Adapted from the talk as a book chapter, in the speaker's voice. It keeps the argument, stories and wording where possible, but it is an edited retelling, not a transcript. Tap a time in the margin to hear that moment.
Welcome back, friends. It’s a great joy and privilege to be part of this conference. I’m Michael Morales, professor of biblical studies at Greenville Seminary, and I want to look with you at Genesis 11, the famous story of the Tower of Babel.
“Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as people migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, ‘Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.’ And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, ‘Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.’ And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. And the Lord said, ‘Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another's speech.’ So the Lord dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth. And from there the Lord dispersed them over the face of all the earth.” (Genesis 11:1–9)
Our great, glorious and majestic God, our heavenly Father, we praise and adore you. You are the fountain of life, from whom every good and perfect gift descends, above all your eternal beloved Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, and in and through him the Holy Spirit. Thank you that you so loved the world that you did not spare your Son but freely gave him up for us all, and that your Spirit opened our eyes to the beauty and majesty of Christ and his atoning work for us and for the nations. May that same Spirit make us his instruments, to proclaim the excellencies of Christ and his salvation and the glory of the triune God.
I want to talk about Genesis 11, the Tower of Babel, for a particular reason. One natural starting place for a biblical theology of missions is the opening chapters of Genesis, and I'll touch on those. But Genesis 11 is especially helpful, and I want to make an assertion and spend our time backing it up: the crisis of the biblical story, the great dilemma the history of redemption sets out to overcome, is precisely what we see in Genesis 11. It is the judgment of God that creates the nations, scattered away from his presence, without God and without hope in the world.
Certainly we can step back theologically and call the fall of Adam the great crisis. We confess that it brought sin and death into the world, that everyone born of Adam has a sinful nature, and parts of Scripture portray salvation as the reversal of eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. I deny none of that. But the fruit of Adam's fall, the picture of the world in darkness under God's judgment, is given to us precisely here. Genesis 11 becomes the portrait of a world lost without God, and, I hope to show you, the redemption found in the Messiah is often portrayed as its reversal. Praise God, it is not merely a reversal of Babel; it includes the reversal of Adam's failure too.
Three flowers of pride
Here the world is united, and it sets out on a city-building project with a tower whose summit, whose head, reaches into the heavens. There are various ways to understand it, but at the very least it is an act of colossal pride, hubris. And from that soil of pride spring three flowers.
Glory. The first is humanity's desire for the glory due to God alone. Why build a city and a ziggurat reaching into the heavens? Verse 4: “Let us make a name for ourselves.” Here is the first item for the little Hebrew quiz at the end (I'll hold your hand through it): the Hebrew for “name” is shem. These nine verses keep playing on similar-sounding words to underline that the name is central. Even “there” (“from there the Lord dispersed them”; “there the Lord confused their language”) is sham. To make a name for oneself, in the ancient world as now, is a humanistic attempt at immortality. We put our names on plaques on buildings so we won't be forgotten. In the ancient world you made a name through glory in battle, through children, and through great building projects. The epic of Gilgamesh is all about a hero denied immortality by the gods who preserves his name through his great buildings; it opens by telling you to look at the magnificent walls he built. That is what fallen humanity wants.
Permanence. The second is a desire for permanence and stability: “lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” They knew full well that God's will was for the earth to be filled with his images proclaiming his praise. Instead they huddle together for this building project. They don't want to wander; they want stability. (There is a way for God's children to have these desires in their proper place, and we'll come to that.)
Protection. The third is a desire for protection and power, which is the point of the tower breaching the heavens. After the flood God gave the rainbow, likely to remind his people of his promise never again to destroy the world by water. In the flood the firmament, the raqia, gave way and the waters above and below collapsed together, day two of creation unraveling; the rainbow pictures the firmament held up again. It may also have functioned as a kind of boundary treaty, like the one Laban and Jacob made: I will not cross this line to harm you, nor you me. God was, in a sense, restricting his intense dwelling presence to the heavens for now, with the earth as humanity's place. Here humanity deliberately breaches the heavens to access heaven's power, what we would call occult power. In Babylonian, Babylon means “gate of the gods.” That is why ziggurats were built: so the gods could come down and commune with people, and people could ascend and tap divine power for their own protection. It is a picture of humanity in utter arrogance and defiance of God, and this is the great crisis, God's judgment to which the rest of the biblical story responds.
Genesis 2–11: nations under judgment
We know what comes in chapter 12: God calls Abram and gives him all those promises, and the history of redemption begins in earnest. So why don't we get Genesis 12 in Genesis 4? The fall had already happened; humanity needed a Savior. Why not call Abraham right away? One reason is that chapters 2–11 show the full flowering of the fall, what humanity looks like left to itself, ending in God's great judgment, scattered from his face. There are many parallels between chapter 11 and the earlier chapters signalling that we should read this section as one block. I'd put a title over Genesis 2–11: the nations under judgment, scattered from the face of God, divided from God, divided from one another, and spread throughout the earth.
We find anticipations of Genesis 11 already among the children of Adam and Eve. In jealousy over the brother God favored, and who likely became the new firstborn, Cain killed Abel so that he would be firstborn again without a rival. The Lord said, “What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground. And now you are cursed from the ground… When you work the ground, it shall no longer yield to you its strength. You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth” (4:10–12). Your second Hebrew word: “wanderer” is nod. Cain answered, “My punishment is greater than I can bear. You have driven me today away from the ground, and from your face I shall be hidden… and whoever finds me will kill me.” So the Lord gave him a sign and a promise. But they meant nothing to Cain. “Then Cain went away from the presence of the Lord and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden” (4:16): the land of Wandering.
What a profound, even philosophical, statement. Man separated from God by sin is always in the land of wandering. He has lost his north star. Wherever he builds his city, he is lost, with no compass inwardly, spiritually, theologically or even, in a sense, geographically. Then (4:17) Cain had a son, Enoch, a name meaning “dedication,” often used for dedicating buildings and cities, and “he built a city, and called the name of the city after the name of his son.” Look closely and you find the same three motives in Cain that we see in Babel. Glory and immortality: he builds a city and has a son and names the city after him. Permanence: condemned to wander, he builds a city in the land of Wandering. Protection: his explicit fear was that anyone who found him would kill him; God gave him a mark, and it wasn't enough. Historically and sociologically, cities came together with walls and with religion seeking divine power for protection. All three motives are there.
There's another small link to Babel. In 4:17 “he built a city” is actually a participle: he was building a city. We assume it was finished, but the language anticipates the city in Genesis 11 that was never completed. You could even translate it, “he became a city-builder.” Throughout Scripture, those who reject God build cities, while those who turn to God in humility, by the work of his Spirit, are sojourners, waiting on God to restore the city he took away, Eden. It's no accident that the Bible ends with the city of God coming down out of heaven as the new Jerusalem, or that Hebrews 11 speaks of everyone from Abel to Abraham waiting for “the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.” Those who reject God want all of God's benefits through technology without submitting to him.
Some sixteen or seventeen years ago I read in Time about a group of scientists whose goal was to overcome death. One said the idea that death is inevitable, or, we might say, that the wages of sin is death, is ludicrous: a human being is like a car; when it breaks, you fix it. Each was convinced they would solve death before any of them died. I'd love to see how many are still around. That is the idea: through technology, we don't need God. Genesis 11 mentions brick for stone and bitumen for mortar, new technology. Now we can build cities and have everything we need without submitting to God. Genesis 11 is Cain's city writ large. Cain's family has become representative of the whole world, and God comes down in judgment and scatters them into nations by dividing their tongues.
So, my first assertion: Genesis 11, God's judgment on the nations, is the crisis the history of redemption, beginning with Abram's call in the very next chapter, sets out to reverse and overcome. In a real sense Genesis 12 through Revelation 22 is God's methodical, ordained plan to reverse the crisis of chapters 2–11.
The kingdom spreads through kingship
My second assertion is that the kingdom of God, or, if you like, missions, spreads through kingship. We'd need to go back to Genesis 1 and 2 to show it fully, but you know God's command not only to be fruitful and multiply but to rule and subdue. Adam was not to be king himself but vice-regent, God's representative on earth, second in command. As he ruled and subdued, through his family line and through six days of labor and a seventh of worship and rest, gathering the fruits of his labor in praise to God, he was to spread the kingdom of God to the ends of the earth. No one ever enjoys any blessing apart from the kingship of the Lord, mediated through his human king.
Adam failed. And part of the message of Genesis 2–11 is not only how sin spreads but how dark the earth became under failed human kingship. Follow Cain's line to Lamech (4:23–24): “Adah and Zillah, hear my voice; you wives of Lamech, listen to what I say: I have killed a man for wounding me, a young man for striking me. If Cain's revenge is sevenfold, then Lamech's is seventy-sevenfold.” Pride filtering out into violence, which accumulates, with immorality and darkness, until a few chapters later God destroys the world by the flood. Lamech represents Cain's leadership devolved into wickedness and violence. In Hebrew his name is Lemech, almost certainly an anagram of melech, the same consonants jumbled. And there's your third Hebrew word (not bad; let's stop there): melech means king. Here is a perverse, jumbled kingship expressing itself in violence.
We find the same dynamic in chapter 11. Read on its own, Babel can sound ad hoc: humanity is somehow united and decides to build. But back up a chapter and the story is darker. “Cush fathered Nimrod; he was the first on earth to be a mighty man. He was a mighty hunter before the Lord… The beginning of his kingdom was Babel, Erech, Accad and Calneh, in the land of Shinar” (10:8–10). Most interpreters through history have understood Babel as a vicious, oppressive regime, not unlike Egypt later on. Remember the contrast: city-builders reject God; sojourners submit to him. Israel is conscripted by Pharaoh to build storage cities, a telling sign of how oppressed they were. Abraham, by contrast, comes into the land, builds an altar and calls on the name of the Lord, as the sojourners do: worship rather than city-building.
So Genesis 11 shows not just an enterprise of fallen humanity but the fruit of wicked kingship. Kingship is God's ordained way to bring blessing into the world. But when the first king tried to usurp God by transgressing his command, his descendants inherited sinful natures bent on rebellion, and this is what human kingship does. And God, in his mercy, comes in judgment and divides them by changing their tongues. We aren't told, in the mystery of the Trinity's works, but it seems this would be a work of the Holy Spirit in judgment; at the very least, as Chad reminded us this morning, it will be the Holy Spirit's work to reverse that judgment in due course.
Which judgment was worse?
Before Genesis 12, consider a question: which was worse, the flood or Babel? It's something of a trick question; there's no wrong answer, and no right one either. If I could put you in the DeLorean and drive you not back to the future but back to the past, to Noah's flood or to Babel, most of us would choose Babel, because you get to live. (As someone wisely said, while I breathe, I hope.) But look from another angle. Whatever the death toll of the flood (we don't know how full the earth was then: six hundred thousand, six million, whatever number you like), it pales beside the deeply pervasive effects of Babel. As soon as people were separated by tongues into regions that developed different cultures, music and ways of thinking, in a world of scarcity, wars and rumors of wars began. Many classics teach that a king's chief job is always to study war. Think of every war in this country, the Revolutionary War, the Civil War; think of World War I and World War II, and every war and battle across the globe, and the atrocities against women and children. All that upheaval and suffering is part of God's judgment, his wrath revealed against humanity. Whatever the flood's death toll, it is a feather on the scale against the weight of human suffering, man's inhumanity to man, through wars and rumors of wars.
It was a devastating judgment. And it is part of what we've heard today: spreading God's kingdom will often involve danger, even the literal laying down of one's life, because it is light shining into darkness, blessing entering a place of curse. Satan cannot keep back those God saves; the word of God is not bound; Jesus has bound the strong man and plunders his house. Nevertheless it often comes with great pain, agony and tears, because this world lies under evil human kingship.
Abram: a name, a land, a gate of heaven
Now Genesis 12. How can we deepen our sense of how Abram's call follows God's judgment at Babel? Look at what stands between them: 11:10, “These are the generations of Shem.” Shem's name means… name. Thank you. The key word links chapter 11 to chapter 12 through the genealogy of a man whose name means “name,” one of whose descendants is Abram, to whom God says, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great.” He does this ultimately through the Seed of Abraham, who, Philippians 2 tells us, was given the name above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. But Abram himself inherits a significant name. God is freely willing to meet these deep needs, for significance, purpose, protection and permanence, but in his way.
Isaac in many ways represents permanence: he is the one patriarch who never leaves Canaan, which, experts tell us, mattered for claiming land in the ancient world; your descendant must not leave it. And Jacob, in Genesis 28, was still a rascal; he had just deceived his father. Esau didn't seek to please God, and Scripture faults him for despising his birthright, but Jacob wasn't exactly loving his brother either when he said, “I'll feed you if you sell me your birthright.” Yet what does Jacob see? Language very like Genesis 11: a stairway whose top, whose summit, reaches to heaven: the reality the builders tried to construct with technology, with the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And he says, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven”: the very meaning of Babylon. God freely gives his people the desires of their hearts. In this life it is a taste, as we wait for the new Jerusalem where we will be planted and never uprooted, with eternal life before the face of our loving Savior. But already we see God beginning to reverse his judgment on the nations.
That comes out especially in 12:3: “I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” At the other end of Abraham's life, after he was willing to offer Isaac, God says, “In your offspring shall all the nations of the earth be blessed, because you have obeyed my voice” (22:18): not “in you” but “in your seed.” In a general sense the seed is Israel, but ultimately it means one singular Israelite, the Lord Jesus Christ. Paul isn't doing sketchy exegesis when he says the seed is singular; we find it in the Old Testament itself. Take one of my favorite psalms, Psalm 72, all about the Messiah's reign, the very opposite of the world of Genesis 11: righteousness and justice established, bounty for all the people. “May his name endure forever, his fame continue as long as the sun! May people be blessed in him, all nations call him blessed!” (v. 17), an echo of the promise to Abraham. The blessings of God flow through kingship. (It's a psalm “of Solomon”; with a very small minority, I take it as David writing for Solomon about the messianic son.) When the Messiah arrives, whose name is blessed forever, all who hope in him have eternal life, and the nations call him blessed and are blessed in him. This is not merely a New Testament agenda. From Genesis on, the Bible teaches that when God raises up and exalts the Messiah, the nations will look to him and be blessed.
Babel reversed
Many passages present the reversal of Babel as a great picture of salvation, and Isaiah 2 is perhaps the most obvious, an almost iconic portrait: “It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established as the highest of the mountains” (the same word for summit, rosh) “and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come, and say”—what? “Come, let us make a name for ourselves”? No: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths. For out of Zion shall go the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.” Instead of nations scattered from a ziggurat city, they are regathered to Mount Zion to declare the Lord's praise, a path that, as Isaiah shows, leads through the bloody footsteps of the Suffering Servant.
And verse 4. Remember Babel's devastating effects: wars, rumors of war, hostility between nations. That's what makes this so beautiful: “He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide disputes for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” Anyone with loved ones in the military knows how precious that promise is: all hostility put to rest as the kingdom spreads and the salvation of Christ reaches every nation, tongue and tribe. Even in peacetime nations don't discard their weapons; they often build up munitions, because a strong military can make peace last. But there, none of that will be needed. Weapons won't even be museum pieces; the earth will be so fruitful that we'll turn them into tools for harvest. Again, Babel reversed: no more war. Zechariah 14 is another example, with the nations streaming to Zion for the Feast of Booths, Israel's last feast in the fall, which already in the Bible takes on spiritual significance as the ingathering of the final harvest, Israel fulfilling its vocation by bringing in the nations. That is what missions aims at. It is a glorious picture no human agency can achieve.
Isaiah 2 is on a plaque at the United Nations, I forget where in the building. It's a wonderful dream, but the United Nations will never fulfill it. God will use humble, broken people. He delights to show his power, glory and wisdom through the foolishness of this age and the weak among us, through nameless people in places we can't even name, spent for the cause of Christ. We glimpse it beautifully in local churches. I came from South Florida, where there may be more diversity than elsewhere in the country, but with how easily people travel and move today, in many churches you can see the nations praising God. I have a friend, a Jewish believer who teaches the word of God in Israel, and whenever I'm discouraged I talk with him. He tells me about Jews and Palestinians arm in arm, calling each other brother, praising God together in Christ. That is the power of the Holy Spirit Chad spoke of this morning, and nothing in this world can fabricate it. That's one reason technology, certainly technology in rebellion against God, cannot be the answer. It takes a work of the Spirit. Wherever God's people from many nations truly love one another as family, we see the power of God like nowhere else. And, to piggyback on Chad again, no technique can produce it. It is the Spirit moving through the simple means of grace: preaching the excellencies of Christ and showing his glory to the world.
Who would have thought that this Messiah, to whom every knee will bow, who will gather the nations to himself, would come as a lowly, humble servant with no beauty that we should desire him; that being found in human form he would humble himself further, take the form of a slave, and become obedient to the point of death on a cross; that the glorious, matchless, eternal Son would become the man of sorrows, the wrath-bearing Lamb of God, submitting to the fury of God's wrath for the sins I have done and you have committed, so that his righteousness could be given to us by faith as a free gift; that he would come as an elder brother not ashamed to call us his own? Friends, he rose on the third day. He ascended on high and is exalted at the right hand of God, where he reigns, and he reigns with a purpose: to undo the wicked, fallen kingship of Genesis 11, and to gather all God's people from among the nations under his scepter, that they might know the eternal love of God and be swept into the eternal household and the love shared among the persons of the Trinity. As we heard this morning about the processions, the Father sends the Son, and the Father with and through the Son sends the Spirit; and in John 20 this triune God, through the Son and by the Spirit, makes one more sending: he sends the church, the apostles, to gather all the nations back to himself.
Chad mentioned Acts 2; let's look at it more deliberately. Like Isaiah 2, it shows the gospel as a reversal of Babel. (At the end of his Gospel Luke also gives us a reversal of Adam's fall: the risen Jesus with his disciples, with all the language of taking and eating and eyes being opened, but this time it is the Lord's Supper, and they recognize the Redeemer.) “When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place”: unusual language that takes us straight back to Genesis 11. “And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them.” Ask children in Sunday school which story has divided tongues, and unless we've been avoiding the Old Testament, they'll say the Tower of Babel.
“And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.” What profound irony! That's what happened at Babel, people began to speak other tongues; but here it reverses the confusion. “Now there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men from every nation under heaven” (Luke underlines it). “And at this sound the multitude came together, and they were bewildered,” confused. Babel is really Babylon, and Genesis plays on a similar-sounding word for confusion: “its name was called Babel,” Confusion. Here too they are confused. At Babel they were confused because God judged and separated them; here they are confused because they are so used to life in the old age of separation and hostility between nations that this new unity in the Spirit bewilders them, “because each one was hearing them speak in his own language.” And Luke takes pains to list them: Parthians, Medes, Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, visitors from Rome, Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabians. And what do they hear? “Let us make a name for ourselves”? Heaven forbid. “We hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” That is what language is for, and why the Holy Spirit is bringing the word of God into every tongue.
A brief aside. In Ezekiel 47 a river flows from the temple into an Edenic scene with trees of life whose leaves are “for healing.” The Hebrew word is odd, and the ancient rabbis debated its derivation. One sage suggested that the end of the word, peh, means mouth, so that it speaks of the healing of the mouth, the healing of tongues, and they explained: this is how God will heal the nations. The nations were divided by tongues; language creates culture; as the word of God is translated into every tongue under heaven, it will heal the cultures and the people themselves. What fascinates me is that, working only from the Hebrew Scriptures, the rabbis understood these leaves were not just for healing in general but for the nations. And in Revelation 22, with the water of life flowing from the throne of God and the tree of life on either side, John fills it in perfectly: “the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.”
Every tribe and tongue
Let me close with two passages from Revelation. First, 5:9: “And they sang a new song, saying, ‘Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation.’” I know that in exegesis “all” doesn't always mean all and “every” doesn't always mean every, but I think there is a strong case that here it does. This is part of Christ's glory, and something to ponder as we pray for God to raise up people to send to the uttermost parts of the earth. What does it mean that a people has no name for Jesus Christ in its own language, not a single verse of Scripture in its own tongue? It is a sad plight for them, and we wouldn't want our children to be among them. But even greater is this: Christ's glory is limited in its extent to the degree that it does not reach every tribe, tongue and people. We sing that he comes to make his blessings flow far as the curse is found. We have seen that God's judgment was the division of tongues that produced nations, cultures and all the hostility among them. That should give us great confidence in the success of the church's mission, that Jesus Christ will be praised, and that part of his glory is that the blessings of his salvation and the reign of his kingship will extend to every tribe and tongue and people and nation. Heaven forbid there be a single language group that does not exalt Christ.
We have this great announcement: the Suffering Servant, the eternal Son of God, who so loved us that he took our flesh, lived for us, suffered for us and now reigns for us. We must proclaim that Jesus is Lord in every tongue, and that's part of why I love the great efforts of Radius. One more passage, Revelation 7:9–10: “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” Friends, ultimately it is that statement that sends us out. That is the great motivation: we want every human soul to be able to cry out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” A multitude from all nations, tribes, peoples and tongues. Praise God that the gospel has reached us.
And may we be, as we heard this morning, men and women of one thing. If we don't go ourselves, let's do everything we can to pray and use our finances to send others to the farthest reaches with this great goal in mind. God the Father loves the Son and wants to see him exalted, praised and adored. Nothing would make the Father happier than to hear the praises of his beloved Son in every tongue, from every tribe and nation. May that warm our hearts to the great mission of the church.
Our great and blessed God, how we adore you. You have loved us with an everlasting love. We are unworthy even to be your servants, yet we are your beloved children. Thank you that one day the dawn will break and we will be like him, for we shall see him as he is. Even now, by your Spirit, open our eyes to his glory, so that all our affections are drawn to him, and with our affections all that we are and all that we have, for the sake of publishing the glory of his name. In Jesus' name, amen.