Show Don't Tell: Genesis 32:13-21

Imagine the dawn breaking over the rugged hills of Gilead, as Jacob stands at the edge of his camp, his heart pounding like a war drum. The air is thick with the earthy scent of soil and the faint bleating of sheep. He gazes across the sprawling expanse, where the horizon begins to shimmer with the movement of life. Five hundred and fifty animals. Yes, you heard me correctly—five hundred and fifty! Goats, sheep, camels, cattle, and donkeys, all arranged in a procession that stretches as far as the eye can see.

Each animal is not just livestock; they are tokens of a desperate plea for reconciliation. Jacob has sent wave after wave of these creatures toward Esau, his estranged brother, the man he once wronged. Each servant driving the herds has been rehearsed, whispering the same heartfelt script: “These belong to your servant Jacob. They are a gift.” Can you picture it? The sight of these herds meandering over the hills, like a river of fur and hooves, flowing toward a future that feels as uncertain as the weather in spring.

Jacob, the man who once stole a blessing under the cover of night, now finds himself offering this grand gesture of generosity—his strategy is to exhaust Esau with abundance. “I will pacify him with these gifts,” he thinks, wrestling with his past and the shadows of his choices. As the sun rises higher, illuminating the path back to Esau, Jacob wrestles not just with the fear of retribution but with his own shame. He spends the night in the camp, surrounded by his fortune, while the echoes of his mistakes walk toward his brother. In this moment, we see the real struggle—between pride and humility, between what we have taken and what we long to restore.