(Tamar of Genesis 38)
Introduction – Two Women, One Story of Grace
There are two women in Scripture who share the same name — Tamar.
Both are Jewish. Both are royalty. Both are caught in situations that would make most people turn away in discomfort. And yet, both are part of God’s redemptive storyline.
When we talk about grace, we often talk about God forgiving the sinner — the guilty person who repents and finds mercy. That’s half the picture. But there’s another side — the grace that restores the sinned-against, the person who didn’t do wrong but had wrong done to them.
One Tamar shows grace for the guilty.
The other shows grace for the wounded.
Put them together, and you see the whole heart of God — a God who forgives sin and heals the brokenhearted.
Their stories are separated by several centuries, yet spiritually, they stand side by side at the foot of the same cross.
I. Tamar of Genesis 38 – Grace Through Scandal
Judah, one of Jacob’s twelve sons, had left his brothers and married a Canaanite woman. He had three sons — Er, Onan, and Shelah.
When the oldest, Er, came of age, Judah arranged his marriage to Tamar. Scripture doesn’t tell us much about her — no family background, no beauty description — just her name. But we do know this: Er was wicked in the Lord’s sight, and the Lord took his life.
Now, under levirate law, Judah’s second son, Onan, was supposed to marry Tamar to give her a child in his brother’s name. But Onan refused. He wanted the inheritance, not the obligation. He used her, but would not let her bear a child. And the Lord struck him dead too.
Twice widowed, Tamar is left in shame. In that culture, a childless widow had no security, no voice, and no standing. Judah promises his youngest, Shelah, but delays and stalls, sending Tamar back to her father’s house — a polite way of saying, Go disappear.
II. The Desperate Act of Faith
Time passes. Judah’s wife dies. Tamar hears that Judah will be traveling nearby to shear his sheep. And something rises in her — not lust, not vengeance, but a sense of justice and faith.
If Judah won’t keep his promise, she will find a way to secure the future of the covenant family line.
She removes her widow’s garments, veils her face, and sits by the roadside dressed as a prostitute. When Judah passes by, he does not recognize her. He sleeps with her, leaving behind his signet seal, cord, and staff as payment until he can send a goat.
Three months later, word spreads: “Tamar, your daughter-in-law, has played the harlot and is pregnant!”
Judah burns with self-righteous anger. “Bring her out and let her be burned!” he orders.
But as Tamar is brought before him, she quietly sends a message:
“I am pregnant by the man who owns these.”
And in her hands are Judah’s seal and cord.
III. The Turning Point
There’s a long pause. You can imagine Judah staring at the items in shock.
The crowd waits. The old patriarch clears his throat and finally says words that shake the air:
“She is more righteous than I, since I would not give her to my son Shelah.”
That’s the hinge of the story. The proud man who deceived his father with a goat’s blood and a garment (back when he betrayed Joseph) is now confronted by a woman with a goat and a garment. God has mirrored his deception back to him so he can repent.
Grace enters the story through scandal.
Tamar gives birth to twins — Perez and Zerah. Perez becomes the ancestor of King David … and of Jesus Christ.
The story ends not in shame, but in redemption. Out of deceit and brokenness, God brought forth the line of the Messiah.
IV. Grace Through the Back Door
Judah’s Tamar teaches us that God’s grace doesn’t just come to those who have perfect stories. It walks through the back alleys of human failure.
She had been mistreated, misunderstood, and marginalized — yet God wove her courage into His salvation plan.
When Matthew opens his Gospel, he lists the family tree of Jesus — and right there in verse 3:
“Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar.”
Her name is forever in the genealogy of grace.
What does that tell us?
It tells us God does not edit out the messy parts of His family line.
It tells us that our failures, when surrendered to Him, become the very places where His grace shines brightest.
It tells us that redemption is not a straight line; it’s a cross.
V. The Gospel Pattern in Tamar’s Story
If you look closely, the Gospel is hiding right there in Genesis 38:
Judah represents the sinner — guilty, deceitful, deserving judgment.
Tamar represents grace — bold, persistent, exposing sin to bring healing.
Perez represents the new birth — the breakthrough of salvation from within human ruin.
It’s not a pretty story, but it’s a real one.
God is showing us something profound: Grace is not afraid of scandal.
It doesn’t sanitize; it sanctifies. It steps right into human sin to bring divine life.
And maybe you’ve lived long enough to know — sometimes God’s grace doesn’t knock on the front door politely. Sometimes it breaks through the back door of shame, drags our secrets into the light, and says, “Now I can heal that.”
Judah’s Tamar shows us that grace will not leave the guilty in self-deception. It confronts, cleanses, and continues the covenant.
VI. Modern Reflection — Grace for the Guilty
Let’s bring it closer home.
Maybe you’ve been Judah. You’ve made promises you didn’t keep.
You’ve hurt people who trusted you. You’ve walked away from responsibilities you should have carried. And like Judah, you’ve wrapped it up in religious respectability.
Then one day, God places in your path someone — or something — that holds up the evidence: the signet, the cord, the staff.
Your own life stares back at you, and you realize, “She is more righteous than I.”
That’s not condemnation. That’s grace uncovering truth.
The first Tamar’s story says, Don’t run from that moment.
Because it’s in that moment — when our self-made fig leaves are stripped away — that grace steps in and starts the genealogy of redemption.
VII. The Christ Connection
Fast forward to Calvary.
The One hanging on the cross is called “the Lion of the tribe of Judah.”
How fitting — because He bears the sins of Judah.
He carries the hypocrisy, the failure, the guilt.
And hanging there, He fulfills what Tamar’s story began.
Grace for the guilty.
Hope for the undeserving.
Redemption that comes, not because we’re clean, but because He is.
VIII. Conclusion/Appeal
Judah walked away from that roadside encounter a different man.
He had seen himself for who he truly was—broken, selfish, unfaithful—and he had seen grace staring back at him through the eyes of a woman he had once condemned.
When Tamar placed those tokens of truth in his hand—the seal, the cord, the staff—it wasn’t just a moment of shame; it was a moment of salvation. Judah finally stopped hiding behind excuses and met the God who redeems sinners through honesty and mercy.
From that confession forward, Judah’s story bends toward grace.
The same lips that once said, “Sell Joseph to the Ishmaelites,” would later plead, “Take me instead of Benjamin.”
The same man who wronged Tamar would father the tribe through which Christ would come.
And that is the miracle of grace: it doesn’t simply forgive the past—it transforms the future.
God took a tangle of deceit, death, and disappointment and turned it into a bloodline of blessing.
From Tamar’s arms came Perez.
From Perez came Boaz.
From Boaz came David.
And from David came Jesus, the Lion of Judah—the Redeemer born from the repentant.
So if you have ever wondered whether your story is too stained for God to use, remember Tamar’s name in the genealogy of Christ.
Grace didn’t skip over her.
Grace didn’t edit her out.
Grace wrote her in.
And tonight, grace is still writing.
It can write your name into the family line of redemption—not because you are perfect, but because the Redeemer is.
Grace doesn’t end with guilt—it begins there.
Grace doesn’t erase your story—it rewrites it.
And the same Savior who came through Judah’s confession can come through yours.
He is still the Lion of Judah.
He is still the Lord of grace.
And He still knows how to make holy things out of broken people.