All of us have, at some point, been hurt. We’ve had someone we trusted stab us in the back or do something to deliberately inflict pain. Whenever that happens, we come face-to-face with one of the most difficult challenges of living the Christian life—namely, the need to forgive and pursue reconciliation and relational restoration.
The guiding ethic of the Christian life flows from the example of Jesus who didn’t write people off or give up on a relationship. He always had a redemptive, restorative approach. So, if we’re going to have the same mindset as Christ Jesus in our relationships, we’ve got to come to grips with these demanding issues.
As I’ve been spending time in the Old Testament story of Joseph recently, I came across an insight that has proven very helpful to me. Most of us know his story—a gifted young man who was his father’s favored son … a reality that created deep resentment from his brothers. As a result, he was sold into slavery and his life became a roller coaster of ups and downs. He landed in the household of a key government official and became head of the servant team only to be falsely accused by his wife of sexual assault for which he was hauled off and imprisoned. While in prison he met a couple of Pharoah’s officials and successfully interpreted their dreams, asking the one who was restored to his position to advocate for him … which the guy promptly forgot to do. It was two years later when Pharoah had a dream that the guy remembered and Joseph was summoned to interpret Pharoah’s dream and, irony of ironies, was subsequently asked by him to lead the country in preparing for the famine his dreams foretold.
After seven years of plentiful harvests, the tables turned and famine gripped the region. But because of their preparation, Egypt was ready. However, the hardship was widespread enough to where people all over the region were suffering. When word got out that Egypt had a surplus of food, Joseph’s brothers showed up looking for assistance … totally unaware it was their brother they’d sold as a slave two decades earlier they were interacting with.
Joseph was obviously hesitant to reveal his identity to his brothers given what had transpired between them, so he carried himself in a somewhat aloof manner. But he was really testing them—seeing if they’d changed. When they said they had a younger brother they’d left at home (who would have been his full biological brother named Benjamin), he sent them back to retrieve him and return with him on the premise he wanted to verify their story. When they returned with Benjamin in tow, he arranged a second test—again, not to needlessly toy with them or get even, but to gauge their character. Were they grown up versions of the hate-filled guys they were when they were younger? Or had they learned from their misdeeds and changed?
He set it up by showing favoritism to Benjamin—giving him five times as much food as he gave anyone else. He then had his servants load everyone’s bags with grain but also place a prized silver chalice in Benjamin’s bag. Then shortly after they left, his servants were instructed to go after his brothers, find the chalice, and charge Benjamin with robbery. He wanted to see how his brothers would respond. Would they take the grain and run, leaving Benjamin to deal with the fallout of his arrest? Or would they return and advocate for his release? It was an ingenious plan as his brothers would have every opportunity to turn from Benjamin but no opportunity to harm him because Joseph would be watching out for him.
The plan worked to perfection as the brothers, when tracked down, declared their innocence. They were confident none of them was responsible for the missing chalice. So when the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack, they were horrified. When the officials apprehended Benjamin but said the rest of them were free to go, the brothers opted to return with him. And then Judah—the ringleader of the brothers, and the one whose idea it had been to sell Joseph twenty years previously—stepped forward and let Joseph know he’d put up his life to his father as a pledge (i.e., if Benjamin did not return home safely, his well-being was on the line), he suggested to Joseph that he release Benjamin and keep him instead. In other words, he wasn’t about to let what happened previously happen again. They weren’t going to abandon their brother. And that was what Joseph needed to hear. He was convinced his brothers had changed—they were not the same guys who’d sold him into slavery a couple of decades previously.
So, Joseph ordered all the attendants out of the room, cried uncontrollably, and then revealed his identity to his brothers. Imagine the shock this must have been to them. This Egyptian official who’s been a bit standoffish during the grain exchange process—who has asked them to bring back their younger brother and now find themselves bargaining for their lives and trying to avoid either him or them becoming slaves because a prized silver chalice inexplicably ended up in one of Benjamin’s bags—suddenly has an emotional outburst and orders everyone out of the room and starts crying this melodramatic and excessively loud ugly man cry. They’ve got to be bewildered and totally perplexed. But there’s no way they could imagine they’d hear what they heard.
There are so many practical life lessons to be drawn from this story, but one of the most applicable has to do with the concepts of—and the differences between—forgiveness and reconciliation. If we’ve ever been the recipient of the misguided and intentionally injurious actions of someone else, we need to understand two concepts and the similarities and dissimilarities between them. For they’re not synonymous. They are not one and the same thing. While there’s some measure of interrelatedness and connection between them, they’re not inextricably linked.
I’m convinced the reason why Joseph didn’t act with malice toward his brothers when they showed up and he realized they didn’t recognize him is because he’d worked through the issue of forgiveness. While he certainly wanted to see if they’d changed, he didn’t feel any need to exact revenge. Had many of us been in Joseph’s shoes and realized they didn’t recognize us, we’d have taken advantage of the opportunity to settle the score and given them a taste of their own medicine. We’d have turned the tables and paid them back for the pain and heartache they brought into our lives. But Joseph didn’t go that route. For he’d forgiven them. He’d entrusted his hurt to God and let it go.
Now—that didn’t mean Joseph didn’t feel those old feelings again. His insides were churning, and his emotions were on edge. The hurt of the rejection he’d experienced undoubtedly rose to the surface. To think his forgiveness of his brothers made the feelings associated with what had happened to him go away altogether is naïve and unrealistic. But at the same time, he was able to at some level dismiss the hurt because of the realization God had used what had happened for good. This event that had been so agonizing and traumatic to him had somehow, in the overall view of the grand scheme of God, served a productive and useful end. He was able to not exact revenge and relate to his brothers in a civil manner without reliving the turmoil of the event.
Forgiveness sets us free from the sting of what happened. It’s like antibiotics to an infection—it cleans out the wound to where healing can begin. But reconciliation is a different matter, for it has to do with the restoration of relationship. As I drill down into this story, I think this is really the issue that occupied Joseph in the tests he gave his brothers. The question was, “Do I want to enter back into a relationship with them?” Am I willing to risk hurt? Do I want to make myself vulnerable and open myself up to a repeat episode of heartbreak and distress?” To forgive doesn’t mean we automatically reconcile. It means we’re open to reconciliation, but whether or not that happens is something that hinges, in part, on how the other party responds.
That’s why we see a civil, but cautious, approach in Joseph. Reconciliation requires an admission of wrongdoing. The other party needs to understand, and acknowledge, the hurt they inflicted. Nowhere are we commanded to keep subjecting ourselves to the same abuse over and over again. The other party needs to, at some level, own what they did and repent. We need to see a genuine desire on their part to change—to step out of their frame of reference, put themselves in our shoes, and understand how what they did impacted us. Until those two things happen, reconciliation is hazardous … risky … fraught with danger.
I believe God commands us to forgive—to entrust the matter to Him and let it go. But I don’t believe He commands us to reconcile. He asks us to be willing to reconcile—to be open to reconciliation—but I don’t believe He insists on it. For reconciliation is a two-way street—it requires cooperation on both sides. Forgiveness is a one-way street—it’s something I do regardless of what the other party does because I don’t want to be contaminated and poisoned by hanging on to those feelings of animosity and resentment. But reconciliation requires participation and involvement from both sides. That’s why Paul says, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” (Romans 12:18). The implication is that there are times when that isn’t possible—that even though we may be open to reconciliation, the other party may not be. For it is only possible if the other party can see the wrongness of what they did. If they can’t, or if they aren’t willing to go there, then reconciliation isn’t going to happen—in fact, it shouldn’t happen.
Having said that, it’s also true that rebuilding trust takes time. Reconciliation doesn’t mean the relationship automatically goes back and returns to what it once was. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be healthy and meaningful. For instance, you may never allow the person who embezzled money from your business to get anywhere near the books again. But you might be willing to give them another job for which they are qualified. You may never remarry the person who walked out on your marriage. But you may, after genuine confession and repentance, be able to have a cordial and friendly—rather than hostile and adversarial—relationship.
But it begins with forgiveness. And forgiveness implies an openness to reconciliation … a willingness to do our part in moving that direction … to readiness to serve as a catalyst for relational restoration. That’s what we see in Joseph—a guy who, in spite of the pain of his past, was willing to give those who’d been the source of that pain the opportunity to demonstrate that they’d changed. And when he was convinced they had, it paved the way for them to begin to rebuild a relationship.