Every day he breaks and tears down strongholds of rebellion, willfulness, egoism, self-reliance, and hope and comfort in earthly people and things—anything and everything that hinders us from trusting and loving him in our totality.
An old friend of mine has been telling me about her granddaughter, who is only ten years old and loves to play sport.
She fell off of a trampoline last year and shattered her ankle. The surgery was difficult, and her bones didn’t heal properly. Fearing that her leg might not develop properly, her medical providers re-operated and re-broke and re-splinted the bone. They are still not sure whether the bone is properly healing, so she faces the possibility of yet another re-break and re-splint.
My friend grieves for her little granddaughter’s suffering. She wouldn’t hesitate to take her place, to suffer in her place if only she could.
We understand why the orthopedic specialists do this. They must bring short-term distress and suffering for her long-term benefit—so that in years to come she might run and play sports again with her friends.
We see Joseph doing just this to his brothers in Genesis chapters 42 to 44. He wounds them and brings them to their knees, so that he can heal and lift them up to full health. It is a picture of what Jesus does time and again with his beloved.
Desperation brings us to the Savior.
“When Jacob learned that there was grain in Egypt, he said to his sons, ‘Why do you look at one another?’” (Gen. 42:1).
The predicted seven-year famine threatened to destroy the region, including the covenant family—the sons of Jacob from whom God would raise up a blessed people to be a blessing to the nations. We see their pasturelands desiccating, herds emaciating, silos diminishing, wells turning first to mud, then to dust. Anxious Jacob sends his anxious sons to Egypt. “Behold, I have heard that there is grain for sale in Egypt. Go down and buy grain for us there, that we may live and not die” (Gen. 42:2).
This is how the journey to Christian faith often begins.
A financial crisis, a terrible accident, or a deadly sickness cripples us. A broken marriage or family crisis brings us to our knees. A great life disappointment slays us. Or we commit a great sin: something that shatters our idea of who we think we are. Sometimes all of these at once.
You look around for help, but the deluge has swept away every earthly support and hope. You are forced to look beyond: “I have heard that there is grain in Egypt.” “I have heard of the one they call Jesus.”
God had revealed to Jacob’s family his special plan for Joseph: that one day they would bow before him to receive his sustenance. The dreams made them jealous; they dismissed them as hubris. When the opportunity came, they plotted to murder Joseph, tossed him into a pit, and then sold him into foreign slavery.
Now in their hour of distress God forced them back to the one they tried to destroy, the only one who could help them.
President Eisenhower said that “there are no atheists in the foxholes…. In times of test and trial, we instinctively turn to God for new courage and peace of mind.” There is nothing wrong with this. This is no less sensible than dialing 911 in an emergency, or firing a distress flare from the life raft.
The Savior may harshly test us.
His brothers were prostrate before Joseph, pleading for his help. Yet, Joseph did not immediately throw his arms around his brothers with shouts of comfort and joy.
He recognized them but pretended to be a stranger and spoke harshly to them. “Where do you come from?” he asked. “From the land of Canaan,” they replied, “to buy food.” “You are spies,” he replied, “You have come to see the nakedness of the land” (“nakedness of the land” meaning “where our land is unprotected”; Gen. 42:7–9).
So Joseph initiated a long and difficult trial for his brothers. Why?
When last he saw his brothers, Joseph was in distress and pleading for his life (42:21). They cruelly ignored his pleas and sold him as a slave, never to see his home or family again.