I’ve lived a life of insignificance for quite some time now. All my efforts have amounted to very little in my career, relationships, and many other areas of my life. I’ve dealt with so much disappointment and heartache, often ending with me wondering whether I’m doing the right things. Every door I’ve reached for has slammed shut, leaving me lost in this strange labyrinth. And my pursuits have only really ended in failure. Fruitless.
But at the very least, despite my inward groanings and discomfort, I know God is still good. Even through the plethora of confusing emotions, ranging from unhappiness to strange joys, God never changes. And what a relief it is to have that kind of security. So it should be no surprise that I’ve continued to pursue the calling to live an honourable life under God—to love Him above all else, and to love my neighbour and my enemy.
You know, it’s not an easy calling. Loving someone can be one of the most challenging things to do when they hurt you or let you down in considerable ways. Enemies especially. But I am determined to fight my own nature and really commit to becoming more like Jesus every day. So it’s a good thing I’ve never chased after comfort. And I am mostly glad that God made me stubborn and persistent.
Laments of unhealthy and wistful wanderings have not stopped me from praying. I’ve dedicated myself to the practice, even for my enemies, as I hope to rid this malice from my heart. To sit in the presence of God through prayer and Bible reading has been a great comfort and joy. Yet, there are times I can’t help but feel a little stuck. My past does not define me, but it still feels as if it’s etched into my being like scars that violently throb at unanticipated times, and like wounds easily reopened by random thoughts or unwanted nightmares.
However, there have been small moments of unexpected delight. Something akin to soothing salves for my scarred skin. God has been kind. And for His love and grace, I am so thankful. My heart feels so full having experienced the tenderness and care of everyone around me. During the highs and lows, safety scares, and other challenges, I am truly thankful for the people who showed up for me.
And for the ways God continues to shape me, I know it was no mistake when I came across a sermon online about “the unloved woman”. When you hear that phrase, who in the bible comes to mind? When reading this story, I know many people are drawn to the fact that a man worked for 14 years to win his chosen bride, and that we ought to be that dedicated too. But I believe you’re missing the point if that’s all you take away from that story.
Leah. The one known for being the unloved woman. The woman that Laban, her father, cunningly gave away to Jacob, knowing he pined for Rachel. And there was no way Leah would have agreed to this, knowing of Jacob’s love for her sister. But she was powerless to do anything about it. Yet, “When the Lord saw that Leah was hated, he opened her womb, but Rachel was barren” (Genesis 29:31). This wasn’t just a biological event; it was a divine act of recognition for Leah in her rejection.
I do not like the story of Jacob and his wives. It paints a rather unsavoury picture of transactional love and envy. Perhaps even one of scorn and misplaced duty. Leah and Rachel were always trying to one-up each other, as the eldest envied the youngest for having Jacob’s affection, and the youngest envied the eldest for her ability to bear children. It’s a despicable image. A far cry from the covenant we’re meant to model in marriage, with the mutual love and respect that God intends.
Leah was degraded and rejected. Probably even humiliated too. It was very clear that she wasn’t very important to anyone. Not even her father. And I think everyone can empathise with the dread of being insignificant to the people around them. The fear of complete isolation and purposelessness, as well as neglect and a lack of love. She gave birth three times, perhaps initially seeking to win her husband’s love, a love that was never truly hers. But in bearing her fourth child, she turned her focus from Jacob’s acceptance to God’s faithfulness, and she praised Him. Her praise, in the face of continued rejection, was a powerful act of defiance and faith.
This story about Jacob is also one about Leah’s delayed significance. When she was once but an unloved woman, one who sold her son’s mandrakes to Rachel for a night with Jacob, we now know that she was incredibly important to God and His plans for the world. Her actions, even those born of desperation, became part of a larger divine narrative. Leah quite possibly didn’t know about her significance during her lifetime. It’s still a tragic tale, but we can look back on it with over millennia of hindsight and see the way God has worked through Leah. It is through the lineage of Judah that God led us to Jesus. A lineage born not of romantic love but of divine purpose.
Similarly for us, for whoever resonates with Leah—for anyone who has lived out this narrative of neglect, let it be known that God hasn’t abandoned you. He is still working in you and through you. You matter far more than you know. And what you’re doing is of value to someone out there. Let it be a great comfort that we know God’s love. That He cares about how we feel when nobody else does.
As we reflect on the meaning of Easter and what Jesus did on the cross, I hope that your trust in Him is greater than mere head knowledge. My prayer is that your heart will be filled with a deep understanding, and that we can wholeheartedly experience God’s love. Because it’s as simple as this: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). And the unloved woman is far more loved than she knows.
Have a blessed Easter, everyone.
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