When Jesus asked His disciples, “Who do men say that I am?” He wasn’t looking for an ego boost. He was inviting them to look deeper — beyond His miracles, beyond His teachings — to see the heart and meaning of His life.

The scripture you’re thinking of is Psalm 90:12:

“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” (KJV)

This verse is often understood to mean that we should live with awareness of the brevity of life, using our time intentionally and wisely so that our days are filled with purpose rather than wasted.

💡 Original Hebrew (key words)

• לִמְנוֹת (limnot) – to number, count, reckon. This isn’t just keeping a tally; it’s measuring with purpose, evaluating what’s important.

• יָמֵינוּ (yamenu) – our days. This implies the finite, limited nature of life — not seasons or years, but day-by-day living.

• חָכְמָה (chokmah) – wisdom. In Hebrew thought, wisdom is not just knowledge; it’s skillful living — applying God’s truth in practical ways.

• נָבִא (navi) in this context is not used, but the idea of “apply” is from הֵבִיא (hêbîʼ), meaning to bring in, cause to come, direct toward.

  
  

Jesus lived with a purpose that went far beyond money, status, or reputation. Everyone who crossed His path was impacted for the better. Some stories were recorded in Scripture, but countless others weren’t — the quiet moments, the private conversations, the subtle ways He made people feel seen, loved, and valued. 

My grandmothers talked about their encounters with Jesus Christ and that’s over 2000 years after him dying on the cross. Jesus is still alive and touching people’s lives.

Think of Jairus’s daughter, raised from the dead.
Or the woman who had suffered twelve long years with a hemorrhage — healed instantly with just one touch of His cloak.

And the woman who poured her perfume on His feet and wiped them with her hair — scorned by others, yet embraced by Jesus with gratitude and love. He never made anyone feel like they didn’t belong, even when others tried to shame her. They said she should have sold that perfume to the poor.

Jesus’ love wasn’t selective. He didn’t only bless those who were “popular” or “acceptable” by society’s standards. He didn’t mock or belittle women for not having husbands or children. Or scorn others because of their social status. In fact, He showed deep concern for their families and their futures.

• He protected the woman caught in adultery, refusing to let her be disgraced or destroyed.

• He spoke to the woman at the well with truth and compassion, addressing her marital struggles and offering her living water.

• He fed the 5,000 and their families, because love cares for both spirit and body.

Jesus walked in absolute integrity—every word He spoke was backed by action. If He said it, it happened. His authority was so evident that the Centurion declared, “You don’t have to come to my house; just say the word, and my servant will be healed.” Even the demons recognized the power of His word, pleading with Him. Jesus spoke to nature and it obeyed. Then he inspired others to do the same. 

God is not like people. He tells no lies. He is not like humans. He doesn't change his mind. When he says something, he does it. When he makes a promise, he keeps it. Numbers 23:19

Even in His final moments on the cross, He made sure His mother was cared for: “Woman, behold your son… Son, behold your mother.”

We only see Jesus truly angry when the holiness of God’s house was being abused — when it became a marketplace of greed instead of a sanctuary of prayer. That’s because His mission was never about exploitation, but restoration.

Jesus lived a meaningful life because He was responsible with His gifts. He valued people. He brought healing, dignity, and hope wherever He went. 

And that is the challenge for us: to live in such a way that the people we encounter leave better than they came — not because of what we give them materially, but because of how we love them.

A meaningful life is counted in the lives we touched and transformed. That’s what Jesus showed us. And that’s how we should live.

The story of Jacob and Esau is one of the most emotionally charged sibling sagas in the Bible. It’s a tale of trickery, blessings, bitterness, and—eventually—forgiveness. But beyond the Sunday School version of “Jacob stole the blessing,” there’s a deeper conversation we need to have: What exactly is the blessing? And why did this act of deception seem to ripple across generations?

Let’s break this down—not just with Scripture, but with perspective.

The Blessing: Was It Just Wealth and Power?

When we hear "blessing" in Genesis 27, we usually think inheritance—land, wealth, and spiritual favor. Isaac’s blessing to Jacob (which was meant for Esau) set the course for entire nations.

But I’ve started to wonder... was that blessing more than land and livestock? Could it have also included something even more strategic?

I believe it may have symbolized something else entirely: a woman.

"Doth not wisdom cry? and understanding put forth her voice? She standeth in the top of high places... She crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city..." - Proverbs 8:1-3

Not in the way you might think—not sexually, but spiritually and mentally. Women in the Bible were often the catalyst for movement, strategy, survival, and elevation. The blessing may have referred to the kind of woman who could help a man achieve his divine purpose. A woman with vision. With intuition. With strategy.

Think about it: Rebekah was the mastermind behind Jacob’s deception. She heard the plan, made the moves, and ensured Jacob got the blessing. Her strategic intervention shifted the course of history. She wasn’t a background character—she was the chess master.

So, what if the “blessing” was more about the partnership and purpose Rebekah wanted to align with Rachel? Rachel’s role in her family was a businesswoman.

Genesis 29:9 (KJV)

"And while he yet spake with them, Rachel came with her father's sheep: for she kept them."

That phrase—“for she kept them”—tells us Rachel wasn’t just bringing the sheep to water. She was the primary caretaker, overseeing a vital part of the family’s livelihood. In today’s terms, she was managing the business.

It was Rebekah's request that Jacob look for a wife among her kindred. So when Rebekah saw Rachel, she didn’t just see beauty—she saw brilliance, diligence, and legacy. It also puts more depth into why Jacob was willing to work 14 years for her. She represented more than love—she represented alignment with the kind of future he wanted to build.

Esau’s Anger: More Than Just a Birthright

Esau was furious—and understandably so. He had been tricked not once, but twice. First, he sold his birthright for stew (let’s be honest, he played himself there). But the blessing? That was deliberate deception. And Jacob knew it.

Genesis 27:41 tells us Esau planned to kill Jacob. This wasn’t a mild sibling rivalry—this was war. And when they finally met years later (Genesis 32–33), Jacob was terrified. He sent gifts, bowed, and practically begged for his life.

Because deep down, Jacob knew he had disrupted a divine order.

Jacob, Rachel, and the Real Switch-Up

Let’s fast forward. Jacob flees to his uncle Laban’s house—Rebekah’s brother. He wants to marry Rachel, Laban’s younger daughter. But on the wedding night, Laban pulls a Jacob on Jacob. He gives him Leah instead.

Sound familiar?

The deceiver gets deceived.

Now here’s where it gets real: what if this was divine alignment, not punishment?
Leah was the firstborn. Traditionally, Esau (also the firstborn) would’ve been the one to visit Laban and marry first. If he had, Esau would’ve married Leah, and Jacob would’ve married Rachel—the exact order of things.

But because of Rebekah’s intervention, the roles switched.

So was Laban “tricking” Jacob—or simply correcting the path that had been tampered with?

Rachel’s Closed Womb and the Pattern of Delay

The Bible says God shut Rachel’s womb (Genesis 29:31). She was Jacob’s favorite, but she couldn’t conceive for years. It wasn’t until later that she bore Joseph, and then Benjamin. And in giving birth to Benjamin, Rachel dies.

Interestingly, this happens just a few chapters after Jacob’s reunion with Esau (Genesis 35). Within a couple of years of coming home, the love of his life is gone.

Again, we see a theme in Israel’s lineage: delay, barrenness, and timing.

Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel—all women connected to God’s covenant promises—were barren for long periods. Why? Maybe to remind humanity that God writes the script, not us. Every time someone tried to play God (think Hagar and Ishmael), it didn’t end well.

From Second Slops to Still Second Place

Jacob started his life in second place—literally grasping Esau’s heel. He schemed his way into first, but spiritually, emotionally, and relationally, he often still felt like second.

He got the blessing, but spent much of his life running—first from Esau, then from Laban, then from the consequences of his choices.

He worked 14 years for the woman he thought was the prize—only to lose her in childbirth.

He was blessed, yes, but haunted. His story wasn’t a straight line to glory. It was messy. Complicated. Human.

What Does This Mean for Us?

Sometimes we chase what we think is the blessing—a relationship, a title, a promotion—without asking God what the blessing actually is. We may even manipulate, maneuver, and scheme to get it.

But if it's not aligned with purpose, it will always feel like second place, no matter how shiny it looks.

Maybe the real blessing isn’t status, beauty, or birthright.
Maybe the real blessing is alignment.
The right people.
The right timing.
The right mission.

Because what good is being first, if your soul is out of order?

Jacob got what he wanted—but in the process, he nearly lost everything that truly mattered: God’s divine order, his brother’s trust, and ultimately, his own peace. There’s a recurring pattern in Scripture—a kind of generational curse—where the younger fights to take what belongs to the elder. A disruption in family alignment. We saw it with Cain and Abel, with Jacob and Esau, and again with Joseph and his brothers, who said, “Here comes that dreamer!” before plotting to kill him (Genesis 37:19-20).

This tension raises a deeper question: Can God trust you with the legacy? Because it's not about winning a birthright or being the favorite. It’s about being the vessel through which God’s promise flows. “To whom much is given, much will be required” (Luke 12:48), and Jacob's life shows that taking the blessing prematurely comes with a heavy price.

So much of what Israel later endured—family division, generational bitterness, even national struggle—can be traced back to Jacob’s actions. “What you sow, you will also reap” (Galatians 6:7). We often think our decisions affect only us, but one choice can send shockwaves across generations.

Jacob wrestled not just with Esau or Laban—but with God Himself (Genesis 32:24-30), desperate to secure a blessing. He served 14 years for Rachel, the love of his life, yet lost her shortly after finally marrying her (Genesis 35:19). Was it worth it?

Because here’s the truth: real blessings don’t come from manipulation—they come from alignment. True favor doesn’t have to be stolen. “The blessing of the Lord makes rich, and He adds no sorrow with it” (Proverbs 10:22). Jacob got the blessing, but he also carried the sorrow.

In the end, God’s way is always better than ours. Because the highest blessings are born not from striving—but from surrender.

 Because Building a Legacy Takes More Than Looking of Pretending To Be the Part

I love basketball — and one thing all the greats understand? You’ve got to know how to pass the ball. Legacy is a team sport. King David made his mistakes, sure, but he knew how to stay in the game and keep the mission moving forward. Saul dropped the ball — David passed it down. Maybe that's the real reason Saul was jealous of David.

Let’s talk about Saul, the tall, handsome, people-pleasing king who could command a battle line but couldn’t command a legacy. The man had one job: lead God's people and follow directions. Instead, he played DIY with divine instructions, got jealous of teenagers, and ended up being remembered as the dude who got ghosted by God.

When God Gives You the Crown and You Still Fumble It

First of all, let’s give Saul his flowers (while he’s not here to mess it up again). He looked the part: “...a handsome young man. There was not a man among the people of Israel more handsome than he. From his shoulders upward he was taller than any of the people.” — 1 Samuel 9:2

Translation: He had the height, the face, the aesthetic… but when it came to heart and obedience? Flatline. Homeboy had all the potential, and none of the follow-through.

The Flaw: Obedience > Offering

Let’s get to the turning point. God gave Saul a clear command: "Go and completely destroy the Amalekites." (See: 1 Samuel 15). But instead of full obedience, Saul pulled a “Let me remix what God said” move and kept the best cattle and spared King Agag.

Like... sir? This is not Build-A-Battleplan.

When the prophet Samuel confronted him, Saul hit him with, “But I brought the best animals to sacrifice to God!” And Samuel, the ultimate clap-back king, said:

“Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices
as much as in obeying the Lord?
To obey is better than sacrifice,
and to heed is better than the fat of rams.” — 1 Samuel 15:22

Samuel basically told Saul, “You don’t get extra credit for disobedient generosity. God isn’t interested in your performance when you won’t follow directions.”

Legacy-Less: God Was Over It

After that mess, Samuel said:

“Because you have rejected the word of the Lord,
He has rejected you as king.” — 1 Samuel 15:23

Yikes. That’s like getting fired and having your crown repo’d. God didn't just take the kingdom from Saul, He took it from his lineage. He broke the chain. Saul didn’t lose the dynasty because he was imperfect — he lost it because he was disobedient and unrepentant.

David was out here writing psalms in the pasture, and God said, “Yeah… that’s the guy I want.” (1 Samuel 13:14 — “a man after God’s own heart”).

Meanwhile, Saul was busy throwing spears at David because jealousy is easier than self-awareness.

Saul's Legacy? A Cautionary Tale.

Instead of being the patriarch of a royal line, Saul became the warning label on what not to do with favor. He couldn’t see past his own ego, his insecurities, or his need for approval from people over purpose from God.

Let’s be honest — Saul was the original “I’m doing too much and still not enough” king. One term. No dynasty. Legacy? Canceled.

So Sis, What’s the Lesson?

• Stop remixing God's instructions to fit your comfort.

• Obedience will get you places your gifts and good looks can’t.

• Legacy requires humility. Favor is sustained by character.

Saul didn’t get overthrown by a foreign enemy. He self-destructed. And if we’re not careful, we’ll do the same — sabotaging our kingdom calling because we’re too busy trying to be impressive instead of obedient.

Build what outlives you. Don’t be the Saul in your own story.

Footnote for the Royal Ones:
God gives crowns, but He also checks hearts. If your kingdom only stands as long as you're standing, you might not be building — just decorating a throne.

Now go forth and be a legacy-level leader. Not a one-hit-wonder king.

👑