A Theology Built on Suffering

My walk with the Living God is not your typical Southern I-was-raised-in-church story. Although I did attend church with my family as a child, I didn’t “get it.” Nothing in my childhood Sunday school classes penetrated to the core of my will and reason, and so I was unprepared for the inevitable hardships of life in a sin-wrecked world. I had no theology for suffering.

As a teen and young adult, I adopted a worldview based on atheistic humanism. The problem was, this worldview necessitated I remain busy and preoccupied at all times. Otherwise, the reality of pain, despair, and emptiness would press me in a suffocating embrace. From my godless perspective, suffering was meaningless, and since life held a great deal of suffering, life seemed meaningless to me as well.

Then I met my Creator through His Word, and everything changed. But the verses that first resonated with me were not the standard reassurances of God’s love – the fear nots and the comforting promises of faithful love. To the contrary, the very first Scripture I remember striking a deep chord and reverberating through my brain was from the prophet Isaiah. It was a Scripture about pain.

Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction. For my own sake, for my own sake, I do it, for how should my name be profaned? My glory I will not give to another.
(Isaiah 48:10-11)

For the first time in my life, I learned the anguish and angst I’d experienced in life had a purpose. There was meaning in misery; a reason for the suffering.

The craziest idea I’d ever had took hold of me. My pain wasn’t even ultimately about me at all. It was all allowed to occur for God’s glory. And He wasn’t going to share His glory with anyone – not even with me.

In those two verses, read in the context of the entire chapter but impressed into my heart by the Holy Spirit as a personal message, I realized all my life to that point had been a refining process.

The torturous heat I’d felt, sometimes due to my own poor choices and other times inflicted upon me by circumstance, wasn’t merely rotten luck. Instead, the intense heat of anguish melted down every atom of my being in order that the ugliness inside me could be separated and removed.

Even my stupidity, my “looking for love in all the wrong places” and the horrors I’d found in dark corners I never should have probed, was included in the liquefaction. The Great Refiner applied heat to every part of me, discarding what was useless to Him and reshaping the rest into a vessel He could use – for His glory.

My pain was for His glory, and yielded to Him, it became a thing of beauty; a connection point by which I could share my eternal hope in a merciful and magnificent Creator God with others who are wounded and broken by suffering. Life and life’s pain were no longer meaningless.

From these two verses, the Holy Spirit continued to reveal a theology of suffering to me through the Word of God. I was unsurprised to read Paul’s assertion that we should rejoice in our suffering or James’s admonition to “count it all joy… when you meet trials of various kinds” (see Romans 5:2-5 and James 1:2-4).

Nor was I surprised to learn that my salvation was purchased by the suffering of the Son of God, or that my obedience to Him required further suffering. I was simply ecstatic to learn all the pain had a purpose after all.

Family Legacy: Ephraim and Manasseh

Today I shall take a break from homeschool topics and explore an idea my Tuesday night group teased out at our meeting last week. We are going through Lois Tverberg’s fine book, Reading the Bible with Rabbi Jesus and had come to the seventh chapter about reading the Bible as a collective “we.” As we talked through the ramifications of historic concepts of family legacy, some fascinating ideas about Ephraim and Manasseh began to come clear.

I was particularly struck by the implied sacrifice & redemption story of Joseph’s two children who were born in Egypt. Perhaps I’m reading too much into the text, but I still wanted to share our thoughts and my further contemplations here and invite discussion. Does anyone else see a hidden gem in this very casual Scriptural mention of Israel’s adoption of his grandsons?

ISRAEL’S FAMILY IN EGYPT

And now your two sons, who were born to you in the land of Egypt before I came to you in Egypt, are mine; Ephraim and Manasseh shall be mine, as Reuben and Simeon are (Genesis 48:5).

In Genesis 48:5, an ageing Israel claims his grandsons as his own children, conferring his son Joseph’s inheritance on them and even putting any subsequent children Joseph may have under the inheritance of Ephraim and Manasseh.

At face value, this scene has always struck me as a tiny bit odd. However, I believe this is because I’ve been reading the Genesis narrative under the influence of my own cultural understanding of family – that is to say, a very broken and disoriented American perception of family lines.

But when my friends and I dug into the passage with an eye to the redemptive arc of God’s covenant with Abraham to give his descendants the land of Canaan and to bless all the nations through Abraham’s line, we noticed a few more details.

Even though Joseph’s removal from the family was forced when his brothers sold him as a slave (see Genesis 37:12-36), the facts are he came to manhood apart from his family line. As a man, he was the second in command over a pagan nation and even had the daughter of a pagan priest as his wife.

And to Joseph in the land of Egypt were born Manasseh and Ephraim, whom Asenath, the daughter of Potiphera the priest of On, bore to him (Genesis 46:20).

Keeping in mind that Egypt is a type for the world and for bondage to sin (a topic you’ll have to delve into on your own to keep this post smallish), I began to see foreshadowing of both Moses and even tiny hints of the overarching redemption story ultimately fulfilled in Yeshua (Jesus) the Messiah. Bear with me.

HINTS OF THINGS TO COME

Joseph’s two sons, like Moses, were born into positions of wealth and privilege. They would have access to education and likely even power and social prestige, given the position of their father. By adopting them, Israel was not only granting a double portion of the inheritance to Joseph, the firstborn of his beloved wife Rachel. He was also, in essence, requiring the boys to no longer identify with the wealthy and privileged, but pagan, nation they were born into. Instead, they would be associated with his lineage – the lineage of a humble shepherd, a lifestyle abhorrent to the sophisticated and modern Egyptians.

When Pharaoh calls you and says, “What is your occupation?” you shall say, “Your servants have been keepers of livestock from our youth even until now, both we and our fathers,” in order that you may dwell in the land of Goshen, for every shepherd is an abomination to the Egyptians. (Genesis 46:33-34).

Did Ephraim and Manasseh then go to Goshen to live with their clan and be trained in the ways of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob? The Bible doesn’t expressly state this. Ephraim and Manasseh are mentioned only once more in Genesis when we are told Joseph saw Ephraim’s sons to the third generation.

Here is where I posit their association with the rest of the Hebrew exiles in Egypt is implied: the next mention of Ephraim and Manasseh is at the census in Numbers 1, and they are mentioned later in Numbers when the promised land was being divvied up.

In between the end of Genesis and Numbers, the book of Exodus mentions that “the people of Israel were fruitful and increased greatly.” Further reading reveals a new pharaoh came to power who did not know about Joseph (see Exodus 1). What follows is both oppression and enslavement, which must have included the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh if they were subsequently brought out of Egypt by Moses and given portions in the promised land.

LESSONS FOR TODAY

Since I understand the Bible to to contain historical accounts and demonstrates God’s activity through history to point to greater truths in His immense plan of redemption, I see a hint at the call on all of God’s people to hold lightly such items as worldly status, prestige, wealth, and all other transient circumstances and instead to give our all to the eternal promise of God’s covenant.

This call to align ourselves with God, accepting the terms of His covenant now offered freely to both Jews and Gentiles through Yeshua Messiah/Christ Jesus, is a call to die to ourselves daily and follow the Lord. It is a call to emulate both Jesus’s sacrificial lifestyle and His trust that the Father’s eternal promises are worth such light and momentary affliction as it may be to set aside honor, power, wealth, and other worldly gains for a few decades in order to secure pleasures forevermore at God’s right hand.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
(2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

In the simple statement by Israel that Ephraim and Manasseh were his, my friends and I saw a glimpse at the narrative arc of the entire Scripture. We saw hints of the One to come who would lay aside all power and glory in order to live in a humbler station as a mere human being.

We saw a picture of alignment with God’s covenant that doesn’t make sense from the perspective of a strictly earthly life. Such alignment only makes sense if your trust in the covenant-making God outranks personal ambition. For the Christian, it makes sense if our lives do not end after the 70-odd years of these bodies but continue on for eternity. In the adoption of Ephraim and Manasseh, we detected hints of what it means to count the cost of discipleship; a topic Jesus Himself would speak of generations later.

And for Ephraim and Manasseh, it made sense because it wasn’t about their individual inheritance but about the inheritance promised by God to their family line; a promise that predated their little lives by two generations and would be fulfilled long after their bodies had returned to dust. Imbedded in this concept is a realization of the smallness of our individual lives and the grandeur of being adopted into the family of God.

For those of us who have surrendered to the Lordship of Jesus, our choice is no different. We live with the understanding that eternal life begins right now; that it does not begin at the grave but simply extends beyond it.

When this becomes clear, our priorities change. We begin to live for the future, making use of the temporary situations but not clinging to them because we know earthly power, prestige, wealth, and privilege are all fickle. We choose to build on the unchanging foundation of God’s glorious promise; a promise that will not fail no matter how much sacrifice, tribulation, or oppression we may have to endure in between.

We trust because we belong to something larger than ourselves, and we know He is worth every ounce of our trust and more.

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance… But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells (2 Peter 3:9, 13).