..."

The truth is, we ALL eventually "wake up" and find ourselves in this kind of circumstance (cf. Rom. 3:23; 1 John 1:8,10). Imperfections that were once hidden [or overlooked] inevitably come to light and the honeymoon draws to an end. But what happens at this juncture is critical, because when we experience real disappointment in our mates, the relationship then takes one of two directions. Either the union begins to dissolve and divorce ensues, or else we commit ourselves to making the marriage succeed (Matt. 19:6; cf. Rom. 7:3). Jacob decided to take the latter approach. Despite his frustration, he was able to "work through" (vv. 26-30) his unique marital problems and find an acceptable solution. Granted, the Patriarch lived under a different law and dispensation than we do today (cf. Gal. 6:2), but the principle remains the same. We can bemoan the fact we didn't marry a "Prince Charming" or "Cinderella", or we can make adjustments and bring real substance to our vows.

Dear reader, what will you do when you experience disappointment in your marriage? How will you respond when you realize that you've married "the wrong person"? Will you work like Jacob (cf. Luke 9:23; cf. Eph. 5:25, 28-29; Titus 2:4), or will you run?

/1 I find it noteworthy that Jacob earlier in life had deceived his father (Gen. 27:1ff), Isaac, about his own identity. Now the tables have been turned on him in return (cf. Gal. 6:7).

/2 The word "tender eyed" in Hebrew means weak-eyed, a turning eye, or cross-eyed. Evidently, Leah had a problem with her sight and the disfigurement made her face unappealing.

(When Tolerance, Affirmation and Inclusion Become Everything)

by Barry Newton

"How could those who were claiming to follow God do such a thing?" Such musings have often been associated with reflections on the history of the Crusades or how the majority of Christendom within Germany simply went along with Hitler. Closer to home, we find ourselves shaking our heads in disbelief at the previous racist policies of certain Christian universities.

It is easy from our vantage point beyond the cultural pull which created those events to proclaim, "such things should never have happened!" Although we would be right for saying so, such pious observations are not enough.

If we grasp the lessons of history, the more responsible position is to ask, "what cultural currents are seeking to drag us down through paths of darkness?" Is our sense of right any better attuned to God's ways than those previously caught in culture's undertow? The good news is it can be if we so choose.

Turn on prime-time TV. What constant drumbeats do you hear regarding how people ought to live? Much of the postmodern spirit driving our age is organized around exalting tolerance, affirmation and inclusion. These sound like good values, perhaps even Christian values. Instead of being hateful and mean-spirited, is not tolerance the high road? Instead of caustic derogatory attacks, is not affirmation the right path? Is not the equality of inclusion a more noble way than the discriminatory policies of exclusion? Such questions can easily represent how the prophets of our age might present their case. How should those who claim to follow God respond?

My previous dualistic questions obfuscate several items, but most importantly they obscure our need to answer the question, "What is the highest value we should be pursuing?" The postmodernists would answer: In the absence of any absolute truth, the best any of us can strive for would be to accept and affirm the personal validity of each other's ideas and lifestyles. There you have it - tolerance, affirmation and inclusion all wrapped up together. The package is then gift-wrapped with a bow claiming, "this is what it means to be a loving person."

On the other hand, those who faithfully follow God have an entirely different answer to what is most important. Because God has revealed truth to us, the disciple responds that the highest value entails loving God with all of one's being (Matt. 22:36-38). This includes obeying God (1 John 5:3).

Unfortunately humanity has not loved and obeyed God as it ought. The cross of Christ proclaims that Jesus' death was required to atone for our sinful actions, words and lifestyles. Fortunately, those who will rely upon Christ through obeying the gospel can become a part of God's redeemed, saved and holy community.

What does all of this mean? Everything is not equally valid. Everyone is not included in God's community. There should be remorse for wrongs, not affirmation. God is calling everyone to repent. The good news is that God has made the salvific blood of Christ available to all of humanity.

If tolerance, affirmation and inclusion are not the ultimate values, in some manner does this mean that the path of loving and obeying God justifies mean-spiritedness? Never! To obey God includes seeking the well-being of others in the same way you seek your own well-being (Matt. 22:39). Thus, if loving someone might require confronting that individual with his or her sinfulness, such truth should be presented in love, not caustically (Eph. 4:15).

To avoid looking like foolish 21st century Christians who were swept away in the undertow of our secular culture, we need to proclaim Christ crucified and its corollaries. The necessity of Jesus' death upon the cross on our behalf testifies that God does not tolerate sinfulness, that those outside of Christ stand condemned and are excluded from fellowship with God, and that everyone is in need of transformation. The message of Christ crucified undermines the driving secular values of postmodernism.

The tide is powerful. God, however, is greater. Those who profess to follow God need to be in step with God, not drifting with the world. Will we do any better in living for God than some who have gone before us?