And then...Monday

Easter Sunday came and went.  Today is Monday and real life begins again.  The bunnies...all gone.  The chocolate...all gone (except what I need for daily sustenance!).  The food is all eaten, the company, thankfully, have gone and here I am...Monday.  He came, He rose, we celebrated...and it's Monday.  Life moves on and most days are routine, some hard and some unexpected.  Situations, family hurts, stress, life and death, disappointment, fear...it's Monday.  Oh yes, Easter Sunday just happened and am I living my Monday differently?  I believe He lived and rose from the dead but Monday still came. And I'm trying to figure out how to sing and live the Hallelujah chorus today...with no choir, no worship leader, just me and my little, bitty life.  How does Easter change me?  How should it change me?

Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. John 19:28-29

Did you read those words?  Read them again.
In one last statement, Jesus spoke, "I am thirsty."  And then quite quickly, "It is finished."  Then He bowed His head and gave up His spirit.

That is my Monday to-do list.  I'm going to follow Jesus' lead.
I am thirsty, Jesus said.  What do I admit after the exhilaration and exhaustion of living life?  Admit that I am still thirsty.  I'm thirsty for joy.  I am thirsty for peace.  I'm thirsty for healing and for God to 'make it right'. I'm thirsty for my future.  I'm thirsty for continued blessing.  I'm thirsty for Him to answer my prayers.  How would you complete this sentence?  I am thirsty for ________________.

On that cross, Jesus came to the end of His earthly self...maybe that last statement of 'I am thirsty' represents all we know as human need.  Maybe he was giving us the pattern for life.  Maybe the cross represents us coming to the end of ourselves, our struggle, our effort, our ability.  And once we find ourselves in that place of great thirst and great need, we can then and ONLY then realize the truth in His next words, "It is finished".  When I come to end of myself...I find this Christ.

I'm thirsty for joy.  I'm here, it is finished.  I am thirsty for peace.  I'm here, it is finished.  I'm thirsty for healing and for God to make things right.  I'm here, it is finished.  I'm thirsty for my future.  I'm here, it is finished.  I'm thirsty for continued blessing.  I'm here, it is finished.  I'm thirsty for Him to answer my prayers.  I'm here, it is finished

My Monday must reflect the truth found in, "It is finished".  For why else do we celebrate Easter?  It is finished that He came to earth to find us, love us and restore us.  It is finished that He has returned to the Father but let a part of Himself stay within us.  It is finished that today, this very Monday, we have the same power within us that raised Jesus from the dead.  It is finished that today He lives inside you.  So, whatever Monday brings, it is finished.

Years ago, I took my then 5-year-old daughter to a park in Corpus Christi, Texas.  In south Texas, there are no tall trees; therefore, you can see from horizon to horizon.  On this day, we were lying on a blanket and looking up at the clouds make believing the shapes of all sorts of animals and such.  As we kept, looking suddenly Sarah said, “look mama, a hand.”  And indeed, there was a cloud that looked exactly like an upturned palm – a hand extended.  This sweet girl said, “I think it’s God’s hand, look how big it is!”

We stayed a little while longer but were gathering up to leave when we also noticed a rainbow in the far horizon.  Of course, we were thrilled as we counted and named all the colors we could see.  It was quite a day for a mother’s heart.

That night at bedtime, I was tucking Sarah in and we begin to say our prayers.  I first prayed and thanked God for our day, and the clouds and the rainbow.  Then Sarah prayed….and changed my world.  “Dear God, thank you for today with my mama.  Thank you for showing us your hand in the clouds and mostly, God, thank you for giving us eyes to see rainbows”.

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 1:18-20

Hugs and Kisses

Then he threw his arms around his brother Benjamin and wept, and Benjamin embraced him, weeping.  And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. (Genesis 45: 14-15a)

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him, and kissed him. (Luke 15:20)

These two short passages of scripture—the first describing the climactic moment of Joseph’s reconciliation with his brothers, the second from Jesus’ parable of the lost son—convey powerful images that evoke a deep emotional response for me, and many folks, to be sure.  They are like the moment of resolution and reconciliation we long for in good "two-hankie" movie, that final scene that brings a lump to your throat and tears to your eyes.

In both passages of scripture, the physical manifestation of forgiveness and reconciliation is found in an  uninhibited embrace (“he threw his arms around him”) and a kiss.  When forgiveness is freely given and gratefully accepted, there is a reuniting, a joining together of two people who have been broken apart.  Arms are wrapped around one another in a tight, warm, never-let-go hug.  Tears are shed.  The beloved is smothered in kisses.  What can feel better than being enfolded in the arms of a parent, a sibling, a partner, or a long-lost friend through reconciliation?

Forgiveness ends the separation … those who were broken apart are tightly held together.

Why, if forgiveness "feels so good," are we often so reluctant to give it?

Those of us who have spent a good deal of time on the planet know that forgiveness is far less often about “the other” than it is about the one who needs to do the forgiving.  Sometimes, we just can't imagine what life would be like without carrying the weighty burden of a grudge.  Around our necks and over our shoulders, we wear the heavy yoke of our anger and bitterness about something someone said or did long ago like slow-moving oxen, lowing to anyone who is in earshot: "Poor me!  I am a victim!  Feel sorry for me! Empathize, dammit!"

We just can't imagine how good it would feel to come out from underneath the weight.

Forgiving others who have wronged us is hard.  Forgiving oneself for something in the past is another thing entirely.

In his book, The Four Agreements, author Don Miguel Ruiz writes:  “The human is the only animal on earth that pays a thousand times for the same mistake.  The rest of the animals pay only once for every mistake they make.  But not us.  We have a powerful memory.  We make a mistake, we judge ourselves, we find ourselves guilty, and we punish ourselves.” 

And we do it again and again.

I remember a powerful television moment from a few years back.  Oprah Winfrey was interviewing a panel of women who had made their ways back from some very dark places in their pasts.  One was a woman who, through a series of very bad choices, had ended up in addiction and prostitution to support her habit.  Though she had emerged from that hell, she was still a hollowed-out shell of a woman.

Oprah sensed something needed to be opened up.  "How do you feel today?" she asked.

"I feel used up.  No matter what I do, I just feel used up."

Oprah, realizing this was a moment of truth for the woman, left her place in the audience and walked to the stage.  She put her hands on the woman's shoulders, very gently, and stood close to her, their faces nearly touching.  "You are not used up," Oprah said.  "I want to hear you say that."

The woman woodenly replied, "I am not used up." 

"No, say it like you believe it."

"I am not used up," the woman replied, this time with more confidence, though still unsure.

Then Oprah said something I've remembered to this day.  "All that happened--all of that is something you did.  That is not who you are.  And when you know better, you do better."

What you did in the past is not who you are.  You could see the woman change physically in that moment…standing taller, she seemed to grow before our eyes.

Yes, forgiveness is hard, especially when it comes to forgiving yourself.  But can you imagine how wonderful it would feel to unburden yourself from the yoke of guilt, shame, and regret over something in your past?

Imagine how it would feel…

…to throw your arms around the 10-year old version of yourself, and be forgiven of an abuse you had no part in inflicting?

…to weep with the 35-year old version of yourself, letting tears of forgiveness wash away the regret for all the missteps you've made as a spouse or parent?

…to smother the "you" of today with tender kisses to welcome you home from the far country of shame and guilt?

Imagine that.

--Scott

Is My Cup a Sippy Cup?

In Genesis 40, we find Joseph in prison.  And as the story evolves,
we meet two new characters, the chief cupbearer and

the chief baker.  Both of whom had offended the king of Egypt and he in turn had put them in prison.  This is when they fell under the care of Joseph.  One night each of them had a dream.  They told their dreams to Joseph and he interpreted the dreams.  Joseph told the cupbearer that he would soon be let out of jail.  "But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of prison"  Joseph said. Genesis 40:14   The chief cupbearer; however, did not remember Joseph; he forgot him. Genesis 40:23

I don't blame the chief cupbearer, we all forget things and people who have influenced our lives.  He wanted to be restored and was eager to regain his duties.  He was a servant to the king and aspired to serve.  According to this story, his specific role was to "put Pharaoh's cup in his hand," and we certainly all want and need our cups in our hands.  Perhaps this was a specific historical occupation of which we're unfamiliar!  But, I daresay the cup of the king was important.  It was so important that a position was created just for the care of this cup.

Interestingly, hundreds of years later, we find Jesus also wanted to discuss the cup of our lives.  And maybe this is our cup for this week of Lent.

Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons [James and John] and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him. 

“What is it you want?” he asked.

She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.” 

“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” 

“We can,” they answered.  Matthew 20:20-22

What does this mean?  What is the implication of Jesus' question, "can you drink the cup I am going to drink?"  In the disciples zealousness they quickly answered, YES.  But...how easy is it to drink the same cup Jesus drank?

Several years ago, Henri Nouwen wrote a beautiful book entitled, Can you Drink the Cup?   Nouwen wrote that the cup that Jesus speaks about is a symbol of life, filled with sorrows and joys that we can hold, lift, and drink as a blessing and a way to salvation.  "Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?" Jesus asks us.   It is the question that will have a different meaning every day of our lives.  Can we embrace fully the sorrows and joys that come to us day after day?  At one moment it might seem so easy to drink the cup, and we give a quick yes to Jesus' question.  Shortly afterwards everything might look and feel quite different, and our whole being might cry out, "No, never!"  We have to let the yes and the no both speak in us so that we can come to know ever more deeply the enormous challenge of Jesus' question. Henri Nouwen, Can you Drink the Cup?

This question from the mother of James and John was one of hope.  She hoped her sons would achieve success which is the heart of every mom.  She didn't realize the full extent of her request.  But the more James, John and you and me learn about Jesus, we learn about being a servant instead of a master.  We learn to love when we'd like to hate.  We learn to seek last place instead of first place.  We learn that drinking His cup is hard.  We learn that being the cupbearer is not important for our own accomplishments but is only important in service to the King.

Years ago, we gathered in Rockport, Texas for a couples weekend and retreat.  The book we studied that weekend was, Can you Drink the Cup? by Nouwen.  We had fun all weekend and had some good talks about our cups.  The final question that Sunday was, "What type of cup do you hold in your life?"

Is it an old cup filled with old, old ways and memories?  Is a cup of newness as you seek all the new ways of our God?  Is it a chipped cup?  Is your cup cracked?  Is it missing a handle?  Is your cup overflowing to others in your life?  Is your cup faded as your life journey has been oh, so long?  We went around the small circle of ten sharing our answers.  And then it was a father's turn to speak.  He and his wife had the youngest children in the group.  This man of God was quiet and reserved most of his comments.  But on this day his answer rattled me...he said, "my cup is a sippy cup.  I can only dare to take small sips as a really big drink would scare me.  And I'm not sure I'm ready for what that would mean."

I agree, my friend.  Often times, I prefer to not even take a drink or at the very most to use a sippy cup.  It's safe.  But He offers us so much more...do we dare to drink?

What type of cup are you holding in your life?

Scandals and Justice, from Genesis to Jesus...to Us

And what does the Lord require of me?  To do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God. (Micah 6:8)

As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, the stories of the Bible teach us more than how to be “holy”—they teach us how to be “human.”  In so doing, they also illuminate themes recurring over the ages into our contemporary society today.

Imagine this story line: a handsome, well-built young rising star in government catches the eye of the First Lady.  Starting with flirtation and then outright seduction, the boss’s wife makes her desires known, literally demanding that he come to bed with her.  When he refuses and runs from the scene, he leaves his coat behind, providing the “smoking gun” the First Lady uses to falsely accuse the young man of rape.  Shouting her claims of violation via the media of the day, she secures her image as a tragic victim and her enraged husband ensures the young man is imprisoned for his crime—justice secured…or justice denied?

Is this an episode of the popular television show, “Scandal?”  It could be, but no—it’s the story of Joseph, taken from the smoldering pages of Genesis 39: 1-20. In today’s vernacular, we would call Joseph’s case a “wrongful conviction” and an example of justice gone awry.

When we hear this story, we might react immediately with, “That’s unfair,” and we should—both for what happened then and what happens now.  Wrongful convictions are nothing new.  In fact, in a justice system designed to be much fairer than the court of Potiphar, wrongful convictions still place people behind bars for crimes they did not commit.  In fact, a study by the University of Michigan School of Law found a higher rate of exoneration for wrongful convictions in 2015 than any other year.  Other studies remind us that people of color, already disproportionately represented in our penal system, constitute the majority of those wrongfully convicted.

OK…you may be thinking that all of these citations are a stretch for a Lenten devotional, but are they?  If we are called to “do justice” as Micah says, the examples of Joseph and those who suffer the same fate today should be a call to us as people of faith to continue to both pray and act: to pray for wisdom and fairness in our justice system, and to act to ensure that the laws that govern our legal proceedings stand up to scrutiny.

Jesus was also wrongfully convicted and paid the ultimate price on our behalf.  Knowing what was ahead for him, Jesus taught the disciples (and us) about a new kind of justice…not the “eye for an eye” justice of the Old Testament[1], which we now call retributive justice, to something completely different: You have heard it was said, “eye for eye and tooth for tooth.”  But I tell you…if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn him the other cheek also (Matthew 5:38-39).

This is a mind-blowing approach to justice and to life, literally.  We cannot wrap our heads around such a proposition!  Our either-or, in-and-out, right-and-wrong, black-and-white mindsets do not allow for this.  Our “software” requires a major update for this teaching of Jesus to work!

And yet do we, as Christians, have any other choice?  Jesus has redefined “justice” for us, from retribution to restoration.  It is far less our task to be concerned with punishment than restoring those who “trespass against us,” starting with forgiveness.

Reflection and Prayer:

Where are you holding on to a desire for retribution rather than a heart for restoration?

Who needs your forgiveness?  Who do you need to forgive in order for you to move on?

How can your prayers and actions serve to do justice in the way that Jesus expressed it?

---

[1] Exodus 21:24

Do you love me too?

 The morning was sunny.  It was early and time for coffee.  The mom lazily walked to the kitchen to begin the breakfast process for her family and guests.  In just a few minutes, her husband joined her.  They bantered softly as to not wake the house.  Soon thereafter, footfalls were heard and their son joined them in the coffee quest.  This son, this broken, recovered son of addiction.  The mom still found herself amazed at his recovery and early morning risings.  She also held secret questions about how it all happened, how it all went wrong for him, how his childhood could have been better.  She had new questions too, but they were far too painful to ask so she simply chose to love.  But on this day, God had other plans.  In the quiet of the kitchen, as the son was casually conversing he asked the parents, "I've been wondering about something.  Is there any thing you'd like to ask me?  Is there any issue you've wanted to share?"  The mom suddenly felt the pull of tears and a lump in her throat.  She suddenly realized that the deep question must now be asked.  With stumbling words and multiple pauses, she asked, "Through all your life, with your struggles, even as a little boy, did you ever feel we loved your sister the most?  Did you ever feel we loved her more than you?"  Tears streamed down her face and her son looked directly into her eyes.

We find Joseph in a similar scene.  

So Joseph went after his brothers and found them near Dothan. But they saw him in the distance, and before he reached them, they plotted to kill him.
“Here comes that dreamer!” they said to each other. “Come now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns and say that a ferocious animal devoured him. Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams.”
When Reuben heard this, he tried to rescue him from their hands. “Let’s not take his life,” he said. “Don’t shed any blood. Throw him into this cistern here in the wilderness, but don’t lay a hand on him.” Reuben said this to rescue him from them and take him back to his father.
So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe—the ornate robe he was wearing— and they took him and threw him into the cistern. The cistern was empty; there was no water in it.
As they sat down to eat their meal, they looked up and saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead. Their camels were loaded with spices, balm and myrrh, and they were on their way to take them down to Egypt.
Judah said to his brothers, “What will we gain if we kill our brother and cover up his blood?  Come, let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites and not lay our hands on him; after all, he is our brother, our own flesh and blood.” His brothers agreed.

The brother's heart's hurt with the pain of not being loved the most, the best, or equally.  In this reading we watch as the brother's hurt hearts take over their brains and actions.  We experience the plotting, the passive-aggressive natures, the jealousy, their desire to be loved ultimately by their father.  And in this reading, I find myself and I find humankind.  For each us is striving to be seen, be heard, be appreciated, be loved.  Aren't we?  

And, I see Jesus.  For He too had a similar journey.  He was sharing Truth as the Son of God.  People didn't want to hear His message.  It made the Pharisees insecure...for if Jesus was the ultimate authority, who were they?  The people would see through their frailty and therefore, their insecurities began to grow.  And they continued to grow, as did fear.  Fear of the unknown.  Fear of not being recognized.  And those emotions festered.  And suddenly, a plot began.  Questions were pondered... how can we trip up this Teacher? How can we prove we're of value?  They decided to lock him up (similar to Joseph's cistern) and teach him a lesson.  They did.  But it was Jesus who taught the final lesson.

Why are we so afraid?  Why are we so fearful?  Why are we jealous of other's success?  Why do we want what others have?  Do we not know that we are loved completely too!  Joseph's brothers were so focused on themselves, as were the Pharisees, that they turned inward and listened to their damaged emotions.  And acted on their damaged, hurt hearts and minds.  

In this Lent season of inward examination, we ask, Lord, do you love me too?  Look directly into His eyes, He's given His ultimate answer.  And it's, yes, yes and yes.  Now, He's asking me...and you, "Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? (John 21).  Lent is certainly a time for inward exploration but it must always lead to outward action.  Outward action in love for only Him.  Let's stop doubting and questioning His love for us and take what He has given us into our work, schools, coffee shops, our very lives.

"Through all your life, with your struggles, even as a little boy, did you ever feel we loved your sister the most?  Did you ever feel we loved her more than you?"  Tears streamed down her face and her son looked directly into her eyes. "No, mama.  Not one time did I ever feel that, never.  I always knew you loved me completely."

He Ain't Heavy...but could you help me toss him into this well?

Read Genesis 37 and Luke 15:11-32

We do the Bible a great disservice when we read it only as a book about “how to be holy” when, in fact, it is just as much a book about “how to be human.”  The stories in scripture are about real people with real talents and real foibles, filled with examples of love and loss, humility and humiliation, selflessness and selfishness.

These enduring themes are found in many faith traditions over the ages.  Joseph, for example, is an important character in the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim faith narratives, figuring significantly in both Genesis and the Qur’an.  The arc of his story covers themes familiar in family life:  love, favoritism, jealousy, brokenness, deceit and reconciliation.

The account of Joseph and his brothers in Genesis 37 is such an example.  As I’ve read this over the years, I am always struck by young Joseph’s arrogance as he lets his older brothers know of his dream that they will bow down to him, and their response of throwing him into a well.  I may be alone on this one, but I always think to myself at this point in the story, “What a twit! He got what he deserved!”

My mother could have shared many stories about raising a houseful of boys with Leah and Rachel.  I was the youngest of four active boys.  I’m sure Mom would have enjoyed commiserating with another female at home from time to time (aside from the family dog), but she never let on. 

Six people in a tiny house with one bathroom made for close quarters and high-volume antics. I was the youngest by a wide span, and by my brothers’ accounts, probably a bit (a lot?) of a spoiled “mama’s boy.” I didn’t get a “coat of many colors,” but they would surely say that I was indulged in ways they were not throughout my childhood and adolescence.  And, there were probably many times they wanted to toss this chatty, smart aleck, know-it-all kid into a cistern…or worse!

Apparently, I was a nuisance from the start.  I shared a birthday month with my next-older brother, Luke, and my parents brought me home from the hospital the same day as his sixth birthday party.  Buzz-kill!  As the story has been laughingly retold over the years, I stole the show on his special day and he never forgot it!

Ah, brotherly love! 

It was sibling rivalry that got the best of Joseph and his band of brothers, rivalry ripened by ego.  Joseph was his father’s favorite.  He knew it, and he certainly let his brothers know it.  Their first reaction, also stemming from their jealous bruised egos, was to do him in for good.  Only later did they modify their plan to something less “permanent.”

If there ever was a perfect example of Proverbs 16:18 (“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall”), this was it—literally.

Fast forward.  We know little about Jesus’ siblings.  In fact, there is disagreement as to whether he had them, although it seems unlikely to me that he would have been an only child.  If he did have brothers and sisters, we do not know how they played, shared, or argued.  In our tendency to “sanctify” all the stories of the Bible, we might shy away from the idea that they acted like a typical family with its share of discord, jealousy, and pain.

We do see Jesus’ frustration, though, with the men who became “brothers” during his brief ministry:  the disciples.  They were, at times, argumentative, prideful, and flat-out dimwitted.  Think of the times Jesus shared his teachings through parables, only to have the lessons fall flat on his disciples’ understanding, often because of their own self-interests and perspectives.

The beauty of Jesus’ parables is how they work on so many levels. One of his most powerful teaching moments involved an allegory about siblings.  The Prodigal Son parable (Luke 15:11-32) is not just an example of how the Kingdom of God works—it’s very much a story about being human.  In it, we see how the natural inclination to let the ego take over influences the actions of both brothers, leading to disconnection from themselves individually and from one another.

There are parallel themes in the story of Joseph and the Prodigal Son.  It was ego that led young Joseph to boast of his influence and position in the family, and it was ego (perhaps even the unbridled “id”) that led the younger brother in Jesus’ parable into the world with his unearned inheritance in hand, squandering all he had on an indulgent lifestyle. 

It was bruised ego that allowed anger and jealousy to win the hearts of Joseph’s older siblings, leading them to plot his disappearance.  Similarly, it was a bruised ego that so hardened the older brother to the lost son’s re-acceptance in the family in Jesus’ parable.

I’ve heard people describe ego as an acronym for “edge God out.”  Others, like the contemporary Franciscan teacher and author, Richard Rohr, speak of ego as the “false self” we build and depend upon in the first half of life, before we return to the “true self” made in the image and likeness of God.

There is a beautiful turning point in the parable of the Prodigal Son, when he is at his lowest point of suffering: “When he came to himself…” (Luke 15:17).  I love that description.  No more blinded by his own ego, his false self, the lost son was able to see his way back from humiliation to home.  The story of Joseph and his brothers also resolves in reconciliation when he reveals his true self to them with tears and forgiveness in Genesis 45.

Our egos serve a purpose, to a point, but can also serve to disconnect us from our siblings in the “big family” of humanity. We see it now more than ever, it seems.  The ego strives to be “right.”  The ego strives to “control.”  The ego strives to individuate and separate and distinguish rather than connect.

Chapter 12 of the Qur’an, where the story of Joseph (Yusuf) is told, ends with this verse:  In their histories there is certainly a lesson for men of understanding.  It is not a narrative which could be forged, but a verification of what is before it and a distinct explanation of all things and a guide and a mercy to a people who believe (12:111).

The stories of Joseph, Jesus, and the Prodigal Son are our stories.  Their families are our families, and the greater human family.  The journeys of Joseph, the Prodigal Son, and their siblings are the journeys Jesus always points us to:  away from the ego to the place where each can come to his or her true self.

Is this not the journey we are called upon in this Holy Lent?
Reflection:  Where has your "ego" led to brokenness in a relationship?  Where do you need to reveal your true self to sow seeds of reconciliation?

F-A-V-O-R-I-T-E

Just as we set aside time to prepare for Christmas Day, it makes sense to set aside time to prepare for Easter....hello, Lent.  Think of all the Christmas preparations for the birth of Jesus; during these days we are preparing for the end of His early life and the birth of His eternal life.  These forty days give us time to shop our hearts and minds, ponder our lists with our names at the top, and choose the perfect gift for Him on Easter morning.  That gift is each of us...a more extensive us.  More of our minds and our hearts and our hands and feet.  How do we get there?  How do we explore deeply in order to offer ourselves more fully?  I honestly don't know.  But I believe the Old Testament story of Joseph will help teach us.

Many scholars believe that the life of Joseph closely connects with Jesus' life story.  In fact, it is practically impossible to examine Joseph's life and not see the similarities in the life of Jesus.  So who is Joseph?

     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.
     Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, because he had been born to him in his old age; and he made an ornate robe for him. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him.
     Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him all the more. He said to them, “Listen to this dream I had: We were binding sheaves of grain out in the field when suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright, while your sheaves gathered around mine and bowed down to it.”
     His brothers said to him, “Do you intend to reign over us? Will you actually rule us?” And they hated him all the more because of his dream and what he had said. Genesis 37:2-8

We learn a few facts pretty quickly:
•Joseph is a member of a very large family
•He is born into a mixed family, step-brothers and step-sisters probably
•His father had a favorite - him!
•He and his brothers did not get along very well - there was jealousy and anger
•Joseph had dreams...I believe big dreams

Ironically, through this story we can immediately recognize Jesus' family life too.  He was a member of a large family, he had brothers and sisters (Mark 6:3).  He was the favorite - the very favorite of his Father.  And the people He came to meet and teach, argued with him, accused Him, and certainly didn't accept Him.  Yet, Jesus had a dream, a vision, a hope.

This life template gives me encouragement.  I see similarities for my own journey.  Do you?  Think about it!  We all began our lives with people who were imperfect, who loved or didn't love on any given day.  Families are complicated, messy, emotional and mark our beginning.  These people loved us as best they knew how.  Some of us received extravagant family love, others received a broken, shallow type family unit.  All of us lived in complicated family units where there were 'favorites' and there was jealousy and anger.  But, there was laughter and love in abundance, too.  There were nicknames and special hugs.  There were some slammed doors and forgotten birthdays as well.  In my house, there was also dreaded silence.  Sometimes it was better than yelling.  It was family.  And it was beautiful.  And dreams were planted and dreams grew.  Because those dreams were planted by a bigger Father.

This Joseph/Jesus story tells me that we all start in the same condition.  We all start with 'F-A-V-O-R-I-T-E' engraved inside us.  And we all face difficult times.  But it's the gift and dream inside that we need to find.  It's that special word planted deeply that whispers and nudges.  This Lent of our lives is the chance to focus on the inside.  And let the dream come alive and breathe and claim us.