Joseph and the Gospel of Many Colors (eBook)

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THE LORD OF THE STORY

Joseph is one of the most beloved characters in the Bible. His story reads like a prime-time special! Jealousy, sibling rivalry, murder plot, betrayal, suffering, deepening despair, apparent deliverance that does not come, all followed by a dramatic turn of events and triumphant ascension. And all that before reunion and restoration! Hollywood wishes it could write stories like that.

Ironically, it is the dramatic nature of Joseph’s story, coupled with our addiction to heroic character arcs and story lines, that make it difficult to interpret this well-worn narrative properly. Our tendency is to look at the story in isolation as though it were one of Aesop’s fables with a moral at the end: “Let ’em hate you. If you’re faithful, you’ll end up rich, powerful, and vindicated.” However, this interpretation not only misses the mark, it also perverts the very message of the narrative in particular, and the Bible in general. Joseph is not a mere example of what awaits us if we’re “good enough.” His story, like every story in the Bible, is part of the broader redemptive narrative designed to cause us to recognize the glory of our great God.

A LETTER FROM A JEWESS

I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. My “aha moment” as it relates to preaching the gospel from all of Scripture came about seven years ago when I got a letter from a Jewish woman. This was not an e-mail, a Facebook message, or a Tweet; this was a letter. You know: those things people don’t have time to write anymore.

The woman had heard a sermon I preached on an Old Testament passage and was absolutely moved; she was so moved that she felt the need to write me a letter. As I read the letter, I could tell that she was pleasantly surprised by the sermon. As a Conservative Jew, she loved the Bible and was grateful to hear it taught, but she never thought she could get so much out of a message preached by a Gentile.

As I read her letter, my eyes filled with tears. However, these were not tears of joy because the Lord had used my sermon in the life of a Jew. On the contrary, these were tears of horror and shame! As I read her words, all I could think of were Paul’s words: “But we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1:23–24). So why wasn’t my message a “stumbling block” to this Jew? Was it because she was “being saved”? No. It was because I had not preached Christ!

I had preached a verse-by-verse, expository message from an Old Testament passage, but I hadn’t preached the gospel. And this was not unusual! I was steeped in an expository tradition that was so concerned with the “historical/grammatical” exegesis of texts that it became “atomistic” in its execution. Not wanting to wander from my text, I would force myself to “dig deep” and serve up the best, richest morsels I could find. If the passage was “evangelistic,” my message was evangelistic. If the text was “discipleship” oriented; then so was my message. If the text was about practical matters, I did not want to “spiritualize” it and make it about something else. I wanted to be “true to the text” no matter what.

The result was Christless moralism: sermons that wouldn’t even cut to the heart of one who has rejected Christ in favor of the Law, but instead affirmed them in their horrific error. And there I sat holding the evidence in my hands. Something had to change . . . but how? Did I have to give up exposition? Did I have to avoid Old Testament narrative? What was I to do?

The first thing I had to do was come face-to-face with my failure. I had to be honest about what I was doing, and why.

THE MORASS OF MORALISM

In his book Soul Searching, Christian Smith identifies the overarching theological perspective plaguing the religious lives of America’s young people as “Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism.”1 This belief is characterized by five major tenets. First, there is a God who created the world. Second, God wants us to be good (as is common to all religions). Third, the main goal in life is to be happy and feel good about one’s self. Fourth, God does not need to be particularly involved in our lives unless we need something. Fifth, good people go to heaven when they die.2

A quick glance at this list reveals that this worldview dominates not only the spiritual lives of teens; this thinking is ubiquitous! As a result, it becomes natural to look at the Bible as no more than a guide to morality. As a preacher, a parent, an American, and a Christian, I fight this same tendency. My church is filled with sinners; I need to preach morality. My children are disobedient; I need to preach morality. America is going to hell in a handbasket; the church hasn’t done its job . . . preaching morality. I need to be a better Christian; I need to listen to someone preaching morality. We’ve replaced the Beatles’ famous refrain, “All You Need Is Love” with “All You Need Is Morality.”

As a result, we read the Bible in search of morals. Moreover, we become accustomed to—even desirous of—preaching that is moralistic. This, in turn, leads to positive feedback for preachers and teachers who emphasize moralism, which of course leads to more moralistic preaching.

If you are familiar with the story of Joseph at all, you probably think about it in moralistic categories. As a result, you see the utility of the passages in their ability to motivate believers to do better and to show unbelievers the benefits of serving God. And if you’re like me, you’ve rarely, if ever, thought about the gospel-centered/redemptive-historical significance of the narrative. Instead, we tend to be led by several pieces of low-hanging fruit.

The first reason we tend to revert to moralism is the fact that God’s law “is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good” (Rom. 7:12). This, however, does not mean that the way we use the law is always good:

Now we know that the law is good, if one uses it lawfully, understanding this, that the law is not laid down for the just but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for those who strike their fathers and mothers, for murderers, the sexually immoral, men who practice homosexuality, enslavers, liars, perjurers, and whatever else is contrary to sound doctrine, in accordance with the gospel of the glory of the blessed God with which I have been entrusted. (1 Tim. 1:8–11)

Thus, when we use the law as a blunt instrument designed to reveal sin, we are safe. However, when we try to use it as a scalpel to circumcise the heart, we miss the mark.

A second temptation to an overreliance on moralism is the prevalence of sin. Of course, sin has always been prevalent. However, as we watch the news from day to day, we are bombarded with horrific examples of man’s inhumanity to man. We see the picture of moral degradation described in Romans 1 in high definition clarity. And a love for the law of God coupled with the bombardment of the sinful culture around us often leads to moralistic responses. “We just need to put prayer back in schools.” Or, “None of this would happen if Christians would just vote like the Bible tells them to.”

Not only do we hear these types of responses all the time; we offer them ourselves. It is as though we grow weary of the gospel. It sounds too redundant to remind my children of their need for Christ; they just need to “stop doing that!” We don’t have time to share the gospel with people around us. We do, however, have time to say, “That’s wrong.” It is much easier to snap back with another rule than it is to do heart surgery with the gospel. And again, the law is good! People do need to pray. My children do need to “stop that!” However, praying, avoiding sin, or doing “good” in itself is not the answer. “We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment” (Isa. 64:6).

PEOPLE WANT MORALISM

We all want black-and-white rules. We want someone to tell us, “This is right . . . that is wrong.” It’s clean. It’s simple. It requires little or no self-examination. Consequently, the legalist that resides in every last one of us wants law! Thus, those of us who teach the Bible (and we have the same tendency) get a unique kind of response from people when we give them moralism. “That’s good preachin’, Pastor!” In my experience, this kind of response almost always follows a law/rule/morality-based statement. It’s a sort of, “Attaboy. You sure told them” response. And frankly, it feels good!

We all have to guard against this tendency. We look at the world through a lens that is calibrated for legalism. We see something sinful or unjust, and we know immediately (1) that it is wrong, and (2) what ought to be done instead. This is not wrong, per se; it’s just not enough. Sure, Joseph’s brothers were wrong to be filled with such hatred toward him. That’s a no-brainer. However, did we need the story of Joseph to show us that? Certainly there’s another point to be made.

Ultimately, we lean toward moralism because it’s easy. Moralism is, as noted earlier, the low-hanging fruit. It’s the way we’re all wired, and it takes very little effort or creativity to pull off. And it feels good to boot. We...