Trusting God's Intentions

Then Joseph said to his brothers, "Come closer to me." And they came closer. He said, "I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. - From Genesis 45:3-11, 15

I often wonder how Joseph’s brothers felt when they realized that the brother they thought was sold into slavery was now inexplicably returned to them. They were in a posture of great vulnerability, fearing their own ability to survive a famine, and now unexpectedly in a position to reap what they had sown. I’m not sure what allowed Joseph to glean the good from what was an exceptionally long journey of return to these brothers, but his ability of offering himself fully to those who deeply harmed him seems to me less about his relationship with his brothers and more about his ability to trust God.

Last week, I was at the home of my heart, Green Bough House of Prayer, in Scott, Georgia. Next month marks 30 years since the first time I pulled into the Green Bough yard, confused and unsure about what awaited me. Spending so many years in relationship with those who made it their life’s work offering prayer is deeply important to me. There is something about that place that enhances my ability to return to a rhythm of prayer and routine that is nurturing to my life. It’s why I never minded people sitting in the same pew at church. Finding ourselves in a posture of prayer in a particular place allows us to develop a sense of trust in the God we are seeking.

This trip was different, however. Last September, Hurricane Helene made itself known on this beloved patch of earth. The people were safe, and the buildings relatively unscathed, but the woods will never be the same. I saw huge trees felled and giant root systems uprooted, which will likely remain untouched for any foreseeable future. While I saw pictures before my visit, seeing it in person was different. Such a transformed landscape challenged me to be reminded of the power of the creation we live within. God indeed preserves life, but the wildness involved is awe-filled and awful at the same time.

Underneath the confrontation I felt at the sight of so many felled trees I once walked among, was a question: Would I continue trusting God would work within this destruction as well?

The abundant outpouring to that community was not unlike what we experienced at St. Mark’s in the fall of 2019 after millions of pounds of scaffolding fell on our building. It was a time to remember that what is true in the tyranny of a moment does not reveal God’s full intentions. It can be a long and winding path to fully realize the reconciliation that is available to us.

In a few weeks, we turn toward the season of Lent. It is a time of reminding ourselves that preparing for new life often requires uprooting the habits that might prevent us from relinquishing ourselves more fully to God. The God who loves and challenges us. I pray for grace and courage to deeply enter the space of trust and love that God wants for us.

Peace, Beth +