Clothed in Grace and Favor

Clothed in Grace and Favor
Father’s Day Message | Genesis 37:1–4 (NLT) | Pastor Tammy Long

Quick Glance: For Your Heart Today

Fatherhood isn’t always simple. It’s tender, complex, and sometimes messy. On this Father’s Day, we reflect on the story of Jacob—a father who loved deeply but imperfectly. His gift to his son Joseph, a beautiful robe, became a symbol of both affection and division. And yet, through this flawed picture of human love, we catch a glimpse of a deeper truth: what Jacob gave to one son, our Heavenly Father offers freely to all. In God’s presence, we are clothed in grace and favor—a covering that heals, restores, and can never be taken away.

3 Takeaways

• Love may be sincere but still flawed—God’s grace covers both the giver and receiver.
• We all long for affirmation and favor—and God offers it freely to all His children.
• Even when life strips away what once gave us identity, God’s grace still covers and restores us.

If You Only Have a Moment
Take a breath and receive this truth today:
Inhale: “You see me, God.”
Exhale: “You cover me in grace.”

Estimated Reading Time: 18–20 minutes

Good morning, family. And Happy Father’s Day to all of the fathers, grandfathers, uncles, mentors, and spiritual dads among us. Today we pause to say thank you—for your presence, your protection, your quiet sacrifices, your words of wisdom, and your steady love.

We also recognize that this day can stir up many kinds of emotions for all of us. For some, it’s joy and celebration as a father, father figure or remembering our own fathers. For others, it may stir not-so-positive memories—absence and pain. Days like today can evoke a myriad of feelings, which is why this morning we’ll be looking at a father in Scripture who knows some of that tension. A father doing his best. A father with a complicated past. An uncertain future. And a father who finds himself holding something no parent ever wants to receive.

Before we go to our Bible passage for today, I want to fast forward the story and invite you to imagine a climactic scene to set the stage for where we’re going. You may want to close your eyes and be there.

The air is suffocating, the quiet deafening, and a father is standing still, frozen, unable to comprehend what he just heard. In front of him, a younger man is holding out a bloodstained garment. The outer garment—call it a robe or a coat—is torn at the edges. The smell of animal blood is strong.

“Look at what we found,” came the report with this garment—“Doesn’t this robe belong to your son?”

The father, recognizing the robe immediately, feels sick to his stomach as what’s happened begins to sink in. “Yes,” he says barely above a whisper, “this is my son’s robe. A wild animal must have eaten him.” His voice catches and the lump in his throat strangles what he says next: “Joseph has clearly been torn to pieces!”

Family, this is a parent’s worst nightmare. Jacob stares at the coat he’s holding—what once symbolized his joy, love, and favor now feels like death in his hands. And he’s flooded with all kinds of thoughts: “How did this happen?” “Where were his brothers?” “Was this my fault?” “Did I not train him, not teach him, not protect him?”

I suspect as Jacob held the tattered remnant of the robe in his hand, the reality became clear. As much as he had tried to wrap his son in love, he could not save him from the ravages of his world.

And this is where we begin today. Not with a polished picture of fatherhood, but with grief. With the kind of ache that can make you question everything. Because that’s part of fatherhood too. And not just fatherhood, but motherhood, and any relationship where we love deeply and want the best care for another—or expect the best care from one another.

This Father’s Day message is not the sentimental kind. It’s real and honest. It’s a story of missteps, mistakes, and malintent. But take heart, family, that’s not where the story ends. There’s also a larger story, one of grace and favor. Because even in this moment of heartbreak, God is still working and not done. That robe speaks to a greater truth that begins earlier—so let’s go back to the beginning.

If you’d please open your Bibles, we will be reading from Genesis 37.

Genesis 37:1–4 (NLT)
So Jacob settled again in the land of Canaan, where his father had lived as a foreigner. This is the account of Jacob and his family. When Joseph was seventeen years old, he often tended his father’s flocks. He worked for his half brothers, the sons of his father’s wives Bilhah and Zilpah. But Joseph reported to his father some of the bad things his brothers were doing. Jacob loved Joseph more than any of his other children because Joseph had been born to him in his old age. So one day Jacob had a special gift made for Joseph—a beautiful robe. But his brothers hated Joseph because their father loved him more than the rest of them. They couldn’t say a kind word to him.

We learn right from the onset of our passage that this is a story about a father and his family. Verse 2 says this is the account of Jacob and his family—and this is not just any family. His name is connected with God’s covenant promise beginning with Abraham and passed down from generation to generation. From grandfather Abraham to son, Isaac and grandson Jacob. These patriarchs, as they are often called, are recognized and esteemed by Jews, Christians and Muslims alike. And now Jacob has sons of his own.

But just because a family carries spiritual significance and a divine promise doesn’t mean it’s without struggle. In fact, this family has been carrying struggles, sins, and weaknesses for generations. We are reminded of that truth in our day, as well—whenever we hear about the struggles of a spiritual leader. No family is perfect.

Jacob grew up in the shadows of preference and trickery. He knew first-hand what it felt like to be on the opposite end of favoritism. His own father, Isaac, had a favorite—and it wasn’t him. It was Esau. And in his desperation to receive the blessing of the family inheritance, that rightfully belonged to his brother Esau, Jacob and his mother Rebekah schemed to deceive his father to steal that birthright.

That one moment of deception fractured his relationship with Esau and sent him running for his life. And even when he found refuge in his uncle Laban’s household, the family pattern continued—trickery, competition, and a marriage arrangement where Jacob ended up with two wives and two maidservants, building a family with four women and twelve sons.

So when we come to Genesis 37 today, we are stepping into a blended family that isn’t quite blended. There are fractures. There are allegiances and alliances. There is tension running through the household.

Joseph works for his half-brothers—sons of Bilhah and Zilpah—and that dynamic matters. The text makes a point to name it. This is a divided home and there are layers—half-siblings, with different mothers, different social standings, unspoken comparisons, unresolved tensions, and likely, resentments.

And when Joseph, at seventeen, reports to his father about some of his brothers’ behavior, it stirs the pot even more. Whether he was being honest, self-righteous, or simply naive—we don’t know. But we do know it didn’t help.

And Jacob doesn’t help either. In fact, he does something that makes matters worse. He has a special robe made for Joseph. Or outer garment. The Bible isn’t clear about what made it special. Some believe it was ornamented with special colors—which is where we get the idea of a coat with many colors. Some believe it had sewn-in sleeves—which was not usual for that day and also would have made it special. Either way, it was a unique outer garment that generated envy.

Because it was more than a quiet gesture or a private word—it was a visible, unmistakable sign of favor. A garment that marked Joseph as set apart. As different. Affirmed and chosen by his father. Perhaps even a statement of his Father’s choice for him to be the future head of the clan.

This is a divided household. Lines have been drawn. And right in the center of it all is Joseph—loved deeply by his father, but resented by nearly everyone else around him.

The robe didn’t just say Joseph was special—it screamed, to the rest of them, you’re not.

What started as a story about a young man tending the family sheep quickly turns into a story about jealousy, family wounds, and what happens when love is unevenly expressed. The brothers’ hatred isn’t just about the robe. It’s about everything it represents.

But let’s talk a little more about Jacob the father. Jacob honestly loved Joseph. That much is clear. The robe was a gift. A legitimate gesture of affection. Joseph was the son of Rachel, the wife Jacob had waited and worked for, for a total of 14 years—after being tricked for the first seven years, receiving a wife he didn’t want. Not only did he work and wait and finally get the wife he did want, but the passage says Joseph was special because he came later in Jacob’s life. In a season, perhaps, where Jacob was ready to be a dad in a different way. And then there was apparently something about Joseph himself—his character, his integrity, his spiritual sensitivities—that stood out. We see that as we follow the rest of his story.

So, I believe Jacob’s love was sincere. But unfortunately, it was also misapplied. What Jacob gave to Joseph, he didn’t offer to the others—and therein was the problem. Now I believe that Jacob loved all his sons, possibly and probably in different ways. But we all know that when love is not expressed with balance or an awareness of the ramifications of that expression, it can do harm. The robe was a gift, yes—but it also created distance. It elevated one son above the others, and in doing so, left the rest outside that circle.

This is something many of us understand. As parents. As leaders. As friends. We don’t always see the full impact of our choices. Sometimes even when we act from a place of sincere affection, others receive it as an exclusion. Then there are the times we’re working from what we’ve known or experienced—our own past, our own brokenness, our own patterns. We understand this—either as the giver or as the receiver of painful inequities.

Jacob had lived through favoritism as a child. And now, maybe without meaning to, he was repeating that pattern, and repeating the same inflicted pain.

What’s both comforting—and challenging—about Jacob’s story is that it’s real. It’s messy. Like us, he wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t a horrible father either. His love for Joseph was deep, even if it wasn’t evenly distributed. He wanted Joseph to know he was seen, valued, cherished. And in that way, Jacob’s love—all the flaws notwithstanding—echoes something about God. Because here’s the larger truth: what Jacob gave to one son, God longs to give to all His children. That truth of being chosen. The assurance that you are seen, valued, and deeply loved. We desperately want that—we need that—to know we matter.

And here’s the good news: God doesn’t run out of love. He is a Father big enough to embrace everyone in the household. Jacob’s actions may have been flawed, but his love was real. There was something about Joseph that captured Jacob’s heart. And whether we believe it or not, God feels the same way about us. Jeremiah 31:3 makes it plain: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.”

Jacob didn’t get everything right. But his impulse to bless—to affirm, to hold dear, to love generously—reflects the true heart of our Heavenly Father, the only perfect Father, who has enough love for the entire world.

In fact, as much as we can learn from Jacob, his story actually invites us to look up. At some point, all of us need to lift our eyes from earthly fathers and turn to the perfect love of our Heavenly Father. Because earthly fathers—while they may try to do the best they can—make mistakes. They mess up. They miss cues. And they can fail miserably.
Jacob loved Joseph—but he loved with limits. It was partial and caused pain. It was human. But God’s love is not like
Jacob’s. It isn’t reserved for one. It doesn’t divide a household. Where Jacob gave a garment to one son, God offers a covering to all His children—not a coat of many colors, but a garment of grace and favor. That doesn’t wear out. That doesn’t fade. And can’t get stolen.

God’s garment of grace and favor is not something we earn or deserve. It’s a gift—freely given. To receive, put on, and wear as God’s chosen and loved sons and daughters.

Listen to how Isaiah describes it in 61:10: “I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God! For he has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness. I am like a bridegroom dressed for his wedding or a bride with her jewels.”

That’s not just poetic language—it’s a picture of the joy and beauty that happens when we say yes to the Father’s love. When we receive what He longs to give. When we put on that coat and are clothed in His grace and favor.

And Joseph’s life shows us just that.

If you know the story, you know Joseph wasn’t killed by animals. His brothers, consumed with envy, stripped the robe from him, threw him into a pit, and sold him into slavery. From there, his life went from bad to worse. He was falsely accused of sexual assault. Wrongfully imprisoned. And forgotten by the friends he helped to get early release.

For years, Joseph lived with no visible sign of favor. No robe. No family. No explanation. But he was never uncovered. Through it all, God’s presence never left him. Through it all, he continued to be clothed in God’s grace and favor.

• Throughout Joseph’s entire story, the Bible puts it this way: “The Lord was with Joseph, so he succeeded in everything he did as he served in the home of his Egyptian master. Potiphar noticed this and realized that the Lord was with Joseph, giving him success in everything he did.” (Genesis 39:2–3 NLT)
• “But the Lord was with Joseph in the prison and showed him his faithful love. And the Lord made Joseph a favorite with the prison warden.” (Genesis 39:21 NLT)
• “The Lord was with him and caused everything he did to succeed.” (Genesis 39:23 NLT)

Joseph may have been stripped from the robe his father gave him, but he was wrapped in something far greater: the sustaining grace and favor of his Heavenly Father. When Potiphar’s wife lied about him, grace covered him. When he sat in prison waiting to be remembered, God’s favor surrounded him. And when Pharaoh finally called his name, grace enveloped him and raised him up.

That’s what it means to be clothed in grace and favor: it’s a gift, a robe, if you will, that God offers to surround and sustain everyone who chooses to trust Him. And Joseph did trust God. He remained faithful, even when it would’ve been easier to give up.

And here’s the beauty of Joseph’s story: the robe his father gave him was stolen and the years were hard. But his story didn’t end in the pit. And it didn’t end in prison. It ended in a palace—where Joseph was positioned for healing and restoration.

When a severe famine spread across the land, the same brothers who had once betrayed him came to Egypt looking for food—unaware that the brother they had thrown in the pit now held the power to save them. Joseph could have turned them away. He could have retaliated and gotten even. But instead, he chose mercy. He forgave the brothers who betrayed him. He fed the family who once stripped him of his robe.

And in doing so, he became a reflection of the Father’s heart—the kind of love and grace that covers, restores, and redeems.
And as Joseph would later say to his brothers: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.” (Genesis 50:20)

Family, even when it feels like there’s no way back, no path to healing, no way forward—God is not done until the story is done. God’s intentions are always good.

What’s more, the healing didn’t stop with Joseph. In one of the most tender scenes at the end of Genesis, Jacob—the same father who once gave one robe to one son—lays hands on both of Joseph’s sons and tenderly blesses them. The same father who had once loved with limits now blesses across generations.

That’s what grace does. It not only wraps and restores you in God’s love—it works through you and can restore what’s broken between you and others. God’s grace can heal the story. God’s grace can renew the legacy. God’s grace can write a new ending.

And so today, Family, I want to speak especially to the men in this room—fathers, sons, brothers, friends. You who may have wrestled with identity, failure, or purpose. You who may be wondering if the best is behind you, or if the damage is too deep. You who are just trying to be faithful to whatever God has before you.

I want to give you this word of encouragement: the story is not over. God is not finished. The garment of grace and favor is still being offered. Is still upon you. You may feel like your robe has been stripped, your strength is fading, or your role has been reduced—but our Good, good Father still sees you. He still covers you. And today, He says again: “I choose you.”

The question is: will you choose Him?

So at this time, I want to invite the men of our church to respond to that invitation—not just with words, but with presence and a prayer of blessing.

If you are ready to say yes again—or for the first time—to walk in the covering God is offering you, I invite you now to come forward. Not because you have it all figured out. But because you are ready to say,

“Yes, Lord—I receive Your grace.

I receive my garment.

I receive the call to live as Your son.”

Gracious Father,
Thank You for every man standing here today.
You know their name, their story, and their heart.

You are the Perfect Father.
You never stop covering.
You never stop calling.
You never stop loving.

Bless these men with the deep assurance of Your grace.
Clothe them in righteousness.
Wrap them in peace.
Fill them with courage, hope, and purpose.

Where they feel empty—fill them.
Where they feel weak—strengthen them.
Where they feel forgotten—remind them: “You are Mine.”

Let them walk not in striving, but in surrender.
Not in shame, but in sonship.
Not in fear, but in faith.

May they rise like Joseph—
to forgive, to lead, to restore, to bless.

To leave a legacy of healing and grace
for those who follow.

Not because they wear a robe from their earthly father,
but because they are covered by their Heavenly Father—fully and forever.

We bless them now—in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Amen.