I Am Joseph — Come Close

That was all he could say at first. Joseph. The brother they had thrown into a pit. The brother they had sold for a handful of silver, the way you might sell a basket of figs. The brother they had told their father was dead.

And now here he stood, alive and free, almost the most powerful man in all of Egypt, with bread in his storehouses when the whole world was hungry. The dreams God had given him long ago, back when he was a boy with a bright coat, had come true at last.

His brothers stood in front of him, and they could not say a word.

They were afraid. So afraid. Their hearts were pounding. The brother they had hurt now held their whole lives in his hands. He could do anything he wanted to them. They had hurt him. And now, surely, now it was time to pay.

Have you ever felt that? That cold, sinking feeling, when you have done something wrong, and the moment comes when you think you will have to pay it back?

Watch what Joseph does.

He does not raise his hand. He does not call for his guards.

He weeps. He weeps so loudly the whole palace hears him.

"Come close to me," he says. And they shuffle closer, trembling. "I am Joseph. Your brother. The one you sold."

And then Joseph says the most upside-down thing. "Do not be afraid. Do not be angry with yourselves. It was not really you who sent me here. God sent me ahead of you. To save your lives. To keep you alive through the hunger. To make sure our family would not be missing a single one."

The brother they tried to throw away was the very one who saved them. The one they pushed down low was lifted up high. And from up high, he reached all the way down to rescue the ones who had hurt him. He filled their arms with grain. He kissed them. He cried on their necks. He made room for them in the best of the land.

God's kingdom is upside down like that. The one who was wronged does the forgiving. The one who could punish gives bread instead.

And little one, Joseph's story was a small early picture of a far bigger one.

Because one day another Brother would come. A Brother we pushed away too, all of us. We would lift him up high, but not onto a throne. We would lift him onto a cross. And from that high and terrible place, he would look down at the very ones who put him there, and he would not call for punishment.

He would open his arms.

He would say, in his own way, Come close to me. Do not be afraid.

He would give us bread that never runs out. He would gather his whole family home, and he would not come home missing one.

And to every frightened, hiding child, he still says what Joseph said in that palace: Come close. You are safe. I am not here to pay you back. I am here to bring you home.