Faith Reflection Day

Life happened yesterday so the continuation of Joseph's story-poem falls to today.  In fact, as I have so much going on in my life at the moment, I'm putting up the entire story.  I'll use my Sundays for other Faith Reflections and other ways to give thanks to The Lord for all that he has done and continues to do in my life.

JOSEPH

The days were short when I was young

And the nights so very long

I suppose every child feels that way

Not wanting to sleep, waiting for day

I knew each evening with my very first yawn

That there was an awfully long wait until dawn

My father, Jacob, had many children indeed

Twelve sons as well as some daughters to feed

We travelled the desert as many did before

With goats and sheep, pots and pans galore

Ever aware and listening out for our God's command

Waiting for Him to reach out His Holy Hand

I knew I was special and as I grew older

My boasts became louder, my actions bolder

My father loved me dearly, set me apart

And I traded on that love from the start

Today I'm not proud of the taunts I threw

And I understand my brothers' point of view

It was the cloak which upset them the most

"How many colours, what style" I'd boast

Then I started on those fateful dreams

They as the stars, bowing to me it seems

I knew it was a vision from The Holy One

And I know now that what was, had to be done

Yet what shock and torment on that fateful trip

When they grabbed my cloak and made me strip

I felt sure then that my dreams were wrong

That I'd misunderstood God's words all along

How could so precious a child; so loved; so good

Be killed for 'pranks' like a common 'hood'?

No thought in my head at the time for prayer

When I felt that knife move clean through my hair

My energy was turned purely to me, my life

Could I stand the pain?  Anguish was rife

Then - the pleasure of a short respite

When the quarrel began - 'Killing's not right!'

My relief was short-lived as I was to see

A goat was caught and tied to a tree

Then it was slaughtered and wrapped in my cloak

The sight and the thought made me cry and choke

My suffering turned then to my father with fear

The pain and hurt would be more than he could bear

My emotions felt like a strip of rawhide

At once being stretched, pulled and plied

The moment things seemed to be under control

Hope would be dashed - a knife splicing my soul

I couldn't understand The Lord's mighty plan

My life appeared to be finished before it began

Their eventual decision was finally made

While I sat in the pit awaiting that fateful blade

A caravan of traders asked for water from the well

Then saw me and asked Reuben for how much I'd sell

The solution struck my brothers with blinding light

I was sold into slavery, went meekly without a fight

The glory and beauty of my first position

Kept me feeling that I liked the boy's last decision

My days as a shepherd came abruptly to a halt

I worked well for Potiphor, even cleaned his vault

Because I had always been very eager, fit and willing

I found the work exciting, stimulating, compelling

I didn't know much then about women and men

Couldn't understand Potiphor's wife's strange yet

She wouldn't leave me alone, asked odd-seeming things

One day she called me to her room to find her rings

As I stooped to search for the rings on the floor

She screamed, tore her clothes, rushed out of the door

I struggled within myself for long time afterwards

To understand the meaning behind her foul words

Even now knowing why I was sent to prison

Even knowing and comprehending the reason

Is hard.  I was so young, so completely innocent

How could Potiphor even think I would be indecent?

With hindsight, that oh-so wonderful ability

To see everything in perspective, so very clearly

I know Potiphor's rage was for his wife

And my sentence imposed to prevent household strife

Yet I cried for days in that dark, dingy cell

Trying to understand and not doing too well

I can say quite honestly, I grew up in the 'clink'

Believe me, it's really much harder than you'd think

But resilience has always been my middle name

Especially when fighting back is much more than a game

God's ways are not man's ways in anything He does

He used me when I was down with nothing more to lose

There were two inmates whom I'd met and befriended

A butler we called Abel, a baker known as Ed

They had both for some reason incurred the King's anger

Were also both aware of their imminent danger

We were all swapping reasons for why we were there

What we had done and what our chances were

Abel revealed his concern about a dream he had had

Shuddering at the worst parts as if he were mad

As he finished his story I knew what would be

He'd be out of gaol in not one day but three

Even though his sire was full of wrath

He'd get no more than a strict telling-off

Before Ed even started, a throbbing pain struck my head

And I closed my eyes momentarily and sat on the bed

His demeanour was arrogant, quite out of character

Probably spurred on by his friend's answered prayer

I wondered at the change until he told his tale

Which started off stormy and ended on a wail

How could I tell him? But I knew I must

What I saw was bleached bones lying in the dust

Of course he scoffed, asked who I thought I was

Dreaming up horrors and making his ears buzz

Could I not have also given some glimmer of hope

Why did I have to upset him?  He started to mope

As you've read in your Bible it is no folklore

The interpretations God gave me were absolutely sure

When the guards came to release him, he gave a shout

Abel promised he'd do what he could to get me out

After a time I thought God didn't love me anymore

As had happened in my life so many times before

When rumours of nightmares, dreamt by the king

Reached my ears, I wanted to shout out and sing

At last I'd be out of this dark dingy hole

What a relief to the spirit, food for my soul

Yet still I waited, waited and waited some more

My enthusiasm died as I stared at the door

How many times do we try to push forward God's aim?

How many times I was  guilty of preempting his plan

And here I was doing my own thing yet again

And blaming Him for my suffering and pain

What an arrogant young upstart I'd become

With more nerve than a Roman and then some

When the call finally came for my interpretation

I was filled with awe and not a little hesitation

But never being one to tremble in my boots

I stood straight and proud though chained hand and foot

As I listened intently to what the king had dreamt

Aware of his advisers' hatred, I yet stood unbent

The seven-year interpretation you all know so well

Showed once again how God had used me in my cell

Because as each new revelation came sprouting forth

God spoke directly of His compassion and wrath

The 'good years' came first which to me was testimony

That however harsh His judgment, He yet showed empathy

I suppose you could call me a 'man for his time'

Certainly one could never envisage my miraculous climb

Still I worked like a trooper - I worked like a dog

Getting all the mills ready - cog upon cog

As new storehouses grew throughout Egypt each year

The common folk scoffed - said 'we've nothing to fear'

Needless to say, God's Word is always true

After the first two years of drought, the panic grew

At first only near neighbours, then those from far away

Poured into Egypt day after day seeking wheat and hay

When Jacob's sons arrived one day to plead for food

I remembered stars and moon bowed down and it felt good

Oh My God has a wonderful sense of the ridiculous

Not one recognised me - they thought me out of their class

I even gave them clue after meaningful clue

But even so there was not one of my brothers who knew

How I chuckled when I kept Benjamin and said

'Throw away the key' until Reuben cried 'Take me, I'm dead!'

When I asked him what he meant by his strange remark

His eyes filled with tears and his face became stark

'My father Jacob, my liege, is an old, old man

Who has already lost his most beloved son

Now Benjamin soothes his aching, broken heart

And he will die if Benjamin is thus set apart

How could any man, let alone a son, a brother

Not respond to that cry. Oh, how I loved my father

I have to tell you though, after my family arrived

I rubbed their noses in it, made them eat every word

Made them very aware of their subjugated position

Then laughed with them and we started on God's Mission

How I love my God, who know and understands all

How I marvel at the way He engineers a rise then a fall

Working His miracles to suit His Holy purpose

Healing, supplying, listening - there's nothing He'll miss

Take me as an example - I was an arrogant brat

And just look at what Our Lord made out of that!