Genesis: Leah's Loneliness

Genesis 29:14-35

When I read this passage a couple weeks ago, I was astonished by the emotional implications it carries for me in my life and, presumably, for many women out there.

From one perspective, Leah's story is absolutely horrifying. She lives through what I'd be willing to bet is many women's fears: her father seems to have no appreciation, value, or respect for her; he's willing to trick someone into taking her and getting her off his hands. Her husband has no love for her; he's tricked into taking her off her father's hands, AND he loves someone else. Her sister is favored over her. And regardless of what she does to increase her value, she never seems to have gained the love she longed for.

First, we've got Leah's dad. Laban, although maybe not quite as bad as Lot, certainly didn't have a ton going for him in terms of his affection for his daughters. When he saw that he could get 7 years of labor out of Jacob for Rachel, he jumped at the chance. I presume that sometime during those 7 years, he realized he could get even MORE labor out of Jacob if he pawned off Leah first (I'm not buying his whole "It's not our custom" argument, in case you didn't notice). I cannot imagine being Leah - to know your father doesn't care about you a smidge more than what he can get out of you. I think, given her place, every woman would naturally hope that at least they could escape from their father and find value (at the very least - hopefully something more along the lines of love and cherishing) with a husband... but that wasn't Leah's story.

Next let's consider Jacob. Jacob loved Rachel. Jacob didn't love Leah. Jacob didn't want Leah. Leah was an unexpected-but-surmountable hoop to jump through to get to Rachel. An inconvenience. Like a terrible sales hoax that makes you buy two things in order to get the one you want, with no return policy. That's Leah: a tried-but-found-unsatisfactory-because-the-expectations-were-already-set-for-something-else kind of girl. And spoiled in the process. Jacob slept with her, used her, realized she wasn't who he thought she was, and only finished out his honeymoon with her on the condition that he'd get to take a second wife when the week was up. Wow. Cherished? Nope.

Then there's Rachel. Rachel is Leah's little sister. Rachel has already been the talk of the family - she's been the bait to keep the long-lost cousin around for 7 years and get free labor out of him. She's the pretty one. In my head, I picture her as coy, charming, flirtatious, admired. Leah had "weak eyes" (or as my NLT says, "There was no sparkle in Leah's eyes"). Love makes women beautiful. I'm serious. When a woman is loved, she opens up and blossoms like a beautiful flower. Have you ever seen an elderly woman who has been loved by a good man her whole life? She is beautiful. It doesn't matter if she's wrinkled and white, she is bathed in love, and that makes her stunning. Contrary to that, there are women who, based strictly on their external appearance, are attractive, but put them in a situation where they are mistreated, unvalued, unloved, uncherished, and overlooked, and they will wilt. They wither. They not only age, but they age faster than their years. It's absolutely heartbreaking. That was Leah. Rachel had blossomed under the admiration of Jacob - although I would seriously question whether Rachel loved Jacob or just loved the attention, since I doubt she got it from her dad - and Leah had withered away from years of being overlooked - by her father, her brothers, her sister, and her cousin.

There is a small glimmer of hope in vs 31, and Leah sees it too! But it also fails in some regards - although it certainly succeeds in others:

Leah has a baby. The Bible says this is God's doing. I love that little phrase - God is at work here. God witnesses these hardships that Leah has endured, and even though the lesson and season he's taking her through and will continue to take her through is hard, it will be worth it. He knows that.

And he provides a little joy along the way: Reuben is born. We catch a glimpse of Leah's heart here - she mentions that God has seen her misery (other translations say "noticed," or "looked on"), and she hopes that this baby will be what it takes for Jacob to love her. She's wrong.

Then she gets pregnant again and has Simeon. She doesn't pronounce her hope here, she just makes an observation "The Lord heard that I was unloved" (other translations say "come to the Lord's ears" and also that she is "despised," "not loved," "the hated one"). These are dark days for Leah. She has increased her value to Jacob tremendously in the customs of the day by giving birth to "an heir and a spare," so to speak. Both boys. In close succession. Yet Jacob doesn't even seem to notice. He's presumably still working off his second seven years for Rachel.

Next in line is Levi; she's still clinging to hope that Jacob will be her "savior" so to speak - that he will pronounce value and approval and belonging over her and her life. She says, "SURELY this time my husband will feel affection for me, since I've given him three sons!" (also: "become attached," "be attached to me," "be joined unto me," "united to me," adhere to me"). Leah doesn't even seem to want love any more - maybe she's given up on that - but she's still seeking a purpose of some kind, a belonging. She wants to belong to Jacob. She wants to be a part of him. She wants to be united to him.

If there is any argument in Scriptures that articulates how sex does not equal love, this has got to be one of the good ones. Clearly Jacob and Leah were having intercourse - how often, who knows, but obviously a few times after the bridal week. But Leah knew having Jacob's body next to hers didn't mean she had Jacob's heart next to her heart. Leah knew that Jacob's physicality was disconnected from his emotions.

I cannot imagine the pain she must have experienced - I wonder if Jacob would leave her after they'd been together to finish the night with Rachel. I wonder how many nights Leah slept fitfully, either heavily pregnant or nursing an infant or sitting by the bedside of a sick toddler, knowing that her husband was sleeping in the arms of another woman - and not just any woman, but her husband's true love, the one he'd always wanted, the one he'd worked 14 years for, and to rub salt into the wound, her very own little sister.

Leah walked a path of pain. She walked with the agonizing companion of loneliness. She was humbled, broken, and rejected.

In verse 35 I see a glorious conclusion to this passage. Of course, Leah wasn't perfect, and in the following chapter we see that she struggled - just like ALL of us do - with her expectations, her identity, her fears, her pride, etc. But I love verse 35 because it gives us the slightest glimpse into how God was working in Leah's heart and why, in the end, I can testify and say that I believe Leah was incredibly blessed: Leah became pregnant once again, and gave girth to another son, whom she named Judah. She said, "Now I will praise the Lord" (or, "This time I will praise the Lord," "I praise Jehovah").

Leah has finally stepped out of the darkness into the light. She realized that it didn't matter whether Jacob loved her. It didn't matter whether her father loved her. It didn't even matter whether her sister loved her. She saw that God loved her, and she chose to praise him. She says NOTHING about Jacob here, she says NOTHING about being loved or attached or her misery. She JUST says, "I'll praise the Lord."

That's amazing. After all that pain and heartache and hurt, for YEARS, she can hold her 4th son, look up toward heaven, and say, "Thank you, Lord, for all the good things you have given me."

Of course, the last phrase in this chapter is enough to stop one up: "And then she stopped having children." I'm tempted to get a little angry with God on that note - I feel like, "gee, did you just wait for her to acknowledge your power, then pull the plug?" but essentially, yes, that's what happened. And that was fine. He wasn't being mean to Leah, God was simply orchestrating a season for her faith in him and her understanding of her identity in him to be deepened, solidified, refined. He stopped her from having children at that time because she had learned the lesson he wanted her to learn.

In all of this, however, I feel humbled and challenged by these circumstances. Leah's life seems to epitomize the worst case scenario, one that terrifies me in terms of "what if?" But Leah also throws down the challenge that it IS possible to know God's love and live abiding in him, even when all your circumstances are against it. In fact, perhaps it's because the circumstances are so harsh that we recognize our dramatic need to stake our identity in God.

I love that God knows us best and is willing to hurt us in order to help us become the people he wants us to be.

Genesis: Jacob was a prototype for the lonely single

I've been reading about Jacob for a week (or maybe more...? It's been slow going in Genesis lately), and I noticed a couple interesting things about him that I hadn't thought of before.

When Jacob left his home, he was sent away by his parents, under threat of death from his brother, and really probably running away, to some degree, from his past. He was in a place of needing to go forward, but not necessarily having any idea about what that "forward" was going to look like in execution.

I have developed a kinship with Jacob. I can relate.

I think that for many of us - and by "us" I mean in particular my peers who find themselves in similar life situations as I do - we are in Jacob's shoes. We're moving forward to something, namely our futures, but we don't really know when we're going to get there, what we'll find when we're there, or what we'll do once we've arrived. Sound familiar? Welcome to life!

It's striking to me that God came and appeared in a powerful, personal, astounding way to Jacob when he was in that place.

Picture the scene with me: Jacob has left home, sent off by his parents, and recognizing that he really wasn't welcome there at that particular point in life. There was no going back. He's carrying his stuff on his back, he's heading to a place where he's never been, to see people he's never seen. He's been walking. It's getting late in the day. The sun starts to go down. If there was ever someone who probably felt lonely, Jacob was that man. He needed to sleep, to regain strength for the next day. But to do that would require entering into the extremely vulnerable state of sleeping. He didn't have anyone with him who would help protect him or his stuff, or at least provide companionship to cover the long, long miles.

But he doesn't really have a choice. So he does what he has to do - turns over a rock, lays down, and sleeps.

And then God appears.

But God doesn't just show up, oh no, God does things in his typically lavish God fashion. He comforts Jacob - telling him not to be afraid. He reminds Jacob of his past and God's faithfulness and ties to Jacob's family. He helps Jacob recall the foundation that Jacob's life has been built on. He gives Jacob a reason to trust - by telling Jacob that he will be protected. And he gives Jacob a hope for the future - the gift of the land that Jacob is sleeping on. God assures Jacob that he WILL, indeed, return this way again.

And he does all this while showing Jacob the picture of a staircase, which couldn't have been all too common in its spectacular grandness in those days.

Wow.

When I'm feeling moments of loneliness or self-pity, I want to remember this passage. I want to remember the promised God has given me, the ways he's working in the everyday, and the promises he's given me for my future.