Obadiah: Jesus, our Big Brother
Spoken Gospel podcast with a photo of David and Seth

Obadiah: Jesus, our Big Brother

About This Episode

Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, Edom and Israel. The biblical story is full of sibling rivalry. Seth and David talk about how the story of Jesus resolves the sibling animosity we see not just in the Bible, but in our own families.

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A Biblical Pattern of Broken Brotherhood

Show Notes

David and Seth, hosts of the Spoken Gospel podcast, pick up a thread from the Book of Obadiah they felt deserved deeper meditation: the idea of Jesus as our brother. Though Obadiah is a short book, its story of centuries-long sibling rivalry between Israel and Edom opens a profound window into the Gospel.

The conflict in Obadiah traces all the way back to Genesis, where Jacob and Esau struggled inside Rebecca's womb. Those twin brothers became two nations — Israel and Edom — and their hostility echoed across biblical history. Remarkably, the Jewish historian Josephus records that King Herod, the ruler who murdered the boys of Bethlehem, was himself an Edomite. So the ancient rivalry between Jacob and Esau repeated itself in the Gospel story: Jesus, a son of Jacob, was hunted by Herod, a son of Edom. Sibling rivalry marks the very narrative of redemption.

This pattern stretches even further back than Jacob and Esau. In Genesis 4, Cain murders Abel — another fractured brotherhood that mirrors the fractured union between God and humanity. The estrangement between brothers is, in a real sense, the fall itself. That feeling of being disconnected from a brother, harboring animosity, fearing reconciliation — this is the basic state of human beings east of Eden. The Book of Obadiah depicts this vividly: Edom acted like vultures picking over the carcass of ransacked Israel, boasting while looting their brother's city and even partnering with foreign powers to sell Israelites into slavery. And they saw nothing wrong with it. That blindness to the evil of betraying a brother is what makes the estrangement so dangerous.

What's at Stake: The Need to Be in God's Family

The theological stakes of this broken brotherhood are higher than they first appear. Throughout Scripture, there is a pattern of familial salvation — being saved based on who your family is. Noah's household was saved through the ark because of Noah's righteousness. Eight people survived because of one man's family connection to God. Esau sold himself out of that kind of family connection when he traded his birthright for a bowl of stew, signaling that he didn't value being part of God's chosen line. Jacob, for all his flaws, held onto the covenant.

Romans 11 describes Gentiles being "grafted in" to the tree of Abraham. This is not a metaphor to breeze past. It means that God's promises have always traveled through Israel, through the family line of Abraham, and it is only by being connected to that family tree that anyone receives the blessing God promised. The judgments against the nations in Obadiah still stand against everyone outside that covenant family. Being estranged from God's people — like Edom was, living right next door to Israel, sharing DNA with them, yet outside the covenant — is genuinely bad news. As Paul writes in Ephesians, the nations were "outside the commonwealth of Israel."

This is why Jesus told Nicodemus, a teacher of the Old Testament law, that he must be "born again" (John 3:3). Nicodemus should have recognized this theme in Scripture — the narrative pattern of spiritual rebirth, of being remade so that your spiritual DNA connects you to the covenant family. Everyone is born, as Paul might say, into the family of Edom — children of wrath by nature. But by trust in Jesus, anyone can be adopted into the family of Jacob. The curses against the nations at the end of Obadiah need not fall on those who, by faith rather than by blood, have been grafted into true Israel.

Jesus Introduces Himself as Our Brother

In Mark 3:32-35, Jesus is teaching a crowd when someone tells him his mother and brothers are waiting outside. In the honor-shame culture of first-century Israel, leaving your mother standing outside while you attend to guests was a severe cultural violation. But Jesus uses the moment to redefine family. He looks at the people seated around him and says, "Here are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does God's will is my brother and sister and mother."

This is entirely consistent with the Old Testament. Who belonged to God's family? The person who obeyed God's law. Every covenant curse in the prophets is tied to breaking God's will. At Sinai, God said, "I will be your God and you will be my people if you do all that I command." Obedience to God's will is the doorway into his family. But beyond the covenantal logic, there is something deeply intimate in Jesus' words. He considers those who follow him to be his close family — so close that he prioritizes them even over his earthly mother. That is not a small statement. Jesus is declaring that the people who trust him and do his Father's will are not distant spiritual acquaintances. They are family in the most intimate sense.

The Better Big Brother Who Comes Down

Hebrews 1 establishes that Jesus is God above all things — the heir of all things, the radiance of God's glory, the exact imprint of his nature, exalted above every angel. But then Hebrews 2:10-11 makes a stunning turn. The God who created and sustains all things made "the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering," and "is not ashamed to call them brothers." The word "ashamed" in the New Testament Greek carries the idea of class — of moving from a higher station to a lower one. Jesus, who has every right to be embarrassed by his sinful siblings, experiences no degradation in calling us brothers. Instead, our station goes up.

But here is what subverts expectations: Jesus is not first our brother because he pulled us up to his level. He is our brother because he came down to ours. Hebrews 2:14 says that "since the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things." Jesus took on human skin, bones, and nerves. He became a brother in the brotherhood of humanity so that "through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Hebrews 2:14-15). This is the opposite of what Edom did. Edom responded to Israel's vulnerability by selling them into slavery. Jesus responded to our vulnerability by entering into it himself. He became like us in every respect — not to lord it over us the way Edom lorded it over Israel, but to fight the fight alongside us, to die for us because he had made himself one of us. Only then does he flip the script by rising and elevating us to his station as co-heirs of God's glory.

Heirs Together: The Inheritance of God

Romans 8:12-17 draws the threads together. Paul addresses his readers as "brothers" — not just connected to Jesus, but connected to one another through the Spirit of adoption. "You did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear," Paul writes, "but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, 'Abba! Father!'" That cry — "Abba" — is the intimate word a child uses for a parent. The Holy Spirit exists in part to bear witness to our spirits that this impossible-sounding reality is true: we are children of God.

And if children, then heirs — "heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ" (Romans 8:17). The inheritance is God's own fortune passed to his sons and daughters. And like all inheritances, it comes through a death in the family. Whereas Esau devalued and sold off his birthright, Jesus laid his down and shared it. He is a better big brother than Esau ever was. The inheritance is nothing less than the universe, the infinity of God, glorification with Jesus. As 1 John 3:2 says, "When we see him, we will be made like him." The spiritual DNA we received when we were reborn as Jesus' brothers will one day become supernatural, physical reality.

Suffering, Glory, and the Spirit's Reminder

Romans 8:17 adds a striking condition: "provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him." Hebrews ties suffering and glory closely together as well. When Jesus suffered like us, he adopted us into his family. And when we suffer like Jesus, we are drawn deeper into that family identity. There is grace embedded in this for anyone suffering under the weight of broken relationships — an estranged sibling, a manipulative family member, the ache of never having had a brother at all. In those moments of suffering, the Holy Spirit does not go silent. The Spirit's role is to remind us that we are adopted, that Jesus is our brother, and that we will inherit along with him the entire world and all the goodness of God. Suffering does not disqualify us from sonship. It is, paradoxically, one of the very places where the truth of our adoption becomes most vivid and most real.

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