The average speaker has a working vocabulary of around twenty thousand words. If that’s true, I’d offer a couple of observations: (1) Those prone to swear probably have a smaller working vocabulary than that … and if their vocabulary was larger, they might not repeatedly use the same four-letter words—in fact, they might use some that have a few more letters. (2) It seems a number of those twenty thousand words don’t get used often enough and some get used way too much—so much so they tend to lose their meaning. For example, the word “literally”—a word that means to express something in truthful, non-exaggerated terms—is often used to communicate an exaggeration. How many people who’ve said “I’m so hungry I’m literally dying” were ever admitted to an ER and hooked up to an IV because they were suffering from malnutrition? Yes—their hunger pangs may be intense and they may feel a sense of urgency about eating. But doctors aren’t saying they need to summon their immediate family and gather around their bedside. Another example … “awesome”—a word used to refer to something that causes feelings of fear or wonder (i.e., a word you’d use to refer to the devastating force of a tornado) has become something far less. For instance, “awesome” shouldn’t apply to the fact Casey’s has fountain drinks on sale for 99¢. If you’re thirsty and driving by and happen to see the banner outside the store, it’s a nice, pleasant surprise. But I wouldn’t call it “awesome.” And then there’s the word “unique” which means “unlike anything else” or “the only one of its kind”. But it’s been watered down to where it now means “somewhat different from the norm.” Many things we label “unique” really don’t really exist as the only one or sole example of something. The word’s meaning has been co-opted by its overuse.
You can probably think of other such words. But one final one I want to add to the mix is the word “hero.” The word means “someone who’s unusually brave or performed a caring or courageous feat in the face of danger or significant obstacles.” But today we often throw that word around way too much—for instance, professional athletes, celebrities, and anybody who’s ever worn a military uniform are often referred to as “heroes.” While I have great appreciation for those who served our country, I also believe that, in many cases, the nature of their service doesn’t qualify as heroic.
When we throw the word “hero” around too casually, it devalues the accomplishments of those who truly did something heroic—the poverty-stricken single mother who raised her children in the inner city with a sense of responsibility and moral compass … the guy who dropped down from a helicopter and rescued the person clinging to a tree surrounded by raging flood waters … the soldier who entered the combat arena and put his or her life on the line in defense of our country. The overuse of the word “hero” detracts from the accomplishments of the many people who did the gutsy or daring thing out of the limelight—the child on the school playground who stepped up and defended the kid being bullied … the person who took the keys from someone who’d had too much to drink and called an Uber and said, “You’re not driving home!”… the person who engaged in voluntary action in behalf of someone at great risk to themselves without expecting anything in return.
The word “hero” has become a bit threadbare because of overuse. But a life to which it should be legitimately applied is that of Joseph in the book of Genesis. A great way to understand that book is to realize it covers four landmark events and four major personalities. The four events are creation, the fall, the flood, and the tower, and the four personalities are Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph. Of those eight areas of focus, the one that receives the most attention is Joseph—about 20-25% of the book of Genesis is dedicated to his life. That detail alone ought to alert us to the fact this is no ordinary man and no ordinary story. If you know anything about his story, you know some of the startling and unexpected things that were a part of it. If anyone deserves to be tagged with the title of “hero”, he does.
Joseph’s life was so full of plot twists and changes in the expected outcome that it has many powerful lessons to teach us—how to maintain a sense of trust in God when you’re in the pit of despair … how to deal with sexual temptation … how to redeem and move beyond a painful past … how to see God’s hand in the midst of unwanted and undeserved circumstances … how to live for God in a pagan culture … how to wait on God in a productive fashion … how to overcome bitterness and forgive those who’ve offended you. It’s a story ripe with the opportunity for growth.
But there are a couple of issues, before we jump into it, that we need to factor into our thinking. First—many of us come at the story at a bit of a disadvantage because we know how it ends. In some ways this cripples us, because it’s almost impossible for us to read it as the amazing, unpredictable, and erratic adventure that it was. But think about Joseph. Do you think he had any sense that the circumstances he was in when he was cast into a pit and shuttled off to Egypt somehow served God’s purpose and plan? No way! How much did he know about his future when he rose to a position of leadership in Potiphar’s house … or when he was falsely accused of sexual assault … or when he was languishing, forgotten and consigned to oblivion, in an Egyptian prison? He knew nothing! How complete was his awareness of what God was up to when he was elevated to the position of prime minister of Egypt? He certainly didn’t see it as essential to preserving the family line from which the Messiah would someday come. God’s unseen hand was clearly at work, but Joseph wasn’t clued in. He had to trust in the moment that somehow these various unexpected turns of events served the objectives and purposes of God.
And for us: How much do you know for certain about what will happen in the coming weeks and months? Most of us have goals and plans—things to do, meetings to attend, errands to run, calls to make, appointments to keep, and job responsibilities to address. But all of that is contingent on circumstances beyond our control, for we could get a phone call this afternoon that would change everything and cause our plans to fly out the window. The fact of the matter is life is very unpredictable and uncertain. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. And we’ll gain much more from Joseph’s story if we can try to read it the way he lived it—with no clear idea of the future and no big picture to guide him—with no “happy ending” in view. We’ll benefit from his story much more if we can try to read it the way we live our own lives—one day at a time.
Which leads to a second key point: We think about Joseph being heroic, but God is the real hero of the story—in fact, Joseph says as much when, after he’s reunited with his family and his brothers are settling in Egypt, he declares in Genesis 50:20 that “God meant it for good.” But when you’re immersed in the story, it’s easy to forget that through all the ups and downs an invisible hand is at work striving to produce the desired result—a result even Joseph himself couldn’t see until he arrived at the end. If we spend time with Joseph’s story and don’t come away with an increased appreciation for the providence of God, we will have missed the point. For this is a big God … a great God … an infinitely creative and resourceful God. For when you’ve been betrayed by your brothers and sold as a slave, a small God won’t do. When you’ve been falsely accused of a crime you didn’t commit, a medium God won’t be enough. When you find yourself languishing in prison and essentially forgotten, an average God will not sustain you. You need a big God—one whose ways are vast beyond understanding, whose purposes span generations, and whose objectives cannot be thwarted by the deeds of evil men.
And the good news is we’ve got a God like that! For the God of Joseph is our God, too! The God we see at work in the shadows and behind the scenes of his life is the God who’s at work in the events and circumstances of our lives. The God who’s moving in a covert fashion in his messy situation is the God we can turn to when life becomes chaotic and problematic for us. The God who provided him with strength and perspective to deal with an array of injustices and undesirable circumstances is the God we can tap into and fall back on at those times when we’re up against it and don’t feel like we have the ability to go on. If you’ve ever felt like you need a big God, the good news of Joseph’s story is that you’ve got one! The God we see in Joseph’s story is an impressive, inspiring, and magnificent God.
But we don’t know, and Joseph didn’t know, any of that when the story began. Here’s how his account begins:
Joseph, a young man of seventeen, was tending the flocks with his brothers, the sons of Bilhah and the sons of Zilpah, his father’s wives, and he brought their father a bad report about them. (Genesis 37:2, NIV).
With no fanfare, he steps onto the stage of biblical history. And we only know three things about him: (1) he was a teenager, (2) he was working in the family business, and (3) he was clueless about his future. If we’d have asked him about his career plans, he’d have probably said, “I’m going to be a shepherd like my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were.” That’s how things worked back then. But God had other plans.
But you certainly couldn’t tell it when the story began. As the story began, the threads of his life were scattered in all sorts of directions. It’s only later he’ll discover his calling in life. It is only in due course the grand design will become apparent.
What, then, shall we say about Joseph? He stands before us as a young man whose life was filled with turmoil. By no means was his life easy—it was, in fact, quite chaotic and tumultuous. But it wasn’t purposeless. In fact, quite the opposite. Even though the commotion started early and never really went away, through it all he emerges triumphant. Though he came from a very dysfunctional family, God turned him into a hero who delivered his immediate family and preserved the family line. He became a key link in the chain that, a couple of thousand years later, would bring the Messiah to this planet.
So—what can we learn during as we immerse ourselves in this account? Three things I’d offer:
We’ll learn about life itself—that it isn’t always easy, straightforward, or predictable. As someone once said, “Anyone looking for an easy life picked the wrong planet to be born on.” In most cases, he battle of life is fought uphill. If there were no difficulties, there’d be no success. If there were nothing to struggle for, nothing would ever be achieved.
We’ll learn how life can work for our good. Since God himself stands behind the universe he created, we shouldn’t be surprised to find his fingerprints everywhere—even in the tiniest details. The problem is because they often aren’t immediately apparent, we don’t pause to investigate.
We’ll learn how Jesus is the power to make life worthwhile. I didn’t say Jesus “has” the power (which is true) but that He “is” the power. Because Jesus lives in us, He is the power that gives intention, meaning, and purpose to life.
This hero rises from the soil and turmoil of a dysfunctional family. His father plays favorites, and his brothers don’t like him. Just goes to show you can come from a crazy, mixed-up, and flawed family and still do amazing things for God. But it won’t be easy—it’s definitely going to be a bumpy ride. The process of getting from Point A to Point B definitely won’t be predictable. But we must hold on to two notable thoughts: (1) We serve a remarkable, extraordinary, and exceptional God, and (2) the God of Joseph is our God, too.