Intentionality

Joseph’s story always feels a little rough to me.  This is part of why I have not had much to say, regarding the daily office, for several days.  There is so much abuse, persecution, and needless tragedy.  I struggle to wrap my mind around it, and as Joseph’s story begins to draw to a close, these words are haunting: 

Genesis 50:20, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives” (NIV).

Is it possible that this intense distress, over the course of a lifetime, was intentional?  Is it possible that God intended, all along, for Joseph, specifically, to be the ‘lucky one’ who must endure this narrative in order to bring redemption to the world, including Joseph’s very own abusers?  Often, when this passage is preached or taught, this is exactly what we say.  I’m not saying that, today.

Many versions of Scripture use the word “intended” in the translation, but the original Hebrew word here is actually חֲשָׁבָ֣הּ (chashavah), which means to think or to account… 

I love this, because it seems to get at the heart of what was going on.  Joseph’s brothers thought they could inflict this pain and suffering on Joseph and rid themselves of him, for their own sake.  But God looked at the situation and thought something good could still come of it.  God had an opinion, and then God worked with Joseph to account for the awful mess of his life.

Many things happened to Joseph, at the hands of others, over which he had no control.  But Joseph had a choice when it came to how he would respond to God’s nudge, and it appears that he responded in love, making the best choice possible in the given moment, far more often than not (maybe not always, but a lot).  God can use that!  And God did.

From Common Prayer, today, we have this quote:

“Help us, Lord, to see as you see : and to change what is into what ought to be.”

Let’s not turn a blind eye to the evil and suffering in the world.  It’s real.  But let’s also get out there and make every effort to do something about it.  Intentionality begins with a thought and an opinion about what is happening, but it ends with an account about what happens next!

L.

Genealogies

“We hurt the ones we love the most.”

What a weird phenomenon.  If I’m honest, I don’t understand it.  I know it’s true, but I think we can change it.

When I was a teenager, I quizzed over the gospel of Matthew.  I learned the genealogy of Jesus, all the way back to Abraham, and I could quote it forward and backward in 30 seconds flat, which was the requirement for earning 20 points if I happened to jump on a question, cut off at, “Who was the father of…”  I only did this once in competition, but it was a significantly awesome moment.  I would like to admit that even though this was 20 years ago, I can still do it.  Long term memory is also a weird phenomenon.

This year at the national quiz, I watched as my oldest daughter quoted the entire genealogy of Jesus, all the way back to Adam, found in Luke, forward and backward, in those same 30 seconds.  It’s more impressive than my feat.  But family legacy... weird, too…

Yay us!  We could be auctioneers… or something…

In today’s reading, we come to the sons of Ishmael.  I don’t know anyone who has ever memorized this or had any reason to speak these names out loud.  As pastors, we often skip genealogical passages, altogether, when preaching or even reading Scripture.  We say something like, “and then there’s a big, long list of names…”  Everyone laughs, and we move on with the things we think matter more.

But these names represent people.

Genesis 25: 13-15, “These are the names of the sons of Ishmael, listed in the order of their birth: Nebaioth the firstborn of Ishmael, Kedar, Adbeel, Mibsam, Mishma, Dumah, Massa, Hadad, Tema, Jetur, Naphish and Kedemah” (NIV).

Twelve sons.  Twelve tribes.  And we don’t even know who they are. (At least, I don’t.)

Ishmael dies and is “gathered to his people” (v.17), because regardless of how difficult the people we love may be; this is what we do.

And his descendents “lived in hostility toward all the tribes related to them” (v.18).  This should break us.

Names matter.  People matter.  Stories matter.  May we not forget that this is true, even of those who do not rank as the ‘most important’ within (or outside of) our circles.  And may we also not forget that it begins with family, because we are to be known by our love… not our damaging treatment of one another.  When we don’t get this right, everything (and everyone) is intentionally forgotten by the wider community.  Who would ever choose to be a part of that?

 
L.

Hope Does Rise

The lectionary readings for today offer too much to grapple with in one sitting… or maybe two… or three… or four…  What a relief, after the disaster that was yesterday!

There are, however, some common themes.

Sarah… who laughs somewhat inappropriately… then turns a corner and laughs in the way we all love… in the way we all hope to find joy and join in, for her pain subsides with the culmination (or maybe just the beginning) of covenant:

Genesis 21:6, “God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me” (NIV).

The twelve... sent out into a world where not enough people are sent, into places where they are promised that they will be unwelcome and persecuted… then turn a corner… because there are enough places that offer peace, and there are not so many that don’t that the disciples can move quickly enough to cover them all…  there will be communities that want to join in the healing… go there:

Matthew 10:9, “Freely you have received; freely give” (NIV).

The Romans… and subsequently, we… encouraged to endure suffering, for it does not last forever:

Romans 5:3-5 “…because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (NIV).

Almost nobody loves pain when they are in the midst of it (although I have met a few).  Let’s be real, friends.  Almost nobody loves the pain, itself, even when it has passed.  This isn’t really about growing comfortable with devastation, anguish, or oppression, and… in fact… it might be just the opposite.  It seems to me that these words all point to solutions to such harm.  We are the solution, as we laugh… as we give… as we hope.

Because everybody has days that suck… us… dry.  Or we could even leave that as, everybody has days that suck.  But they don’t last forever, even if we think they will. 

If you’re currently deeply rooted in one of those miserable places, I hope you can allow yourself just a moment to breath in… and breathe out… and dare to believe it won’t always be this way.  But I know that’s easier written than done.  So this post isn’t really for you.

However, if you’re in one of those sweet spots (and, unfortunately, they pass too, but take it all in while you can)… one of those places where you have turned a corner, crossed a bridge (maybe burned it), and feel the warmth of the sun on your face and the gentle push of the wind at your back… perhaps you could turn around just long enough to reach out your hand to someone who isn’t there, today.

Share your story—not just the good parts that compound the issue of comparing “our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel” (Steve Furtick)—but the whole raw, heartbreaking thing. Because from suffering, hope does rise…

L.