Stupid

Stupid

Joseph was a very handsome and well-built young man, and Potiphar’s wife soon began to look at him lustfully. “Come and sleep with me,” she demanded. But Joseph refused. “Look,” he told her, “my master trusts me with everything in his entire household. No one here has more authority than I do. He has held back nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How could I do such a wicked thing? It would be a great sin against God.”

She kept putting pressure on Joseph day after day, but he refused to sleep with her, and he kept out of her way as much as possible. One day, however, no one else was around when he went in to do his work. She came and grabbed him by his cloak, demanding, “Come on, sleep with me!” Joseph tore himself away, but he left his cloak in her hand as he ran from the house.

When she saw that she was holding his cloak and he had fled, she called out to her servants. Soon all the men came running. “Look!” she said. “My husband has brought this Hebrew slave here to make fools of us! He came into my room to rape me, but I screamed. When he heard me scream, he ran outside and got away, but he left his cloak behind with me.” She kept the cloak with her until her husband came home. Then she told him her story. “That Hebrew slave you’ve brought into our house tried to come in and fool around with me,” she said. “But when I screamed, he ran outside, leaving his cloak with me!” (Gen. 39:6-18)

It was a beautiful mountain morning, on a cold, crisp January. I was with a church youth group, and we’d gone to the San Bernardino Mountains to play in the snow. Now, when you’re a teen, there’s nothing better than leaving it all on a field of snow – especially snow on a mountain slope with a toboggan in your hand. And we’d found the perfect spot to race my sled: a gradually descending slope exiting onto a little-used road, and then down to another steeper slope that ended in a long flat area to coast to an easy stop.

So, there I was on my toboggan, holding a kindergartner in my lap, ready for the thrill of a lifetime. It almost was. You see, that little-used road that separated one slope from the next was the end of a blind curve and, because of the previous night’s temperatures, had been reduced to an asphalt skating rink. Compounding matters, it had snowed the night before. And although great for skiing, powder is not the best surface for bracing yourself when you need to come to a quick stop.

But there we were – me and my friend’s younger brother. We had a lookout posted on the road, but I guess he was too busy drinking hot chocolate and not paying attention. Because when I asked if the coast was clear, I got the green light and off we went. But it was only seconds later that I heard the lookout screaming that a car was coming around the corner on that not-so-often-used road. At that point, the only thing I could think of was stopping the toboggan and trudging up the hill to try it again. But there was just one problem: I couldn’t stop. The previous night’s powder prevented me from getting the traction I needed to come to a stop. Panicked, I shoved the kindergartner off the sled and hoped for the best.

Well, the best got me because when I hit the asphalt, I came to an abrupt stop. The problem was that the car didn’t; it didn’t even see me. Wiping the snow from my eyes, lying on the icy pavement, I saw the car’s left rear tire – chains and all – roll over my leg. Now, when you’re a teenager, you’re bullet-proof, right? So, I hopped up from the near-tragic calamity while the occupants got out of their car to see what they’d run over. That would be me, but who wants to waste a day in the snow? Then came the morning. I awoke that next morning to the sight of chain-link bruises tattooed on my larger-than-life knee, including the accompanying pain that goes along with a one ton car stretching every ligament and tendon within reach of its tread. Teenagers.

And then it hit me. What if I’d slid just a little further? What if I hadn’t shoved that kindergartner off the sled? What if I’d left just a moment sooner and taken the brunt of a front-end collision. I began to sweat. The thought was numbing like the snow on that cold, January day, and equally convicting. “What were you thinking, Randy?” That was the problem, of course – I wasn’t. Dumb became dumber because I treated a bad decision with a poor, impulsive choice. Forgivable on a sled, perhaps. But in life?

Joseph was probably in his twenties when he almost got run over by a Jaguar of sexual temptation. When his brothers sold him into slavery, they probably assumed they’d doomed him to hard labor and an early death. Instead, Joseph moved up the career ladder like a fireman after a cat. Potiphar, who promoted Joseph in his home, no doubt promoted him among his circle of officials. He boasted about the Midas touch of this bright Hebrew boy who’d made him a wealthy man.

And Joseph came to have clout. He could spend and hire, send and receive. Merchants reported to him, and other people noticed him – especially women. "Now Joseph was a very handsome and well-built young man." (Gen. 39:6) A real Hollywood head turner. This guy was a square-jawed, ripped abs Adonis whose biceps bulged every time he carried Mrs. Potiphar's tray. Which was often. She enjoyed the sight of him. "And Potiphar’s wife soon began to look at him lustfully. ‘Come and sleep with me,’ she demanded." (v. 7)

The first lady of the household made a play for the Hebrew slave. "Joooeeeyyyy, how about a little sugar with my coffee?" Wink, wink. As she passed him in the hallway, she’d brush up against his arm. As he brought dessert to the table, she’d touch his leg. By the clothes she wore, or maybe didn't, she made it clear: "I'm yours for the taking, Joseph. So, take me now." She pursued him "day after day." (v. 10) He had plenty of opportunities to consider the proposition. And plenty of reasons to accept it.

Wasn't she married to his master? And wasn't he obligated to obey the wishes of his owner, even if the wish was a secret rendezvous? And it’d be a secret because no one would know. Just like Las Vegas. What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom, right? Besides, a dalliance with the not-so-lady of the house would give Joseph a chip in the political poker game; an ally at the top level. The end justified the means. And the means wasn't all that unpleasant. Powerful Potiphar had his pick of women. His wife was likely a jaw-dropper, but maybe she’d gone ignored. And let’s face it. Joseph didn't lose his libido just because he lost his coat of many colors. A few moments in the arms of an attractive, willing lover? Joseph could use some relief.

And didn't he deserve some? These were lonely days: rejected by his family, twice bought and sold like livestock, far from home, and far from friends. Maybe the stress of managing Potiphar's household had gotten him – overseeing the terraced gardens and multitudes of slaves while mastering the peculiar protocol of official events. Joseph's job was draining. He could’ve easily justified his choice.

And you can, too. You've been jilted and bruised, sold out and turned away. Run over by a car brandishing chains of bad health, bad credit, and bad luck. Few friends and fewer solutions. The hours are long, and the nights are longer. So, Mr. Potiphar slides his room key in your direction, or Mrs. Potiphar pushes a bottle your way. A co-worker offers you some drugs. You can pay some personal bills with company cash, or stave off bankruptcy by embezzling funds. Justifications and rationalizations pop up like weeds after a spring rain. No one will know. You’re only human, right?

Your Egypt can be a cruddy place. No one disagrees with that. But Egypt can also be the petri dish for brainless decisions. Don't make matters worse by doing something you'll regret. Joseph didn’t. He went on high alert. When Mrs. Potiphar dangled the bait, "he refused." (v. 8) He gave the temptress no time, no attention, no chitchat, no reason for hope. "He refused to sleep with her, and he kept out of her way as much as possible." (v. 10) So, when her number appeared on his cell phone, he didn’t answer. When she texted, he didn't respond. When she entered his office, he left the building. He avoided her like the poison she was. "[Potiphar] trusts me with everything in his entire household,” he announced. (v. 8) To sleep with her would have been a sin against his master. Actions have consequences, and Joseph placed his loyalty above lusts. He honored his master . . . .

And his Master. Joseph's primary concern was the preference of God. "How could I do such a wicked thing? It would be a great sin against God?" (Gen. 39:9) The lesson we learn from Joseph is pretty simple: do what pleases God. Your friends hand you a joint; your classmates show you a way to cheat; the Internet lures you with pornography – ask yourself the question: How can I please God? "Do what is right as a sacrifice to the Lord and trust the Lord,” the Psalmist said. (Ps. 4:5) You don't fix a struggling marriage with an affair, or a drug problem with more drugs, or debt with more debt. You don't fix stupid with stupid. You don't get out of a mess by making another one. One act of carnality is a poor exchange for a lifetime legacy lost. Do what pleases God. You’ll never go wrong doing what’s right. Thomas made that discovery.

Thomas, in many ways, was a modern-day Joseph. Born in 1899 to a Baptist pastor and a church pianist, Thomas was exposed to music early on. By the age of twelve he was imitating the jazz music of the African American community in the Deep South. In his late teens he went to Philadelphia and then to Chicago, where he played in speakeasies. Somewhere along the way he forgot his faith. He compromised his lifestyle and turned away from the convictions of his youth. His talent may have opened the doors, but his conscience wouldn't let him rest. Long nights on the road left him exhausted and weary. A relative urged him to return to God. And at the age of twenty-one, he did. He had an encounter with God that would lead him to write later that, "My inner-being was thrilled. My soul was a deluge of divine rapture; my emotions were aroused; my heart was inspired to become a great singer and worker in the kingdom of the Lord."

Young Thomas poured his energy into God-honoring music. Rhythm and blues met worship and praise. The result was a brand-new genre of toe-tapping, soul-lifting music. He took a position as a music director at a Chicago church. At the age of twenty-six Thomas met the love of his life and got married. He began a publishing company and founded the National Convention of Gospel Choirs and Choruses. He worked with some of the greatest singers in the history of gospel music, including Mahalia Jackson. By 1932, Thomas was enjoying the blessings of God at full speed: happy marriage, growing ministry, first child on the way. Life was good.

But then he got run over by that “car.” One night after singing to a Saint Louis audience, he was handed a Western Union telegram. It read, simply, "Your wife just died." She had passed away in childbirth. Thomas hurried back to Chicago, where his newborn son died the next day. Thomas fell into a crevasse of grief. He avoided people and grew angry at God. "I just wanted to go back to the jazz world I knew so well. I felt God had done me an injustice. I didn't want to serve Him anymore or write gospel songs," he wrote.

He secluded himself, nursing his anger and sorrow. Fortunately, a friend seemed to know what he needed and took Thomas to a neighborhood music school. That evening as the sun was setting, Thomas sat down at a piano and began to play . . . and pray. He poured out his heart to God, and these are the words he spoke, “Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on. Let me stand. I am tired, I am weak, I am worn. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light. Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.”

For the rest of his life, Thomas A. Dorsey testified that the Lord healed him that night as he sat at the piano. He went on to pen more than three thousand songs and became one of the most influential Christian songwriters of all time. All because he reached out to God.

So do the same. Turbulent times will tempt you to forget God. Shortcuts will lure you. Sirens will call you. But don't be foolish or naive. Do what pleases God. Nothing more, nothing less.

Oh, and maybe think twice before you race down that slippery slope toward that blind curve; it could hurt you.

Grace,

Randy

Waiting

Waiting

First the head cupbearer told his dream to Joseph: “In my dream there was a vine in front of me with three branches on it: It budded, blossomed, and the clusters ripened into grapes. I was holding Pharaoh’s cup; I took the grapes, squeezed them into Pharaoh’s cup, and gave the cup to Pharaoh.” Joseph said, “Here’s the meaning. The three branches are three days. Within three days, Pharaoh will get you out of here and put you back to your old work—you’ll be giving Pharaoh his cup just as you used to do when you were his cupbearer. Only remember me when things are going well with you again—tell Pharaoh about me and get me out of this place. I was kidnapped from the land of the Hebrews. And since I’ve been here, I’ve done nothing to deserve being put in this hole.”

But the head cupbearer never gave Joseph another thought; he forgot all about him …. Two years passed and Pharaoh had a dream…. (Gen. 39:9-15; 23; 40:1)

There I was, sitting in the waiting room. The receptionist took my name, got my insurance information, and motioned to a chair. "Have a seat; we’ll call you when the doctor’s ready." So, I took a look around – a mother holding a sleeping baby; a fellow thumbing through Sports Illustrated; a woman with her iPhone, looking at the clock overhead, sighing and continuing the task of the hour: waiting.

The waiting room. Not the examination room – that’s down the hall. Not the consultation room – that’s on the other side of the wall. Not the treatment room – exams, consultations and treatments all come later. The task at hand is the name of the room: the waiting room. And those who are seated know the assignment: to wait. We don't treat each other. I don't ask the nurse for a stethoscope or blood pressure cuff. I don't pull up a chair next to the jock reading Sports Illustrated and say, "Tell me what prescriptions you’re taking." That's the job of the nurse. My job is to wait. So I do, but I can’t say that I like it.

Time moves at a glacial pace. The clock ticks every five minutes, not every second; it’s like someone pressed the pause button. Life in slow-motion. We don't like to wait. We’re the giddy-up generation. We weave through traffic, looking for the faster lane. We fume at the person who takes eleven items into the ten-item express checkout standing right in front of us – that’s how we know she’s a cheater. We drum our fingers while the song downloads or the microwave heats our coffee. "Come on, come on." We want six-pack abs in ten minutes, and minute rice in thirty seconds. We don't like to wait – not on the doctor; not on the traffic; not on the pizza; not on God. Not on God?

Take a moment and look around. Where are you seated? This planet is God's waiting room. The young couple in the corner? They’re waiting to get pregnant. The fellow with the briefcase? He has resumes all over the country, waiting on work. The elderly woman with the cane? A widow, waiting a year for just one tearless day. Waiting. Waiting on God to give, to help, and to heal. Waiting on God to come. We dwell in the land between prayers offered and prayers answered. The land of waiting. And if anyone knew the furniture in God's waiting room, Joseph certainly did.

Unfortunately, the one problem with reading his story is its brevity. We can read the Genesis account of Joseph from start to finish in less than an hour, which gives the impression that all these challenges took place before breakfast one morning. We'd be better off if we’d pace our reading over a couple of decades. Take chapter 37 into a dry cistern, and sit there for a couple of hours while the sun beats down. Recite the first verse of chapter 39 over and over for a couple of months: "Now Joseph had been taken down to Egypt." Joseph needed at least that much time to walk the 750 miles from Dothan to Thebes. And the day, or days or even weeks on the auction block. Add to that a decade, likely, in Potiphar's house, supervising the servants, doing his master's bidding, learning Egyptian. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Time moves slowly in a foreign land. And time stands still when you’re sitting in prison.

Joseph had asked the butler to put in a good word for him. "Remember me when things are going well with you again — tell Pharaoh about me and get me out of this place. I was kidnapped from the land of the Hebrews. And since I’ve been here, I’ve done nothing to deserve being put in this hole." (Gen. 40:14-15) And you can almost hear the butler’s giddy reply after he got news of his impending pardon, "Of course I’ll mention you to Pharaoh. First chance I get. You'll be hearing from me." So, on the heels of the butler’s quick assurances, Joseph hurried back to his cell and collected his belongings. He wanted to be ready when the call came. A day passed. Then two. Then a week. A month. Six months. No word. As it turned out, “ . . . the head cupbearer never gave Joseph another thought; he forgot all about him.” (v. 23) On the page of your Bible, the space between that verse and the next is scarcely wider than a hair ribbon. It takes your eyes only a split second to see it. Yet it took Joseph two years to experience it. Chapter 41 starts like this: Two years passed and Pharaoh had a dream . . . .

Two years. 24 months of silence. 104 weeks of waiting. 730 days of wondering. 2,190 meals alone. 17,520 hours of listening for God, yet hearing nothing but silence. Plenty of time to grow bitter, cynical and angry. People have given up on God for lesser reasons and in a lot less time. But not Joseph. On a day that began like any other, he heard a stirring at the dungeon entrance. Loud, impatient voices demanding, "We’re here for the Hebrew! Pharaoh wants the Hebrew!" Joseph looked up from his corner to see the prison master, white-faced and stammering. "Get up! Hurry, get up!" Two guards from the court were on his heels. Joseph remembered them from his days as Potiphar's lieutenant. They took him by the elbows and marched him out of the hole, walked him across a courtyard into a room where attendants removed his soiled clothing, washed his body and shaved his beard. They dressed him in a white robe and new sandals. The guards reappeared and walked him into the throne room.

The king hadn't slept well the night before. Dreams troubled his rest. "They say you can interpret dreams. Can you help me?" Joseph's last two encounters hadn't ended so well: Mrs. Potiphar lied about him, and the butler forgot about him. In both cases Joseph had mentioned the name of God. So, maybe he should hedge his bets and keep his faith under wraps. He didn't. "Not I, but God. God will set Pharaoh's mind at ease." (v. 16) Joseph emerged from his prison cell bragging on God. Jail time didn't devastate his faith; it deepened it. And you? You aren't in prison, but you may be infertile, or inactive, or in limbo, or in between jobs, or in search of health, help, a house, or a spouse. Are you in God's waiting room? If so, here’s what you need to know: while you wait, God works. "My Father is always at his work," Jesus said. (John 5:17) God never twiddles his thumbs. He rested on the seventh day but got back to work on the eighth and hasn't stopped since. Just because you’re idle, don't assume God is.

Joseph's story appeared to stall out in chapter 40. Our hero was in shackles. The train was off the tracks. History was in a holding pattern. But while Joseph was waiting, God was working as he assembled the characters. God placed the butler in Joseph's care. He stirred the sleep of the king with odd dreams. He confused Pharaoh's counselors. And at just the right time, God called Joseph to duty. And God’s working for you as well. "Be still, and know that I am God" reads the sign on God's waiting room wall. You can be still because he is active. You can rest because he is busy.

Remember God's word through Moses to the Israelites? "Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord . . . The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace." (Ex. 14:13-14) The Israelites saw the Red Sea ahead of them and heard the Egyptian soldiers thundering after them. Death on both sides. “Stand still? Are you kidding me?” But what the former slaves couldn't see was the hand of God at the bottom of the sea, creating a path, and his breath from heaven, separating the waters. God was working for them.

God worked for Mary, the mother of Jesus, too. The angel told her that she would become pregnant. The announcement stirred a torrent of questions in her heart. How would she become pregnant? What would people think? What would Joseph say? Yet God was working for her. He sent a message to Joseph, her fiancé. God prompted Caesar to declare a census. God led the family to Bethlehem. "God is always at work for the good of everyone who loves him." (Rom. 8:28)

To “wait,” biblically speaking, is not to assume the worst, worry, fret, make demands or take control. Nor is waiting inactivity. Waiting is a sustained effort to stay focused on God through prayer and belief. To wait is to "rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him; do not fret . . . ," said David. (Ps. 37:7)

Nehemiah shows us how to wait. His book is a memoir of his efforts to reconstruct the walls of Jerusalem. His story starts with a date: "It happened in the month of Chislev, in the twentieth year, as I was in Susa the citadel, that Hanani . . . came with certain men from Judah." (Neh. 1:1-2) These men brought bad news – hostile forces had flattened the walls that had once guarded the city. Even the gates had been burned. The few remaining Jews were in "great trouble and shame." (v. 3)

Nehemiah responded with prayer. "O Lord, let your ear be attentive to the prayer of your servant . . . and give success to your servant today, and grant him mercy in the sight of this man." (v. 11) "This man," by the way, was King Artaxerxes, the monarch of Persia. Nehemiah was his personal cupbearer, on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. So, Nehemiah couldn’t just leave his post and go to Jerusalem. Even if he could, he had no resources with which to rebuild the walls. So he resolved to wait on the Lord in prayer.

The first verse of the second chapter of his memoir reveals the length of his wait. "And it came to pass in the month of Nisan" that Nehemiah was appointed to a spot on the king's Jerusalem Commission. How far apart were the dates? Four months. Nehemiah's request, remember, was immediate: "Give your servant success today." God answered the request four months later. Frankly, waiting is easier read than done. I know. It doesn't come easily for me.

I've been in a hurry my whole life. Hurrying to finish assignments; pedaling faster; driving quicker. I wonder if I could have obeyed God's Old Testament command to keep the Sabbath holy – to slow life to a crawl for 24 hours. The Sabbath was created for frantic souls like me, people who need a weekly reminder that the world will not stop if I do.

And this seems timely: "Three times a year all your men are to appear before the Sovereign Lord, the God of Israel. I will drive out nations before you and enlarge your territory, and no one will covet your land when you go up three times each year to appear before the Lord your God." (Ex. 34:23-24) God instructed the promised land settlers to stop their work three times a year and gather for worship. All commerce, education, government and industry came to a halt while the people assembled. Can you imagine that happening today? Our country would be utterly defenseless. Yet God promised to protect the territory. No one would encroach upon the Israelites. What's more, they wouldn't even desire to do so: "No one will covet your land." God used the pilgrimage to teach this principle: if you will wait in worship, I will work for you.

Daniel waited. In one of the most dramatic examples of waiting in the Bible, this Old Testament prophet kept his mind on God for an extended period. His people had been oppressed for almost 70 years. Daniel entered into a time of prayer on their behalf. For 21 days he abstained from pleasant food, meat and wine. He labored in prayer. He persisted, pleaded and agonized. No response. Then on the 22^nd day a breakthrough. An angel of God appeared. He revealed to Daniel the reason for the long delay. Daniel's prayer was heard on the first day it was offered. The angel was dispatched with a response. "That very day I was sent here to meet you. But for twenty-one days the mighty Evil Spirit who overrules the kingdom of Persia blocked my way. Then Michael, one of the top officers of the heavenly army, came to help me, so that I was able to break through these spirit rulers of Persia." (Dan. 10:12-13)

From an earthly perspective nothing was happening. Daniel's prayers were falling like rocks on hard ground. But from a heavenly perspective a battle was raging. Two angels were engaged in fierce combat for three weeks. While Daniel was waiting, God was working. What if Daniel had given up? Lost faith? Walked away from God? Better yet, what if you give up? Lose faith? Walk away? Don't.

For heaven's sake, don't. All of heaven is warring on your behalf. Above and around you at this very instant, God's messengers are at work. Keep waiting: “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isa. 40:31) Fresh strength. Renewed vigor. Legs that don't grow weary. Delight yourself in God, and he will bring rest to your soul. You'll get through this waiting room season.

Oh, and pay careful attention while you wait. You’ll detect the most wonderful surprise. The doctor will step out of his office and take the seat next to yours. "Just thought I'd keep you company while you’re waiting." Not every physician will do that, but yours will. After all, he is the Great Physician.

Grace,

Randy

Bootcamp

Bootcamp

Potiphar was furious when he heard his wife’s story about how Joseph had treated her. So he took Joseph and threw him into the prison where the king’s prisoners were held, and there he remained. But the Lord was with Joseph in the prison and showed him his faithful love. And the Lord made Joseph a favorite with the prison warden. Before long, the warden put Joseph in charge of all the other prisoners and over everything that happened in the prison. The warden had no more worries, because Joseph took care of everything. The Lord was with him and caused everything he did to succeed. (Gen. 39:19-23)

On November 28, 1965, Howie Rutledge’s fighter jet exploded under enemy fire. He parachuted into the hands of the North Vietnamese Army and was promptly shown to Room 7 of the "Hanoi Hilton." In his book, In the Presence of Mine Enemies, Cdr. Rutledge wrote, “It's hard to describe what solitary confinement can do to unnerve and defeat a man. You quickly tire of standing up or sitting down, sleeping or being awake. There are no books, no paper or pencils, no magazines or newspapers. The only colors you see are drab gray and dirty brown. Months or years may go by when you don't see the sunrise or the moon, green grass or flowers. You are locked in, alone and silent in your filthy little cell breathing stale, rotten air and trying to keep your sanity.”

Few of us will ever face those kinds of conditions. But to one degree or another, we all spend time behind bars: a young mother just diagnosed with lupus – incarcerated by bad health; a man who feels stuck, and guilty for feeling stuck, because his wife battles depression – chained to gloom. After 50 years of marriage, the husband begins to lose his memory. His wife had to take his car keys so he wouldn't drive. She has to stay nearby so he won't fall. They had hopes of growing old together. They still may, but only one of them will know the day of the week. And each of these individuals wonders, “Why would God allow this to happen?” “Does this struggle serve any purpose at all?”

Joseph may have had similar questions. If Mrs. Potiphar couldn't flirt Joseph into her bed, she’d force him. She grabbed for his robe, and he let her have it. When he ran, she made up a story. When Potiphar came home, she was ready with her lie – Joseph’s coat as evidence. Potiphar charged Joseph with sexual assault and locked him in jail. Not a prison in the modern sense, but a maze of underground, windowless rooms with damp floors and stale food. Guards shoved him into the dungeon and slammed the door. And as Joseph leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, he mutters, "I was kidnapped from my homeland … and now I’m here in prison, but I did nothing to deserve it.”(Gen. 40:15)

Joseph had done his best in Potiphar's house. He’d made his boss a fortune. His chores were done and his room was tidy. He’d adapted to a new culture. He’d resisted sexual advances. And how was he rewarded? A prison sentence with no hope of parole. Since when does taking the high road lead to driving over the cliff? The answer? Ever since the events of Genesis 3 – disaster came in the form of Lucifer, the fallen angel. And as long as Satan "prowls around like a roaring lion," (1 Peter 5:8) he will wreak havoc among God's people. He will lock preachers, like Paul, in prisons. He will exile pastors, like John, to remote islands. He will afflict the friends of Jesus, like Lazarus, with diseases.

But his strategies always backfire. The imprisoned Paul wrote epistles. The banished John saw heaven. The cemetery of Lazarus became a stage upon which Christ performed one of his greatest miracles. Intended evil becomes ultimate good. Granted, there’s nothing trite about your wheelchair, empty pantry, or aching heart. These are uphill, into-the-wind challenges. They’re not easy. But they’re not random, either. God is not “sometimes” sovereign; He is not “occasionally” victorious. He doesn’t occupy the throne one day and vacate it the next. "The Lord shall not turn back until He has executed and accomplished the thoughts and intents of His mind." (Jer. 30:24) This season in which you find yourself may puzzle you, but it doesn’t bewilder God. He’ll use it for his purpose.

Case in point. From our perspective, the Egyptian jail appeared to be the tragic conclusion of Joseph's life. Satan could chalk up a victory for the dark side. All plans to use Joseph ended with the slamming of the jail door. The devil had Joseph just where he wanted him. So did God. “There in prison, they bruised [Joseph's] feet with fetters and placed his neck in an iron collar. Until the time came to fulfill his word, the Lord tested Joseph's character.” (Ps. 105:18-19) What Satan intended for evil, God used for testing. In the Bible a “test” is an external trial that purifies and prepares the heart. Just as a fire refines gold and silver from junk and impurities, a trial purges the heart of the same. One of the psalmists wrote: “For you, O God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance.” (Ps. 66:10-12)

Every day God tests us through people, pain or problems. Don’t believe it? Stop and consider your circumstances for a moment. Can you identify today’s tests? Snarling traffic? Threatening weather? Aching joints? And if you see your troubles as nothing more than isolated hassles and hurts, you'll grow bitter and angry. But if you see your troubles as tests used by God for his glory and your maturity, then even the smallest incident takes on eternal significance.

Each day has a pop quiz, and there are seasons in life that seem more like finals. Brutal, sudden pitfalls of stress, sickness or sadness. Like Joseph, you did your best. Like Joseph, your best was rewarded with incarceration. You think, “What’s the purpose of these tests?” Anticipating such questions, James wrote: "For when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be strong in character and ready for anything." (James 1:3-4)

As a boy, Joseph was prone to softness. Jacob indulged and spoiled him. Joseph talked about his dreams and grand ambitions. Too full of himself, perhaps. Even in Potiphar's house Joseph was the darling of the estate. Quickly promoted, and often noticed. Success came easily. Maybe pride did, too. If so, a prison term would certainly purge that. God knew the challenges that lay ahead, and he used Joseph's time in prison to strengthen him for the future. "And the keeper of the prison committed to Joseph's hand all the prisoners who were in the prison; whatever they did there, it was his doing." (Gen. 39:22) Talk about a crash course in leadership! Joseph managed willing servants for Potiphar. But in prison he was assigned unruly, disrespectful and ungrateful men. Joseph could have cloistered himself in a corner and mumbled, "I've learned my lesson. I'm not running anything for anybody anymore." But he didn't complain; he didn't criticize. He displayed a willing spirit – even with the prisoners.

He was especially kind to a butler and a baker. The butler and the baker, both officers of Pharaoh, were placed in Joseph's care. One morning he noticed frowns on their faces. He could have dismissed their expressions. What concern was their sorrow to him? Who cared if they were sullen or bitter? Joseph, however, took an interest in them. In fact, the first recorded words of Joseph in the prison were kind ones: "Why do you look so sad?" (40:7) Abandoned by his brothers, sold into slavery, and unjustly imprisoned, Joseph was still tender toward others. And wouldn't compassion be a suitable quality for the soon-to-be director of a worldwide hunger-relief program? But God wasn't finished.

Both the baker and the butler were troubled by dreams. In his dream the butler saw a vine with three grape-bearing branches. He pressed the grapes into Pharaoh's cup and gave it to the king. The baker dreamed about bread. Three baskets were on his head, and birds ate the bread in the top basket. Both men sought the counsel of Joseph. And Joseph received an interpretation from God. But would he share it? The last time Joseph spoke about dreams, he ended up in a hole in the ground. Besides, only half of the revelation was good news. Could Joseph be trusted to share God's news? If called to stand before Pharaoh, would Joseph accurately convey God's word? This was a test. And Joseph passed it. He gave the butler good news ("You'll be out in three days"), and the baker bad news ("You'll be dead in three days"). One would get a new start; the other, a dirt bath. Both – the truth.

Test, test, test. The dungeon looked like a prison, smelled like a prison, sounded like a prison, but had you asked the angels of heaven about Joseph's location, they would have replied, "Oh, he’s in bootcamp." This chapter in your life looks like rehab, smells like unemployment, sounds like a hospital, but ask the angels. "Oh, she’s in training." God hasn't forgotten you. Just the opposite, actually. He has chosen to train you. The Hebrew verb for “test” comes from a word that means "to take a keen look at; to look; to choose." So, dismiss the notion that God doesn’t see your struggle. On the contrary, God’s completely engaged. He sees the needs of tomorrow and uses your circumstances to create the test of today. And doesn’t he have the authority to do that? Sure He does. He’s the Potter; we’re the clay. He’s the Shepherd; we’re the sheep. He’s the Gardener; we’re the branches. He’s the Teacher; we’re the students. Trust his training. If God can make a prince out of a prisoner, don't you think he can make something good out of your mess, too?

Don’t forget that all tests are temporary. They’re limited in duration. "In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials." (1 Peter 1:6) Tests never last forever because life doesn't. "We were born but yesterday . . . Our days on earth are as transient as a shadow." (Job 8:9) Some tests end on earth, but all tests will end in heaven.

In the meantime, follow Joseph’s example. Let God train you. He’s watching the way you handle the little jobs. If you’re faithful with a few things, he’ll set you over many. (Matt. 25:21) Joseph succeeded in the kitchen and in the dungeon long before he succeeded in the court. He cared for the butler and the baker long before he cared for the nations. The reward for good work is greater work. So, do you aspire to great things? Then excel in the small ones. Show up on time. Finish your work early. Don't complain. Let others grumble in the corner of the prison cell, but not you. You know how God shapes his servants, right? Today's prisoner may become tomorrow's prime minister. When you’re given a task, take it on. When you see a hurt, address it.

What if Joseph had ignored the sadness on the faces of Pharaoh's officers? What if he’d focused on his needs and ignored theirs? Would God have still liberated him from prison? We don't know. But we know this: the kindness of Joseph opened the door of the jail because the butler introduced Joseph to Pharaoh. Compassion matters to God. This is the time for service, not self-centeredness. Cancel the pity party. Love the people God brings to you. And then share the message God gives to you.

Your test may very well become your testimony. "[God] comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us." (2 Cor. 1:4) You didn't sign up for this crash course in single parenting or caring for a disabled spouse. I know that. You know that. It’s because God enrolled you. He’s taken the intended evil and rewoven it into his curriculum. Why? So you can teach others what he’s taught you. Your mess becomes your message.

Rather than say, "Why, God?" ask, "What, God?" “What can I learn from this experience?” "Remember today what you have learned about the Lord through your experiences with him." (Deut. 11:2) Rather than asking God to change your circumstances, ask him to use your circumstances to change you. Life is a required course, so you might as well do your best to pass it. God is at work in each of us whether we know it or not, whether we want it or not. "He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks in the way." (Lam. 3:33) He does not relish our sufferings, but he delights in our development. "God began doing a good work in you, and I am sure he will continue it until it is finished when Jesus Christ comes again." (Phil. 1:6) He will not fail. He cannot fail. He will "work in us what is pleasing to him." (Heb. 13:21)

Don't see your struggle so much as an interruption to life, but as preparation for life. No one said the road would be easy or painless. But God will use this mess for something good. "This trouble you're in isn't punishment; it's training, the normal experience of children . . . God is doing what is best for us, training us to live God's holy best." (Heb. 12:8) You can pass the test. Paul told a church in Corinth full of test-takers just like you and me, “All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it.” (1 Cor. 10:13)

You can do this.

Grace,

Randy