We Continue To Babel On
A Group Project Gone Wrong
Do you remember those dreaded group projects back in school? There was always that mix of personalities: one person had all the ideas, another nodded along without saying much, someone else showed up mainly for the snacks, and there was always at least one person who kept asking, “Wait…what are we doing again?”
That’s pretty much what the Tower of Babel feels like: one giant group project gone completely off the rails. Picture it—one person is building stairs, another thinks it should be a slide, someone’s wandered off to open a taco truck. And then the languages get scrambled. “Pass me a brick!” suddenly becomes “Sauce me a chip!” It’s chaos, confusion, and comedy all rolled into one.
But behind the humor lies a deeper truth.
“Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves.”
— Genesis 11:4
This wasn’t just about construction. It was about glory. About security, control, and recognition apart from God. They wanted to build up when God had called them to scatter out. They wanted to make a name for themselves when God had already promised His name to them. Babel is not a story about architecture—it’s a story about the human heart.
God’s Covenant and Our Patterns
What makes Babel’s story even more striking is where it comes in the Bible’s narrative. Just a chapter earlier, God had made a covenant with Noah and all creation after the flood:
“I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.”
— Genesis 9:13
The rainbow was God’s promise: I’m not giving up on you.
And yet, even after a fresh start, humanity’s heart hadn’t changed. Noah fell into shame, his family fractured, and soon after, the people gathered to build their own monument of pride. The pattern is clear: God offers covenant, grace, and promise, and humanity responds with pride, rebellion, and self-sufficiency.
Sound familiar? It should. Because this isn’t just their story—it’s ours.
Babel Is Still Being Built
The impulse behind Babel is alive and well today. Every time we chase recognition at the expense of humility, cling to control instead of trusting God, or prize sameness over God’s beautiful diversity—we are stacking bricks in the same tower.
The irony of Babel is almost comical. Humanity builds a tower “to the heavens,” but scripture says:
“The LORD came down to see the city and the tower the people were building.”
— Genesis 11:5
Our greatest towers are so small that God has to “stoop down” to see them. What looks monumental to us is laughably tiny to Him.
Scattered in Mercy
Here’s the surprising part: God’s scattering at Babel isn’t punishment—it’s mercy. He breaks their empire-building and restores the diversity He intended from the beginning. Genesis 10—the list of nations we often skip—reminds us that humanity is one family, branching into many nations. Diversity is not a problem to fix; it is a gift to celebrate.
And centuries later, at Pentecost, God would show His heart for that diversity in an even greater way:
“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them… each one heard their own language being spoken.”
— Acts 2:4, 6
Pentecost is the anti-Babel. At Babel, God scattered to prevent empire. At Pentecost, God gathered to form a kingdom. Babel divided people for the sake of control. Pentecost united people for the sake of love.
Towers or Tables?
The question for us today is simple but searching: are we building towers or setting tables?
Towers are about pride, control, and uniformity. Tables are about humility, community, and hospitality. Towers are monuments to human achievement. Tables are places of grace where everyone has a seat.
Our world still loves building Babel—monuments to power, systems of control, empires of greed. And sometimes, if we’re honest, so do we. But God keeps calling His people out of Babylon to join Him in a different kind of building project—not towers of pride, but communities of blessing. Not monuments, but meals. Not names for ourselves, but the name He gives us: beloved sons and daughters.
A Closing Invitation
The rainbow still hangs in the sky as a reminder that God’s commitment to us is greater than our corruption. Babel still looms as a warning that our pride and self-sufficiency will always crumble. And Pentecost still sings as a promise that God’s Spirit can unite us across every difference in a kingdom not built by bricks but by love.
So will we keep laying bricks in Babylon, or will we scatter in faith to bless the world? Will we spend our lives making a name for ourselves, or will we trust the name God has already given us?
A Prayer
Lord, we confess that we often build towers instead of setting tables. We strive for recognition, security, and control when You call us to trust, humility, and grace. Teach us to see the beauty of Your diversity, to celebrate the richness of Your creation, and to join You in blessing the world. May we resist the lure of Babylon and follow the way of Jesus—the way of love, community, and covenant. Amen.