Bad Blood

“‘Because you harbored an ancient hostility and delivered the Israelites over to the sword at the time of their calamity, the time their punishment reached its climax, therefore as surely as I live, declares the Sovereign Lord, I will give you over to bloodshed and it will pursue you.”
Ezekiel 35:5-6 (NIV)

I am often amazed at how relevant the ancient prophets can be, even today. For over a year now, since October 7, 2023, the world has witnessed an ancient conflict coming to violent escalation in Israel. This is an ancient conflict, and it didn’t begin with the Zionist movement of the late 19th century. It goes back thousands of years. The current iteration is simply the latest example of it rearing its ugly, ancient head.

The setting for today’s chapter is that Jerusalem has fallen. It has been destroyed just as Ezekiel and Jeremiah had both prophesied would happen. Those who could escape the bloody siege scattered. Many of them scattered directly to the east across the Jordan and entered the land of Edom. But rather than having compassion on the refugees, the Edomites reveled in Jerusalem’s destruction and slaughtered the refugees. Even though the Israelites were family.

The Edomites were descendants of Esau, Jacob’s (aka Israel’s) twin brother. Yes, Esau who surrendered his birthright in exchange for a cup of soup. Israel, the second-born who deceived his blind father into thinking he was Esau in order to receive his father’s blessing of the first-born.

Family feud. Bad blood. Bitterness. Resentment. Ancient wounds and deep scars so fraught with endless reciprocities that over a thousand years later, neither side could see past the history of mutual offenses.

That’s what bitterness does to the human soul. I have observed along my spiritual journey that the institutional church has historically focused on the sins of morality (sex, drugs, alcohol, rock-and-roll, etc.) while ignoring the sins of the spirit that Jesus talked about in His Sermon on the Mount: anger, resentment, lust, lies, violence, bitterness, lack of forgiveness, lack of generosity, pride, greed, judgement, and condemnation. Even as I write these words my mind has filled with the faces of people I’ve known along my own journey who have harbored bitterness for so long and fed angry grudges to the point that their faces and countenance begin to shrivel into a perpetual scowl long after their souls had done the same.

In today’s chapter, God tells Zeke to prophesy against the children of Esau, who refused to have compassion on the Israelite refugees and instead saw it as an opportunity to settle old scores with violent slaughter.

Violence begets violence. Bloodshed begets bloodshed. Or, as Jesus put it, “Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.”

In the quiet this morning, I find myself mulling over political and international relationships between nations and people groups. It’s hard to wrap my mind around conflicts that are thousands of years old. It feels futile to even do so.

I’m reminded this morning that Jesus did not come to save nations. He came to save individuals. When Jesus changes my heart of bitterness and resentment into a soul full of forgiveness and grace, that impacts people in my family, my network of friends, and my circles of influence. Other individuals are changed in the wake. Suddenly our circles are influencing our community, our community influences other communities, and eventually our communities influence nations and empires. That is what happened in the first century. But it begins with the individual.

Just as the conflict between Israel and Edom began with individuals, twin brothers, the answer begins with an individual: me. Just as the conflict between Jews and Muslims began with individuals, half-brothers named Isaac and Ishmael, the answer beings with an individual: me.

What grudges am I harboring?
What bitterness am I clinging to?
Who have I refused to forgive?
Who do I hate?
Where is anger ruling my heart?

Peace begins with Jesus in me, and His grace through me.

I’ve read the entire Great Story multiple times.

There’s no Plan B.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Jacob will be a fire
    and Joseph a flame;
Esau will be stubble,
    and they will set him on fire and destroy him.
There will be no survivors
    from Esau.”
The Lord has spoken.
Obadiah 1:1 8 (NIV)

Some of the more fascinating discoveries in the excavation of my family history have been the bad blood that exists between individuals and family units. In some cases, entire family groups have had little or no relationship with one another for generations and have no idea that the distance is rooted in bad blood from generations before.

I found bad blood in both my paternal and maternal families. I discovered bad blood rising from a host of reasons including, but not limited to, unwanted pregnancies, marriages, re-marriages, inheritance, family business, addiction, and deception. Most commonly, bad blood occurred between siblings, but bad blood between parents and children was also present.

Today’s chapter is the prophecy of Obadiah who wrote a short prophetic poem against the nation of Edom at the time Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonian Empire were marching on Jerusalem around 600 B.C. The Edomites, who had considered joining the local defense against the Babylonian Empire, ended up siding with Babylon.

The Edomites were descendants of Esau, the elder twin brother of Jacob. If you were on our chapter-a-day journey through Genesis last year, you might recall the bad blood between them. Bad blood arose between brothers because of the favoritism demonstrated by both parents. Dad favored Esau. Mom favored Jacob. This led to Jacob’s deceptive stealing of Esau’s blessing and inheritance then fleeing into exile for years. All of this took place around 2000 B.C.

I did the math this morning. The bad blood Obadiah is writing about in today’s chapter between the people of Israel and the people of Edom began with a conflict between brothers 1400 years before Obadiah picked up his papyrus and stylus.

In the quiet this morning, I circle back to thinking about family. I know that a lot of people could give a rat’s rear-end about the past. I get it. I have always had a bent toward the past and a love of history. It was fascinating to learn that this is part of being an Enneagram Type Four. I have personally found it worthwhile in a couple of different respects.

First, I have gotten to correspond with and to know members of my family I would otherwise have never known. Their stories have added new layers of understanding of the family systems from which I spring. It helps me understand myself, my parents, my grandparents, and my great-grandparents and their stories in a greater context, along with a ton more grace. There’s so much in life we don’t control, including the family systems that produced us.

Second, is the old adage that “those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” I have tried very hard along my life journey to avoid the traps that lead to the kind of bad blood which can affect individuals and family groups. I can’t help but recall Paul’s words to Jesus’ followers in Rome: “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

Along my journey, I’ve discovered that living at peace requires me to care more about what matters than what doesn’t. That has meant valuing people over politics (or religion, or morality codes, etc.), choosing relationships over being right, and letting go of things of temporal value to perpetuate love that is priceless. This sometimes (often?) requires letting go of the past and choosing forgiveness so that future generations don’t systemically perpetuate bad blood they personally had nothing to do with simply because that bad blood was never dealt with and permanently infected the family system.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.