The Genealogy of Redemption 1 & 2 Chronicles
The books of 1 & 2 Chronicles retell Israel’s history with a redemptive lens, leading us not just to the kings of Judah, but to the King of Kings—Jesus. His genealogy includes the flawed, the forgotten, and the scandalous—reminding us that redemption, not perfection, is God’s plan. From Tamar to Bathsheba, from David’s failures to Josiah’s reforms, the message is clear: no one is disqualified when grace rewrites the story. If you’ve ever felt undesirable, overlooked, or rejected, take heart—your name may not be in Chronicles, but your redemption is written in Christ. This is the legacy of the gospel: that what man calls broken, God calls chosen.
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Sermon Transcript
The Genealogies of Redemption1 & 2 ChroniclesSermon by Gene Simco
I once heard a story about a baby dedication that got me thinking. After the church service, little Johnny was crying all the way home in the back seat of the car. His father asked him three times what was wrong. Finally, through sobs, Johnny blurted out, “The pastor said he wanted us to be brought up in a Christian home... but I want to stay with you guys.”
Sometimes, we laugh because we relate. Sometimes, we laugh because it hits too close to home. And sometimes, it’s both.As we continue our Alpha and Omega series—where we explore one book of the Bible each week—we now reach a moment that covers not just one, but two books: First and Second Chronicles. But don’t treat this as a shortcut or a spiritual summary. This should stir your curiosity and awaken your hunger to dig into these books yourself.
Last week, we finished Second Kings, which ended with the fall of both Israel and Judah. After centuries of rebellion, idolatry, and division, the kingdom of Judah fell, and Jerusalem was destroyed—ushering in a seventy-year exile in Babylon. First and Second Chronicles now loop us back—not just for a review, but for a retelling, a divine reflection.
At first glance, Chronicles might look like a repeat of Second Samuel through Second Kings, and in rough chronology, it is. First Chronicles begins at the death of Saul after a long geneaology, and Second Chronicles takes us through the fall of Jerusalem. But don’t be fooled into thinking it’s just recycled material. This is not a repeat—it’s a Holy Spirit–inspired commentary written for a post-exilic audience, with a theological lens shaped by exile, loss, and the hope of restoration.Have you ever tried tracing your family tree—maybe hoping to discover royalty—only to find a few embarrassing skeletons in the closet? That’s exactly what Chronicles dares to do. These genealogies can feel repetitive at first, but they serve a deeper purpose. They trace the spiritual and royal line of Israel, connecting the nation’s past with its future—and ultimately, with Jesus Christ.
The chronicler doesn’t fixate on Israel’s failures. Instead, he highlights God’s faithfulness, the enduring hope found in His covenant, and the redemptive thread that runs through temple worship and the line of David. It’s no coincidence that this book leans heavily on Judah, the southern kingdom. That’s where the Messianic promise rests. The chronicler omits many of the darker moments we read elsewhere—David’s sin with Bathsheba, for example, or Solomon’s idolatrous fall. This is not denial; it's theological intention. The emphasis is not on shame, but on redemption.
First Chronicles overlaps with First and Second Samuel, focusing on David’s rise and preparation as king. Saul’s anointing is absent, and it skips to Saul’s death, starting with genealogies and ending with the preparations for the temple. Second Chronicles parallels First and Second Kings but narrows the focus almost entirely to Judah—hardly mentioning the northern kingdom of Israel unless it directly interacts with Judah.These books are deeply pastoral. They are a call to remember who God is, even after judgment. Chronicles reframes the story not from the viewpoint of failure but from the viewpoint of future hope. Through the lens of temple worship, covenant faithfulness, and royal lineage, it quietly yet powerfully whispers, The King is still coming.
When we first open First Chronicles, we’re met with what seems like an insurmountable wall of names—a stretch of nine full chapters of genealogies. For the reader who made it through Numbers thinking they had conquered the Bible’s most daunting terrain, this may be the point where their determination begins to crumble. But don’t be fooled: what appears at first glance to be dry, repetitive text is actually rich with hidden gems and theological gold.The genealogies of First Chronicles begin with Adam and trace the unfolding of redemptive history through Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Judah. These aren’t just records; they are sermons. They’re living reminders that God keeps His promises across generations. Among the twelve tribes, two are given special prominence: Judah, the line of kings, and Levi, the line of priests. This focus is not accidental—it’s deeply messianic, leading us toward Jesus, the ultimate King and Priest.
Let’s dig into some of the overlooked but powerful revelations tucked into these genealogies.In 1 Chronicles 2:3, we find a remarkable moment tucked into the opening lines of Judah’s genealogy: “The sons of Judah were Er, Onan, and Shelah. Their mother was Bathshua, a Canaanite woman. Judah had twin sons from Tamar, his widowed daughter-in-law. Their names were Perez and Zerah. So Judah had five sons in all.”Bathshua is the name of Judah’s wife—a detail not included in Genesis 38, where she’s only called “the daughter of Shua.” This makes 1 Chronicles 2:3 the only place in Scripture where we get her name. This seemingly minor correction reminds us that genealogies are more than just lists—they’re restorations of names and identities, often lost or passed over.And then there's Tamar—named again, front and center. A widowed daughter-in-law, a woman scorned by society’s standards, but not forgotten by God. Tamar’s boldness and brokenness become part of the redemptive story. She becomes the mother of Perez, an ancestor of King David—and ultimately, Jesus.So here we have it: a Canaanite woman and a scandal-surrounded daughter-in-law both named in the line of Christ. These aren’t just footnotes in the family tree; they’re proof that God weaves grace into every limb of the lineage. What man might dismiss or be ashamed of, God redeems for glory. The genealogies aren’t sterile—they’re saturated in mercy.
In 1 Chronicles 2:34–35, we encounter a stunning and easily overlooked detail. An Egyptian servant named Jarha is welcomed into the line of Judah by marrying the daughter of Sheshan. That’s right—a Gentile servant becomes part of the Messianic line. Even in the midst of genealogical listings, we see glimpses of God’s heart for the nations. This is an early picture of Gentile inclusion—a theme that Paul picks up centuries later in Romans 11, where he speaks of wild branches being grafted into the olive tree.
Next, in 1 Chronicles 2:50–51 we find a detail often overlooked, yet deeply significant: “These were the descendants of Caleb. The son of Hur, the firstborn of Ephrathah, was Shobal, the founder of Kiriath-jearim. Salma (the founder of Bethlehem), and Hareph (the founder of Beth-gader).” This brief mention carries the backstory of Bethlehem itself. The name Ephrathah appears here and again in the prophecy of Micah 5:2, where the Messiah’s birthplace is foretold. This small town, often dismissed in size and status, was never insignificant in God’s plan. Through this lineage, we see that Jesus wasn’t randomly born in Bethlehem—He was rooted there by ancestry and prophecy, embedded within Judah’s land and family from the beginning.
1 Chronicles 4:9–10 gives us another unexpected interruption in the long list of names—a brief biography of Jabez. “There was a man named Jabez who was more honorable than any of his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez (which means ‘distress’), because his birth had been so painful. He prayed to the God of Israel, ‘Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory...’” This tiny narrative tucked in a sea of names became the basis for the bestselling book The Prayer of Jabez. But more importantly, it’s a reminder that God sees individuals in the crowd and honors bold, faithful prayer—even from those born in sorrow.In First Chronicles 4:39–43, the tribe of Simeon is shown seeking new pasture for their flocks. Their own territory was absorbed into Judah’s, so they searched until they found a land formerly occupied by the Hamites. This account, not found in Joshua or Kings, demonstrates God’s ongoing provision even for the smallest, most overlooked tribes.
Then we come to First Chronicles 6, a chapter that might seem like a list of Levites—but don’t miss the detail: the worship leaders are named here. Heman, Asaph, and Ethan—names that appear in the Psalms—are listed among those responsible for leading the people in musical praise at the temple. This reinforces the centrality of worship in Israel’s spiritual life and foreshadows the coming Messianic figure who will serve as both Priest and King, leading His people in praise. As Hebrews 2:11–12 echoes Psalm 22, it says of Jesus, “He is not ashamed to call them His brothers and sisters. For He said to God, ‘I will proclaim your name to my brothers and sisters. I will praise you among your assembled people.’”
Surprisingly, First Chronicles 8 gives special attention to the tribe of Benjamin, especially Saul’s lineage. The Chronicler likely includes this to offer a measure of honor and closure to Saul’s house, despite his failure. It also acts as a narrative bridge, transitioning from Saul’s reign to David’s, setting up the emergence of the rightful king.Finally, First Chronicles 9 shifts the focus to the returnees from exile. It lists the names of priests, Levites, gatekeepers, and temple servants who returned to Jerusalem after the Babylonian captivity. After all the destruction, God still remembers His people by name. Even after judgment, restoration is not just corporate—it’s personal.These genealogies are more than historical footnotes. They are theological declarations: God sees, God remembers, and God redeems—not only nations and kings but individuals, servants, outsiders, and even the forgotten.
As we move forward in our journey through 1 Chronicles, we come to chapters 10 through 29, which shift the spotlight onto the reign of David. This section parallels much of 2 Samuel—but with a difference in tone and purpose. The Chronicler does not retell David’s story with all its blemishes. Instead, he presents David’s reign as a model of godly leadership, choosing to emphasize his passion for worship and the centrality of God’s presence.
This doesn’t mean the author is unaware of David’s flaws—it means the focus is redemptive. Where 1 and 2 Kings showed us the collapse and corruption of the monarchy, 1 Chronicles highlights what God was building through David: a heart aligned with heaven.
David’s failures are minimized here. Instead, what takes center stage is his legacy of worship, especially seen in his desire to bring the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. In 1 Chronicles 15–16, David leads a grand procession, filled with music, singing, and dancing, as the Ark is brought into the city. The Ark represented God's presence among His people, and David understood this deeply. His joy wasn’t just ceremonial—it was personal. This moment foreshadows Christ, Emmanuel—“God with us.” Just as David desired to dwell near the Ark, Jesus would come to dwell among us in the flesh.
In 1 Chronicles 17, we encounter the profound promise of the Davidic Covenant. God tells David that his throne will endure forever. While Solomon would inherit that throne in part, the promise looked beyond any earthly king. It pointed to Jesus, the eternal King in David’s line, whose kingdom would never end. This covenant is essential to the Messianic hope. It reminds us that redemption is not an afterthought in Scripture—it’s the plan from the beginning.
Chapters 22 through 29 detail David’s extensive preparations for the temple. Though David would not build it himself, he poured his resources, time, and heart into making sure it would be ready. These chapters, often overlooked, are powerful. They show David organizing Levites, gathering gold and materials, and charging Solomon with the task. It wasn’t just about building a structure—it was about building a culture of worship and reverence. These chapters anticipate Christ as the ultimate Temple, the dwelling place of God with man (John 2:19–21). Through Him, we no longer need a building—we become the temple of the Holy Spirit.A unique revelation in 1 Chronicles 22:8 gives us the reason why David was not allowed to build the temple: “But the Lord said to me, ‘You have killed many men in the battles you have fought. And since you have shed so much blood in my sight, you will not be the one to build a Temple to honor my name.’” This divine reasoning is absent in 2 Samuel, offering us a deeper look at God’s heart. David’s hands were too stained by war. The temple, a place of peace and presence, would be built by Solomon—whose name even means peace (Shlomo).
One of the most striking and unique details found in 1 Chronicles is the account of David’s census. In 1 Chronicles 21:1, it says, “Satan rose up against Israel and caused David to take a census of the people of Israel.” This contrasts with 2 Samuel 24:1, which states, “Once again the anger of the Lord burned against Israel, and he caused David to harm them by taking a census.” Together, these passages offer deep theological insight, showing both God’s sovereign judgment and Satan’s role as the adversary—much like the account of Job. God allows the test, but Satan is the instigator. David’s prideful act led to devastating consequences: 70,000 people died in the ensuing plague. Yet, this moment also reveals God’s mercy, as David intercedes and God stops the angel before reaching Jerusalem. Chronicles doesn’t just record events—it interprets them, helping us understand the spiritual battle and divine justice that unfolds behind the scenes.
We also see in these chapters the introduction of the full name “Judah” as a kingdom, giving clarity to the emergence of the southern kingdom and the lineage of David. The genealogies that laid the foundation earlier now connect seamlessly to David’s enduring legacy. What began with Adam has now rooted itself firmly in Judah, through David, pointing ahead to Christ.
In short, 1 Chronicles 10–29 is not just a political history—it’s a theological declaration: God is building something eternal, and David’s faithfulness, despite his flaws, plays a key role in that story. This is the kind of legacy God uses—one not of perfection, but of pursuit.
Indeed, we see many Christophanies, foreshadowings, and fulfillments woven throughout First and Second Chronicles.
They begin in the genealogies themselves—specifically those of Levi and Judah. These two tribes represent the priesthood and the kingship, respectively. Under the old covenant, the priests descended from Levi, but their ministry was limited by mortality. Hebrews 7:23–25 explains, “There were many priests under the old system, for death prevented them from remaining in office. But because Jesus lives forever, his priesthood lasts forever. Therefore he is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through him. He lives forever to intercede with God on their behalf.”In Jesus, the priesthood and kingship are united forever. He is both the eternal High Priest and the King of Kings.This kingship finds its roots in the Davidic Covenant. In 1 Chronicles 17:11–14, God says to David, “I will raise up one of your descendants, one of your sons, and I will make his kingdom strong. He is the one who will build a house—a temple—for me. And I will secure his throne forever. I will be his father, and he will be my son. I will never take my favor from him... I will confirm him as king over my house and my kingdom for all time, and his throne will be secure forever.” Though Solomon partially fulfilled this promise, the true fulfillment is found in Jesus. As Luke 1:32–33 says, “The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. And he will reign over Israel forever; his Kingdom will never end!” Solomon's wisdom and devotion, though admirable, ultimately gave way to moral failure—reminding us that only Jesus is the perfect, sinless King whose reign is eternal.The Davidic Covenant in 1 Chronicles 17 promises a throne that will last forever, but David himself dies. This covenant was never ultimately about David—it was pointing forward to someone greater. The apostles make this unmistakably clear. In Acts 2, Peter declares to the crowd at Pentecost: “But he was a prophet, and he knew God had promised with an oath that one of David’s own descendants would sit on his throne… God raised Jesus from the dead, and we are all witnesses of this… Dear brothers, think about this! You can be sure that the patriarch David wasn’t referring to himself, for he died and was buried, and his tomb is still here among us. But he was a prophet… seeing what was to come, he spoke of the Messiah’s resurrection.” (Acts 2:30–31). Paul echoes this in Acts 13:36–37, saying: “This is not a reference to David, for after David had done the will of God in his own generation, he died and was buried with his ancestors, and his body decayed. No, it was a reference to someone else—someone whom God raised and whose body did not decay.” The promise of an eternal throne only makes sense through resurrection—Jesus, the Son of David, is not only enthroned forever, He is alive forever. His kingdom has no end because His life has no end.
We also see foreshadowing in the exile and return. In 2 Chronicles 36:23, Cyrus, king of Persia, makes a declaration: “The Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth. He has appointed me to build him a Temple at Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Any of you who are his people may go there for this task. And may the Lord your God be with you!” In Isaiah 45, verses 1 and 13, it says this: “This is what the Lord says to Cyrus, his anointed one, whose right hand he will empower … I will raise up Cyrus to fulfill my righteous purpose, and I will guide his actions. He will restore my city and free my captive people—without seeking a reward! I, the Lord of Heaven’s Armies, have spoken!” While Cyrus is not the Messiah, he is a shadow of Christ—the anointed one sent by God to restore what was lost and free the people. But Jesus is the greater restorer, as Luke 4:18–19 declares: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.” Cyrus helped rebuild a physical temple. Jesus rebuilds the true temple—the hearts of His people, His body, and His Church.
Chronicles also lays a theological foundation for the genealogies of Jesus found in Matthew 1 and Luke 3. These genealogies trace the long line of covenant, kingship, and redemption—beginning with Adam and running through Abraham, David, the exile, and ultimately to Christ. Matthew emphasizes royal fulfillment, highlighting David and Judah. Luke goes all the way back to Adam, showing Jesus as the Savior of all humanity. But both reveal a genealogy of brokenness turned to beauty—a theme that echoes God’s redemptive plan.
Take 1 Chronicles 2:3–4, where we find Tamar listed among Judah’s descendants. Tamar, Judah’s daughter-in-law, was involved in a scandalous deception that led to the birth of Perez. Yet in Matthew 1:3, we see, “Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah (whose mother was Tamar).” That’s grace. That’s redemption. Even what seems shameful becomes part of salvation history.
In 1 Chronicles 2:11–12, we meet Boaz, the father of Obed. Boaz married Ruth, a Moabite woman—someone from a nation banned from Israel’s assembly (see Deuteronomy 23:3). Yet in Matthew 1:5, it reads, “Salmon was the father of Boaz (whose mother was Rahab). Boaz was the father of Obed (whose mother was Ruth).” These Gentile women—Rahab the prostitute and Ruth the Moabite—are included in the Messiah’s family tree, showing that the Gospel is not just for insiders. It's for the outsider, the foreigner, and the undeserving.
Then there's Bathsheba. In 1 Chronicles 3, her name is given as Bathshua, and in Matthew 1:6, she is intentionally not called by name, but by title: “David was the father of Solomon (whose mother had been the wife of Uriah).” This reminds us of David's sin—adultery and murder—but also God’s mercy. Through that broken story came Solomon... and eventually, Christ.
And then there’s Zerubbabel. In 1 Chronicles 3:17–19, Zerubbabel leads the returned exiles. He appears again in both Matthew 1:12 and Luke 3:27. A post-exilic leader, Zerubbabel points to Jesus, who leads the ultimate return from exile—restoring hearts and rebuilding a people, not just a city.All these names—Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba—represent what we might call “undesirable” figures in traditional genealogies. Yet God highlights them. These women carried social stigma, moral scars, or cultural rejection—but God chose them as part of the lineage of Christ. He didn’t come through a sanitized, perfect line. He came through a real one—full of broken people who found redemption.
This is the genealogy of grace.This is the gospel in a list of names.And it means this for us: No matter your past, no matter your shame, Jesus is not ashamed to include you in His family.Have you ever felt undesirable?Have you ever felt forgotten or unforgiven? Looked over because of your past, your pain, or your position? Maybe you’ve carried shame for something you did years ago, something others won’t let you forget—or something you haven’t forgiven yourself for.
You're not alone.
When we trace the genealogy of Jesus in the Gospels, we don’t find a pristine list of saints and sages. We don’t get a résumé built for the Messiah by human standards. Instead, we find names that most of us would have left off entirely. Tamar, who seduced her father-in-law by deception. Rahab, a Gentile prostitute from Jericho. Ruth, a Moabite widow from a people birthed through incest. Bathsheba, whose story began with adultery and the murder of her husband.These are not squeaky-clean Sunday School characters. They are gospel signposts—reminders that God doesn’t just work around scandal; He works through it.Jesus didn’t come through a perfect family line. He came through a redeemed one.
And that means your story isn’t over either. Your sin is not stronger than God's grace. Your rejection doesn’t cancel your redemption.In these stories, we see everything from rape to adultery, from incest to deceit, from substance abuse to murder. Things that, by the world’s standards, would get you “canceled.” But in God’s Kingdom, these are the very stories He redeems. Why? Because the Gospel is fundamentally opposed to the world’s way of thinking. The cross offends worldly sensibilities—because it invites the broken, not the polished. It restores the fallen, not just the respectable.
And tragically, much of the world’s thinking has crept into the Church. We’ve allowed legalism to replace love. We’ve let political influence override gospel truth. I’ve even heard pastors argue from pulpits that felons shouldn’t vote or that certain crimes forever disqualify someone from being used by God. But what does Jesus say? When the law demanded death for the woman caught in adultery, Jesus didn’t reach for a stone—He stooped down and rewrote her story in the dirt.Restoration is the heartbeat of the Gospel.
Yet we’ve forgotten this in our churches. We preach grace on Sundays and practice exclusion on Mondays. We build pulpits on platforms of perfectionism when Jesus chose the lowly, the shamed, and the outsiders.
No matter what shame others have placed on you—no matter what shame you’ve placed on yourself—God rewrites the story.What the world labels as unqualified, God calls chosen.What man calls shameful, God transforms into glory.This is your legacy in Christ. Not perfection—but redemption.
Every scandal in Jesus’ family line... every broken story... every outsider… is a signpost pointing straight to the cross. You are not disqualified because of your past. God’s grace is not deterred by sin. It rewrites the story. What man calls a mess, God makes into a message.If God worked through Judah... through Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba... He can work through you.This is the heart of redemption: Jesus doesn’t avoid brokenness. He enters into it and transforms it.
As 1 Corinthians 1:26–28 reminds us:“Remember, dear brothers and sisters, that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes or powerful or wealthy when God called you. Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And He chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful. God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important.”That’s the story of Jesus’ genealogy. And by grace, it’s the story He’s writing in us.So, we must press forward into redemption.But we don’t do that by ignoring the past. First, we must learn by looking back.Let your past be your teacher—not your captor. Don't dwell in it, but do learn from it. Ask yourself: What has God already brought me through? Trace the patterns of His grace, even in the pain. Identify where you've fallen—and more importantly, where He's lifted you.Then, you leave it behind.
Like Paul, we press forward. In Philippians 3:13–14, Paul—writing from a prison cell—says this: “No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.”
Paul’s story is powerful not just because of where he ended up, but because of where he came from. Before he met Jesus, he was the Church’s greatest persecutor. Present at the stoning of Stephen, some would call him a murderer. He imprisoned believers, scattered the early Church, and violently opposed the Gospel. Even after coming to Christ, the world still rejected him. His letters were written from prison. He knew the sting of being despised and dismissed.
Yet none of that disqualified him.
None of it canceled his calling. Paul still became one of the greatest leaders in Church history, and by the Spirit of God, he authored thirteen books of the New Testament. If Paul could move forward after that past, so can you.
To press forward into redemption, we must let go of what no longer aligns with God's call on our lives—including guilt, shame, fear, or even the success that once defined us but no longer fits our calling.
You don’t just survive in Christ—you thrive.
Ask the Holy Spirit to redirect your desires, renew your focus, and release the weight you’ve been carrying. And while you’re looking back, don’t forget to examine your present too. Sometimes what we think is good now is actually holding us back from God's best. Not every comfort is from God. The Bible promises comfort in trials—not complacency. As Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble,” and as Paul writes, “We glory in tribulations.” That means we should be wary when we’re “blessed just enough” to stay in a bad situation.Never forget: the devil tempted Jesus not with pain, but with comfort. He offered Him kingdoms, status, and bread—worldly blessings meant to distract Him from His mission. And it’s the same today. Comfort can be a trap. Pride in our achievements or possessions, as warned in 1 John 2:16, can derail our purpose if we’re not paying attention.
So eliminate distractions. Remove the love of money from the equation when searching for your purpose. Don’t confuse material provision with spiritual direction.And maybe... maybe you’ve felt rejected—by people, churches, family, or even yourself. Maybe you've been made to feel invisible or unworthy.But God’s answer is loud and clear: You are not forgotten.Galatians 3:28 reminds us: “There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus.”There are no outcasts in the Kingdom of God.
If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of rejection, hear this: you’re not just welcome. You’re wanted.And it's time to extend that welcome to others. The Church is not a country club for the “acceptable.” It's not a cultural clubhouse built around ethnicity or tradition. It is a Kingdom made up of every tribe, tongue, and background. Race, gender, nationality, social class—none of it matters in Christ. The Gospel doesn't care about your résumé. It cares about your redemption.So don’t let culture creep in and confuse your calling. The Church is not a place where we decide who qualifies. It is a place where the blood of Jesus qualifies everyone who believes.
1 & 2 Chronicles isn’t just history. It’s legacy. It’s redemption. It reminds us that even after exile, shame, failure, and rebellion, God still builds something beautiful.And the same God who brought Jesus through Judah, David, Bathsheba, and a line of broken people... now works through you.So let the world say what it will. Let your past scream what it wants. Let shame try to take center stage.But you, child of God, are part of a better story—a redemptive story, a royal line, and a future written in grace.You don’t need a perfect past to have a powerful future.You just need to belong to the One who redeems everything.And His name is Jesus Christ.
©️ Copyright 2025 Gene Simco Most Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Scriptures in brackets reflect the original Biblical languages.
©️ Copyright 2025 Gene Simco Most Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Scriptures in brackets reflect the original Biblical languages.