Genesis 27:1 Daily Devotional & Meaning – Isaac’s Dim Eyes and the Beginning of Jacob’s Blessing
- Benjamin Michael Mcgreevy
- 3 days ago
- 17 min read
Daily Verses Everyday! Day 135
“And it came to pass, that when Isaac was old, and his eyes were dim, so that he could not see, he called Esau his eldest son, and said unto him, My son: and he said unto him, Behold, here am I.”
This verse opens one of the most dramatic and painful chapters in the book of Genesis. Up to this point, Isaac has lived as the promised son of Abraham. He was the child born by miracle, the child through whom God said the covenant would continue. He was placed on the altar in Genesis 22, spared by God’s provision, married to Rebekah by God’s providence, blessed by the Lord in the land, and preserved through famine and conflict. Yet now, as Genesis 27 begins, Isaac is old, weak, and nearly blind.
The chapter begins not with Isaac standing in strength, but with Isaac sitting in limitation. His eyes are dim, “so that he could not see.” This physical detail will matter greatly for the rest of the chapter because Isaac’s blindness becomes the condition that allows Jacob and Rebekah’s deception to work. Isaac cannot look at Jacob and Esau and tell them apart. He cannot clearly see the son standing before him. He will have to rely on voice, touch, smell, and taste. His weakened body becomes part of the setting for the family’s sin.
But the dimness of Isaac’s eyes also seems to point to something deeper. Isaac’s physical eyes are failing, but his spiritual judgment also appears clouded. Before Jacob and Esau were even born, the Lord had spoken to Rebekah and said, “Two nations are in thy womb… and the elder shall serve the younger” (Genesis 25:23). God had already revealed that the younger son, Jacob, would be the one through whom the covenant line would move forward. This was not merely a family preference. This was divine revelation.
Yet Isaac calls Esau.
That is one of the most important details in this verse. Isaac does not call Jacob. He calls “Esau his eldest son.” From a natural standpoint, this makes sense. Esau is the firstborn. In ordinary family custom, the eldest son would be expected to receive the chief blessing. But the covenant family has never operated by mere human custom alone. Isaac himself should have known this better than almost anyone. Ishmael was Abraham’s firstborn according to the flesh, but Isaac was the son of promise. God had chosen Isaac, not because Isaac was stronger, older, or more deserving, but because God’s covenant purpose rested upon him.
Therefore, Isaac’s own life was proof that God’s blessing does not always follow the ordinary order of human expectation. Isaac existed because God had overturned what seemed natural. Sarah was barren, Abraham was old, and Ishmael had already been born. Yet the Lord said, “Sarah thy wife shall bear thee a son indeed; and thou shalt call his name Isaac: and I will establish my covenant with him” (Genesis 17:19). Isaac should have understood that the promise belongs where God places it, not simply where human tradition expects it.
And yet, in his old age, Isaac seems ready to bless Esau as though birth order alone determines the matter.
This is a serious warning. A person can know the history of God’s faithfulness and still be tempted to act according to personal preference. Isaac had heard the promises. Isaac had lived inside the promises. Isaac had watched God preserve him. But when it came time to bless his sons, his affection for Esau seems to pull him in a direction that conflicts with what God had already revealed.
Genesis has already told us that “Isaac loved Esau, because he did eat of his venison: but Rebekah loved Jacob” (Genesis 25:28). That verse is painful because it reveals division inside the home. Isaac had a favored son, and Rebekah had a favored son. This favoritism did not produce peace. It helped create the atmosphere of suspicion, scheming, and deception that unfolds in Genesis 27.
Isaac loved Esau, and there was probably much about Esau that naturally appealed to him. Esau was a man of the field. He was a hunter. He provided the kind of food Isaac enjoyed. Esau was rugged, active, and perhaps outwardly impressive. To Isaac, Esau may have looked like the obvious heir. He was the older son. He was the stronger son. He was the son who seemed to fit the traditional role.
But Esau had already shown that he did not treasure the covenant. He had sold his birthright to Jacob for bread and pottage of lentils. Genesis 25:34 gives the devastating summary: “thus Esau despised his birthright.” That means Esau treated something sacred as though it were small. He looked at a temporary appetite and valued it more than a lasting inheritance. He chose immediate satisfaction over covenant responsibility.
Then Genesis 26:34-35 tells us that Esau took Hittite wives, Judith and Bashemath, and they “were a grief of mind unto Isaac and to Rebekah.” This was not merely a matter of Isaac and Rebekah disliking Esau’s choice on a personal level. Esau’s marriages represented a deeper spiritual carelessness. Abraham had gone to great lengths to ensure Isaac did not marry a daughter of the Canaanites. The covenant family was not to be swallowed up by the surrounding peoples and their gods. Yet Esau marries among the Hittites, bringing grief into the home.
So when Genesis 27:1 says Isaac called Esau, the reader should feel the tension. Why is Isaac moving toward Esau? Why is he preparing to bless the son who despised the birthright? Why is he favoring the son whose choices brought grief into the covenant household? Why is he acting as though God had not already spoken concerning Jacob and Esau?
The answer seems to be that Isaac’s preference has clouded his discernment.
This is one of the great dangers in the spiritual life. We may say that we want God’s will, but then we quietly prefer our own. We may affirm that God’s word is true, but then we interpret life through our emotions, attachments, appetites, traditions, or family loyalties. Isaac’s love for Esau was not wrong in itself. A father should love his son. But when that love becomes favoritism, and when favoritism moves against the revealed will of God, it becomes spiritually dangerous.
Isaac’s blindness, then, is more than an old man’s physical condition. It becomes a picture of what happens when the heart does not see clearly. He cannot see Jacob physically later in the chapter, but in this verse, he also does not seem to see the situation clearly spiritually. He sees Esau as the eldest son, but he does not appear to reckon with Esau as the son who despised the birthright. He sees tradition, but not revelation. He sees the natural order, but not the divine word. He sees what he wants, but not what God has declared.
This does not mean Isaac has stopped being a believer. It does not mean God has abandoned him. It means even the covenant patriarchs were flawed men who needed grace. Genesis is remarkably honest about its heroes. Abraham lied about Sarah. Sarah laughed in unbelief. Isaac repeated his father’s failure by calling Rebekah his sister. Rebekah will scheme. Jacob will deceive. Esau will despise holy things. The Bible does not present the covenant family as a perfect family. It presents them as a family sustained by a perfect God.
That is part of what makes this chapter so powerful. Genesis 27 does not show us a neat household where everyone is acting wisely. It shows us an aging father, a divided marriage, rival sons, hidden motives, and a blessing about to be pursued through deception. Yet through all of this, God’s sovereign purpose will stand.
Isaac calls Esau and says, “My son.” Esau answers, “Behold, here am I.” On the surface, this exchange sounds respectful and tender. A father calls, and a son responds. But the tenderness of the scene is complicated by everything we already know. This is not a neutral conversation. Isaac is preparing to do something significant. He is not merely calling Esau to talk. He is setting the stage for the blessing.
The words “Behold, here am I” are also interesting because they echo a posture of readiness. Abraham said, “Here am I” when God called him in Genesis 22:1. Isaac said, “Behold, I am here” when Abraham answered him on the way to Mount Moriah in Genesis 22:7. Jacob will later say, “Here am I” when God speaks to him in Genesis 31:11 and Genesis 46:2. But here, Esau says, “Behold, here am I,” not in response to God’s call, but in response to Isaac’s call. He is ready to receive what his father is preparing to give, but the tragedy is that Esau has not shown readiness to treasure covenant responsibility.
This is an important distinction. A person may want blessing without wanting holiness. A person may desire inheritance without honoring the God of the inheritance. Esau wants what blessing can give, but earlier he despised the birthright. He wants the benefits, but he has not treasured the spiritual weight behind them. That makes Esau a warning to everyone who wants God’s gifts while treating God’s purposes lightly.
The blessing in Genesis 27 is not just a sentimental fatherly wish. In the world of Genesis, the patriarchal blessing carried covenantal weight. It looked forward to inheritance, family destiny, fruitfulness, dominion, and the continuation of God’s promises. To bless the wrong son would not simply be a family mistake. It would be an attempt, knowingly or unknowingly, to move the covenant direction away from what God had revealed.
Yet even here, we must be careful. God does not need deception to accomplish His will. Rebekah and Jacob will act wrongly. Their scheme is not justified simply because God had chosen Jacob. God is sovereign, but that never makes sin righteous. God’s plan will stand, but Rebekah and Jacob are still responsible for their actions. Isaac’s favoritism does not excuse their deception. Esau’s unworthiness does not make Jacob’s lying holy.
This is one of the mysterious and sobering truths of Scripture: God can accomplish His purposes through sinful human choices without approving of those choices. The Lord is never the author of evil, yet evil cannot overthrow His purpose. Human beings are morally responsible, yet God remains sovereign. Genesis 27 gives us a family full of failure, but it also gives us a God whose covenant promise cannot be broken by family dysfunction.
That is deeply comforting. Many people come from families marked by favoritism, bitterness, manipulation, passivity, rivalry, or pain. Genesis does not pretend such families do not exist. In fact, Genesis is full of them. Cain and Abel. Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, and Ishmael. Isaac and Ishmael. Jacob and Esau. Leah and Rachel. Joseph and his brothers. Again and again, we see that sin damages family relationships. Yet again and again, we also see that God is able to work through broken households to fulfill His purpose.
Genesis 27:1 reminds us that the presence of God’s promise does not mean the absence of human weakness. Isaac’s family carries the covenant, but Isaac’s family is not free from sin. The covenant household still needs repentance, wisdom, humility, and obedience. Being close to sacred things does not automatically make the heart spiritually clear. Isaac lived near the promise, but in this moment he seems to be moving according to preference. Esau was born into the covenant family, but he despised the birthright. Jacob was chosen, but he will deceive. Rebekah knew the oracle of God, but she will manipulate the situation instead of trusting the Lord openly.
There is a warning here for Christian families as well. It is possible to have Bible language, church attendance, family history, ministry involvement, and theological knowledge, while still allowing favoritism, resentment, secrecy, and control to rule the home. Spiritual heritage is a gift, but it must not be confused with spiritual health. Isaac’s house had the promise of God, but it also had deep cracks in its relationships.
The phrase “when Isaac was old” also adds weight to the scene. Old age often brings reflection. It reminds us that life is short and that our choices matter. Isaac is nearing the end of his life, though he will actually live longer after this event. Still, from his perspective, he feels the urgency of passing on the blessing. He knows he will not be the earthly head of the family forever. The covenant must move to the next generation.
This raises a serious question: What are we passing on?
Isaac is about to pass on a blessing, but he is doing so in a divided home. He has not dealt rightly with the word God spoke concerning his sons. He has not brought clarity into the household. He has allowed favoritism to shape the family atmosphere. His old age shows us that the end of life does not erase the consequences of earlier patterns. The seeds of favoritism planted in Genesis 25 bear bitter fruit in Genesis 27.
This verse opens one of the most dramatic and painful chapters in the book of Genesis. Up to this point, Isaac has lived as the promised son of Abraham. He was the child born by miracle, the child through whom God said the covenant would continue. He was placed on the altar in Genesis 22, spared by God’s provision, married to Rebekah by God’s providence, blessed by the Lord in the land, and preserved through famine and conflict. Yet now, as Genesis 27 begins, Isaac is old, weak, and nearly blind.
The chapter begins not with Isaac standing in strength, but with Isaac sitting in limitation. His eyes are dim, “so that he could not see.” This physical detail will matter greatly for the rest of the chapter because Isaac’s blindness becomes the condition that allows Jacob and Rebekah’s deception to work. Isaac cannot look at Jacob and Esau and tell them apart. He cannot clearly see the son standing before him. He will have to rely on voice, touch, smell, and taste. His weakened body becomes part of the setting for the family’s sin.
But the dimness of Isaac’s eyes also seems to point to something deeper. Isaac’s physical eyes are failing, but his spiritual judgment also appears clouded. Before Jacob and Esau were even born, the Lord had spoken to Rebekah and said, “Two nations are in thy womb… and the elder shall serve the younger” (Genesis 25:23). God had already revealed that the younger son, Jacob, would be the one through whom the covenant line would move forward. This was not merely a family preference. This was divine revelation.
Yet Isaac calls Esau.
That is one of the most important details in this verse. Isaac does not call Jacob. He calls “Esau his eldest son.” From a natural standpoint, this makes sense. Esau is the firstborn. In ordinary family custom, the eldest son would be expected to receive the chief blessing. But the covenant family has never operated by mere human custom alone. Isaac himself should have known this better than almost anyone. Ishmael was Abraham’s firstborn according to the flesh, but Isaac was the son of promise. God had chosen Isaac, not because Isaac was stronger, older, or more deserving, but because God’s covenant purpose rested upon him.
Therefore, Isaac’s own life was proof that God’s blessing does not always follow the ordinary order of human expectation. Isaac existed because God had overturned what seemed natural. Sarah was barren, Abraham was old, and Ishmael had already been born. Yet the Lord said, “Sarah thy wife shall bear thee a son indeed; and thou shalt call his name Isaac: and I will establish my covenant with him” (Genesis 17:19). Isaac should have understood that the promise belongs where God places it, not simply where human tradition expects it.
And yet, in his old age, Isaac seems ready to bless Esau as though birth order alone determines the matter.
This is a serious warning. A person can know the history of God’s faithfulness and still be tempted to act according to personal preference. Isaac had heard the promises. Isaac had lived inside the promises. Isaac had watched God preserve him. But when it came time to bless his sons, his affection for Esau seems to pull him in a direction that conflicts with what God had already revealed.
Genesis has already told us that “Isaac loved Esau, because he did eat of his venison: but Rebekah loved Jacob” (Genesis 25:28). That verse is painful because it reveals division inside the home. Isaac had a favored son, and Rebekah had a favored son. This favoritism did not produce peace. It helped create the atmosphere of suspicion, scheming, and deception that unfolds in Genesis 27.
Isaac loved Esau, and there was probably much about Esau that naturally appealed to him. Esau was a man of the field. He was a hunter. He provided the kind of food Isaac enjoyed. Esau was rugged, active, and perhaps outwardly impressive. To Isaac, Esau may have looked like the obvious heir. He was the older son. He was the stronger son. He was the son who seemed to fit the traditional role.
But Esau had already shown that he did not treasure the covenant. He had sold his birthright to Jacob for bread and pottage of lentils. Genesis 25:34 gives the devastating summary: “thus Esau despised his birthright.” That means Esau treated something sacred as though it were small. He looked at a temporary appetite and valued it more than a lasting inheritance. He chose immediate satisfaction over covenant responsibility.
Then Genesis 26:34-35 tells us that Esau took Hittite wives, Judith and Bashemath, and they “were a grief of mind unto Isaac and to Rebekah.” This was not merely a matter of Isaac and Rebekah disliking Esau’s choice on a personal level. Esau’s marriages represented a deeper spiritual carelessness. Abraham had gone to great lengths to ensure Isaac did not marry a daughter of the Canaanites. The covenant family was not to be swallowed up by the surrounding peoples and their gods. Yet Esau marries among the Hittites, bringing grief into the home.
So when Genesis 27:1 says Isaac called Esau, the reader should feel the tension. Why is Isaac moving toward Esau? Why is he preparing to bless the son who despised the birthright? Why is he favoring the son whose choices brought grief into the covenant household? Why is he acting as though God had not already spoken concerning Jacob and Esau?
The answer seems to be that Isaac’s preference has clouded his discernment.
This is one of the great dangers in the spiritual life. We may say that we want God’s will, but then we quietly prefer our own. We may affirm that God’s word is true, but then we interpret life through our emotions, attachments, appetites, traditions, or family loyalties. Isaac’s love for Esau was not wrong in itself. A father should love his son. But when that love becomes favoritism, and when favoritism moves against the revealed will of God, it becomes spiritually dangerous.
Isaac’s blindness, then, is more than an old man’s physical condition. It becomes a picture of what happens when the heart does not see clearly. He cannot see Jacob physically later in the chapter, but in this verse, he also does not seem to see the situation clearly spiritually. He sees Esau as the eldest son, but he does not appear to reckon with Esau as the son who despised the birthright. He sees tradition, but not revelation. He sees the natural order, but not the divine word. He sees what he wants, but not what God has declared.
This does not mean Isaac has stopped being a believer. It does not mean God has abandoned him. It means even the covenant patriarchs were flawed men who needed grace. Genesis is remarkably honest about its heroes. Abraham lied about Sarah. Sarah laughed in unbelief. Isaac repeated his father’s failure by calling Rebekah his sister. Rebekah will scheme. Jacob will deceive. Esau will despise holy things. The Bible does not present the covenant family as a perfect family. It presents them as a family sustained by a perfect God.
That is part of what makes this chapter so powerful. Genesis 27 does not show us a neat household where everyone is acting wisely. It shows us an aging father, a divided marriage, rival sons, hidden motives, and a blessing about to be pursued through deception. Yet through all of this, God’s sovereign purpose will stand.
Isaac calls Esau and says, “My son.” Esau answers, “Behold, here am I.” On the surface, this exchange sounds respectful and tender. A father calls, and a son responds. But the tenderness of the scene is complicated by everything we already know. This is not a neutral conversation. Isaac is preparing to do something significant. He is not merely calling Esau to talk. He is setting the stage for the blessing.
The words “Behold, here am I” are also interesting because they echo a posture of readiness. Abraham said, “Here am I” when God called him in Genesis 22:1. Isaac said, “Behold, I am here” when Abraham answered him on the way to Mount Moriah in Genesis 22:7. Jacob will later say, “Here am I” when God speaks to him in Genesis 31:11 and Genesis 46:2. But here, Esau says, “Behold, here am I,” not in response to God’s call, but in response to Isaac’s call. He is ready to receive what his father is preparing to give, but the tragedy is that Esau has not shown readiness to treasure covenant responsibility.
This is an important distinction. A person may want blessing without wanting holiness. A person may desire inheritance without honoring the God of the inheritance. Esau wants what blessing can give, but earlier he despised the birthright. He wants the benefits, but he has not treasured the spiritual weight behind them. That makes Esau a warning to everyone who wants God’s gifts while treating God’s purposes lightly.
The blessing in Genesis 27 is not just a sentimental fatherly wish. In the world of Genesis, the patriarchal blessing carried covenantal weight. It looked forward to inheritance, family destiny, fruitfulness, dominion, and the continuation of God’s promises. To bless the wrong son would not simply be a family mistake. It would be an attempt, knowingly or unknowingly, to move the covenant direction away from what God had revealed.
Yet even here, we must be careful. God does not need deception to accomplish His will. Rebekah and Jacob will act wrongly. Their scheme is not justified simply because God had chosen Jacob. God is sovereign, but that never makes sin righteous. God’s plan will stand, but Rebekah and Jacob are still responsible for their actions. Isaac’s favoritism does not excuse their deception. Esau’s unworthiness does not make Jacob’s lying holy.
This is one of the mysterious and sobering truths of Scripture: God can accomplish His purposes through sinful human choices without approving of those choices. The Lord is never the author of evil, yet evil cannot overthrow His purpose. Human beings are morally responsible, yet God remains sovereign. Genesis 27 gives us a family full of failure, but it also gives us a God whose covenant promise cannot be broken by family dysfunction.
That is deeply comforting. Many people come from families marked by favoritism, bitterness, manipulation, passivity, rivalry, or pain. Genesis does not pretend such families do not exist. In fact, Genesis is full of them. Cain and Abel. Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, and Ishmael. Isaac and Ishmael. Jacob and Esau. Leah and Rachel. Joseph and his brothers. Again and again, we see that sin damages family relationships. Yet again and again, we also see that God is able to work through broken households to fulfill His purpose.
Genesis 27:1 reminds us that the presence of God’s promise does not mean the absence of human weakness. Isaac’s family carries the covenant, but Isaac’s family is not free from sin. The covenant household still needs repentance, wisdom, humility, and obedience. Being close to sacred things does not automatically make the heart spiritually clear. Isaac lived near the promise, but in this moment he seems to be moving according to preference. Esau was born into the covenant family, but he despised the birthright. Jacob was chosen, but he will deceive. Rebekah knew the oracle of God, but she will manipulate the situation instead of trusting the Lord openly.
There is a warning here for Christian families as well. It is possible to have Bible language, church attendance, family history, ministry involvement, and theological knowledge, while still allowing favoritism, resentment, secrecy, and control to rule the home. Spiritual heritage is a gift, but it must not be confused with spiritual health. Isaac’s house had the promise of God, but it also had deep cracks in its relationships.
The phrase “when Isaac was old” also adds weight to the scene. Old age often brings reflection. It reminds us that life is short and that our choices matter. Isaac is nearing the end of his life, though he will actually live longer after this event. Still, from his perspective, he feels the urgency of passing on the blessing. He knows he will not be the earthly head of the family forever. The covenant must move to the next generation.
This raises a serious question: What are we passing on?
Isaac is about to pass on a blessing, but he is doing so in a divided home. He has not dealt rightly with the word God spoke concerning his sons. He has not brought clarity into the household. He has allowed favoritism to shape the family atmosphere. His old age shows us that the end of life does not erase the consequences of earlier patterns. The seeds of favoritism planted in Genesis 25 bear bitter fruit in Genesis 27.
If you would like to explore Genesis in a sustained, verse-by-verse way with space to reflect, journal, and trace how these foundational truths unfold through Scripture the Verse by Verse book expands these reflections into a unified reading experience. The book gathers these meditations into a structured journey through Genesis, designed to help readers linger in the text and engage God’s Word more deeply over time.
Comments