Big Brother
Joseph could no longer control himself in front of all his attendants, so he declared, “Everyone, leave now!” So no one stayed with him when he revealed his identity to his brothers. He wept so loudly that the Egyptians and Pharaoh’s household heard him. Joseph said to his brothers, “I’m Joseph! Is my father really still alive?” His brothers couldn’t respond because they were terrified before him. Joseph said to his brothers, “Come closer to me,” and they moved closer. He said, “I’m your brother Joseph! The one you sold to Egypt. Now, don’t be upset and don’t be angry with yourselves that you sold me here. Actually, God sent me before you to save lives. (Genesis 45:1-5)
There’s just a few seconds left and the game teeters on these two free throws. The shooter gulps and the gym goes silent, except for the tapping of a white cane on the back of the rim. Yes, you read that correctly. The shooter's brother is under the hoop, rapping a cane on the rim. That's because the shooter, Matt Steven, is blind. Matt, a senior, had been on the St. Laurence Catholic Youth Organization team for a year and had never played in a game – never expected to. "He just likes being on the team," said Matt's brother and coach, Joe. Matt shoots free throws every practice, though, and makes about half of them. And that's what gave Joe a crazy idea. Before a charity tournament in February, 2009, Joe asked the other teams if Matt could shoot all of St. Laurence's free throws. Amazingly, they agreed and so did the refs.
The first game, to the crowd's shock, Matt made his first two attempts. He was escorted back to the bench, where he grinned as if he’d just kissed the head cheerleader. He was 4-for-8 that day. Matt doesn't talk much – he has a stutter – so when Joe got home late after the game, their mom, Joan, asked, "Why’s Matt been smiling all night?" "Oh," Joe yawned. "He shot all our free throws tonight. Going to tomorrow night, too." Joan just about dropped the spaghetti. Does she like it when Matt rides a bike? Ice-skates? Plays soccer? Sort of. She also dreads the day he comes home hurting.
But Matt already knows what it's like to be hurting. Hurting is being born with two permanently detached retinas. Hurting is having your left eye removed in the fifth grade, and the right in the sixth. Hurting is when they send you to a high school for the blind even though the last thing you want is to be around other blind kids. Matt aches to be treated normal; not, "He’s great for a blind kid!" Just normal. And that's why the free throws meant so much. He'd begged his parents to let him transfer to a regular school – Monsignor Bonner. And he'd begged his brother to let him join his friends on the CYO team. And then, for the first time in his life, he was going to be one of them. Which brings us to Matt's moment in that second game.
He'd missed his first six free throws, and St. Laurence was down eight to St. Philomena. Then a full-court press pulled the team to within one with 10 seconds left to play. That's when St. Laurence's best shooter was fouled in the lane. Surely with the game on the line the team’s stud would shoot his own free throws, right? Up in the stands, Matt's mom was hoping so. The star thought the same, too, until he looked over at Matt on the bench. “It's everyone's dream to make those shots,” he thought.
So out comes Matt. And for the first time, the St. Phil fans aren't rooting for him; they were hoping that Matt would shoot straight into the hot dog table. But, for once, Matt was just … Matt. Normal. And now the ball bounces under Matt's hand. Now the rim pings from the cane. Matt lets it go; off the backboard and through. Tie game. Crowd goes berserk. The crowd stills again. Dribble. Tap. Shoot. Bank. Swish! Up by one. The gym windows nearly break and the St. Phil's players forget to give Matt time to get off the hardwood, and race the ball up the court. Nine guys are running around Matt who's just trying to find a way to the bench. Make that 10, since the team stud is already off the bench and pressing. Make that 11, since Joe, with tears in his eyes, is trying to get to Matt. Chaos mixed with Joy. St. Phil's desperate shot misses. Game over. And since then, Matt's life has gone all kinds of crazy. His teammates call him “Shooter.” A girl says she’s heard all about him. He's even thinking about asking somebody to prom. I hope she said yes. That would have been the best blind date of her life.
Big brothers can make all the difference. Got bullies on your block? Big brother can protect you. Forgot your lunch money? Big brother has some extra cash. Can't keep your balance on your bike? He'll steady you. Big brother. Bigger than you. Stronger. Wiser. Since he’s family, you’re his priority. He has one job: to get you through stuff. Through the neighborhood; through the math quiz; through the shopping mall. Big brothers walk us through the rough patches in life. Need one? Maybe you’re not trying to make a basket, but you’re trying to make a living or make sense out of pandemic caused by a foreign microbe that you can’t see. Could you use a big brother? The sons of Jacob certainly did.
As they stood before Joseph, they were the picture of pity. Accused of stealing a silver cup. Tongue-tied goat herders before a superpower sovereign. Nothing to offer but prayers; nothing to request but help. Judah told the prince their story: how their father was frail and old; how one son had perished and how losing Benjamin would surely kill their father. Judah even offered to stay in Benjamin's place if that was what it would take to save his family. They were face-first on the floor, hoping for mercy. But they received a whole lot more.
Twenty-two years of tears and trickery had finally come to an end. Anger and love had dueled it out, and love had won. He broke the news: "I’m Joseph! Is my father really still alive?” (Gen. 45:3) Eleven throats gulped, and twenty-two eyes widened to the size of saucers. The brothers, still in a deep genuflect, didn’t move. They ventured glances at each other and mouthed the name: Joseph? Their last memory of their younger brother was of a pale-faced, frightened braggart being carted off to Egypt. They’d counted their coins and washed their hands of the kid. He was a teenager then and now he’s a prince? They lifted their heads ever so slightly. Joseph lowered his hands. His makeup was running and his chin was quivering. His voice shook as he spoke. "Come closer to me." They rose to their feet. Slowly. Cautiously. "I’m your brother Joseph, the one you sold to Egypt." (Gen. 45:4) And then Joseph told them not to fear. "Actually, God sent me before you to save lives." (v. 7)
The brothers were still not sure who this man was. This man who wept for them, called for them, and then cared for them? He promised to provide for them and sealed the promise with even more tears. He stood from his chair and threw his arms around his baby brother. "He fell on his brother Benjamin's neck and wept . . . he kissed all his brothers and wept over them, and after that his brothers talked with him." (Gen. 45:14-15)
He talked with Judah, the one who came up with the slave trafficking idea; Reuben, the firstborn who didn't always behave like a big brother; Simeon and Levi, who wrought such violence at Shechem that their father called them "instruments of cruelty." (Gen. 49:5) Those who had tied his hands and mocked his cries? He kissed them all. Hostility and anger melted onto the marble floor. Joseph didn't talk at them, or over them. They just talked. And the next thing you know, Joseph’s outfitting his brothers in new clothes and carts. Outcasts one moment. People of privilege the next. The famine still raged. The fields still begged. Circumstances were still hostile. But they were safe. They would make it through this. Because they were good men? No, because they were family. The prince was their brother.
We’ve known famine. Like Joseph’s brothers, we've found ourselves in dry seasons. Resources gone. Supplies depleted. Energy expired. We've stood where the brothers stood. We've done what the brothers did – we’ve hurt the people we love. We’ve lost our temper. We’ve misplaced our priorities. And like the shepherds of Beersheba, we've sought help from the Prince. Our Prince. We've offered our prayers and pleaded our case. We've wondered if he would have a place for the likes of us. And what the brothers found in Joseph's court, we find in Jesus Christ. The Prince is our brother.
Is that a new thought? You've heard Jesus described as Lord and Savior, King. But Brother? It’s biblical. On one occasion, Jesus was speaking to his followers when his family tried to get his attention. His mother and brothers stood outside and sent word that they wanted to speak to him. Jesus took advantage of the moment to make a tender gesture and statement. "He stretched out His hand toward His disciples and said, 'Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.'" (Matt. 12:49-50) Had you and I been present that day, we would have looked at the "family" of Jesus and seen little to impress us. None of his followers were of noble birth. No deep pockets or blue blood. Peter had his swagger. John had his temper. Matthew had his checkered past and colorful friends. And like Jacob's sons in the Egyptian court, they seemed outclassed and out of place. Yet Jesus was not embarrassed to call them his family. He laid claim to them in public.
He lays claim to us as well. "Jesus, who makes people holy, and those who are made holy are from the same family. So he is not ashamed to call them his brothers and sisters." (Heb. 2:11) Jesus redefined his family to include all who come near him. The account of Joseph is simply an appetizer for the Bible's main course – the story of Jesus.
So many similarities exist between the two men. Joseph was the favorite son of Jacob. Jesus was the beloved Son of God. (Matt. 3:17) Joseph wore the coat of many colors. Jesus did the deeds of many wonders. Joseph fed the nations. Jesus fed the multitudes. Joseph prepared his people for the coming famine. Jesus came to prepare his people for eternity. Under Joseph's administration grain increased. In Jesus' hands water became the finest wine, and a basket of bread became a buffet for thousands. Joseph responded to a crisis of nature. Jesus responded to one crisis after another – he told typhoons to settle down, and waves to be quiet; he commanded cadavers to stand up, the crippled to dance and the mute to sing an anthem. And people hated him for it.
Joseph was sold for twenty pieces of silver, Jesus for thirty. Joseph was falsely accused and thrown into a prison. Jesus was condemned for no cause and nailed to a cross. The brothers thought they’d seen the last of Joseph. The soldiers sealed the tomb, thinking the same about Jesus. But Joseph resurfaced as a prince. So did Jesus. While his killers slept and followers wept, Jesus stood up from the slab of death. God gave Jesus what Pharaoh gave Joseph: a promotion to the highest place. "God raised him from death and set him on a throne in deep heaven, in charge of running the universe, everything from galaxies to governments, no name and no power exempt from his rule. And not just for the time being, but forever. He is in charge of it all, has the final word on everything." (Eph. 1:20-22)
But this is where the similarities cease. Joseph's reign and life eventually ended. But Jesus'? Heaven will never see an empty throne. Jesus occupies it at this very moment. He creates weather patterns, redirects calendars, and recycles calamities and pandemics – all with the goal of creating moments like this one in which we, his undeserving family, can hear him say, "I am Jesus, your Brother." He weeps at the very sight of you – not tears of shame but tears of joy. He calls for you. "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." (Matt. 11:28) He wants us to come near. All of us. We who threw him into the pit. We who sold him out for silver. We who buried the very memory of our deeds. Joseph gave his brothers wagons and robes. Your Brother promises to "supply all your needs according to His riches." (Phil. 4:19)
Let's trust him to take care of us. God is doing in our generation what he did in ancient Egypt: redeeming a remnant of people. In his final book God reiterates his vision: "A great multitude which no one could number, of all nations, tribes, peoples, and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, saying, 'Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!'" (Rev. 7:9-10) This dream drives the heart of God. His purpose from all eternity is to prepare a family to live with him in heaven – forever. "'I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" (Jer. 29:11)
Plans. Plans. Plans. God is planning for our good. In all the setbacks and slipups, he’s ordaining the best for our future. Every event of our days is designed to draw us toward our God and our destiny. When people junk us into the pit, we’ll stand up. When family members sell us out, we’ll climb to our feet. Falsely accused? Wrongly imprisoned? Utterly abandoned? Shut in, masked up and socially distanced? We may stumble, but we do not fall. Why? "[God] works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will." (Eph. 1:11) And “everything” means everything. No exceptions. Everything in your life is leading to a climactic moment in which Jesus will "reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross." (Col. 1:20) Wonderful things happen when a big brother helps out. Not because you’re strong, but because your Brother is. Not because you’re good but because your Brother is. Not because you’re big but because your big Brother is. He’s the Prince, and he has a place prepared for you. Will you join Him?
Grace,
Randy
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