The Gate of Heaven by Gilbert Morris

important for two foolish sons to decide.” Tradition declared that the father’s blessing was needed before the birthright was actually passed on—nothing happened without that final seal of God’s approval. Who says I must give my blessing to the wrong son because of this impulsive transaction.
    Isaac struggled to his feet and began to pace as hope rose in him that all was not lost. “I am the father,” he said. “I will say who receives my blessing and who doesn’t. And I say that Esau will still receive my blessing when I am ready to give it.”
    With his decision made, he stepped out of the tent with a lighter heart, shielding his eyes from the painful sunlight, and made his way to find Rebekah. He would tell her first. He was certain she somehow had a hand in this mess. The family needed to know that he was still in charge—he was still the head of the family, and he would pass the blessing on to the son of his choice.

Chapter 4
    Hezbod gnawed at the last shreds of meat on a sheep bone, licked it thoroughly, and then tossed it aside. “That was good,” he grunted. “Now, how about some wine, woman?”
    Bethez stared at him with disgust. “You’re going to get drunk again, old man.”
    Hezbod belched loudly and held out the cup. “A man’s got a right to a little pleasure after runnin’ with those sheep and goats all day long. Now, fill my cup and hush.”
    Bethez snorted with disgust but obeyed her husband’s command. They had lived together for so long there were no surprises left for either of them, and lifelong habits were deeply ingrained. True enough Hezbod did drink too much, but by the same token, Bethez was prone to nagging. Many a time Hezbod had said, “You give up nagging, I’ll give up drinking.” But both of them knew they would never relinquish their chief preoccupations and pleasures.
    The camp was quiet now except for the loud argument going on in Esau’s tent. Hezbod turned and shook his head with disgust. “Esau should have never married them two Hittite women. He should have known better.”
    â€œWell, for once you’re right.”
    â€œFor once? I’m always right! Isaac should have told him to lay off them Canaanite women. They ain’t nothin’ but trouble.” He grinned slyly and added, “But then all women is trouble, I expect.”
    Bethez sniffed, then lifted her head at the screams now issuing from Esau’s tent. “Both of those women deserve a good beatin’. But you’re wrong about one thing, husband. The master did try to talk sense to Esau. He just didn’t have any luck.”
    â€œNobody ever had any luck trying to talk sense to that man. I’m glad he’s out huntin’ most of the time. Jacob’s a much easier master. Works hard, just like the rest of us. Quiet, soft-spoken. But that Esau—he’s always fighting or shouting or causing trouble.”
    Bethez picked up one of her husband’s robes and began to mend a tear in it. Even though her old fingers were stiff now, she worked steadily. Finally the screaming and shouting reached a crescendo and then was cut off as if with a sword. “I wonder if he killed ’em,” she remarked. “Wouldn’t surprise me none if he did.”
    â€œMe neither. He’s got a bad streak in him.”
    Bethez pulled the needle through the cloth, then looked over at her husband. “I remember the night those two boys were born. They were no sooner out of the womb than Esau began actin’ like he does now. He was big and shouted and kicked just like he’s been doing ever since.”
    â€œWhat about Jacob?”
    â€œOh, he was a quiet one. I told you how he came out holding on to his brother’s heel.”
    â€œNot more than a hundred times, I guess.”
    â€œWell, he did . Now those boys are forty years old, and poor Jacob has to put up with