Matthew 1. The genealogy of Jesus.
Fourteen generations from Abraham to David. Fourteen from David to the Babylonian captivity. Fourteen from the captivity to Christ.
Look at the middle section: captivity. Exile. The void where it felt like everything was lost.
And right there in the list — verse 6 — David and Bathsheba. Literal sin woven into the lineage.
David, the man after God’s own heart, has an affair. Commits murder to cover it up. Creates a mess.
And God says: I’m still using this.
The seed keeps growing.
Even when Saul was king and everything looked hopeless, God anointed David. Even when David sinned, God kept the line moving. Even in captivity, in exile, in the void — the seed was growing.
Even when we create the void through our own trespass, God plants something in it.
John 12:24:
“Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.”
The seed goes into the ground — burial, darkness — before it becomes a harvest.
The grape has to be crushed to become wine. The olive pressed to release oil. The caterpillar sealed in a cocoon to become a butterfly.
The fruit has to give itself to become something greater.
Jesus Himself was crushed. His blood like wine. His life poured out like oil.
He entered the void — the tomb — so we could be filled.
That’s why discipline and restraint aren’t punishment — they’re preparation.
Restraint reveals what you’ve been feeding on. Fasting exposes what controls you.
You can’t feast on Jesus if you’re stuffed with everything else.
So if God plants seed in the void we created, the question is: What is He actually inviting us to eat?
And the answer? He’s standing at the door, knocking. Offering Himself.