...why him?

Genesis42-45

The back of the Minister’s seat pressed into my back, the coolness of its metal seeping into my blood. The tall pillars of the throne room stretched high above me as the sunlight pouring through the wide windows turned their sandy color to gold. Thoughts ran through my mind like shards of ice as I watched the eleven ragged men below me scramble to explain, like rats in a golden cage. The sight filled me with… satisfaction, but incomplete somehow.

“My lord, please!”

“Mercy!”

“It truly was not us! We were framed!”

Life is never easy, especially for foreigners here in the Land of Fortune. Unfortunately for them, they had fallen right into my scheme of planting silver in their sacks. As for the punishment, I was gracious enough to spare them the full detail. I, on the contrary, did not have that luxury of ignorance five years ago.

“Silence!” I snapped, and my translator jumped. A second later, in rapid fire, he blustered through my words in Hebrew to the men below. “Did you think I wouldn’t know? I treated you with kindness, I showered you with favor. You ate with me, I welcomed you with open arms. And how did you repay me for my generosity?” I slammed my fist on the seat. “By stealing!”

“No, sir!”

“Bring to me the man whose sack held my silver,” I commanded darkly.

Within a few seconds, before the men had any time to react, my guards brought forth the youngest of them. He was strikingly handsome with sun-kissed skin and bright eyes, but what struck me most of all was the dusty color of his hair.

The same shade as mine. As Mother’s.

“Wait!” Cries from the older men interrupted my thoughts as they tried to push forward. I lifted my finger and the guards blocked them. The youngest stood frozen, terrified. “No, not him! Take any one of us but him!”

“And why not him?” I asked harshly. “Is he not the thief? The rest of you may leave. He must stay.” I turned to leave.

“Please, let me speak,” one of the men pleaded. He quickly bent to his knees in desperation. “You asked us about our family during our last visit, my lord, and we answered accordingly. We told you we had a younger brother, and our old father loves him. His brother is dead.”

Dead…That’sright.Theyweredeadtometoo.Overthe years, I had forgotten everything about their land, their home, theirlanguage,completelyabandoningthenotionthatwhatwas theirs was mine once. I had moved on.

OrsoIthought.

“… we brought him at your request to prove we were not spies in your land, but merely humble servants here for some grain to feed our families during this famine—grain that you so wisely gathered for five years prior. Your reputation precedes you, and we are honored by your grace and privileged by your generosity.”

Grace.Generosity.Yes.Somethingthesemendidn’tdeserve. I felt ghostly whips lash at my back, the scars on my back suddenly burning with a fire. It clashed so strongly with the cool touch of the seat. A minister with the hidden marks of a slave.

I was suddenly very conscious of the layers of ceremonial makeup the servants had drawn on me this morning, covering more scars that marked my time in a cell. A prisoner behind the maskofpower.

Perhapsitwasbecauseofthistheydidn’trecognizeme. Perhapsitwasbecausetheyhadn’tchangedthatI’drecognizedthemimmediately.

“We told our father what you’ve said,” the man continued. “My lord, if only you could see the pain in his eyes when we would not leave home without our youngest brother. He recounted the death of our brother, claiming he would die if our Benjamin were taken from him as well.”

Father… Warm memories of his exquisite gift led to cold nightmares of frigid nights in a pit, scorching marches across deserts that rubbed sand into raw wounds, and sunless days in the cell where harsh chains and unforgiving bars only let me glimpse the bottom of the guards’ feet for two years.

And the hands that sold me to this fate? None other than the ten pairs of hands pressed pleadingly into the marble floors before me.

“My lord, if we return without our brother, our father will die of heartbreak,” Judah continued, his eyes desperate. “I swore to him on my life I would bring our brother back safely. So please… Please let me stay in his place and let our brother return home with his brothers. How can I return home without him? I cannot bear to see the look on my father’s face.”

WhyBenjamin?

Whyhim?

Whynotme?

I couldn’t take it anymore. Judah was sacrificing the rest of his life to protect a brother he only shared half his blood with. That had been me once. But his response was completely different.

“Leave us,” I commanded the translator and watched the men stare after him pleadingly, afraid of what would happen next. I dismissed the guards next, instructing them to lock the doors behind them. It was quiet and still for ten dreadful seconds.

Noneofthiswasfair , I thought to myself again for a bitter moment. But even so, I dug through the toxic air and found something solid.

Something strong.

Something constant.

Yes.ThepromiseoftheGodofmyfathers.His companionship in the cells.

I thought back to my hopelessness, my poverty, the death of my wish to see my home again. I had accepted I was in a new world, that I’d never have to face my past again.

Yet, here they were, their lives in the palm of my hand, reminiscent of an old dream I had once.

I should imprison every single one of them. Give them a taste of the pain they caused me. They’ll never understand, so I’ll make them understand. Show them what theyputyouthrough!

The suffocating, toxic air was an enemy I’ve had to fight all my life. Each time I could only win with His strength. And so…

“I am he,” I breathed finally, my voice singing in the tongue of my home. Tears of longing and pain streaked down my face as I stepped towards the men, whose jaws dropped in shock. “I am Joseph, the brother you sold fifteen years ago. What you had intended for evil, God intended for good.”

The battles I fought were to bring me to this moment, to preserve the remnant of my family in a world of hunger. To transform a foreign slave into the right hand of the Pharaoh. To empower the powerless.

To restore to me a family I thought I had lost, a destiny I struggled to hope for. To take the steps towards forgiveness and reconciliation.

None of us would be here without that fateful day fifteen years ago.

And for that past, I am grateful.