There is a place and a need for humility in our lives. We are all liable to get ourselves into difficult places from time to time, places that require us to bow our heads and perhaps even bend our knees and swallow a large dose of humility. It’s not easy to do because pride is predominant in our human nature. No one wants to admit failure or weakness or defeat. No one wants to admit to needing help. But humility can go a long way to restoring us to our rightful place before God.

When we deceive or rob others we can expect some kind of revenge. That’s just how life works. What a shock when a victim of our actions sets aside their combative attitude and grievance and responds with forgiveness and grace. That is what occurred between Esau and Jacob.

Jacob’s spiritual and character transformation was not complete even after coming face to face with God.

In the middle of any compelling story, when we hit a spot that offends or disgusts us, it would be much easier to skip that part and move forward. But God always has a reason for recording all the sordid details of our human behavior.

Significant encounters can be defining, unforgettable moments. These may occur on a park bench, a golf course, in a fishing boat or in a particular place or room in a house. They are milestones.

But time passes and we do forget. While Jacob was escaping from the wrath of his brother Esau, he had stopped for the night at a place called Bethel.

The poignant, bittersweet love story of Jacob and Rachel is the kind where you feel compelled to flip to the last chapter of the book for the assurance that they lived happily ever after. But they didn’t. Jacob’s beautiful, beloved Rachel dies giving birth to their son.

Imagine that one of your siblings received a trip to Europe with your parents, along with a new iPad, while the rest of you are left at home to work and look after the house. Such a demonstration of favoritism is a ticket for divisiveness and disaster.

Jacob had been his mother Rebekah’s darling son, and this preferential treatment fueled a family rift and years of pain.

The psalmist here is not writing about the person who denies the existence of God. That would have been unheard of in ancient Israel. But there were, then as now, plenty of people who went about their everyday lives as if God could not see what they were doing. The Hebrew word for that kind of person is “nabal” and a man of that name died for his refusal to give food to David when he needed it (1 Sam 25).