The Presence, Promise, and Person of Our Redeemer

I’m going to tackle Genesis chapter 46 today—another big task after getting through four chapters last week. Remember, you’ve got this. Let’s turn to the Lord once more.

Father, we thank you for this beautiful day. Lord, as I look around at your creation, I’m reminded of your creativity, power, wisdom, and goodness. You created all things for your glory and our delight. Lord, my heart is full of joy this morning as I see the people gathered here. This is truly your work, bringing us together to worship you, pray together, praise together, and study your Word. We thank you for our brother who will be baptized shortly, and for the church, a supernatural community of sojourners. Lord, I pray that the Holy Spirit would guide and teach us this morning. Open our eyes so that we may see wonderful things in your law. We pray this in the mighty, precious name of Jesus. Amen.

Today’s sermon is titled “The Presence, Promise, and Person of Our Redeemer.” We’ll break down three chapters under these headings, starting with chapter 46.

Israel journeyed to Beersheba and offered sacrifices to God. That night, God spoke to him in a vision. “Jacob, Jacob,” he said. “I am the God of your father Isaac. Do not fear going to Egypt, for I will make you a great nation there. I will go with you and bring you back. Joseph will close your eyes.” Those are tremendous promises, aren’t they?

Then Jacob set out from Beersheba, accompanied by the sons of Israel, who carried their father, their little ones, and their wives in the wagons Pharaoh had sent for his journey. They also took along their livestock and the goods they had acquired in Canaan, and they entered Egypt with all their family members.

Look again at verse 26: “All the persons belonging to Jacob who came into Egypt, who were his own descendants, not including Jacob’s sons’ wives, were sixty-six persons in all.” The sons of Joseph who were born to him in Egypt were two. Thus, all the persons of the house of Jacob who came into Egypt numbered seventy. This is the Word of the Lord. Amen.

Let me ask you a question this morning: What do you need most when facing an uncertain future? When you’re standing at the threshold of change, looking into the unknown, what would actually bring comfort to your anxious heart? More money? Better health? What about a detailed plan? Everyone loves a detailed plan. Why not just write it out among the stars and tell me precisely what to do next? You would think life would be much easier that way.

Well, Jacob stands at just such a threshold. He is 130 years old at this time. After decades of grief, after losing his beloved wife Rachel, after mourning Joseph for more than 20 years, he now faces a difficult decision: leave the Promised Land and descend into Egypt, or stay in the Promised Land and starve to death.

Everything in his family history said, “Do not go down to Egypt,” right? “Do not seek the treasures.” Did you get the reference? I knew it wasn’t word for word. His grandfather Abraham went down to Egypt and nearly lost Sarah—twice. His father Isaac was explicitly told, “Do not go down to Egypt.” So, no doubt, leaving the familiar fills Jacob with anxiety.

At the same time, I can imagine him thinking, “What do I do?” He is at the threshold of a decision that will change his life forever. “If I leave to see Joseph, I’m leaving the land of promise. I’ll probably never see Canaan again. I’m leaving my identity behind, along with what seemed like my hope. Yes, famine is ravaging the land of Canaan. My sons have already traveled to Egypt and brought back grain, and I so desperately want to see Joseph. What do I do, God? What do I do?”

I forgot to mention that the road to Egypt would be hard on a 130-year-old man. But as soon as he hears that his son is alive, he comes without hesitation: “I want to see Joseph. Don’t waste any time.” What Jacob needed most wasn’t a guarantee of safety or even a promise that everything would be easy. What he needed wasn’t a detailed road map from God. What he needed was the presence of God—and that is exactly what God gives him.

Genesis 46 through 48 reveals that God is always with his people, keeps his promises, and has planned a future redemption for them.

Jacob’s life hasn’t been easy, has it? From the moment he was born, Jacob was a fighter. Even in his mother’s womb, he was already wrestling with his twin brother. His name itself, Jacob, means “heel planter,” “heel grabber,” or “supplanter”: “I’m the one who’s going to try to trip you up.” He practiced deceit for years, stealing his brother’s birthright and spending two decades in exile, fleeing the brother who had vowed to kill him.

During this time, he acquired two wives and two concubines, with whom he had twelve sons. One night by the river, he wrestled with a man who changed his name from Jacob, the trickster and deceiver, to Israel, one who strives with God and prevails.

Jacob’s life was marked by devastating losses, including the loss of his beloved wife Rachel. His daughter Dinah had been violated. His sons Simeon and Levi were murderers. His firstborn son committed shameful sins with one of his concubines. And Joseph, his favorite son, was apparently torn to pieces by wild beasts. He spent 20 years mourning, saying, “I will go down to the grave mourning.”

But now everything has changed. He has discovered that Joseph is more alive than ever. He is the ruler of Egypt, and every step in Jacob’s life has led him to this moment. He has just one last great adventure ahead before he joins his ancestors: he must make the trek to Egypt.

We’ve read the first verses of chapter 46, and this is a moment of profound theological weight. It gives us the last recorded speech of God in the book of Genesis. God will not speak again in this book.

Jacob arrives at Beersheba. He reaches the southern border of the Promised Land and halts there to make his offerings. This is sacred ground. Abraham called upon the name of the Lord here, and it was here that Isaac received God’s covenant promise. So Beersheba is more than just a place of memory; it is a threshold, because beyond it lies the unknown. Beyond Beersheba lies Egypt, and that is where God speaks to Jacob in visions of the night.

In this divine speech, God’s final words in Genesis, he reveals three key aspects of how he relates to his covenant people.

First, God initiates a special relationship by calling Jacob by name. He says, “Jacob, Jacob”—twice, for intimacy and emphasis—echoing how he called Abraham and, later, Moses and Samuel. When God repeats a name in Scripture, it signifies personal, urgent communication.

Second, God establishes identity by holding both of Jacob’s names together. Notice how verse 2 begins: God spoke to Israel in visions of the night and said, “Jacob, Jacob.” What is God doing? He’s establishing Jacob’s identity, isn’t he? He calls him by his old name—the heel grabber, the schemer, the supplanter—and the text also calls him by his changed name: Israel, the one who strives with God and prevails. God wants Jacob to see himself as God sees him and to remember the time when God met him, broke him, and remade him into the man he is today.

Third, God offers direction and removes Jacob’s fear. He gives him permission: “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt.” He gives him a promise: “I will make you a great nation while in Egypt.” He gives him the promise of his presence: “I myself will go down with you.” He gives him a promise of return: “I will also bring you up again.” And then he gives him a promise of peace: “Joseph’s hand shall close your eyes.”

But we have to ask: Where was God in Egypt? How did God meet Jacob’s needs in the unknown? May I propose that God was with Jacob through Joseph’s protection and provision? He was with Jacob’s children and grandchildren, prospering them and making them into a great nation, just as he had promised Abraham. He was with them when he preserved the infant Moses among the reeds of the Nile. He was with his people, witnessing their suffering under harsh taskmasters. He stood by them as he raised up Moses to deliver Israel with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.

He remained with his people when he sent plagues upon the Egyptians, protecting Israel in the land of Goshen. He parted the Red Sea, leading his people out onto dry land, with God ever by their side.

So how did Jacob make this decision to venture into the unknown, crossing this threshold with confidence? He did it because he had the promise of God, the peace of God, and the presence of God guiding him. Trusting in God’s promise to his grandfather Abraham—that his descendants would face 400 years of affliction in a foreign land before being freed—Jacob journeyed to Egypt. And we will see in Exodus that God kept his word and brought them out. That is how Jacob made his way down to Egypt and decided to cross that threshold.

Loved ones, God relates to us just as he did to Jacob, doesn’t he? He may not speak to us through visions, but he gives us the same promises and calls us by name. Jesus claims to be the good shepherd, calling each of his sheep by name. He knows us personally and intimately.

He gives us a new identity. The Bible says, “If anyone is in Christ, the old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” Believers, you do not have to define yourself by who you used to be or what you used to do. In Christ, you have a brand-new name, a brand-new family, and a brand-new inheritance.

Third, God gives you direction through his Word. He tells you, “Do not be afraid.” “Do not be afraid, for I am with you,” says the God who stood by Jacob and promises never to leave or forsake us.

Now let’s consider this from a Christological perspective. God promised Jacob, “I myself will go down with you.” Isn’t that exactly what Jesus did for us? His name is Immanuel, God with us. He came down into our world of suffering in the person of his Son to deliver us not just from Egyptian bondage, but from slavery to sin and death. Through his death, burial, and resurrection, he accomplished a far greater exodus.

God promises Jacob his presence, peace, and a place. He says, “I will bring you up again. I will bring your descendants back into the land of Canaan and give them the land I promised you.” And when God gives us exceedingly precious promises, he gives us his peace. He gives us his presence through his Holy Spirit, and he also gives us a place.

In John 14, Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” “Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. You believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am, there you may be also.” The same promises God gave Jacob, he gives to us.

There is also an interesting pattern established here throughout biblical theology. Jacob descends to Egypt, and his descendants are brought out. Israel, the nation, descends into Egyptian bondage but is brought through the Red Sea and eventually into the land of promise. Through the incarnation, Jesus descends from heaven, assuming a body of flesh. After the humiliation of crucifixion, he descends into the grave but rises in resurrection power and glory. Similarly, believers descend into the waters of baptism and rise to walk in new life.

Notably, verse 27 mentions “all the persons of the house of Jacob who entered Egypt,” a small number embodying God’s promise to Abraham: “I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth.” Initially, they are 70 persons, but they multiply, as Deuteronomy 10:22 attests: “Your fathers went down to Egypt seventy persons, and now you are as numerous as the stars of heaven.” Joseph’s land of affliction becomes Israel’s land of multiplication. Even in Egypt, amid uncertainty and the unknown, God remains true to his Word.

There are some intriguing aspects to the number 70. In Genesis 10, there is a table of nations listing 70 nations, and in Luke 10, Jesus sends out 70 disciples to visit the towns he is about to enter. Scripture seems to emphasize this number, suggesting that it points beyond ethnic Israel to the global church, composed of people from every tribe, nation, and language.

Keep this in mind as you look at verse 28. Jacob sent Judah ahead of him to Joseph to show the way before him into Goshen. Before their reunion, he sends Judah as a mediator and intercessor to prepare the way for him. It is not Reuben, the firstborn. It is not Simeon or Levi. It is Judah who prepares the way for Jacob.

This detail anticipates a greater reality. From Judah will come a descendant who truly goes before us to prepare a place—the great mediator who intercedes before the Father on our behalf, and the great way-maker who takes us with him into God’s presence. Hebrews tells us that Jesus himself is the forerunner who goes before us, appearing before the Father and making intercession for us. Therefore, our hope is anchored in heaven because we have a Savior who has already gone before us.

Look at verses 29 and 30: “Then Joseph prepared his chariot and went up to meet Israel his father in Goshen. And he presented himself to him and fell on his neck and wept on his neck a good while. And Israel said to Joseph, ‘Now let me die, since I have seen your face and know that you are still alive.’”

It is such an intimate scene. After 22 years of separation, father and son are reunited. But there is something very significant about Jacob’s words, “Now let me die,” because they find a remarkable parallel in the New Testament.

In Luke 2:25–32, there is an aged saint by the name of Simeon. He takes the infant Christ in his arms and looks into his face. Do you know what he says? He says, “Now, Lord, you are letting your servant depart in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.”

Simeon says the same thing Jacob says to Joseph. Jacob saw Joseph, the son he thought was dead but was alive. Simeon saw Jesus, the Son who would die but rise again. Both men could die in peace because they had seen God’s salvation.

Our only hope in life and in death is to look upon the face of our Redeemer. Those who do so need not fear anything in life or in death, for in life all things work together for our good, and in death we are ushered immediately into the presence of our Lord, where we will behold his face forever.

Notice, second, the promise of our Redeemer—the promise of our Redeemer.

After safely settling his family in Egypt, Joseph meticulously prepares them for their audience with Pharaoh. He advises them to introduce themselves as shepherds, fully aware of the Egyptians’ disdain for this profession. Why coach them to say this? Joseph refuses to compromise his family for Egypt’s protection. Their separation in Goshen preserves their covenant distinctiveness while securing the best land for them—a win-win.

Joseph greets Pharaoh and leads us into chapter 47, verse 1: “My father and my brothers, with their flocks and herds, have come from Canaan to settle in Goshen.” He instructs them to say, “We are shepherds.”

However, I mistakenly quoted the wrong passage earlier. In chapter 47, verse 7, Joseph brings Jacob before Pharaoh. Despite being an old man dressed as a shepherd, Jacob blesses the powerful Pharaoh. Hebrews 7:7 clearly states that the inferior is blessed by the superior, leaving no room for debate.

The question is, who is greater in this context? Is it the one who ruled over Egypt’s masses, the one responsible for constructing pyramids and monuments in his own honor? Or is it the one who is in covenant with the Maker of heaven and earth? It’s the latter, isn’t it?

Jacob blesses Pharaoh, even though he and his sons are considered an abomination by the Egyptians and do not possess Egypt’s wealth. Yet they have the blessings of the God of the universe, fulfilling the Abrahamic covenant: “In you all the families of the earth will be blessed.” Though we may feel lonely or despised, remember that our true riches lie in our heavenly, eternal kingdom. This week, whom might you bless among your family members, within your community, and among your coworkers?

Now look at verses 8 and 9. Pharaoh said to Jacob, “How many are the days of the years of your life?” And Jacob said to Pharaoh, “The days of the years of my sojourning”—keep that word in mind—“are 130 years. Few and evil have been the days of the years of my life, and they have not attained to the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their sojourning.” And once again, verse 10: “Jacob blessed Pharaoh and went out from the presence of Pharaoh.”

Jacob had quite a story to tell, as we summarized at the beginning of the sermon. He says, “Pharaoh, I have been sojourning here for 130 years.” Even though he has the covenant of God, and even though he has been given the land of Canaan, he still considers himself a pilgrim who is just passing through. He understands that, like Isaac and Abraham, he is looking for something beyond this life. He is looking forward to more. He is searching for a better land, a heavenly one—a city that God has prepared.

Hebrews tells us that all the patriarchs died in faith, not having received the promises but seeing them from afar and acknowledging that they were strangers and exiles on earth. They desired a better country, a heavenly one, so God was not ashamed to be called their God, having prepared a city for them. Even though they were promised the land of Canaan and given the abundance of Goshen, they held it all loosely because they knew the best was yet to come.

As Pastor Blake mentioned, Peter took this identity and applied it to the church in his first epistle, addressing believers as elect exiles of the dispersion. He calls us “sojourners” and “exiles.” Why? Because we are citizens of another place. That means the society around us does not determine our identity. It does not determine how we live or what we hold dear. We live by a different set of standards, with different loves, affections, and priorities. We do not belong here. We are pilgrims in exile. We are sojourners searching for a better land, seeking a better city whose architect is God.

Notice how Jacob describes his life. At 130 years old, he says, “My days have been few.” He gives an honest assessment of his life, teaching us that a blessed life is not always easy and that it passes away like a vapor. God’s covenant faithfulness does not spare his people from suffering, but it preserves them through suffering and prepares them for something better.

So when you remember that you are a sojourner, life may still be hard. The boss might be upset with you. Your friends might abandon you. You could be struggling with uncertainty or illness. But the best is yet to come. It will not always be this way. Egypt is not the end of the story. We have a better promise ahead of us. Until that time, God gives us his presence, his promise, and his peace. Remember, you are going to a place prepared for you by your Father.

Moving on through chapter 47, Pharaoh grants Israel’s family the land of Goshen. It is a fertile region in the eastern Nile Delta, and the land is perfect for farming. As a result, they are safeguarded by Pharaoh’s favor and well provided for through Joseph’s management. They are separated from Egyptian culture but sustained by Egypt’s resources. They are in a prime position, the perfect place to flourish and reproduce. And reproduce they certainly did.

Verse 27 states, “Thus Israel settled in the land of Egypt, in the land of Goshen. They gained possessions in it, and they were fruitful and multiplied greatly.”

Moving through the chapter, I will recount what happened. As the famine tightened its grip on Egypt and Canaan, Joseph administered the nation’s food supply with remarkable, calculated wisdom. The people were desperate for bread. They spent their money, then sold their livestock, and eventually even sold their land and themselves into Pharaoh’s service to secure grain. So now, at this time, all the land belongs to Pharaoh. Isn’t this setting us up for the events of the Exodus? They all work for him.

But even as Joseph secures Egypt’s future, he does not forget his own family. They settle in Goshen, the very best part of the land. They are fruitful, and they multiply.

Jacob, now elderly and approaching death, still looks beyond himself. He summons Joseph and asks him to swear an oath. He accomplishes this by having Joseph place his hand beneath his thigh. Now, I don’t know about you, but a handshake will suffice for me. But that was how the ancients bound an oath.

Why does he want his son to make this promise? He says, “Listen, son, I’m getting old, and I’m going to die in Egypt. But promise me that you will bury me in the cave of Machpelah, that you’ll take me back to the Promised Land, that you’ll bury me with my fathers—with Abraham and Sarah, and Isaac and Leah.”

Notice what Jacob is doing in death. He is saying, “I am so sure that God will keep his Word. You take me back to my homeland because God will eventually—even if it takes hundreds of years—take you back too.”

Third and last, I want us to look at the person of our Redeemer.

Let’s read from chapter 48, verse 1: “After this, Joseph was told, ‘Behold, your father is ill.’” Seventeen years have passed. According to chapter 47, verse 28, Jacob lived in Egypt for 17 years—the same number of years Joseph had lived with him before he was sold into slavery. Isn’t that remarkable? I believe the symmetry here is intentional. God has returned to Jacob, tit for tat, the years of happiness he had shared with his son.

Jacob understands that his time on earth is coming to an end. He is about to pass away. I love how the patriarchs describe death. It is not that they are dying and their bodies are going to be thrown into a hole somewhere. No, they are going to be gathered to their fathers. In other words, there is going to be a reunion.

Look, such is the hope of all who have Christ. You are not just thrown into a hole to rot, loved ones. To be absent from the body is to be present with your Lord. It is a grand reunion day.

Joseph brings his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim, home to Jacob. “Your son Joseph has come to you,” Jacob is told. Israel summons his strength and sits up in bed. “God Almighty appeared to me at Luz,” Jacob says, “and blessed me, saying, ‘I will make you fruitful.’ Your sons born in Egypt are mine. Ephraim and Manasseh shall be like Reuben and Simeon.” Wow. That is remarkable, isn’t it?

We’re going to look at Jacob’s prayer and prophecy over Joseph and his sons. He says, “God Almighty revealed himself to me,” using the same name God used with Abraham. He recounts God’s promises: “I will make you a great nation.” Then, in verses 15 and 16, he blesses Joseph and says, “The God who has been my shepherd—bless these boys.”

Let’s be precise here. We have to be careful and precise because the doctrine of the Trinity is progressively revealed across Scripture. It comes into full clarity at the incarnation and the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost. Jacob did not possess a developed doctrine of the Trinity as we understand it today, but progressive revelation does not mean there was no revelation. There are details and key features in this prayer that deserve our close attention, because I believe that even in Genesis we are beginning to see a plurality of persons within the one God.

First, there is deliberate parallelism. Jacob names the God before whom his fathers walked, the God who has been his shepherd, and the angel who has redeemed him. The first is a covenant term: God made promises to my fathers. The second is a providential term: the God who personally shepherded me throughout my years of wandering, deceit, exile, and loss. And the third is a redemptive term: the angel, the messenger, the sent one, who redeemed me and rescued me from all evil.

He is naming three distinct ways he has encountered this one God: as a covenant maker, as a shepherd, and as a personally sent Redeemer.

Next, we must confirm the identity of this sent one. Who is this angel of whom he speaks? We need to examine how this “angel of the Lord” appears throughout Scripture, especially in the first five books.

He appears to Hagar in the wilderness, and she calls him, “You are a God of seeing.” So this angel is addressed as God himself. He also appears to Abraham when he is about to sacrifice Isaac, saying, “Now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son from me.”

Remember Jacob’s wrestling match by the river? “A man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day,” and Jacob names the place Peniel, “for I have seen God face to face.” Centuries later, Hosea looks back on that match and says, “He strove with the angel.” This angel, whoever he is, shares fully in God’s name, authority, and right to be worshiped. He is no created being; this angel is divine.

I believe, as many theologians do, that this was a Christophany, a pre-incarnate appearance of the second person of the Trinity. This is the eternal Son of God. Even on his deathbed, Jacob testifies to a real distinction he has experienced and yet a real unity he has known. The God who covenanted with his fathers, who has been his shepherd, and the angel who redeemed him—they are one God.

Jesus is God, loved ones. He goes down to Egypt with Jacob because his name is Immanuel. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Thomas calls him Lord and God. Jesus tells the religious leaders, “Before Abraham was, I am.” Jesus is eternal, self-sustaining, the Creator of heaven and earth.

He is also the divine shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. He is the angel sent to protect, redeem, and bring his people into the Promised Land. Jacob essentially says, “God will send you a Redeemer who is divine, a shepherd, and a messenger.” Jacob’s God is none other than Jesus Christ.

Now we finally see Jacob blessing Ephraim and Manasseh. Joseph brings his two sons, carefully positioning them: Manasseh, the firstborn, at Jacob’s right hand, and Ephraim, the younger, at his left. But Jacob, nearly blind like his father Isaac, deliberately crosses his hands, placing his right hand on Ephraim’s head and his left hand on Manasseh’s.

Joseph objects, saying, “Not this way, my father. This one is the firstborn.” Jacob responds, “I know, son. I know what I’m doing. He also shall become a people, and he also shall be great. Nevertheless, his younger brother shall be greater than he, and his offspring shall become a multitude of nations.”

This is the gospel pattern of gracious election that we have seen time and again: Abel over Cain; Seth over Cain; Isaac over Ishmael; Jacob over Esau; Joseph over Reuben; and now Ephraim over Manasseh. Once again, God’s electing grace does not follow human merit or natural order. It depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy on whom he will have mercy, simply because God himself is good and gracious.

In verse 5, these two sons born to Joseph in Egypt are adopted by Jacob. Remember, these two sons are the sons of Asenath, who was the daughter of an Egyptian priest. By blood, therefore, they are half Egyptian. Yet Jacob adopts them as his own and gives them a tribal inheritance along with his full-blooded sons.

Is this not a foreshadowing of the gracious inclusion of Gentiles—people from every tribe, nation, and tongue being brought into the family of God? We are all children of Abraham, children of promise through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, because we too were born in Egypt. We were enslaved to sin. By our very nature, we were objects of wrath, cut off from God’s promises, living without him and without any hope. And yet God has graciously brought us in, adopted us, and given us a seat at the family table. Amen.

Verse 22 concludes the chapter: “Moreover, I have given to you rather than to your brothers one mountain slope that I took from the hand of the Amorites with my sword and with my bow,” says Jacob. He is so confident that God will lead his people out of Egypt that he grants Joseph and his descendants Shechem.

Now, Shechem is where Dinah was violated. It is the same city where Simeon and Levi exacted bloody revenge, yet God transforms that evil place into an inheritance. God has a knack for turning things around for the better.

Let’s consider some personal applications, guys. For the struggling believer, you are like Jacob of old, standing on the precipice of uncertainty. You do not know what to do. “I’m at a loss. Should I stay in my job or leave? This loved one has gone astray, and I’m not sure how to handle it. I’m struggling with this health crisis, and I don’t know if I’ll make it through this illness.”

Listen: God will never abandon you. He gives you his promise, his presence, and his peace. He has even prepared a place for you. He will see you through. He will never abandon you. This is not all there is. Egypt is not our final destination. One day, he will take us to be with him. Until that day, he promises to hold our hands through all the transitions of life.

For those seeking a new identity, Jesus offers a fresh start right away. He transformed Jacob’s life forever, and he can do the same for you. You might think, “But if you knew my past, you’d know who I really am.” It does not matter to me, nor does it matter to God. He can forgive all your sins. He can give you new life right now if you will call upon his name.

Even if you feel as though you do not belong, as though you are caught between two worlds—half Egyptian and half Israelite—remember that you are not alone. You may feel too mixed up, too broken, too far outside the lines of people’s approval. Guess what? God does not care. He brings you into his family. In Christ, you are loved, chosen, and adopted into the family of God.

For pilgrims just passing through, remember that this is not all there is. We are sojourners now. The best is yet to come. Having looked upon the face of our Redeemer, we can say, “No matter what happens in this life, I have peace because I have seen the face of my Redeemer. One day, I will truly see him face to face.”

Look, that is a lot of material to cover, and I don’t feel as though I did it justice. But I pray that the Holy Spirit will take his Word, return these truths to our minds, and reveal them to us. Let’s spend some time singing together. Let’s sing to the Lord and contemplate the precious promises of our Redeemer.