JESUS IN GENESIS
From the very first breath of Scripture, the presence of Jesus moves like a quiet fire across the pages—burning, warming, illuminating. Genesis is not merely the beginning of the world; it is the beginning of the story of Christ, for “all things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made” (John 1:3).
When God spoke light into the darkness, the voice that thundered across the void was the eternal Word, the Son who would one day walk in the cool of the day among the very creatures He formed. Creation itself bears His fingerprints; every sunrise is a whisper of His power, every star a testimony to His majesty.
Yet in Genesis we also watch the world fracture under the weight of sin, and here again, Christ steps into view—not as a distant shadow, but as the promised Redeemer. When Adam and Eve hid among the trees, clothed in fig leaves and fear, the Lord fashioned for them garments of skin, soft with mercy and heavy with meaning (Genesis 3:21).
An animal had to die; blood had to be shed; innocence had to cover guilt. This was no mere act of kindness—it was the first whisper of Calvary. In the trembling of that first sacrifice, we hear the far-off echo of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, wrapping sinners in a righteousness they could never weave for themselves.
As the story marches forward, glimpses of Jesus continue to rise from the ancient soil of Genesis. Melchizedek—mysterious, timeless, king of Salem and priest of God Most High—steps onto the stage with bread in one hand and wine in the other (Genesis 14:18). He blesses Abram, receives tithes, and disappears into the mist of history.
Yet the Bible later tells us he is a type of Christ—without father or mother, without beginning of days nor end of life—a priesthood not born from lineage but from eternity (Hebrews 7:3). In Melchizedek we see the silhouette of our eternal High Priest, who brings peace, offers blessing, and stands in a priesthood unbroken and unending.
Then comes the prophecy of the Shiloh—the one to whom the scepter truly belongs (Genesis 49:10). Spoken by the dying lips of Jacob, this promise points forward to the One who would rise from the tribe of Judah, whose rule would bring obedience, peace, gathering, and glory.
Shiloh is no mere ruler; He is the Rest-Giver, the One in whom every wandering heart finds its home. In Bethlehem’s cradle the promise grows flesh; on Golgotha’s hill the promise is sealed; in the empty tomb the promise stands forever.
And so Genesis, though ancient and earthy, is alive with Christ. He is the Creator who shapes the worlds with a word, the Lamb whose blood covers the guilty, the Priest who blesses with bread and wine, the King whose scepter never fades. From the garden’s tragedy to the patriarchs’ promises, from the shedding of the first blood to the hope of the final blessing—Jesus stands at the heart of the first book, just as He stands at the heart of all Scripture.
Genesis is not merely the beginning of the world; it is the beginning of the Gospel, whispering from its earliest lines that salvation would one day wear a human name, and that name would be Jesus.
BDD
