Fruitful and Forgetful

My husband and I met at work. He was brash and crude. I didn't like him. A few years later, we began talking, then dating, and the rest is history. But I gotta tell you, the thing that sold me on the guy was, there is so much more than meets the eye. Our first date was sweet, romantic. I later saw a Dad who loved his kids and wanted the best for them-- such a contrast from the guy at work who griped and wanted things his way and had some difficulty playing well with others. And his condo? Well, that was like stepping into the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. He had houseplants, y'all!! Living, green, beautiful houseplants! I was still on the horticultural society's watchlist. Since then, we have grown our own garden from seeds, and planting our flower garden has become something we look forward to and do together each year. Who would have thought?

In Genesis 41:50-52, Joseph, a Hebrew son of Jacob (Israel), has become second only to Pharaoh in Egypt. He has been given Pharaoh's daughter as his wife and together they have two sons. His second is named Ephraim, meaning twofold increase, or doubly fruitful. Joseph explains, For God has caused me to be fruitful in the land of my affliction. Fruitful. What did Joseph mean by "fruitful"? As second only to Pharaoh, Joseph had royal garments and a gold chain about his neck, the Pharaoh's signet ring which gave him authority over all the kingdom, Pharaoh's daughter as his wife, and all of Egypt bowing before him as he rode in the second finest chariot in the land. Is this the "fruitful" Joseph was talking about? Not at all. The fruit Joseph was pointing to was from God. Do you see that? God has caused me to be fruitful. But there's more. Joseph was fruitful where? In Egypt; the land of his affliction is how he describes it. God had blessed him; Egypt had afflicted him. Egypt was not his home. It was not the kingdom he was born to serve. Egypt could never offer him the kind of fruit Joseph was born to bear, the fruit of the God he served: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. It is in fact, this fruit that allowed him to name his first son Manasseh: forgetting, evaporating. For God has made me forget all my toil and all my father’s house, Joseph explains. Only God, only the fruit of His Spirit can cause us to forget the things that will keep us from fruitfulness. Just so we're clear, Joseph didn't deny his affliction. He calls it out! Allow me to paraphrase: I forgot the things I suffered at the hands of my family because God has made me fruitful! Now that's some good fruit! 

Years ago, we were sitting in church when the pastor talked about forgiveness. One of our children turned to me and asked, "Did he say, 'Forgotness'?" That has stayed with me. Forgotness. Is it possible to go beyond forgiveness and reach that place of forgotness? I'm not talking about memory lapse. I'm not talking about a complete failure to recall the offense or the robbery or the betrayal. I'm talking about a forgotness that takes the sting from those infractions in much the same way as a mother forgets the intense pain of childbirth the moment she hears her baby's first cry. I'm talking about a forgotness that heals triggers. I'm talking about a forgotness that blesses entire generations because the fruit we bear yielded a harvest, breaking cycles and regenerating families and renewing minds and collecting the torrents of righteousness God has rained down on those He calls His own through His Son, Jesus Christ. We can forget. 

I have forgotten the specifics of disliking Scott when I met him. What, exactly, had he said? What, exactly, had he done? I remember, however, the joy and comfort of discovering wonderful things about him: the doting dad and his eye for things like decorating and gardening. What would happen if Scott ever became unable to supervise our yearly planting? I'd probably wind up tried for crimes against flora again. I am assured, however, that as I walk with Jesus and seek to be fruitful by imitating Him, I will forget the specifics of hardship and pain. You can, too. Who would have thought?

No Different

Last year, my husband and I went on what we affectionately call, The Trip from Hell. That's probably irreverent, and probably not how we should label it, but I'm open to suggestions. We had booked a cruise over a year before. COVID restrictions being what they were at the time of finalization, Hubby and I decided to forego the cruise and do a quiet cabin in the woods instead. Well, we both got sick about a week before, and...it...lingered... We decided nothing was going to stop us, and we set off for our cute little rented cabin. And we drove. And we drove. And we drove. Until, hours later, we were hopelessly lost. Little did we know, the local rental agencies --and there are many-- exchange and rearrange cabin names rather frequently. Google Maps was not our friend. Our cabin was about twenty minutes from the group of cabins we were endlessly circling. It was late and we were tired, hungry, and very frustrated. When we finally found what we dreamed would be our love nest for the next five days, the accommodations were meh and there was no place to eat for miles. The weather had gotten sloppy, wet, and cold, and within twenty-four hours we were completely encased in ice with no food in the fridge and no way to get safely down the mountain. No postcard could possibly capture the excitement we felt. Did we grumble? Did we complain? You betcha!

This morning I was reading in Exodus 16:1-3. Israel is one month out from Egypt. They have seen terrible plagues befall Egypt by "the finger of God." They have seen an entire sea dried up in its midst that they might cross. They have witnessed water made pure by wood and rested in an oasis of springs and palm trees. But, in Exodus 16:2, they are grumbling again. Really?! we exclaim. How quickly they forget! we chastise. But I caution you (as I do myself), how many times have you grumbled in the last thirty days? Or perhaps, there was that moment you were brought to in which you grumbled enough for the entire thirty days. Let us not judge too harshly. How quickly we forget!

Israel was a people that had been raised to worship and to observe, but they had been enslaved in Egypt for generations. Nothing much had changed about their lives from the time a Pharaoh rose up who did not know Joseph, who was threatened by the people of God and appointed taskmasters over them-- nothing much had changed until their redemption. Their lives in Egypt were not at all like their lives here in this wilderness. This was a completely different type of existence, a different type of "test."

And this is where the Holy Spirit began to speak to my heart. All of life is a journey, with ups and downs, bumps and blessings; but they don't always look familiar to us. We long for stability, and when things get dull, we crave a change. We are rarely truly content, as Paul advises in Philippians 4:1-13. But not only are we sinfully fickle, we find ourselves completely undone when led into a trial or test that "appears" new. Folks, there is nothing new under the sun. Whether it's a trial of our hearts or a test of our patience, whether our finances fall short or the problems with our health are multiplying, whether our children have rejected us or our parents have moved in with us-- whatever is our present situation it requires the same course of action as every other situation that has come before: go to God.

When the dinner bell rang, God provided quail, and at breakfast time, manna for the people of Israel to eat. He had heard them. And when it came time for Scott and I to get off that mountain, God heard my prayers-- lots of them! So let us bear in mind that, though the specifics may be different, though the feelings may be different, though the length of time may be different, our God is not different. All any situation requires is that we look to Him.