As the sun set on the final day of that final year, Jacob’s heart did a happy dance. A jubilant whirl followed by a silly jig. It was finished. He had done it. The terms of the agreement were finally met. Seven years of leading sheep to fresh grass and water, tending wounds, and driving off predators would now pay off. Tomorrow he could claim Rachel as his wife.
One wonders what the other shepherds thought of the agreement. Upon hearing the terms, did their eyebrows raise and questioning glances spear across the room? Would they not have agreed? In spite of Rachel’s beauty, was the price too steep for a bride, beautiful or not. Or was it possible they knew the truth, understood the tradition? The eldest must marry first. Unwilling to be saddled with the less than glamorous Leah, they made no offers for Rachel either.
Jacob was ignorant of the tradition. Gullibly believing his family members wouldn’t swindle him. Enamored by the breathtaking beauty of the shepherdess. Even if his mind waved a red flag at the extensive work request, his heart plunged on. Seven years of work in exchange for the privilege of claiming the hand of Rachel in marriage. Absolutely. He was happy to do it, happy to do whatever it took to end up with Rachel. His love for her was so deep, his gaze so focused on the final prize that he joyously traversed every meadow, happily wrestled cantankerous ewes and recalcitrant rams, and whistled while chasing down wandering lambs with little notice of passing time. (Genesis 29:20)
Except to keep track of the days. He’d been ticking those off one by one. Crossing off years in his mind. Meticulously keeping track of hours, minutes, seconds until he could reap the reward of his labor. And today was that day. Finally. The agreement was complete. Finished. Over. The waiting passed. His wedding day had arrived.
With the first streaks of dawn just beginning to light the tops of the hills, Jacob left the flock in the capable hands of other laborers, and raced down the hillside to Laban’s tent. He isn’t wasting any more time. Approaching Laban, he doesn’t mince words. “It’s been seven years. I’ve served my time. Give me my wife.” Maybe he should have used a few more words. Maybe he should have reiterated the actual content of the original agreement. Perhaps he should have been a little more specific, left less to the imagination, lessened the amount of creative license he gave Laban. He assumed Laban remembered the agreement. Jacob worked to gain Rachel. But Laban needed to marry off Leah. And he did.
Leah. The homely older sister with no prospects, no suitors, no hope. Destined to still be working by her mother’s side in her dotage. I wonder why. So she wasn’t beautiful. And? There is nothing to indicate she was unhelpful, incapable, unproductive, or inefficient. Nothing says she had a shrewish personality. And Laban clearly loved both his daughters. The unlovely as well as the lovely. He wanted a future for Leah too. Someone to take care of her upon his death. And he found someone.
Under the cover of wedding veils and evening twilight, a wife is delivered to Jacob. It had already been a long evening of feasting and celebrations. Jacob was relaxed. His belly full of party food. Perhaps he had celebrated the end of his agreement too heartily. Perhaps he was in his cups too deeply. Whatever the cause, Jacob didn’t notice the deception until it was too late. As darkness turned to daylight inside the honeymoon tent, Jacob made a shocking discovery. The wrong woman had entered his tent last night. He had married Leah. His beautiful, cherished Rachel was still outside his grasp.
Staring at the face of the wrong woman, a vast array of emotions flowed through Jacob. Shock. Horror. Betrayal. Anguish. Defeat. Anger. He’d spent seven years of his life toiling endlessly to gain the one thing he wanted most, yet found himself cheated of that very thing. The loud clunk of an unopenable door slamming shut reverberated in his mind. All seemed lost. A shroud of grief fell around his heart. Rage engulfed his soul. Charging from his tent, still pulling on his robe, Jacob erupts at his father-in-law. Why has he been treated so poorly? Had their agreement not been for Rachel? No one had listed any caveats. There was no reason for such egregious deceit.
Calmly sitting in front of his own tent, Laban exhibits none of the frantic upset Jacob feels. He is unrepentant at being caught in his web of deceit. His response, when it came, was less than compelling. Tradition. Local practice. Marry off the older siblings before the younger. And he wasn’t done yet. He wants to make another deal. One he knew Jacob’s love for Rachel wouldn’t allow him to resist. Have Rachel as wife as well, in exchange for another seven years of servitude.
It would have been so easy for Jacob to walk away. We would forgive him for protecting himself from another round of deceit. Rachel would have no trouble finding another husband. In fact, no matter how many times I hear it, no matter that I already know what the next part of the account is, it always feels frustrating when Jacob capitulates. Given his history and experience with manipulation and deceit, it seems strange he doesn’t see the same qualities in Laban. Instead, Jacob does it again. He signs up for another seven years of shepherding. Perhaps true love really is blind.
The decision was not without risks. Laban had a deplorable track record. His integrity was notional. His penchant for deceitful manipulation was nearly indomitable. Jacob had no way of knowing how those years would end–or if they ever would. He surely did not serve them as jovially as he had the first seven. His guard would always have to be up. He would have to remain alert, aware. He could never presume to assume Laban was being forthcoming. Yet Jacob still considered it worth it. Worth the irritation. Worth the aggravation. Worth the frustration. It would be a labor of love. Rachel was absolutely worth it. (Genesis 29)
Admittedly, I rarely feel compassion for Jacob when I read this account. Likely because I have just read the account of his own manipulation and deceit of his father and brother. I have seen him for the deceiver he is. A small part of me rejoices that he is finally enduring a dose of his own antics. Yet, as I recently read this account, I found myself completely drawn aside by the amazing love Jacob exhibited for Rachel. He joyfully served an amazing amount of time to gain her hand. When his hopes were dashed, his plans wrecked, his past wasted, his future seemingly ruined, he didn’t head for the hills. No. He stayed right there. Kept serving. Kept loving. Kept hoping. Even when it felt far away, when he had to put his life on hold, when he had to change his plans, alter his dreams, extend his deadline, Jacob accepted the job in a hostile work environment. Embarked on a labor of love. Jacob stayed the course, accepted the job, because his love for Rachel trumped all the setbacks along the way. (Genesis 27)
Perhaps you find yourself at a similar crossroads. Maybe you embarked on a journey with Jesus with stars in your eyes and success studded dreams in your heart. Perhaps you were led to believe that if you followed Jesus everything would fall into place, be easy and timely, and comfortable. But you’ve been chasing that dream for years. You haven’t caught it yet. Obstacle after obstacle has fallen across your path. Doors have slammed in your face. Defeat has washed over your soul again and again. Hopelessness crowds the edges of your mind. A little voice in your head says you should just quit. Give up. Walk away. It says your dreams will never be realized. It says following Jesus isn’t worth it. And you find yourself seesawing on the answer to the greatest question of your life. Is Jesus worth it?
Is Jesus worth work without instant rewards? Is Jesus worth hours and days and years of service where you may never see the results? Is Jesus worth standing alone when the crowd chooses to leave Him behind? Is He worth it, really worth it, if you lose every earthly convenience and comfort, if no one notices you or compliments your efforts, if you never gain a following, build a megachurch, have a podcast, or a social media channel? Is Jesus still worth following, loving, choosing if you never attain your earthly wants and wishes, goals and dreams? Well, is He? (Matthew 16:24-26; Hebrews 11:24-26; Hebrews 12:1-3; Job 27:8; Philippians 3:7-12)
Do you love Him that much? Do you love Jesus enough to follow Him when the path ahead is rocky and steep and looks a touch unsafe? Do you love Him enough to endure hardship and discomfort and pain for His sake? Do you love Him enough to keep plodding, plugging, pushing when the results aren’t obvious, the rewards aren’t forthcoming? Does your love for Jesus compel you to keep following Him, working for Him even when you are faced with adversity and defeat? In the face of temptation to quit, give up, turn back, do you love Jesus enough to continue laboring for His kingdom no matter what? Well, do you? (II Corinthians 5:14-15; Galatians 2:20; I John 2:15-17; Mark 10:17-27)
The bottom line is this, whatever you absolutely cannot envision yourself living without–that thing, that person, that dream, that job–that’s your god. Is it Jesus? If everything else was stripped away, would He be your sustenance, your reason for living, your strength to forge ahead? Do you love Jesus more? More than anything. More than everything. Enough to keep following Him no matter if anyone else does, if everyone else does, if no one else does? When you look in the recesses of your heart, do you find the unimpeachable belief that following Jesus is worth it? Worth anything. Worth everything. Worth years of service with limited results. Would you throw out everything else, rearrange your entire life, for the opportunity, the blessing, the privilege of doing life with Jesus Christ alone? Does your heart believe, truly believe, Jesus is absolutely worth it? Do you love Him that much? Well…do you? (John 21:15; Matthew 5:29; Ecclesiastes 2:25; Romans 12:2; Luke 14:26; II Timothy 2:4; Exodus 20:3)