Genesis-105-The Love Potion

The word of God is from Genesis 30:14-24.

 

"During wheat harvest, Reuben went out into the fields and found some mandrakes, which he brought to his mother Leah. Rachel said to Leah, 'Please give me some of your son's mandrakes.' But Leah said to her, 'Wasn't it enough that you took my husband? Now would you take my son's mandrakes too?' 'Very well,' Rachel said, 'in exchange for your son's mandrakes, he may sleep with you tonight.' So when Jacob came in from the fields that evening, Leah went out to meet him. 'You must sleep with me tonight,' she said. 'I have hired you with my son's mandrakes.' So he slept with her that night. God listened to Leah, and she became pregnant and bore Jacob a fifth son. Then Leah said, 'God has rewarded me for giving my servant to my husband.' So she named him Issachar. Leah became pregnant again and bore Jacob a sixth son. Then Leah said, 'God has presented me with a precious gift. This time my husband will treat me with honor, because I have borne him six sons.' So she named him Zebulun. Some time later she gave birth to a daughter and named her Dinah. Then God remembered Rachel; he listened to her and enabled her to conceive. She became pregnant and gave birth to a son and said, 'God has taken away my disgrace.' She named him Joseph, saying, 'May the Lord add to me another son.'" Amen.

 

A Person Who Knows Me Best

Friends, who do you think knows us best in this world? Some might say our parents or friends, but most would probably say ourselves. Even psychologists would agree that we know ourselves best.

 

However, a different result was found in one study. According to an experiment at Washington University in St. Louis, people seem to know their own emotions well, but they are far less aware of their true nature—how smart, attractive, or creative they are, or what they truly hope for in life—than others are.

 

When you think about it, it makes sense. We may feel like we know ourselves, but we don't really know how smart or creative we are. And even if we do, it's often difficult to talk about such things.

 

What about Leah and Rachel? Did they know themselves and their problems accurately? Leah, Jacob's wife, suffered from a lack of love her entire life. Rachel, on the other hand, was loved but couldn't see what she had. Consumed by jealousy, she was tormented by the thought, "Why hasn't God given me children?"

 

While they clearly understood their torment, they seemed to be completely unaware of what their true problem was. They continued to have children, believing they were winning, and they named their sons with that mindset, proclaiming that God was on their side. Yet, their competition, which even involved using their handmaids to bear children, ultimately became a bitter, muddy struggle that only revealed their selfishness, jealousy, despair, and hurt.

 

An Endless Struggle

This struggle seemed to be almost over. Especially when Leah named her fourth son Judah, meaning "I will praise the Lord," we thought she had finally turned her attention to God. It seemed as though the problem was solved, but Rachel wouldn't leave Leah in peace. The bitter struggle didn't end easily and continues in today's passage.

 

The reappearance of Reuben, the firstborn, is a sign that the story isn't over and will go back to the beginning. Reuben finds a mandrake in the field. This plant, known as a love potion in Mesopotamia, was believed to help a person win a husband’s love or have children if they carried or ate it. It was likely called that because of its unique fragrance.

 

Of course, this was mere superstition. But Leah and Rachel, who should have gone to God in prayer, carried on a conversation about the mandrakes. They both wanted them. If this were truly the core of their issue, we might be able to understand their hearts to some extent. But it seems Leah and Rachel don't truly understand their own hearts.

 

Sisters Who Steal Love

A significant word appears here: "bought." When the rumor spread that Reuben had brought mandrakes, Rachel, with a face of brass, went to Leah, whom she was fighting with. She was so desperate to have a son. Rachel demanded the mandrakes, but Leah didn't give in easily, saying, "Is it a small thing that you have taken my husband? And now you want to take my son's mandrakes too?"

 

Rachel then offered a condition. Jacob, who always loved Rachel, would come to her room after a day's work. Rachel said, "Tonight, my husband will sleep with you. I will make sure he does, just give me your son's mandrakes." Leah, wanting her husband's love, accepted the offer and gave the mandrakes to Rachel. They knew each other's weaknesses and aimed right for the heart.

 

That evening, when Jacob returned from the field, Leah went out to meet him and said, "You must come to my room tonight. I have bought you with my son's mandrakes." The word "bought" here means "hired." She was speaking of their marital and loving relationship as if she were buying and selling an object, or hiring a servant. Jacob had also once "bought" his brother's birthright for a bowl of stew. Now, Leah wants to buy her husband's love with the mandrakes.

 

What God Saw

But the story doesn't continue as expected; a major reversal occurs. Rachel, who had the mandrakes, should have had a child, but it was Leah who became pregnant. What must have been going through Leah's mind? "Serves her right! See? God is on my side! Don't mess with me!" All sorts of thoughts must have gone through her head. She had dealt a proper blow to Rachel.

 

Friends, they were sisters and likely had a good relationship before Jacob's marriage. Rachel couldn't have been completely unaware of Leah's entering the bridal chamber. We can assume there was at least a tacit agreement among the three of them. But now things were different. Leah said to Rachel, "You have taken my husband." In reality, it was Leah who had stolen Rachel's husband, as Rachel was the intended bride, but Rachel said nothing.

 

This story is truly remarkable to us. How did such an irrational situation become rational? Because their mutual jealousy and greed had so captivated them that they were unable to think rationally about anything else. The Bible calls this desire for a husband's love and children jealousy. Because they could only see themselves, they didn't even know what their real problem was.

 

What Are We Like?

Friends, this is the story of Leah and Rachel, but what about us? When we pray to God, how many times have we asked, "God, what is it that You desire? I hope that happens in my life"? Don't we usually first ask for what we want and then say, "God, give me this. If you don't, I'm never going to church again"? When we look at our lives, how are we any different from Rachel and Leah? Our entire focus is on ourselves, so we easily forget who God is and how we should approach Him. Yet when we listen to sermons, we hear them as someone else's story. We see no reflection of ourselves and only think of Deacon Kim or Deacon Park.

 

Why did God give us the sermon format? Because we don't take these words as our own, God challenges us through sermons. But we still run away. Like Leah and Rachel, who could only see themselves, we have no room to consider the pain or wounds of others.

 

Both of them couldn't see what they had received; they only saw what the other person had. They could see when others were doing well, and they could see their own wounds and pain, but they couldn't see what they possessed. This is when they started to hate each other. There's a Korean saying, "If you hate your daughter-in-law, even if her heel is shaped like an egg, you will hate it." This shows that once we start hating a person, we find everything about them hateful. We think we are rational, but we are not.

 

A Western proverb also beautifully illustrates why we keep looking at others: "The reason the clothes on the line look dirty is because your window is dirty." When you look at the laundry through a dirty window, no matter how clean the clothes are, they will look dirty. The problem is within us—in our eyes and our hearts. But we look for the cause of all our problems outside ourselves, in other people, in our circumstances, and in our past. Rachel and Leah were no different.

 

The Heart in a Name

Friends, the name Leah gave in the passage, Issachar, means "recompense" or "reward." Leah said, "Did I not give my maidservant to Jacob? God is now rewarding me for that." This means, "I gave Jacob my most precious possession, and through it, I received a child. God is now rewarding me for my devotion." This is a significant shadow, making us wonder if we approach God with our own boasts and merits.

 

We may think we don't, but we often show this behavior whenever we approach God. When we say, "I am saved by God's grace," and then hear that someone's son got into a good university, don't we say, "I knew it. He served so diligently at church, so his son went to a good university"? We are accustomed to thinking this way about everything that happens in our lives.

 

Do you think, "I am not Leah and Rachel"? We might be living the exact same lives as them. We remember, "I also offered my own things to God." Why can I preach a sermon like this? Because when I was young, I promised God that I would become a pastor. When I said, "I will become a pastor and live for God," what did I think? I naturally had the simple thought that I would have a great reward in heaven, and since I would be able to do more things for God as a pastor, He would love me more. At that time, I thought that was the way to receive the greatest reward. If I hadn't changed this thought in my heart, what would I have lived for? It would have been, "How can I do more for God and earn more merit so that I can be loved by Him and live in a mansion in heaven when everyone else is living in a shack?"

 

This is a deep-seated greed and nature that humans have, so it's not surprising that it came out in Leah and Rachel. Leah must have felt that she had truly won over Rachel. That’s why she said, "God has rewarded me." She said God did it, but the reason was, "Because I gave my all." When she named her last son Zebulun, she meant, "God has acknowledged this, lifted me up, honored me, and God is on my side."

 

God Saw and Heard

Is this truly what she thought? Friends, look at verse 20 of today's passage. Leah says, "I have now borne six sons to my husband; surely he will now live with me."

 

What does she say after bearing six sons? "He will now live with me." Where did she go back to? To the very beginning. What did she say at first? "Please be united with me; he will be united with me; he will now remember me and listen to my words." Leah's heart, which was completely fixated on her husband, seemed to have been restored through Judah, but it returned again. "Surely he will now live with me" returns to her original desire for Jacob's love.

 

What's more dangerous is that she also thinks, "I have done enough for God, I have devoted myself to Him, and God has acknowledged me." We fall back so easily. We may vow, "Lord, You are right. I will now follow Your will and live according to the true gospel," but that is not always what happens. Looking at Leah, it seems she has returned to where she started. The names of her sons were not the blessings God had given, but the blessings she wanted. Had she truly done enough and been acknowledged by God? Was she doing well?

 

We know Leah's heart. No matter how much she said, "God has rewarded me, God has been with me," we know what was truly in her heart. She was filled with jealousy and immersed in anger, hating Rachel for "taking my husband," and Rachel was still her enemy. She was someone to be defeated, not to be with. They were sisters, and you would think one of them would have at least joked, "You must be having a hard time, too. I wish you could have a child," but they were only looking at each other's wounds and pain.

 

Her heart was so impoverished and wounded, and she could only see herself, so she couldn't grasp the most important principle. What was the most important principle? What was the real reason she had children? The Bible says, "God saw her; God heard her." It wasn't the mandrakes. If it were, Rachel should have had the baby. It wasn't the maidservant, and it wasn't a reward. The Bible simply says, "God listened to Rachel." Of course, the same goes for Leah.

 

People Who Weren't Happy Even After a Miracle

Look at Rachel's case. Rachel also tried to have a child with Jacob by using the mandrakes. The maidservant wasn't enough to win the competition. She eventually had a son, and what did she say? "My shame and my self-respect have been resolved." In fact, Rachel was the one who should have had a son right after getting the mandrakes. But Leah had one first. What was in Rachel's heart then? It must have been torn to shreds. How infuriating! She had practically bought the mandrakes, but Leah had a son. She must have been in despair.

 

But today's passage shows that she finally had a son. Her heart must have been filled with unspeakable joy. We might have gone to Leah and boasted, "God has finally given me a son. Thank you!" But she didn't do that. She said, "God has finally removed my shame." Her biggest problem wasn't having a son. Because the name of her son, Joseph, means "may he add." "Please give me another son."

 

Even with many sons, her heart was not healed. This is because the problem wasn't the son; it was jealousy and greed. She herself didn't realize that the problem was not the son. Would everything have been solved if she had a son? In Leah's case, would all her problems have been solved if Jacob had loved her? No. It turned out that wasn't the real problem. Would all of Rachel's problems have been solved if she had five more sons, since Leah had six? No. Thus, Rachel also couldn't see what her true important principle was.

 

The Bible clearly says the same thing: "God remembered Rachel; God listened to her request and opened her womb." The words "her request" were added by the translator. The original word is "heard." It's the same word as "Shema" in "Hear, O Israel." It means "heard." God must have heard their prayers or cries. But I think the use of the word "heard" alone is more important here. I believe this event of Jacob's twelve sons being born became meaningful because God truly intended to hear not just their prayers or cries, but their hearts, their genuine needs, and what could truly give them life.

 

Even in a State of Bloodshed, Live

Friends, whenever Rachel and Leah had children, they gave them the names they wanted and said they had won. In fact, their hearts were filled with wounds. Leah still felt unacknowledged, and Rachel was consumed by jealousy. God heard their hearts, but they didn't know it. They didn't realize how tiring it was to live like that, to not be able to see what they had even when they possessed it. A miracle even happened in their lives; they had children when they couldn't. Something impossible happened, but they were not happy, even after seeing a miracle. On the outside, they seemed thankful and joyful, but their hearts were still bloody. They were in a state of jealousy, victimhood, and despair.

 

God saw these very people. He didn't see the loved Rachel but the Rachel who was exhausted by jealousy. He didn't see Leah who shouted "I won!" after having children, but the Leah who was lonely from a lack of love and spent her days in tears. God saw these women who were submerged in sin and wounds, in a state of bloodshed. He saw the woman who had to spend her days in tears and sighs because of the anger of not being loved by her husband and not having children.

 

It was truly a life of bloodshed. A life where one wound was added to another, and salt was rubbed into it. The Lord saw her life, which was like a lump of blood. So what did He do? He loved her. Because she was in a state of wounding, He loved her in that wounded state. Because He saw her heart. Was it only her heart? Is your heart any different? God saw and heard your heart. Surprisingly, God used them to accomplish His will and literally fulfilled the names they gave. He lifted them up. Leah did not receive the reward, the "Issachar," that she so desperately cried for. But God, the God of promises, became her reward.

 

Friends, are we any different? Aren't we also lumps of blood? What can we bring to God, and what can we come to Him with in prayer? The Christian poet Kim Hyun-seung expressed it this way: If there is anything a person can give to God, it is "tears." Sighs and tears, that's all a person can give to God.

 

A life where even a small hope is trampled, where our breath catches in our chests, and where the bitter grief in our hearts feels like it's rotting away. When the countless wounds and pains we don't know we have appear as anger, pride, inferiority, or hatred for others, and we have suppressed and covered them up—the one who sees us is God.

 

The poet expressed the heart, which feels like it has a rock on it, with no way to break through, with unsolved problems, and filled with doubts about life itself, as "tears." God saw those very tears and loved us for them. This is not about when you are laughing. It's not about when you have solved a problem and say, "God, I will live for You from now on." It's not about saying, "God, You must be so happy because I am doing so much for You." God loved you when you were struggling with a rotten heart, with a heart that was not good. He planted seeds in those tears, promised to bring forth sprouts from them, and is fulfilling the promise of bearing fruit through fertile ground.

 

The last part of Kim Hyun-seung's poem, 'Tears,' says, "God sees the withered flower and makes it bear fruit." God does not see us when our lives are at their most brilliant, when we think we can do something. We thought we were standing strong when we worked hard for God in our youth, but now, when the strength of our bodies is gone and our hearts seem to have grown cold, when we have nothing to present to God, and we think, "God, is this not the end of my life, just to go to be with You?"—that is when God sees you. Just as a flower must fall to bear fruit, so we must realize that we have nothing even when we think we do. The Lord saw you as those petals were falling.

 

And as He promised, He makes you bear fruit. God truly saw you in your state of bloodshed. Ezekiel says, "And no one pitied you enough to do any of these things for you; rather, you were thrown out into the open field, for you were loathed on the day you were born." How can there be true recovery for us who have left God? We are still parched, easily fall, and are full of wounds.

 

"When I passed by you and saw you struggling in your own blood, I said to you, 'Live.' I said to you while you were struggling in your blood, 'Live.'" The "you" here is Israel, but isn't it also you? Even in a state of blood, live. God saw this very day. He saw our deepest insides, not the "me I made up," or the "me I want to be," but the "humble me" the Bible talks about. He could have just passed us by, us who were lumps of blood and destined to die. There were many healthy people, many with potential, but God saw us, the lumps of blood. And He loved us. He loved us when we couldn't do anything but wiggle our fingers. The Lord loved and remembered us because we were like bruised reeds and smoldering wicks.

 

Do you remember when Mary prayed, "He has looked on the humble state of His servant"? Her source of joy was in this. We have been living as if we were thrown away in a state of bloodshed, wiggling our feet and shouting to the world, "Don't despise me. I've come this far. I have something. I have something to show." We had to console ourselves by saying, "My family, my skills, my education, and the money I've earned—I'm not an easy person. I won't die that easily." But the one who sees the true me is God. The one who sees me as a lump of blood is God. The one who sees me enduring my wounds and pain with only my pride is God.

 

God heard your heart, and so He says, "Live. Live. I will make you live." Because He knows me, He loves me, and He loves me even though He knows me. Now Christ Himself will become my Issachar, my reward, my life, and with that life, He will make me live. He will become my honor, my acknowledgment, my exultation, my Zebulun. He will lift me up and add grace upon grace to me. We become Joseph.

 

My Cup Overflows

Friends, David's prayer is not far from us. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." Didn't David know and sing about God's words, "My goodness will follow you throughout your life, not just be with you"? And what did he say at the end? "I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. My cup overflows." God will add and add. He will add and add to you with His grace.

 

What you lack is not material possessions. It is not what the world promises. It is not a spouse's love or a child's well-being. What you lack is on our own dirty windows—the fact that we don't know that God saw us and that we haven't experienced more of God's grace and gotten closer to it.

 

My dear friends, do not look anywhere else now. Remember who you should go to and who will add grace to you. Do not stand before money, success, or false joy. Come to God, who knows you best and hears you, the lump of blood. Your cup will overflow, and it will overflow so much that you will see with your own eyes what a marvelous thing your life is before God.

 

Let us pray.

Loving Lord, You saw us just like that. Therefore, we will look to You. O Lord, add Your fullness of the Holy Spirit. O Lord, add Your grace. O Lord, add Your peace. Add, add, and make it overflow. We pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.