Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

He had clearly been forgotten. Again. Not that anyone cared. Being forgotten was the story of his life. The brothers who sold him to the merchant caravan had likely gone on with their lives, forgetting there had ever been another brother. So accustomed to buying and selling, the merchants had probably forgotten him before they’d even knocked the dust of Egypt off their sandals. Potiphar, the man for whom he’d faithfully worked, had never sent for him to be released. He’d likely forgotten the whole incident. Potiphar’s wife, the reason he was imprisoned in the first place, had probably pressed her seduction on some other unsuspecting fellow, forgetting the one conquest she’d lost. She clearly hadn’t recanted her previous allegations, because Joseph was still there. Still in prison. Years later. (Genesis 37:12-36, 39:1-23)

More than two years ago, a brilliant ray of possibility had brightened his dim existence, reigniting the dying hope he’d somehow be released. New prisoners arrived. Important ones. With little pomp and no explanation, Pharaoh’s baker and cupbearer took up residence in prison. Joseph’s prison. His section. Assigned to his care. It almost felt like a gift. He knew they wouldn’t be forgotten there. No. Pharaoh wouldn’t forget. He would eventually act. Releasing, reinstating, or executing them. If reinstatement were to come, they could surely bear a message back to Pharaoh concerning the innocent man inhabiting his cells. There was just waiting to endure now. 

Unfortunately, things didn’t happen as quickly as Joseph would have liked. Time passed. A lot of time. The men settled in. Joseph got to know them. Well. He knew their moods, could read their expressions. Yet even without that knowledge, Joseph would have had to be blind to miss the dejection on their countenances as they came out to breakfast several weeks into their stay. Lips turned downward. Eyes were troubled. Shoulders slumped. Heavy sighs escaped. Noting their obvious distress, Joseph wandered over to ask the cause. He wasn’t expecting the earful he got. They had been plagued by strange dreams. Troubling dreams. Dreams of vines and branches, grapes and cups. Dreams of baskets, bread and birds. Dreams they knew had important meaning, but it rested elusively beyond their grasp. Dreams destined to continually trouble them because they lacked an interpreter. 

Whether or not Joseph realized it as the beginning of his rescue, he jumped straight in. They didn’t need someone who knew how to interpret dreams, they needed someone who knew God. The true God. The One who sits enthroned in the heavens. The One to whom all dreams and their interpretations belong. And Joseph knew God. He didn’t hesitate. In faith that God would answer, he listened to their dreams. Then he relayed God’s interpretations. He didn’t hold back or alter the answers. Not even for the unpleasant one. 

In three days the men would both be gone. One permanently. The baker wouldn’t get his job back. He wouldn’t keep his life, either. The cupbearer would, though. Not only would he live, he’d end up back on the job, serving Pharaoh, in close enough proximity to present Joseph’s case. There was no charge for the interpretation, it wasn’t his to sell, but Joseph did have one request. A favor, if you will, to ask of the cupbearer. “Remember me. Talk to Pharaoh on my behalf. When you are gone, when you are restored, when you are happily serving Pharaoh again, remember me.” (Genesis 40)

The cupbearer didn’t. Remember Joseph, that is. Restored to his position, he failed to even remember Joseph. And Joseph knew it. It’s not like outside news never got inside the prison. It came fast and furious. Who kept their head. Who lost their head. Who was reinstated. Who was pushed out on their ear. It all came in. There was no hiding it. Especially not from the warden’s right-hand prisoner. He heard everything. From the warden. From the captain of the guard. From other prisoners. It was a veritable hotbed of gossip. What else did they have to do?

There was no surprise in hearing the news of the baker’s gruesome death. It was sad, but not surprising. Joseph felt no surprise upon hearing the cupbearer had been restored to his position, either. God said it would be that way. He’d never been disappointed in God’s ability to keep His word. It was people who couldn’t be trusted. And it stung. It was frustrating. The cupbearer had promised to speak to Pharaoh on Joseph’s behalf, but nothing was happening. No one came running to the gates requesting his presence. No memorandum came articulating the terms of his release. The phone didn’t ring. The door didn’t mysteriously unlock. The angels didn’t come to escort him out. Only the silence of passing time and the pain of being forgotten remained.

The waiting was nearly unbearable. Day after grueling day of sameness. Watch the prisoners. Count the prisoners. Feed the prisoners. It wasn’t exactly stimulating work. And there were other places he could be. Should be. Wished he was. The mind-numbing similitude of his daily tasks left Joseph plenty of time to ponder his past. Imagine his future. Consider all he’d lost. Wonder what had changed in the years of his incarceration. How were those brothers who hated him faring? Were they happily living lives of luxury or hounded with regrets? How was Benjamin? Had they hated him in Joseph’s absence?  What about Reuben? He’d never been completely keen on the mistreatment of their younger brother. Did he ever think of Joseph? What of Judah who saved him from death? Was he blessed, even marginally, for his marginal act of mercy? And what about his father? Was Jacob even still alive? Was he still mourning the loss of his son? Or had Joseph missed the final goodbyes, the final service, the final resting of his father’s body? Had his family gone on without him, believing him lost or dead? Would there ever be a reckoning, a reunion? Or would he live out his days as the model prisoner in an Egyptian prison? If he died there, would anyone remember him? And where was God? Did He even remember Joseph was?

Perhaps you are sitting there with Joseph in one of his darkest moments. When the question stealing the breath from your lungs and riddling your soul with concern isn’t really about the inconsistent memories of family and friends, but about the consistent, steady, stable mind of God? The God who never forgets His children. Who swears He will never leave or forsake us. Yet there you sit in the dark prison of your current circumstances, and you wonder if it’s true. When God doesn’t deliver you as soon as you’d like, when He doesn’t immediately illuminate your path, when things are hard and Heaven seems silent, your heart aches with the pain of the terror clutching at your soul as you wonder if God remembers you. Does He still see you? Does He know where you are? Does He feel your desperation? Does He hear your frantic prayers? Does God still remember you when you’ve been stuck in the same dark place for so incredibly long? Yes, friend. He does. God remembers, even when you’ve quit hoping. (Deuteronomy 31:6; Joshua 1:9; Isaiah 41:10; Isaiah 43:2; Isaiah 49:15-16) 

As the days and months turned into years, surely the hope that had leapt in Joseph’s soul at the reinstatement of the cupbearer began to wane. The passage of time seemed to indicate a rescue wasn’t coming. He wasn’t going to be delivered. The silence from beyond the prison walls echoed with the truth he was loath to accept. He’d been forgotten. Again. Nothing had changed. Nothing would be changing. Not the scenery. Not his job. Not his life.

Settled in the monotony of his humdrum existence, it must have been quite a surprise to have the warden come hustling in to escort Joseph out for a shower, shave and change of clothes. Pharaoh had called? For him? Were they certain? It had been two years since Joseph had seen the back of the untrustworthy cupbearer. Two years of waiting and hoping. Two years of begging God for release. Two years of fading hope and waning faith. Two years of believing he’d been forgotten, only to be assured God had never forgotten him. When his prayers seemed to bounce back from the ceiling. When it felt like God was too busy to answer. When it appeared that prison would be his forever home. God answered with resounding proof that He never forgets His people. Interrupting Pharaoh’s rest with crazy dreams, God jogged the memory of a forgetful cupbearer and enacted an amazing rescue for His child. 

In the shortest imaginable timeframe, Joseph went from forgotten prisoner to second in command over all of Egypt. Proving to himself, to the cupbearer, to the world that even when you are gone from sight, even when you are in the depths of despair, even when no one seems to know you are alive, God remembers. He never forgets. He sees you. Where you are, what you need, and when you need it. He has not stopped hearing your prayers. He has not left off planning your rescue. You are never forgotten. You are never alone. Even if you find yourself somewhere you never intended to be. (Genesis 41; Psalm 136:23; Psalm 120:1; Deuteronomy 4:31)

Perhaps like Joseph, you feel trapped in a prison of someone else’s poor choices. Perhaps like Noah you find yourself hemmed in by God, waiting for the fruition of your faith.  Perhaps like the people fleeing Egypt you feel lost and forgotten in a spiritual desert. Maybe, like Sarah and Rachel, Rebekah and Hannah, you feel like your hopeful prayers are bouncing back unheard from the heavens suddenly turned to brass. Locked in this moment, stuck in this space, constricted by these circumstances, you feel abandoned. Gone from remembrance. Forgotten. As hope wanes and faith falters, know this. The same God who remembered Joseph and Noah, Sarah and Rachel, Rebekah, Hannah, and all the people He called precious is not plagued with a faulty memory. He knows where you are. He sees your circumstances. He hears your cries. He remembers you and calls you precious. Even if you are gone from where you want to be, ought to be, or wish you were, God is with you. He never forgets His children and He never leaves us alone. (Genesis 8:1; Exodus 2:24; I Samuel 1:19; Genesis 25:21; Genesis 21:1; Genesis 30:22; Deuteronomy 7:6-8; Psalm 9:10; Matthew 28:20)