Roses of Grace

The family of Israel is settling into their new home in Egypt, in the land of Goshen, and they have the Pharaoh's favor. They're some of the only shepherds in the land, and are living prosperously—and, of course, it helps that Joseph is so prominent in the house of Pharaoh.  And they all live happily ever after.  Heh. If only—but though fairy tales contain a lot of truth, the endings to the stories we live out don't always wrap up so cleanly.  While Joseph is alive, he and his father and brothers prosper. And for many years afterwards, the Israelites continue to multiply and grow in strength. God is blessing his chosen people, and he's fulfilling his promise to make Abraham a great nation.  Unfortunately, Joseph (like most humans) dies. And so does his favor in the eyes of the Egyptians.  Four hundred years after Joseph's death, the Israelites have grown enough to rival the strength of the Egyptians. The old Pharaoh has come and gone, and been replaced by a handful

God has a way of taking the broken pieces of a hopeless scene and fitting them together in a new way that's far more beautiful than ever it was before it was broken. And, for our young man Joseph, that's what He eventually did.  For two years, Joseph remained in the Egyptian prison, forgotten by the man he'd prophesied would be freed from there. Instead of receiving a release and an apology for his unjust treatment, he had been let alone, continuing to help the prison keeper in the lonely halls of the jail. But he wasn't forgotten by God, and finally, this became apparent.  Pharaoh dreamed a dream. The dream was troubling to him, and it was of the kind that he suspected was more meaningful than just a product of a late night and an overactive mind—and he wanted to know what it meant. As Pharaoh also had kept several magicians around for this express purpose, he called them and ordered them to interpret it, since it was their specialty. But they couldn't.  Now, it wa

Joseph's father loved him.  By itself, this wasn't a problem. Joseph loved his father, too, and he was glad for his love. But Joseph's father Israel didn't have just one son—he had twelve, and the other eleven weren't quite as beloved of their dad. And they didn't like that.  It didn't help that Joseph was a dreamer. Several times, he saw visions of astounding profundity: the produce of Joseph's brothers bowing to the produce of Joseph, or the sun and the moon and eleven stars of the heavens bowing down to him. The subtext of these dreams was obvious—someday, Joseph was going to be exalted, and all his siblings would just subject themselves to him along with the rest of the world.  None of this was Joseph's fault, really. The dreams had a divine source, and it wasn't bad that he was able to interpret them. Nor was it Joseph's fault that Jacob his father had loved Rachel his mother more than any of his other three wives, making him, Rachel

Years pass. Generations are born, and die, and whole new people is born out of Noah's family.  And they are not faithful.  The world is evil once again, and even the purifying water of the Flood cannot cleanse this evil from it. But God has mercy on his people, and he chooses one man to be His.  This man is named Abram. Abram is ordinary, living in the world, married to his wife, though they haven't managed to have kids yet. But God chooses him, and sets him apart. It's not due to anything that Abram did—like I said, he really is perfectly ordinary, and there is nothing to commend him. God chooses him anyway.  He makes him a promise. That Abram will become the father of a great nation of people, even though his wife is unable to have children. That that people will number so greatly that they will be as uncountable as the stars in the heavens. And that God, our God, will always be with them, and he will call them his own. The covenant is sealed with sacrifice—foreshadowing

In the story of the universe, the plot continues to develop and the world continues to spiral down into evil. Adam, Eve, Cain, and Lamech are followed by nearly every inhabitant of the earth, and the wickedness of the human race becomes great. All hope for humanity seems lost, despite the promise that one day, all evil would be crushed.  But one man did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, and that man was named Noah.  It's a recurring theme that sin must be punished. We saw it in the Fall, and we see it again here. And God determines to punish the evil of the world by wiping it out with agreat flood, destroying both them and the earth. But God is just, and he has mercy on Noah and his family, because Noah is righteous—so he tells Noah to build a boat, a ship of huge proportions, and to fill it with his family and every kind of beast in the field.  Here, we see God's righteousness and mercy side by side. Though he can't ignore the evil of the people in the world, he wan

  Abel's blood for vengeance pleaded to the skies But the blood of Jesus for our pardon cries.   - Glory be to Jesus , Fanny Crosby    We've seen setting and conflict , but what's a story without rising action? And the rising action of the Bible continues to develop themes and unveil truths about God, humanity, and the nature of the world.  Adam and Eve walk out of the Garden, and into a new world. In the previous chapter, God cursed the ground, so that "in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life". And it becomes readily apparent that the pain of labor does not only apply to childbearing and agriculture, but to the relations of brother to brother.  Eve bears two sons to Adam. One, the elder, is named Cain, and he is a worker of the ground. And Abel, his younger brother, keeps sheep. Abel is the first shepherd, and his heart is right with God.  Though Adam and Eve are no longer in God's immediate presence, they do still revere him as the Creator. An

The Garden is beautiful.  Luscious green grass, and tree branches bent low from the weight of the perfectly smooth fruit hanging off them. Animals roam through the Garden, the lion together with the lamb. The man and the woman walk together with God, delighting in his presence, and he delights in theirs. The joy is palpable.  But the serpent is more crafty than any other beast of the field.  Our antagonist is introduced: the serpent. He goes to Eve, as she's alone in the grove one day, and begins to talk to her. He disguises his true intentions, talking to her as a friend—since she sees the other animals so much, and they're quite peaceful, she won't have any trouble believing him , yes? Nothing to be afraid of here.  The dramatic irony is strong. The serpent plants seeds of doubt into Eve's heart, and for the first time there's trouble in the Garden. "Did God actually say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden?'" he asks. Eve truthfully an

  "I love to tell the story of unseen things above / Of Jesus and his glory, of Jesus and his love / I love to tell the story, because I know 'tis true / it satisfies my longings as nothing else can do." - Katherine Hankey, "I Love to Tell the Story"     The Bible is, at its root, a story book.  Yes, it contains laws. Yes, it contains long and dry geneologies that—face it—most of us skim. But throughout all 66 books of it, there's a vast and intricate narrative being woven, that we can see if we just pay attention.  It starts by introducing its main character. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth . Right away, we see our focus. God is the point of this tale; he's whose actions we'll be following througout the book.  Next, our setting is introduced. We had a bit of that in the first sentence, but it goes into more detail in the rest of the chapter. And the earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep . We

If you're trying to prove something, who do you go to to make your argument? Your friend, who agrees with you, or your enemy?  I'd bet that nearly all of you would pick the first option. Why would you ask your enemy to help you convince someone? They don't think the same as you, and any arguments they make will hurt, not help. If you want to persuade your friend who hates cats (you know who you are) that they're actually the superior pet, you don't go to a dog-lover.  Except, what if that enemy actually proved you right?   Christianity is inherently logical. Being perfectly true, there's not much room for logical inconsistencies within it; and indeed, we don't see them. Many inconsistencies people claim to find often spring from either a misunderstanding of the text or a misunderstanding of the other information available to us—for example, many claimed that Copernicus's heliocentrism conflicted with Joshua 10:12–14, but if you consider the context of th

  I thought I'd share with you this amazing song by Micah Tyler. The stories in it are heartbreaking, but God takes broken things and make them better than they were in the first place, doesn't he?  Praise the Lord—he sets us free!

"And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand."   - Mark 3:25   I once read a quote from a book (it was something in the Great Brain series, but I don't quite recall the reference) that was far more profound than it seemed to have a right to be. It described a small town in America, so small they only had one church. This was somewhat of a problem, as there were a multitude of different denominations present in the town; Catholics, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Baptists, etc. But to solve this, they came up with a simple solution: "everyone went to the same church, and the minister preached straight from the Bible so everybody would agree."* What a revolutionary idea.  Many different denominations of Christians believe different things, about salvation, marriage, church leadership, and baptism. I know plenty of true Christians who I love and respect hugely, but who I disagree with on secondary matters. And sometimes, it can feel di

“[The man] meditated in God's word because he loved it, and then loved it the more because he meditated in it. He could not have enough of it, so ardently did he love it: all the day was not too long for his converse with it. His main prayer, his noonday thought, his evensong were all out of Holy Writ; yea, in his worldly business he still kept his mind saturated with the law of the Lord. It is said of some men that the more you know them the less you admire them; but the reverse is true of God's word. Familiarity with the word of God breeds affection, and affection seeks yet greater familiarity. When "thy law," and "my meditation" are together all the day, the day grows holy, devout, and happy, and the heart lives with God.” - Charles Spurgeon, The Treasury of David     I often fear that I'm one of those men. That the more people know of me, the less they'll admire me. I want to be known—I need to be known—because what's the point

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." - James 1:17   Last Friday, I wrote about the ugliness of sickened love: "too much of a good thing". I mentioned in passing that God has given us our gifts for a reason, and I'd like to revisit that point again today.  In our culture, we praise ability. And we praise being true to yourself; accepting your identity for what it is, and living authentically. If you have a talent, you're encouraged to use it for yourself, however you want to use it—and, if you really have skill, you're put up on a pedestal in the Gallery of Heroes, along with all the other people who used their God-given abilities to glorify themselves.  There's no problem with using your talents. The problem is when we fail to recognize that those talents really are a gift. And, due to our inherent pride, it's difficult to look pas