Reading the Last Page

I know this is really going to irritate some of you, but I am one of those people who, when I'm getting ready to dig into a new novel, will flip to the last page and read it to see who "wins." All the important details are laid out in the final pages of any story. Who wins the battle? It's on the last page. Who gets the girl? There it is. Who finds the treasure? Who solves all the problems? Who survives to the end? That final page is where the curtain lifts.

I see your eyes roll from here, and your groans are resonating in my ears. Stop it. ;) 

See, what's so great about reading the last page is that, no matter what happens in the foregoing pages, no matter what drama is heading down the pike, no matter the treachery, betrayal, intrigue, or suspense that takes place throughout the story, I know who to root for. I know what to expect. 

The tale of Joseph in Genesis has all the hallmarks of a great story. Domestic intrigue? Check. Coming-of-age self-actualization? Check. Perilous journey? Check. Rags-to-Riches? Check. Mysterious monarch? Check. All of these things are interesting pieces of the storyline, but we don't get to the happy ending until Genesis 45.

I left you on the edge of a cliff yesterday with Judah's fervent, heartfelt pleas ringing in the halls of Joseph's house, but if you were unfamiliar with the story and if you were anything like me, you peeked ahead to see who "wins." 

I'll fly my nerdy author flag a little here. Most storylines have what is called a "blackout moment," where all hope seems lost. This is where Aragorn storms the gates of Mordor in a hopeless last stand of good v. evil. This is where Anna freezes into a statue of ice before Elsa and Kristoff can save her. This is where Harry Potter walks through the woods to meet his archenemy Voldemort to self-sacrificially die so that the battle can end.

The blackout moment in Joseph and his brothers' story happens between Genesis 44 and 45. Judah has just finished his speech, offering himself as Joseph's slave, if only Joseph will send Benjamin back to their father. Chapter 45 opens up with this: "Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all his attendants, and he cried out, 'Have everyone leave my presence!' So there was no one with Joseph when he made himself known to his brothers" (Genesis 45:1).

And all the drama, suspense, and intrigue of all the preceding chapters comes to a grinding halt in the absolute stillness that follows Joseph's announcement. "His brothers were not able to answer him, because they were terrified at his presence" (Genesis 45:3).

Joseph gathers his brothers all around him, and he reassures them: "I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt. And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God send me ahead of you."

Why is this happening to me, Lord?
Because I have a purpose for you.

"It was to save lives..."

I would call this the pinnacle of Joseph's story of self-actualization. Here is where he realizes that every facet of his foregoing suffering and drama and heartache and painful separation has all been for an intended purpose. It's a strong mission statement: "It was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you." He has accepted the refinement that has made him into who he is, and he is now living in and ministering out of that place to where God has brought him.

Jesus, too, gave a strong mission statement for his own ministry. Clear, concise, no extra verbiage. In John 10:1-18, Jesus tells the parable of the Good Shepherd. He establishes that He Himself is the Good Shepherd, and He says: "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

Why am I here?
So that they may have life, full life.

God is the orchestrator of fortune, and I'm not talking about the kind of fortune you find on Wheel of Fortune at 7:00 EST weeknights. I'm talking about the kind of fortune that does not get chewed up by moths or build up rust, that isn't subject to theft (Matthew 6:20). I'm talking about the fortune that has eternal, lasting power. Mansions in heaven. "In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am" (John 14:2-3).

Joseph, his brothers, and his father finally found their fortunate ending. All the story threads wrap up. Separation ends in togetherness. "He kissed all his brothers and wept over them. Afterward his brothers talked with him" (Genesis 45:15). They chatted in fellowship, in harmony for the first time, possibly, without hatred or bitterness. Joseph's brothers return to Canaan to pick up Jacob and bring him back to Egypt, where they are to be given the land of Goshen as their home, a verdant valley with all the greenery needed to feed and water livestock, and -- bonus -- is within easy distance of Joseph's house.

The characters in this story have walked through their valleys and come to the pleasant place on the other side. Psalm 23 gives a beautiful illustration of this type of journey. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever" (Psalm 23:4-6).

Look at that word "through." Isn't it filled with so much promise? We're not wandering around in the valley. We're not lost amid the valley. We are led through the valley. There's another side. There's a last page. There's an ending point. And when we reach that ending point, look what awaits us!

A table, prepared before us.
Oil of blessing.
Overflowing cup.
Goodness and love.
Eternity in God's house.
Forever.

All of us have our own peaks and valleys, but this is the first time in my life that I have experienced such a valley on a global scale. Foregoing generations would have experienced the Holocaust, the World Wars, or, jumping way back, persecution and martyrdom of Christians under the Roman Emperors. All of these felt like big, big valleys, and the "through" was a distant dream, a speck of light on the horizon.

But the prophet Joel says, in 2:25-26: "I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten... You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, Who has worked wonders for you."

No matter how black the night, dawn is coming. "...Who has worked wonders for you."

For you. For your fortune. Not the kind that can sustain damages. For your eternal fortune.

A happy ending is coming through the valley. We'll get there.
Eyes on the prize.