Being reconciled

Genesis 45:5 And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.

Joseph was able to disguise is identity before his brothers through several meetings with them until this one. He had purposely tested them to see if the schism still existed in the family – between children of different mothers, one of whom was greatly preferred by their father over the other. When Judah, son of Leah, offered himself up in place of Benjamin, son of Rachel (like Joseph himself), Joseph was convinced that they had mended the schism, at least to the point of desiring their father to not further grieve. So Joseph revealed his identity and the brothers were, predictably, terrified. Then he said the words above.

The events of Joseph’s life were both devastating and exhilarating. But mostly, since he had seen his brothers again, devastating. They had betrayed flesh and blood and, if not for a band of traveling merchants, had committed fratricide. Joseph was well within his rights and powers to annihilate them. Instead, all who would ever hear or read this story would know the extraordinary person Joseph had become through his deep knowledge of God and His purposes. For his faith had sustained Joseph when nothing else could. The Lord was with him at each of the many low points and now, exalted to second in command over all Egypt, the Lord was still teaching his heart.

Can I see the good purpose that prevails despite all the evil done to me? Pettiness, rivalry, vengeance, envy and pride would beckon that I only see the offenses and eternally lick my wounds as they fester and refuse to scab over and heal. Can I see the sun shining? Or the smile that greets me? Can I take a better and newer inventory of my life and see redemption? It is there, let my soul know that well. But do I choose to see it? And celebrate it? And name it as the purpose of God fulfilled?

What do I have to complain about compared to Joseph? Please, there is nothing. And yet comparison is always unjust, so let me indeed revisit my pain not his. Not to wallow there, but just to see it dispassionately, historically. And though I may not know how it works, let me surrender to this – that each of those points of loss and betrayal, of abuse and hurt, of trauma and indignity and shame, all of them were necessary for me to become who I am today. At the very least, they allow me to say “I know how that feels” and at their most, they mold me deeply into someone who is compassionate and who listens and makes time to hear the voice of God as to my place in healing and mending the wounds of the people on this planet, because it was to save lives that God sent me – the way he sent me.