The Unbroken Line: Covenant, Conflict, and Life from the Dead Text: 1 Chronicles 2:21-24
Introduction: The War on History
We live in an age that despises genealogies. We despise them because we despise history, and we despise history because we despise our fathers. The spirit of our time is one of chronological snobbery, the arrogant assumption that we, the enlightened ones standing at the pinnacle of time, have nothing to learn from the dusty, dead past. Every man wants to be his own Adam, springing fully formed from the head of Zeus, with no debts, no obligations, and no inheritance. This is the satanic lie of autonomy, and it is a fast track to meaninglessness.
And so, when the modern Christian comes to a passage like the one before us, his eyes glaze over. Hezron, Machir, Segub, Jair. It feels like reading a phone book for a city you have never visited. But we must discipline ourselves. We must understand that these genealogies are not filler. They are not the inspired equivalent of packing peanuts. They are the steel girders of redemptive history. They show us that God works His plan not through abstract principles or disembodied ideals, but through real people, in real families, in real time. God's covenant is a covenant that bleeds, that marries, that begets, that builds, that fights, and that buries.
These lists are a declaration of war against the gnostic impulse to spiritualize everything away. God is interested in bloodlines. He is interested in inheritance. He is interested in property, cities, and land. And the reason He is interested in these things is because He made them, and He is redeeming all of them through His Son. To skip the genealogies is to want a crown without a cross, a kingdom without a history, and a savior without a body. This passage, tucked away in the annals of Judah, is a miniature portrait of the entire Christian life: covenantal faithfulness, fruitful dominion, historical setbacks, and the ultimate triumph of life over death.
The Text
Afterward Hezron went in to the daughter of Machir the father of Gilead, whom he took as a wife when he was sixty years old; and she bore him Segub.
And Segub became the father of Jair, and he had twenty-three cities in the land of Gilead.
But Geshur and Aram took Havvoth-jair from them, with Kenath and its villages, even sixty cities. All these were the sons of Machir, the father of Gilead.
And after the death of Hezron in Caleb-ephrathah, Abijah, Hezron’s wife, bore him Ashhur the father of Tekoa.
(1 Chronicles 2:21-24 LSB)
Covenantal Ambition (v. 21)
We begin with a man who refused to believe his work was done.
"Afterward Hezron went in to the daughter of Machir the father of Gilead, whom he took as a wife when he was sixty years old; and she bore him Segub." (1 Chronicles 2:21)
Hezron is sixty years old. In our day, a man of sixty is thinking about his 401k, his golf game, and his retirement community. He is thinking about winding down. Hezron is thinking about the future. He is thinking about legacy. He is not just getting married; he is making a strategic, covenantal alliance. Machir is a powerhouse, the "father of Gilead," a prince in the tribe of Manasseh. Hezron, a chief in Judah, is uniting two of the great tribes of Israel. This is not the sentimental, romantic fluff that our culture builds marriage on. This is a man with a multi-generational vision, building for the kingdom, securing the inheritance, and raising up a godly seed.
At sixty, he is still planting trees whose shade he will not enjoy. This is the essence of patriarchal faithfulness. He is not living for the weekend; he is living for the centuries. And God honors this forward-looking faith. His wife, the daughter of a great man, bears him a son, Segub. The line continues. The promise is passed down. This is a direct rebuke to our culture of sterile self-absorption. God's command to be fruitful and multiply does not come with an expiration date.
The Fruit of Faithfulness (v. 22)
The fruit of Hezron's late-life faithfulness is immediate and tangible.
"And Segub became the father of Jair, and he had twenty-three cities in the land of Gilead." (1 Chronicles 2:22)
Notice the progression. A faithful marriage produces a son, and that son produces a grandson who is a ruler, a builder, a man of substance. Jair is not a shiftless wanderer. He possesses cities. He has an inheritance, and he takes dominion over it. This is postmillennialism in miniature. The kingdom of God is not an ethereal, wispy thing. It advances on the ground. It builds, it organizes, it governs. Jair's twenty-three cities in Gilead are a direct result of his great-grandfather Hezron's decision to marry at sixty.
Our decisions have consequences that ripple down through generations. When we are faithful in the small things, in our marriages, in raising our children, God can grant our grandchildren cities. This is the logic of the covenant. God's blessings are not just spiritual; they are tangible, historical, and geographical. He is the Lord of heaven and of earth, and that includes the real estate in Gilead.
The Friction of History (v. 23)
But the story is not a simplistic, triumphalistic march. The Chronicler is a realist. He knows the world we live in.
"But Geshur and Aram took Havvoth-jair from them, with Kenath and its villages, even sixty cities. All these were the sons of Machir, the father of Gilead." (1 Chronicles 2:23)
Here is the "but." The inheritance was taken. The enemies, Geshur and Aram, came in and conquered the territory. This is the friction of living in a fallen world. The kingdom advances, but it advances through conflict. There are setbacks. There are defeats. Victories are not permanent if a generation grows soft and forgets the Lord. This verse is a splash of cold water in the face of any naive optimism.
Taking dominion is not easy. Holding it is even harder. The enemies of God are always prowling, seeking to steal and destroy the inheritance of the saints. This verse reminds us that we are in a war. We will lose battles. We will cede territory from time to time. But the Chronicler includes this note of loss not to breed despair, but to foster gritty, resilient faith. The loss of the cities does not negate the promise; it simply highlights the constant need for vigilance, courage, and dependence on God. The story is not over.
Life Beyond the Grave (v. 24)
And now we come to the most remarkable verse, a theological thunderclap that echoes with the power of the resurrection.
"And after the death of Hezron in Caleb-ephrathah, Abijah, Hezron’s wife, bore him Ashhur the father of Tekoa." (1 Chronicles 2:24)
Read that carefully. Hezron is dead. After he died, his wife bore a son to him. How can a dead man father a child? This is not some biological anomaly. This is a profound statement about the nature of the covenant. Hezron's name, his legacy, his lineage does not end at the grave. His faithful wife, Abijah, carries on his line. The child is reckoned to be Hezron's. This is a powerful testimony to the corporate and enduring nature of the family covenant.
God's promises are not thwarted by death. A man's life is more than the sum of his breathing years. Through his covenant bride, his influence and his line continue. Abijah is a picture of the faithful church. Our husband, the Lord Jesus, died. He went to the grave. And yet we, His bride, continue to bear fruit for Him in the world. The children we bear through the gospel are reckoned to His account. He is the one building His house, and the gates of hell, including the gate of death, will not prevail against it.
And look at the fruit of this posthumous birth. Ashhur becomes the "father of Tekoa." He is another builder, another founder of cities. The dominion mandate continues, supernaturally, right through the valley of the shadow of death. This is the gospel in a nutshell. It is the story of God bringing life out of a tomb. It is the promise that our labor in the Lord, our building, our begetting, is not in vain. Because He lives, our legacy lives also.
Conclusion: Your Place in the Line
This short, dense passage is a map for Christian living. It calls us to live with a long view, like Hezron. To marry, to work, and to build for the generations to come, not for our own fleeting comfort. It calls us to be fruitful, to take the inheritance God has given us and build something on it, like Jair.
It warns us to be ready for a fight, like the sons of Machir. The world will contest every inch of ground you take for Christ. Do not be surprised by this. Put on your armor and stand firm.
And finally, it anchors our hope not in our own longevity, but in the God who raises the dead. Our ultimate confidence is in the fact that our Hezron, the Lord Jesus Christ, died and was buried. And after His death, His bride began to bear children for Him from every tribe and tongue and nation. And those children are building a city, the New Jerusalem, whose builder and maker is God. Your name, if you are in Christ, is in that genealogy. And that is a line that will never be broken.