20/20, Not 2020.

When I was a kid, probably eight or nine years old, I wanted a hamster. Wanted seems like an insipid word for the feeling; I longed for a hamster. I dreamed of having a cute, furry little button of a pet. I loved the idea of keeping my pet in my room with me, watching his antics in his cage, holding his warm little body. I asked my parents for a hamster -- begged, pleaded, promised eternal servitude to. I wanted a hamster so, so much.

They didn't relent right away. My dad might have let me at the first asking, being an animal-lover himself, but my mom had no desire for the extra expense, the extra care, or the extra smell. But I pushed so hard that they finally relented -- if I bought my own supplies, cage included. 

At the age of eight or nine, I was not yet old enough to hold a job with an actual paycheck. My dad worked for Choice Books, a Christian book vending company, and his book barn was filled with books that had to be stamped with the Choice Books logo and stickered with Choice Books' price tags. Since I had no other recourse to income, my parents allowed my brother and me to earn some income by stamping and pricing those books at the pay-rate of half a cent per logo stamp and half a cent per price tag. If you're doing the math, that comes out to one cent per book, and when 30 - 50 books came in each box, I could earn as much as fifty cents for completing a box of books! Wow! :)

So, back to the hamster. I found a hamster cage in Woolworths that was the pinnacle of my dreams. It was $27.99, plus tax, and it was beautiful. It was constructed of wire (the cage wasn't one of those plastic kinds that hamsters like to chew through). It sported three levels: There was a little house on the top level. A ladder led from the top down to the second level where a hamster wheel and a water bottle took up space, and then another ladder went to the first level for the toys, treats, and hamster-potty (a corner with extra cedar chips). This cage was the Buckingham Palace of hamster abodes.

I loved it. I dreamed about it. I woke up each morning, eager to earn a few more cents. When I came home from school, I'd start immediately stamping and pricing books, and I stamped and priced like there was no tomorrow -- box after box after box after box. When we ran out of boxes, I couldn't wait until Dad went back to the head office to get more boxes so I could earn more money. Months went by. Christmas was getting close, and I had earned $23 and a few cents. I had five dollars left, plus tax. And then I'd have to earn a few extra dollars for the hamster, the food, and the litter. It was looking like spring might bring me my wish, and I started counting down the days until what I wanted so much might come true.

My parents had been very clear that earning my hamster was my responsibility. So Christmas didn't seem like it would bring me what I wanted. I don't remember what I had on my list that year, but I don't recall that it had anything to do with hamsters, since I was supposed to be earning that gift. 

Christmas arrived, and we began our traditional fondue dinner, followed by present-opening time. There was a very small gift under the tree, a round one about the size of a rubber ball, that my parents told me to save for last. When I finally opened it, I realized it was a hollow plastic ball with a piece of paper inside. The paper was the beginning of a treasure hunt, which led me all over the house, and ultimately to a present hiding beneath my parents' bed.

When I pulled it out and opened it...

There was the hamster cage, all three wire-framed levels of it in its pristine glory. I'm pretty sure I shrieked. I'm pretty sure I don't remember much about the ensuing rejoicing; I had entered a new level of ecstasy. All the fulfillment of my heart's desire lay in the remains of its shredded wrapping, and I finally had what I had so earnestly worked for.

The next day, we returned to Woolworths, and I bought my hamster and my litter and my hamster food with the $23 and some cents I had saved up.

So, how on earth am I going to relate this to Genesis 46? (Good question; I'm wondering that myself. Let's see if I can pull this off.)

In this chapter, Jacob is finally convinced of the fact that, despite his twenty-two years of separation from his beloved son Joseph, his son still lives. Not only does he still live, he lives as second-in-command of all Egypt, and Joseph has a comfy home picked out for him in the lush greenery of the land of Goshen, within easy visiting distance.

All the suffering and all the agony of the foregoing years are finally at an end; Jacob says at the end of chapter 45: "My son Joseph is still alive. I will go and see him before I die."

In chapter 46, Jacob sets out from Canaan, heading for Goshen. He camps at Beersheba, the same place where his father Isaac and his grandfather Abraham had worshiped God, and so he follows tradition. He sacrifices to the Lord, and God speaks to him. "Jacob! Jacob!" Twice. For emphasis. Do I have your attention? This is important.

"I am God, the God of your father. Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make you into a great nation there. I will go down to Egypt with you, and I will surely bring you back again. And Joseph's own hand will close your eyes" (Genesis 46:3-4).

God reiterates His covenant promise to Jacob, the same promise He'd given Abraham, the exact same promise He'd given Isaac. He will increase the number of Jacob's descendants until they are a great nation, and here, He hints at the story of Exodus: Israel's return to the Promised Land. And then, He alludes to Jacob's death, his last day.

Jacob's story is nearing the end, but his legacy is just beginning. In that assurance, Jacob can rest. 

Jacob leaves Beersheba and continues down toward Egypt. Interestingly, the number of sons and grandsons he takes with him are, according to the Hebrew text, exactly 70, which, in literary features of the time, is the ideal and complete number. 

God's promise to Jacob is complete, ideal. Jacob bends himself to the will of God; God returns with His good promises. 

When Jacob reaches Egypt, he sends Judah ahead to Joseph to get directions to the land of Goshen. I don't know why, but that tickles my funny-bone. Everyone who has ever had a dad who has pulled over the car, opened a road map that's so big it fills up the entire front seat, and searched the intricate web of red and blue road lines, can just feel this verse: 

Keep heading south. When you get to the Joshua tree after the third sagebrush, hang a right where the stream used to be. If you get to the knobby rock, you've gone too far. 

I digress. 

The big meeting point is coming up, and in my head, it plays out like a movie. The dramatic music ramps up, the camera pans from Jacob's aged figure, grasping the board edging of his cart driven by one of his sons -- to Joseph, who is tense with expectation and excitement in the back of his chariot while his driver cracks his whip over the heads of his horses. Together, they thunder out into the desert. A single high note hovers over the scene where the two catch sight of each other. Joseph, unable to contain himself in his chariot, leaps from the back and sprints across the sand. Jacob, his old bones suddenly young again with the adrenaline and excitement, orders his son to stop the cart. He climbs down and hurries across the sand toward his son that he'd thought to be dead these last twenty-two years.

The two meet in the middle. 46:29 says: "[Joseph] threw his arms around his father and wept for a long time." The music crashes over the scene, and the audience is in tears themselves. Reunification. Dreams fulfilled. The epicenter of the drama. Every nuance, every story thread brought to glorious resolution. Every ephemeral dream, every longing for years... coming to fruition. Here's the denouement, and it's so satisfying. 

Jacob says: "Now I am ready to die, since I have seen for myself that you are still alive." Cut the scene; it's a wrap, folks. 

I didn't want to die when I opened the wrapping paper and saw my hamster cage, but on a far lesser level, I could lay down the striving of the months of longing and waiting and hoping and dreaming. I could rest. Finally. In the adrenaline and excitement, there was peace. I could lay down my goals and move on.

The echo of Jacob's words is reiterated in a New Testament story, just after the birth of Christ, one I alluded to a few days back. Luke 2:25 says: "Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him."

I wish I could be introduced like that. Simeon gets next-to-no screen-time in the Biblical narrative, but his introduction and stage presence are alluded to with that phrase: He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. Wow. Whatever my screen-time here on earth, however large or small, I hope that's my legacy: "She waited on the Lord, and the Holy Spirit was upon her."

Here's what Simeon says the moment he sees eight-day-old Jesus: "Sovereign Lord, as You have promised, You now dismiss Your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen Your Salvation, which You have prepared in the sight of all people, a Light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to Your people Israel."

The fulfillment of prophecy, the completion of promise. The laying down of our expectations in the perfection of God's fulfillment. 

God is in the business of fulfillment. He brings about His purpose in incredible ways, and you know what I've learned? The ways of God are never quite what I expect, but in hindsight, they are always perfect. Like a puzzle, each piece slides right into place as though they were designed beforehand and perfectly shaped.

Imagine that. Perfection.

Hindsight is 20/20. "2020" has taken on a whole new meaning this year: it has become synonymous with Murphy's Law: What can go wrong... will go wrong. 

Let's return 20/20, just for a second, to its earlier meaning: perfection. No blurriness. No distortion. True perception.

"See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" (Isaiah 43:19). How's your vision? Is it distorted? Or is it 20/20? When we question what God is doing, are we negating the perfect plan He has in place?

"I am bringing My righteousness near, it is not far away; and My salvation will not be delayed" (Isaiah 46:13). Simeon was granted sight of this salvation, come to earth in the form of Jesus, God's Son, the fulfillment of prophecy. 

God's glory doesn't sit around and wait for us to make room for it. He brings it to pass. He fulfills expectations when He is ready, at exactly the right time. 

Jacob was finally at rest when God fulfilled the longing of his heart. Simeon was finally at rest when God fulfilled His promise that he would see the coming of the Lord's salvation. My child's heart rested finally when the fulfillment of all my strivings came to pass. 

The song In Christ Alone by Stuart Townend wraps this up nicely:

"In Christ alone, my hope is found.
He is my Light, my Strength, my Song.
This Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
Firm through the fiercest doubt and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace...
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease.
My Comforter, my All in all,
Here in the love of Christ, I stand."

May we find rest in the place where strivings cease. That's where our eyes finally behold Him... in 20/20 perfection.