Learning Through A Broken Family

Carl Pollard

My wife and I have been slowly working our way through the story of Jacob and Esau in Genesis 25–36, just the two of us, Bibles open, spending quality time in scripture. We’ve tried to read carefully, letting the text speak for itself without rushing to conclusions. What’s struck us most is how raw and real this family is, flawed people making painful choices, yet God’s bigger plan somehow keeps moving forward through the mess.

The tension between the brothers starts long before they ever speak a word. Even in the womb, they struggle (Genesis 25:22–23), and God tells Rebekah that two nations are inside her, with the older serving the younger. When we read Paul’s reflection on this in Romans 9, it hits home: God’s choice isn’t based on what we do or deserve, it’s His mercy, His call. That truth is a comfort when we’ve felt like our own family patterns or mistakes might derail everything. From the beginning, this story reminds us that God is sovereign, even over dysfunctional beginnings.

Then comes that heartbreaking moment in Genesis 25:29–34 when Esau trades his birthright for a bowl of stew. We’ve talked a lot about how the text doesn’t excuse Jacob’s opportunism, he’s calculating and manipulative, but it lingers on Esau’s choice: he “despised his birthright.” It wasn’t just hunger; it was a deeper disregard for what God had given him. My wife and I have had to ask ourselves hard questions: What do we treat as disposable when we’re tired, stressed, or chasing something immediate? We’ve seen how easy it is to let momentary frustration or desire eclipse what really matters eternally.

Genesis 27 is tough to read aloud. Jacob lies to his blind father, steals the blessing, and runs for his life. There’s no sugarcoating here, no heroic justification. The consequences are immediate and brutal: fear, exile, broken family ties. God’s promise to Jacob holds, but Jacob doesn’t escape the fallout of his sin. That’s been a sobering reminder for us: even when God chooses us, our choices still carry real pain, for ourselves and the people we love.

The turning point is Genesis 32. Jacob wrestles all night with God (or the angel), refuses to let go until he’s blessed, and walks away with both a new name, Israel, and a permanent limp. We’ve come back to that image again and again. Growth rarely comes without struggle; blessing often arrives through humility and dependence. That limp has became a proof that God can transform even the most stubborn parts of the heart.

And then there’s Esau in Genesis 33. Esau runs to meet his brother, throws his arms around him, kisses him, and weeps. After years of hurt, after Jacob’s betrayal, Esau chooses grace. Who in our lives are we still holding resentment toward? What would it look like to run toward reconciliation instead of away from it?

Studying this account together has reminded us that God works patiently through real struggles, through favoritism, deception, exile, and hard-won forgiveness. Growth usually comes slowly, often painfully, but He is faithful to shape us over time. The story of Jacob and Esau encourages us to hold our values loosely for the things of this world, to repent quickly when we’ve wronged others, and to trust God’s good purposes even in the fractured relationships we care about most. We’re grateful for these ancient brothers; they’ve become unexpected companions on our own journey toward humility, healing, and hope.