In my experience, one of the hardest things for a church to develop is true diversity. Many churches talk about it, celebrate it, even put it on their websites—but let’s be honest: we feel safer when everyone looks like us, sounds like us, and shares our background. Diversity is risky. It’s uncomfortable. It’s messy. And deep down, we know it. We would never say out loud that we want our church to be white, middle to upper middle class, with similar experiences. We may not even consciously realize we resist diversity. But our staffing budgets, our programs, our habits, and our behavior often tell a different story. We will tolerate diversity—only if the costs are controlled, the risks are minimized, and we only experience the benefits. That’s because the American church has allowed the Gospel to become narcissistic. We’ve stopped treating it as a worldview—a lens through which we interpret history, culture, and even our own stories. Instead, we’ve shrunk it down to something that exists primarily for our comfort, our preferences, our spiritual experience. But survival in Egypt is so much bigger than our own experience. This week we learn how Jacob finally saw past his own family—past his own tribe, his own comfort, his own limited perspective—to the real promise God made to Abraham and Isaac: that their family would become a blessing to all nations. Not just people who looked like them. Not just people who lived like them. Not just people who made them comfortable. God’s vision has always been global, multi ethnic, multi cultural, beautifully diverse. And if we’re going to survive in Egypt—and influence Egypt—we must learn to see what Jacob finally saw: God’s mission is bigger than us, and His blessing is meant for the whole world.
