Trimming the Tree

“A record of the genealogy of Jesus Christ:  Abraham was the father of Isaac, Isaac was the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah, Judah the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar.”  Matthew 1:1-3

Ah, the family tree. Often found on walls in offices and living rooms, this list of names hangs as a noble tribute to the lives and legacies of relatives near and far, but let’s be honest—in most families some branches might seem better sawn off or at least not climbed!  But when Matthew framed the genealogy of Jesus at the beginning of his gospel, he didn’t cover up anything or anyone. Instead of cutting limbs away, he highlights the lowlights (or low lives) of our Savior’s kinfolk.  Even a quick glance reveals that the facts and feelings of those forefathers—and foremothers—reflect the deepest cries of our own hearts and echo our greatest needs.  Their stories trim the family tree of Jesus as ornaments of grace hanging on a garland of Divine design.

“…whose mother was Tamar.”  Tamar—the first woman and the first “by the way” on the list.  Abraham fathered Isaac.  Isaac fathered Jacob.  Jacob fathered Judah.  Judah fathered Perez and Zerah, whose mother, by the way, was Tamar.  So who was Tamar, and why was she included?  Call Geraldo and hang on because her story is better fitted for shock TV than a royal ancestry.  Tamar was the mother of Judah’s children, but she wasn’t his wife.  She was actually his daughter-in-law.  No, her husband wasn’t mad; he was dead.  In fact, both her first and second husbands were dead, and the man who should have been her third husband wasn’t.  That’s why she had her father-in-law’s babies.  True story.

Tamar, filled with the desires and dreams of every young bride, had married Judah’s oldest son, Er, but he was so wicked that “the Lord put him to death” (Gen. 38:7).  Judah told his next oldest son, Onan, to marry Tamar so Er’s family line could continue. Yes, this was lawful and legal back in the day, but Onan didn’t want any kid of his own counting for his brother so before he took care of things with Tamar, he took care of things on his own. This displeased God, and Onan was soon dead as well.  After the funeral Judah told Tamar to go back home, live as a lonely widow, and wait for his youngest son to grow up, but when little Shelah was old enough to marry, Tamar wasn’t the bride at the other end of the aisle.

The pain of shattered dreams, unfulfilled expectations, and broken promises drove Tamar to a wild plan.  She posed as a prostitute, accepted the unsuspecting Judah’s proposition, and ended up pregnant.  When her baby bump became too big to hide, Judah demanded she be burned to death until she publicly proved his paternity by the items he had given for payment.  He relented and repented and provided for her and the boys.  Yes, the boys.  God gave her not one but two babies, twins, to take away the disgrace of her barrenness and to fill her arms and heart.

A wicked husband, a wimpy brother-in-law, a wily father-in-law.  Devastation, disappointment, deception, and undeniable sin.  The rugged realities of life displayed for all to see.  Why?  Why in the lineage of our spotless Messiah mention someone like Tamar?  Because her story reminds us that no matter how broken or battered we may be, no matter how used or useless we may feel, no matter the wrongs we have done or the wrongs done to us, God is the one, the only one, who can bring purpose to our pain.  God could have carried on the line of Judah through his youngest son, but instead He chose one of Tamar’s twins to be the ancestor of His own Son.

As we step forward into this season, let’s step back into the story—way back, and let what God has done in the past remind us of what He will do in the present.  No matter how crooked or crazy the limb of your life may be, God can take it all—the hard, the haunting, and the hurtful—shape it by His grace and hang it beautifully on His family tree.