The entire thing was outrageous! Unbelievable. Ridiculous. A set up from the start. Yet here he was, stitched up for a crime he didn’t commit. Would never have committed. No matter the circumstances. Beautiful woman. Perfect timing. Persistent temptation. He wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation. Ever. Hadn’t done so now. He’d run. Fast enough to leave his outer cloak behind. Unfortunately, his integrity had been his undoing. Now here he sat on the edge of an uncomfortable prison cot, listening to the key turn in the lock. Incarcerated for not violating his boss’s wife. (Genesis 39:7-20)
It wasn’t the first time he’d ended up somewhere he shouldn’t be because of another’s actions. Joseph had only left Canaan and his father’s house because his brothers shipped him off. Sold him for a handful of silver coins. Twenty, to be exact. His life hadn’t been worth more to them. Admittedly, he’d been a bit of a thorn in the side. Maybe even more so than most younger brothers. He’d poked and prodded, annoyed and infuriated. Not that what he’d said was wrong. He’d had those dreams, seen those visions. Retrospectively, he wasn’t duty-bound to share them. He’d done that of his own volition. A little braggadocio. Still. It didn’t justify them selling their own flesh and blood into slavery. (Genesis 37:1-28)
Ending up in Egypt hadn’t been his choice, either. It was merely a convenient place for the Midianites to shift their load and recoup their expenditures. With a quick exchange of coins, Joseph had been handed off to Potiphar like so much baggage. But God was in Egypt, too. His faithful love surrounded Joseph in the midst of uncertainty. And Potiphar liked Joseph. Respected him. Trusted him. A lot. Enough to put Joseph as overseer of all he owned. It wasn’t the same as living among his brothers and raising his own family, but it wasn’t a bad situation. Until it was. Until the fateful day Potiphar’s fickle wife noticed Joseph’s muscular frame and chiseled features. She tried to get him alone, seduce him. He refused. His devotion to God required no less. It was all to no avail. In his haste to do right, he’d left his cloak behind and she’d used it to get her revenge. Now here he sat. Imprisoned. For running from sin. (Genesis 39:1-20; II Timothy 2:22)
Undoubtedly, Joseph felt the unfairness of the situation. He shouldn’t even be in this prison. Shouldn’t be in Egypt. Shouldn’t have been sold by his brothers. Shouldn’t have been hated by them. He shouldn’t be anywhere except back in Canaan with his father, reaping the benefits of being the favored son. Yet here he was. In prison. And it was hard. Hard to be here under these circumstances. Hard to be alone with his thoughts. Hard to see the hand of God, the love of God, the faithfulness of God through the mess of his life. Although Joseph only had the love of his father to go by, his list of trials and current circumstances certainly didn’t look like love at all. But it was.
During his ordained incarceration, God was working. Joseph earned a place of trust with the prison warden. He was able to mingle with other prisoners and, when the time came, Joseph was given the interpretation for the dreams of the baker and cupbearer. One would die. One would live. It all came to pass. Just as God told Joseph it would. But memories are short and fickle and selfish. The cupbearer forgot to mention Joseph’s plight to Pharaoh. For two long years Joseph waited and hoped. Until Pharaoh was plagued by a dream.
At the cupbearer’s sudden burst of memory, Pharaoh sent for Joseph to gain the interpretation of his dream. It wasn’t encouraging news. Desperate times were coming. But there was hope. For Pharaoh. For Egypt. For Joseph. God’s faithful love was still at work. It had been all along. Had Joseph stayed in Potiphar’s house, he’d never have met the cupbearer. Never interpreted the dreams. There would have been no reason for Pharaoh to call Joseph forward for his own interpretation. When Joseph was in prison wondering how any of his circumstances reflected the love of God, God was lovingly bringing about a grand opportunity for Joseph. An opportunity to reunite with his father and brothers. An opportunity for forgiveness and healing. An opportunity to provide for them when famine was sweeping the land. Even when it seemed like the love of God had gotten a bit sideways, when it felt like His love wasn’t faithful, when it didn’t look the way Joseph thought it should or act in the timeframe he thought was appropriate, God’s love was still faithful. Because sometimes God’s love looks like protection from sin, provision for the future, and the possibility of personal growth. (Genesis 39:21-45:28; Lamentations 3:22-23)
Admittedly, we aren’t big fans of the personal growth part. We’d much rather have a lifetime of promised butterflies and fields of flowers. It would be so much more comfortable if love looked only like blessings and abundance. But true love isn’t like that. It can’t be. True love is not permissive and blase. True love cares too much to let you go on blindly in your sins. So does God’s love. In faithful love meant to protect you from sin, provide a way of escape from temptation, and grow the fortitude of your soul, God speaks. We don’t always want to hear what He has to say. He still speaks. Hard truths. Firm “no’s.” Words of correction and reproof. Things spoken in love without the desire to hurt or harm, but to build up and improve your soul. Sometimes love looks like correction. (Hebrews 4:12; Proverbs 3:11-12)
David learned that lesson the hard way. Unlike Joseph, David failed to ignore the beautiful woman before him. Not that she was trying to get his attention. She wasn’t. Probably didn’t even know he’d seen her taking an evening bath. But he had. And David was distracted. His desire to have the woman overrode both his morals and common sense. He sent for her. A command she was unable, in the constraints of that day, to deny. She had no choice but to show up and do as the king desired. The inevitable ensued. Bathsheba, Uriah’s wife, became pregnant to the king who chose to allow his desires to control him instead of the other way round.
As sin is wont to do, it didn’t end with taking someone else’s wife. Rather than divulge his sin and repent of his actions, David set about attempting to cover his transgression. Sending for Uriah, he gave every opportunity for the man to go be with his wife. Uriah declined. His personal standards were too high. He wouldn’t go about enjoying himself when his soldiers were camping in the fields, not knowing when the enemy might attack and they would be called to sacrifice their lives. Things didn’t go according to David’s plan. Uriah didn’t even go visit Bathsheba. Not once. The cover-up wasn’t working. So David formulated a secondary plan. (Proverbs 28:16)
Dismissing Uriah back to the battle, David gave him a written message for his commanding officer. He knew Uriah could be trusted not to read it on the way. It’s a good thing he didn’t. He might not have returned. In his hand, signed with the king’s signet ring, Uriah carried his own death warrant. At the next battle, Uriah was shoved into the fiercest fighting and left to die by enemy hands. Murder by battle. No one would question it. No one would know. No one but David. Or so he thought. Until Nathan came to visit. (II Samuel 11)
In faithful love aligned with His character, God sent Nathan to confront David about his sin. David gives no indication of concern or conviction when Nathan’s presence is announced. Indeed, it seems he was wholly unperturbed by the visit, as if everything in his life was perfectly aligned with God’s teachings. As if he hadn’t recently broken multiple commandments. In fact, David is horrified and outraged at the story Nathan shares. His anger boils. His sense of justice comes to the fore. He’s ready to pronounce swift and certain judgment on the man who thought he could steal a poor man’s pet lamb. Yet Nathan’s reply stopped the decree as it fell from David’s lips. “You’re the guy.” (II Samuel 12:1-7)
David was the man in Nathan’s story. He was the man who stole from someone. He was the murderer who took Uriah’s life and stole Bathsheba’s husband because of the lust in his own heart. He was an adulterer. He was a murderer. His judgment would rest on his own head. The baby Bathsheba carried would die. The halls of his palace would be filled with mourning and grief. It seems an extravagant price to pay. It feels like God’s love has abandoned him. It hadn’t. The depths of God’s love for humanity does not negate the consequences of one’s actions. Rather, the faithful love of God comes in correction to those who have purposely strayed, accidentally become distracted, or unwittingly been drawn into sin. The love of God in the form of correction comes to reconcile the straying soul to God. Because God is faithful and His heart of love makes every effort to draw all humanity into a proper relationship with Himself and keep them there. Sometimes God’s love looks like direction. (II Samuel 12:7-15)
Over and again throughout the Bible, God has laid out directions to Heaven. In love, He has placed rules and laws and directives meant to keep you safe from sin and temptation. He’s concerned about your soul. He’s hoping to safeguard it. His greatest desire is not to control or manipulate, but to protect and preserve. That’s how true love looks. He also knows that humanity is bent toward self-destruction. We aren’t good at making proper decisions. Our minds are too finite. We choose things based on our current feelings, our circumstances, or the influence of those around us. But God’s directions are timeless. They transcend everything we think we know and all the useless advice we are given. And they come from a place of love. Pure love. True love. Love that has only your best interest in mind. Because that’s how true love looks. (Exodus 20:1-17: II Corinthians 5:21; Matthew 5:20; I John 2:5-6)
You see, friend, God’s love cannot be measured by the things we have, the car we drive, or the zeroes in our bank balance. It has nothing to do with magnificent rescues, miraculous recoveries, or magnanimous handouts. Although those things may happen, they may not. Their presence or the lack thereof is not an accurate barometer of God’s love. You won’t find it in those things. Stop looking there. God is not some big Santa Claus in the sky throwing giant handfuls of lollies out of one hand, dumping sunshine with the other, and pretending you never do anything wrong. He loves you too much for that. God loves you too much to let you settle in your sin and die there. So, in the faithful love that is the hallmark of His character, God comes to you with direction, in correction, offering protection from the sin that so easily besets and ensnares your soul. It’s all free. It’s all for you. It’s the look of love from the God whose character defies Him to do anything else. For God is love. (I John 4:16; Isaiah 54:10; Psalm 119:75; Revelation 3:19; Job 2:10; Colossians 3:12-14; Romans 8:31-39; I Corinthians 10:13)