Genesis 41:37-45
37 The plan seemed good to Pharaoh and to all his officials. 38 So Pharaoh asked them, “Can we find anyone like this man, one in whom is the spirit of God?”
39 Then Pharaoh said to Joseph, “Since God has made all this known to you, there is no one so discerning and wise as you. 40 You shall be in charge of my palace, and all my people are to submit to your orders. Only with respect to the throne will I be greater than you.”
41 So Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I hereby put you in charge of the whole land of Egypt.” 42 Then Pharaoh took his signet ring from his finger and put it on Joseph’s finger. He dressed him in robes of fine linen and put a gold chain around his neck. 43 He had him ride in a chariot as his second-in-command, and people shouted before him, “Make way!” Thus he put him in charge of the whole land of Egypt.
44 Then Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I am Pharaoh, but without your word no one will lift hand or foot in all Egypt.” 45 Pharaoh gave Joseph the name Zaphenath-Paneah and gave him Asenath daughter of Potiphera, priest of On,[d] to be his wife. And Joseph went throughout the land of Egypt. (TNIV)
The Christian author Phyllis Tickle would tell the story of when she once lectured at a large southern cathedral, where the question-and-answer period included a debate over the doctrine of the virgin birth—that Mary was a virgin when she conceived and gave birth to Jesus. And as the conference was wrapping up, Phyllis came across a young man who was an employee of the conference center, there to help prepare the venue and set up refreshments. She had seen him intently listening amidst his work, he said that he couldn’t understand why something like the virgin birth was such a hot-button issue with Christians today. Now, I can’t say what Phyllis thought when she heard that, but I know my mind would have gone to, “Does he think Christians are goofy and irrelevant for discussing this? Or has he already made up his mind and takes something like this extremely literally?” Basically—preparing for the worst, never mind hoping for the best. But no, he followed up that question by simply asking, “It’s so beautiful that it just has to be true, right? Whether it happened or not” Forget finding truth in facts, truth was found instead because of a boy’s need to believe because he feared he would be a different person, a lesser person, if he didn’t choose to believe. It’s so beautiful that it just has to be true.
I had not originally planned on accepting a call so quickly out of seminary—I thought about taking a year to write an academic master’s thesis in New Testament, I thought about returning to the world of teaching speech and debate, as I had done during both college and seminary. I was expecting my search and call process to take up to a year, possibly even longer. But then Don and Lori Powell called me in July, and I visited all of you in August, and in all of that, I came to understand…I have been made to understand…that the desire I felt to serve you as your pastor was so powerful, was so beautiful, that it just had to be true. And so instead of spending a year in search and call, I spent barely four months in it.
And instead of languishing in prison for life for a crime he did not commit, Joseph finds himself before Pharaoh after a far shorter term. The Bible says that Joseph began his service to Pharaoh at the age of 30…I am even younger than that, and while I admit it takes a special kind of hubris to compare yourself to a major Biblical character, much less in a favorable light, keep in mind that in this story, y’all are Pharaoh, so you’ve got a pretty good gig yourselves. But in this story, Joseph still is Pharaoh’s servant, just as I am yours.
After Potiphar has Joseph imprisoned, Joseph correctly interprets the dreams of Pharaoh’s incarcerated butler and baker, and some time later, when Pharaoh himself has dreams he is incapable of understanding, the butler recommends Joseph. And so Pharaoh calls upon Israel’s son, and we hear the story of the dreams of the seven fat and skinny cows, the seven full and withered ears of grain. In response to Joseph’s revelation of the coming years of both feast and famine, it is really very telling about Pharaoh that his first concern is how to address it—unlike our politicians of today, he does not punt on big stuff, he is ready to tackle it head on. This story is as much a tribute to Pharaoh’s courage as it is to Joseph’s vision, because Pharaoh is not only brave enough to immediately remedy the famine, his faith is deep enough that he entrusts the grand plan to a thirty-year-old Israelite slave. The famine in our church, in our denomination, is unfortunately not seven years in the future like it is in Genesis—we do not have that kind of luxury of a seven-year head start. Like other mainline traditions, we have been sapped of both membership and funds, and all the while the story that people hear and read about is not what can these storied churches still do, but what can these old fuddy duddy churches do to respond to the nondenominational churches, the megachurches, the evangelicals and fundamentalists who are waxing as we wane. And so, in response to the pain of famine and decline, churches everywhere are casting about for the point where they turn themselves around.
The Genesis story marks the turn-around point for Pharaoh and for Egypt in addressing the famine. Though it will not come for seven years, the key choice Pharaoh must make is happening now. Entrust this plan to the wrong person, and perhaps Egypt does not survive. I want to believe with every ounce of my faith and with every cell of my being that you have indeed called the best person, but I also know that I will not be as Joseph for you. I will make mistakes, I will misinterpret the future, I will stumble and I will fall down. But I also believe, just as adamantly, that just as Egypt likewise saw seven years of plenty along with the famine, that there will be many years of plenty in our future together precisely because the toughest job has been accomplished—the turn-around point has been arrived at, and the choice you had to make, the die you were asked to cast, has been achieved. It is to call me to you to be your pastor, and I am, from the depths of my soul, so very grateful that you have done so.
When Joseph was called by Pharaoh, he was given a new name, an Egyptian name. Zaphenath-Panaeah, translated from Egyptian into English, means, “The God speaks, and He lives.” A chicken-or-the-egg riddle this is not, nor is this the Biblical version of Descartes’ “I think, therefore I am.” But rather, it is one of the most fundamental truths of Christian religious life that you can find expressed in so few words. Because God speaks to us, we know that God still lives—lives, not only lived. And for every moment that you hear God’s voice ringing and whispering in your ears in this house, it is enough for me to be able to proclaim to you that God still lives. In the old days, the people would see God in both the good and the bad, that God sends both plenty and famine, both reward and punishment. Today, it is far too easy to walk around and say there is a God when only good things are happening to you. But for a church to go through such a long period of uncertainty and transition and to come out the other side still saying, “God speaks to us, and God lives in us,” that is real life, that is real theology, that is a real God who is no fair-weather friend, a God who will still speak, who will still live, and who will continue to demand that we see and hear His living, speaking presence whether we are in a good place in our lives or not, or whether our church is in a good place in its life or not.
But, I know that this is a church entering into a good place, a wonderful place, in its life. And I know it for the same reason as that boy who came up to Phyllis Tickle believes in the virgin birth. Because it is so beautiful, it is so right, that it just has to be true. This is not blind optimism—as you get to know me, you will quickly realize that I am not the type to vomit sunshine upon everything and everyone I come across. This is faith. And there is such a huge, huge difference between optimism and faith. Optimism is a hope, a hope that things will turn out for the best, a hope that our tomorrows will be better than our yesterdays. Faith is a knowledge, knowing that because God is good and just and loving, that He will watch over and guide this church as we begin this new and exciting chapter of our lives together. Optimism would be hoping that Egypt will survive the famine because they might decide on the correct course of action. Faith is knowing that Egypt will survive the famine because God has given them the gifts and the will to do so, because the God has spoken to Joseph, and to Pharaoh, and to their people, and to our people today. Faith is knowing that it is not merely that God could act in our lives as a church, it is knowing that God has already done so by giving us the will to change and to transform in our mission to bring Christ’s love to the world. And so now, let us begin—knowing that simply, fundamentally, and amazingly, that God lives. And for as long as God lives, so too may His church. This church. Our church. May it be so. Amen.
Rev. Eric Atcheson
Longview, Washington
September 25, 2011
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