Sorry, Not Sorry

For seventeen years, Joseph has provided his family with food and protection. But now that their father Jacob is buried, his brothers fear that he will take revenge. Instead of trusting God to protect them, or apologizing for selling him into slavery, they scheme. They kneel, call themselves servants, and manufacture a dying wish from their dead father to try to get out of trouble. Joseph weeps. I think it's because he loves them, but sees they'll never change. The tears link the two parts of his response: truth and care. First, he accurately describes their evil. They've repeatedly attempted to deceive him, and the present appeal is no different. By telling them the truth, he shows them that their manipulation has failed again. Second, he accurately describes how fear is motivating them. He meets their needs by speaking gently to them and promising to take care of them and their children. It's an act of grace because he's doing the opposite of what they did to him. His forgiveness is nuanced. His brothers get what they want because Joseph agrees not to collect the debt they owe him. He asks, "Am I standing in for God?" It's a humble way of refusing to act as their judge. (This implies that if they want God's forgiveness, they'll need to repent of their sins before God). Joseph explains to them that God accomplished good despite their attempt to destroy him. That hardly justifies them doing evil or lying to get out of trouble. Instead, it invites them to stop doing evil and start cooperating with God. Whatever they decide to do, Joseph has decided he won't take revenge. It's an ideal picture of human forgiveness. So it points forward to Jesus, who goes one step further. Because Jesus was not only fully human but also fully God, he could not only forgive our debts but also pay the price for them. Even if he wanted to, Joseph could not carry the weight of their sins. He could only choose not to make them repay him. And he couldn't see how the story would end. All he could do was care for his brothers and remind them that God would take care of them too. When I thought that forgiving people who hurt me meant that I had to trust them again, or let them keep hurting me, I couldn't do it. It seemed like God wanted me to hurt myself to please him. I needed to protect myself more than I could let go of my anger. I prayed three prayers for months: "God, remind me that you forgave me of far worse." "God, help me want to forgive them." "God, I forgive them, and leave them in your hands." I don't know when I finally forgave them. I just stopped thinking about them because the anger was gone.