The Bible is riddled with all manner of saintly individuals. You can barely turn an edge-gilded page without bumping into a Peter, Paul or Mary. The good kind. Or even a Meshach, Obadiah or Elijah if you’re chewing your way through the OT. At first blush – or glance if you’re just too manly for rouge-based wordplay – the pantheon of saints seems like, well, a pantheon. Untouchable, unknowable, unassailable. Which, of course, is unmitigated balderdash. Perhaps even baldestdash – I’m a bit lax on my old-timey, pseudo-hillbilly weights and measures.
In fact, and even in fiction if you rewatch 1949’s Samson and Delilah starring Hedy Lamarr and the aptly named Victor Mature, the saints are all manner of flawed. Peter denied Christ and inspired the Lionel Richie hit “Three Times a Galilean.” Paul was such a murderous Pharisee that he had to change his name after his conversion (although it fooled absolutely no one, not even the Sadducees). David, whom the scriptures often describe as a man after God’s own heart, committed acts that would make most modern politicians slink off into obscurity as a host on MSNBC. And Obadiah, well, if you don’t know, I’m not going to be the one to break it to you. Also, I think they may have removed the Book of Obadiah from the last NASB to make room for some Google Earth-style maps. Nice.
The foibles and, naturally, follies of the saints are highlighted, not because the Bible is really an ancient forebear of In Touch magazine, but to prove to us who, shall we say, came up a bit short of spiritual depth in the sainthood lottery, that God did, does and will use anyone to effect his plan if he so chooses regardless of their very visible shortcomings. Some Christians find this inspiring. Others, intimidating. After all, if God can turn a murderous, 80-year-old shepherd into a leader capable of guiding a couple million newly freed slaves across a dessert, through a sea and about a wilderness, what excuse does someone who just alternates attendance between St. Mark’s and St. Mattress’s have? Sainthood isn’t sinless – it’s a willingness to live inside a state of divine grace in spite of past sin.
Unless your name is Joseph.
You know Joseph. The eleventh and favored son of Jacob. Sold into slavery by his brothers. Accused of salacious randiness by his master’s wife. Interpreter of dreams. Second to Pharaoh in his authority over Egypt. Sporter of a bespoke dodecacolored coat – the original Member’s Only jacket for a club in which Joseph was the only member. You know, that guy.
What you may not know is that Joseph is one saint about whom no hint of sin is recorded. Nothing. No trip of the tongue. No moment of pride. No longing looks of covetousness at his neighbor’s goats. Not even a mention of a confessional prayer like in Daniel. Nothing. (And the fact that, 3,500 years later, his life inspired an Osmond-led musical cannot be counted against him. Against someone, yes. Just not Joseph.) The guy isn’t just the Grand Poobah of the Pentateuch, he’s the first runner-up to Christ. (Fortunately for us all, Jesus is always able to fulfill his duties as Mr. Messiah of the Universe.) Sure, Joseph sinned. At least we know he did if that consonant-altering Paul is to be trusted in Romans 3:23. But still, without a little scandal or slip-up to cut him down to our level, what can we learn from Joseph that can’t be chalked up to some preternatural superspiritual awesomeness?
Nothing.
I kid. Of course there’s plenty to be learned from Joseph’s trials and travails and possibly his Tupperware if you’re the oddly nosy type. We can learn that every moment – even those where we end up quite literally in a pit – can be handled by and through God’s grace, knowing that it is part of his plan. We can also learn that when God makes a promise, he keeps it. He just doesn’t always keep it on our timetable. Thirteen long years lapsed between the time Joseph dreamed that his brothers would bow down to him to the time they did so as he ruled over Egypt. So maybe give the Lord more than a couple of weeks to pony up that new iPad-shaped blessing you’ve been jonesing for.
But I think there’s one more, very important lesson to be learned from Egyptian Joe. A lesson I’ve actually never heard preached before. Which means it’s either painfully obvious or completely off base – I make no claims of divine inspiration on this or any other point. As we look at how much the flawed collection of saints accomplished for God when they let him lead, look at how much more God can do when we walk with him faithfully every step of the way. Sure, God can use us in spite of ourselves, but why do we insist on wasting so much of our lives going down that path? While I’m grateful that the Lord is willing to dole out a 427th chance for the 964th time, I long to not need them. After all, Joseph didn’t. Or even Donny Osmond for that matter.
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From the October 2011 edition of Chatter. Get your pdf copy here.