When Obedience Meets Sorrow

Click Here for Today's Reading: Gen 34–36 | Prov 5:9–23 | Luke 12

⁸ Deborah, the one who had nursed and raised Rebekah,^, died and was buried under the oak south of Bethel. So Jacob named it Allon-bacuth.

¹⁹So Rachel died and was buried on the way to Ephrath (that is, Bethlehem).

²⁸ Isaac lived 180 years. ²⁹ He took his last breath and died, and was gathered to his people, old and full of days. His sons Esau and Jacob buried him. 

We have often heard it said that death comes in threes, and Jacob experiences that painful reality in these chapters. Though he is walking in obedience—returning to Bethel, building an altar, and renewing his worship—his life is suddenly marked by deep loss.

Jacob buries Deborah, a faithful companion who had quietly shaped his life. He then loses Rachel, the wife he loved deeply, and not long after, Isaac, his father. Obedience did not insulate Jacob from sorrow. Faithfulness did not prevent heartbreak. Grief became part of the journey of trusting God.

Yet even in the midst of Rachel’s death, God allows new life to emerge. As Rachel breathes her last, she gives birth to Benjamin. Sorrow and hope stand side by side. A grave and a cradle appear in the same scene. God does not minimize the pain, but He reminds us that death never has the final word.

Perhaps you can relate. Maybe you have recently experienced the death of a loved one, or you are approaching an anniversary that quietly reopens the wound—a birthday, a wedding anniversary, or a holiday that now feels incomplete. Loss often lingers long after the moment has passed.

As we approach the holiday season, let us be especially sensitive to those around us who may be carrying hidden grief. A kind word, a prayer, or a simple act of presence may be the very comfort God uses to meet someone in their pain.

Genesis 35–36 reminds us that God’s promises remain firm, even in seasons of sorrow. In Christ, He continues to bring life out of loss, hope out of heartbreak, and purpose out of pain.

Prayer: Lord, thank You that even in our deepest sorrow, You are still at work. Help me trust You when grief and hope seem to exist together, and make me attentive to those who are hurting around me. Amen.