Explore the Christian Natural Health Podcast

This week's podcast comes from this blog post on Spotlight On: Chamomile.

Chamomile flowers are in the daisy family, also known as asteraceae or compositae. Compounds beneficial to health are many and varied, and it is generally recognized as safe for consumption with few contraindications.

Chamomile is probably best known as an herbal tea, with over one million cups consumed per day, though there are other ways to access its health benefits as well. Which benefits you're after may influence the form of chamomile you choose to use medicinally.

Chamomile for Digestion and Menstrual Cramping

A carminative herb used to calm digestive upset, chamomile is known for the anti-spasmodic effects of the bioflavonoids apigenin, quercetin, and luteolin. These compounds also decrease inflammatory prostaglandin release (the same mechanism of action of NSAIDs), and extract well into water, making them easily absorbable from tea.

Anti-inflammatory effects are found in the essential oil components (called chamazulene and α-bisabolol) which don't extract as well into tea. Bisabolol also helps to prevent and treat stomach ulcers by decreasing pepsin production without affecting HCl production. These constituents are best absorbed via capsule or tincture.

Anti-spasmodic and anti-inflammatory effects of course are both useful for menstrual cramping and pain, too.

Chamomile for Anxiety, Depression, and Insomnia

Chamomile tea is one of my favorites for a nightly "wind-down" routine before bedtime, helping to calm the mind and acting as a gentle sedative. This may be due to the plant's water-soluble glycine content, a calming amino acid which assists the body with getting into deeper stages of sleep. Chamomile has indeed been shown to improve sleep quality.

Because of this gentle calming effect, chamomile has been shown to even significantly reduce moderate to severe generalized anxiety disorder symptoms, and to assist with depression when it is comorbid with anxiety disorder as well.

Chamomile for Infection, Wound Healing, and Skin Care

Topically, chamomile's antioxidant polyphenols can assist with wound healing and restoration of a breached skin barrier. Since polyphenols extract well into water, a compress soaked in strong chamomile tea and applied to, say, a sunburn, may assist with quicker healing.

A similar compress, or even a wet tea bag, can be used on skin lesions such as acne, styes, or eczema; this is because in addition to antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties, chamomile is also antimicrobial. Since a breached skin barrier often leads to opportunistic infection by normal skin flora, topical chamomile may assist the healing process in multiple ways. The essential oil has been studied for its antihistamine purposes for atopic lesions as well (see below).

Chamomile's antioxidant properties have also been utilized topically for reduction of fine lines and wrinkles.

Chamomile for Allergies

There is evidence that chamomile stabilizes mast cells, thus decreasing release of histamine for those who suffer from allergies, those with histamine intolerance, and as an adjunctive treatment for those with Mast Cell Activation Syndrome or Disorder. These effects were observed from the alcohol tincture extract form.

The Upshot

Chamomile tea is consumed worldwide in large quantities for a reason, though it's helpful to know which effects you're after to help choose the most appropriate extraction method.

Bioflavinoids apigenin and quercetin are water soluble, which means they will easily be extracted into a tea. These are helpful for anti-spasmodic, anti-inflammatory, anti-anxiety, antioxidant, and sedative properties.

Essential oil components chamazulene and bisabolol do not extract as well in water. These are better consumed either in powder or capsules made from the whole dried flowers, an alcohol extract, or using the essential oil itself (diffused or topically). These have been observed to protect against ulcers, and to stabilize mast cells.

While chamomile is generally recognized as safe, some recommend caution with consumption of chamomile in high doses during the first trimester of pregnancy.

If you're consuming chamomile as a tea, but still wish to reap some of the benefits of the essential oils, the better choice is whole leaf tea, which you can get by purchasing the whole dried flowers. Dosing is 1-2 tsp of flowers per 8 oz, and allow to steep for 15 minutes before straining. Prepackaged tea bags should still be high in polyphenol content, but the pulverized flowers means more of the essential oils will have evaporated.

It's amazing to me how involved angels seemed to be in the early church. This is at least the third time Peter has encountered one: the first was after Jesus' ascension (since the story in John of Peter at Jesus' empty tomb didn't indicate that he encountered the angels there). The second time was when an angel had helped Peter to escape prison once before, in Acts 5. Historians date that escape in the same year as Pentecost. Given that, I'm not sure why Peter was so surprised to find himself delivered this time, though it was estimated to be about twelve years later. Perhaps it wasn't the deliverance that surprised him necessarily, but simply the fact that he felt he was having a vision. Maybe there was a dreamlike quality to this encounter because it was in the middle of the night. Still, though, James the brother of John, one of Jesus' core three disciples, had just been martyred publicly by the sword, to the delight of the Jewish mob (Acts 12:1-3). It certainly looked like Peter might die the next morning, too, and Jesus himself told the disciples that they could not expect to escape persecution (Matthew 24:9, Mark 10:30). Despite all this, Peter slept so peacefully that the angel had to strike him to wake him up. Either he was not bothered by the prospect of death, or perhaps he expected that he would escape somehow, given Jesus' prophecy that he would not be martyred until he was an old man (John 21:18).

Since the story mentions that the church was praying for Peter constantly (Acts 12:5), perhaps it was their prayers that dispatched the angel to free him. We're not told the exact cause and effect, though this seems to be the implication—even though they, too, were pretty shocked to see him when he showed up (Acts 12:14-16).

This Mary was mother of John Mark, who wasn't one of Jesus' original apostles, but instead was Barnabas's cousin (Colossians 4:10). Barnabas and John Mark both traveled with Saul, later called Paul (Acts 12:25). At this point, Saul and Barnabas were in town (Acts 11:30), and since Mary was Barnabas's relative, it's possible they were staying with Mary when Peter showed up. Saul's conversion was estimated to be not quite a decade before this, though it would be around another six years before he went on his first missionary journey—so I wonder if the other believers were still getting used to him. Neither Barnabas nor Saul are mentioned in the story, though.

Why in the world did the believers in Mary's home suppose it was more likely that it was Peter's angel at the door (presumably his guardian angel, as mentioned in Matthew 18:10) than Peter himself? Were their encounters with angels in the early church really so common as that? Perhaps… an angel again appeared at the end of the chapter, to strike down Herod for his arrogance (Acts 12:23), which presumably meant Peter could return to the city freely. Later, an angel also appeared to Paul during the tempest at sea (Acts 27:24), and the writer of Hebrews mentions that sometimes we can entertain angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:2). At least the early church didn't consider encounters with angels nearly so unusual as we might today.

Fictionalized Retelling:

"Seize him!"

Herod's soldiers surrounded me even as I was in the middle of my sermon to the assembly of the Jews before the Temple. I had no hope of escape.

My listeners scattered, and I turned a resigned expression upon my captors. Even as they shackled my wrists and led me away, I marveled somewhere in the back of my mind at how much had changed, in how short a period of time. These were the days of Unleavened Bread, leading up to the twelfth Passover since Jesus had been crucified.

Nearly twelve years ago, I had denied Him. I'd feared for my own life, that I might share his fate. Now, even though my brother in the Lord, James, had been publicly executed by Herod only days before, a fate Herod surely intended for me to share, I was—incredibly—unafraid.

The difference was the Holy Spirit, I knew. I was a new man now.

At the same time, I also knew that my time to die had not yet come. Jesus Himself had told me before His ascension that I would indeed one day die a martyr, but not until I was an old man. Bizarrely enough, I'd been incredibly comforted by this—not because it meant I would live to old age, but because it meant I would not fail Him again. The second time, I would pass the test.

At any rate, though, I didn't think early forties counted as "old."

"We're taking no chances with this one!" one of the officers who had arrested me barked at the soldiers standing guard at the prison. "Chain him between you this time!"

Two of the soldiers indeed moved forward, unshackling my wrists just long enough to chain me to themselves.

"When I have to relieve myself, this will be awkward," I quipped, but nobody smiled.

I counted four squads, or sixteen soldiers, all of whom appeared to be assigned to just me. I decided not to comment. An angel of the Lord had delivered me from prison twelve years ago, shortly after Pentecost, and Herod didn't want to chance that it would happen again.

As if more soldiers would make a difference.

Not that I knew whether the Lord intended to deliver me the same way again; perhaps I'd be imprisoned for years this time. All I knew was, if that happened, He would ultimately use it for good.

The next several days were quite miserable in the dank prison, with stale air and food, not enough water, no exercise, and no mobility of even my own limbs. I reminded myself that the soldiers chained to me had to be just as uncomfortable as I was, except that they took turns and could escape after their shifts were completed. Whenever I felt my spirit sink, or saw flashbacks in my mind's eye of James as he fell by Herod's sword, I started to sing to the Lord. This first annoyed, then enraged my captors. They struck me with their elbows in my stomach, which was the easiest part of me they could reach, commanding me to shut up. When I regained my breath after each blow, I told them stories of my time with Jesus—the good news of the gospel, of course, as well as some of the miracles I'd both witnessed and performed in His name. When blows failed to shut me up, the soldiers resorted to taunts and threats.

"You remember your buddy, how Herod gutted him before the people? That'll be you in a few days, fisherman!"

I shrugged and told them, "I'm sure that's what Herod intends," and resumed my story of Jesus feeding the five thousand men, plus women and children.

"Intends?" one of them interrupted me. "Herod gets what Herod wants!"

I kept talking over him, nonplussed, describing now the twelve baskets we had left over.

Another of the soldiers, weary of striking me without effect, talked over my story and described in explicit detail how Herod might choose to have me executed tomorrow. Unable to completely tune out his words, I stopped talking, and instead went back to singing hymns to the Lord. The soldier trailed off in his vivid, violent descriptions with a shout of frustration.

"This is torture for us, not for him!" he cried out.

I looked at the soldier, past the angry mask he wore, and smiled. "The Lord loves you, too, you know." One of the others scoffed and sneered, but the one I addressed ignored me entirely. "Don't you want the same hope I have?"

"Don't I want to be brutally murdered before the cheers of thousands of my own people, you mean?" he spat back at me. "Just like your Jesus was?"

"He was, yes," I agreed, "but death could not hold Him, and He is still alive today. He pleads with you, through me, to accept what He did for you."

"Stop arguing with him, Tobias," muttered one of the other soldiers. "You're just encouraging him."

Tobias grumbled something unintelligible but said nothing more. For my part, I settled back into humming soft hymns to the Lord as day sank into twilight at the end of Passover—the last day of my life, if Herod had his way. I could not help but rejoice, as I remembered the depth of my despair this time twelve years ago, and how far the Lord had brought me since then. With this sweet thought, I drifted off to peaceful sleep.

"Oof!" I woke abruptly, as someone struck me in the side.

"Hurry!"

I blinked up into the radiant face hovering above me, backlit as if by the sun even though it was the middle of the night. I'd met enough angels by now to know one when I saw him. I obeyed at once, but when my wrists passed right through the shackles that still bound them to the soldiers sleeping on either side of me, I decided this must be a vision only, or possibly a dream.

"Get dressed. Put on your shoes," the angel ordered. I did as I was bid, rather dreamily. Then the angel commanded, "Grab your coat and let's get out of here!" I did so. Then I followed the angel, passing right through the bars of the cell and directly in front of the first squad, and then the second, standing watch outside the prison. They never saw us.

When we arrived at the iron gate into the city, it swung open on its own. I smiled, feeling like I almost floated as I followed the angel through the gate and into the city.

Then the angel vanished. I blinked, and turned around, thinking he must be behind me.

Suddenly I realized that I was wide awake, and still on the other side of the iron gate, now inside the city limits.

"I can't believe it—this really happened!" I laughed aloud. "The Lord sent his angel and rescued me from Herod, and the spectacle the mob was looking forward to!" I ran into the city without stopping to consciously consider where I was going until I realized I was headed to Mary's house, John Mark's mother and Barnabas's aunt. All of the believers met at her house regularly, so it was probably my best chance at finding several of them together—even though it was still the middle of the night.

When I came to the outer gate of Mary's home, I knocked at the door within it, feeling elated by my sudden freedom, and excited to surprise whoever I might find inside. I waited for some time, shifting my weight from one foot to the other and wondering if they were all asleep and if I should knock louder. Then I heard a pair of footsteps on the other side of the gate, quick and light. Rhoda, the servant girl, I knew at once. She too had become a believer through her mistress, and often joined our prayer meetings.

"Rhoda!" I called to her softly through the gate. "Is that you?"

I heard her gasp. "Peter?"

I laughed softly. "Yes, it's me!" But I stopped laughing in confusion when I heard the light, quick footsteps running away again, and back into the house. "Okay then," I murmured, and knocked again.

It took several more minutes before I heard footsteps returning. There were more than just Rhoda this time.

"It's Peter, I tell you!" I heard her insist to whoever came with her.

"Maybe it's his angel," said a voice I recognized as John Mark's, doubtfully.

The door opened then, to reveal an astonished John Mark, with Mary and Rhoda behind him, along with Barnabas and Saul. All of them spoke at once.

"Peter! How—"

"—we thought, after James—!"

"—after your first escape, Herod would take no chances—"

"—what are you doing here? Aren't they looking for you?"

I held up my hands against all their questions, laughing. "Hush, and I'll tell you!" I hugged each of them first, though I hesitated just for a split second before I hugged Saul. He did the same. It wasn't so very long ago that he was one of the most zealous in persecuting the church. I'd forgiven him of course, as we all had, but I hadn't quite gotten used to seeing him at our prayer meetings. He probably hesitated because he sensed that I did. Rhoda, meanwhile, jumped up and down a little in excitement as I released her.

Then, still standing at the gate because no one had thought to invite me inside, I told them how the angel had appeared to me and released me.

"We have been praying for that non-stop ever since you were arrested," Mary confessed.

Her son laughed and said, "Yes, but evidently we didn't believe it would happen! Shame on us."

Mary finally thought to invite me inside after I'd finished my story, but I shook my head. "I don't want to implicate any of you in my escape. Herod will be livid; I'm sure he was looking forward to appeasing the Jews with my death. Just make sure you tell James, the Lord's brother, and the rest of the brothers that I escaped, and I'm all right."

They agreed that they would do so, and I turned to go, though I wasn't yet sure where. I needed to be far away from Judea for awhile, that was certain. I had presumably at least a few hours before the soldiers would rouse and discover my flight. I winced for them, knowing that Herod would order their deaths in my place. But there was nothing I could do about that.

"I pray that some of them heard me, and receive You before the end, Lord," I whispered to the night air.

Wishing the angel had told me what to do next, I decided to go down to Caesarea, hoping Herod's search for me wouldn't extend that far. How long should I stay in hiding? I wondered. I wanted to continue to preach the gospel, not hide in someone's spare room. All I could do was pray that I would know when it was time to speak freely again, that the Lord would make it plain to me.

"And thank you," I finally remembered to add, smiling up at the stars. While I was glad that I had faced the prospect of death without shrinking back this time, I was also grateful that my work here was not yet done.

Dr. Chacko is the new author of Amazon best seller Pilgrimage: A Doctor's Healing Journey. She practiced medicine for decades, first as a radiation oncologist and later as a family medicine doctor, caring for the poor in Washington, DC. Now Donna works in the ministry she founded, Serenity and Health, to promote health of body, mind, and spirit.

Dr. Chacko will send Three Keys to A Holy, Happy and Healthy Life to listeners of the podcast when they sign up for her newsletter and blog.To learn more or to purchase Pilgrimage, go to https://www.serenityandhealth.com/pilgrimage .

I've known the story of Daniel and the lion's den since I was a kid in Sunday School classes, but I never really considered before what Daniel was thinking at the time. As I wrote some of these retellings, it was obvious that the heroes were actually terrified and full of doubts, like Gideon. Samson wasn't at all fearful, but he'd placed his confidence in himself, rather than in God. It was only very rare individuals that seemed to be completely confident in the Lord. David and Jonathan clearly had this mentality, because the things they said to those around them just before their exploits revealed their thoughts. With Daniel, it's not quite so clear, until you put this event in chronological context with the rest of the book of Daniel.

The first half of the book of Daniel is historical, telling events that transpired during Daniel's lifetime as the kingdom changed rulership. The second half, from chapter 7 through 12, is prophetic, in which Daniel is treated to a series of profound visions which encompass the "silent" years of the Old Testament through the coming of Christ, and then apocalyptic visions that harmonize with John's account in Revelation. We're told in Daniel 5:31 and 6:1 that this episode of the lion's den occurred during the reign of King Darius, and historians say he only reigned for two years. We also know from Daniel 9:2 that Darius was king during the time that Daniel received his famous seventy weeks prophecy, so these two events must have occurred relatively close to one another in time. In the seventy weeks prophecy, Gabriel appeared and helped Daniel to understand that while Jeremiah's prediction of seventy years of captivity (Jeremiah 25:11-12) was nearly over for Israel, there was a deeper meaning for the seventy years as well. There would also be seventy weeks of years, or 490 years, from the time of the rebuilding of Jerusalem, until the end of the age. It would be sixty-nine weeks of years from the rebuilding of Jerusalem until the Messiah would come (and according to "The Coming Prince" by Sir Robert Anderson, from the time Nehemiah was sent to rebuild the walls of the city, sixty-nine weeks of years, where a year in the calendar of the day was 360 days, would work out to 173,880 days. This is to the day when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey on Palm Sunday, proclaiming himself to be king, Luke 19:28-44.) That last week of years, or the last seven years, will be the end of the age—and the rest of Daniel's seventy weeks prophecy describes the antichrist, the covenant with Israel that begins those seven years, and the abomination of desolation 3.5 years in, which will initiate the last 3.5 years of tribulation. Daniel's prophecy here doesn't indicate that there is a gap between the 69th and the 70th week, though some scholars believe that was because there didn't have to be a gap: had the Jews accepted Jesus as Messiah when he rode in on Palm Sunday, the first and the second coming might have been one and the same. This might have been why Jesus wept as he rode into town (Luke 19:41-44). As it was, there is a pause in Daniel's timeline "until the fullness of the Gentiles has come in" (Romans 11:25).

In my retelling, therefore, I imagined how full Daniel's mind must have been with such wonderful revelations. He'd seen and spoken with God's messenger, not once, but twice (Gabriel also came to him in Daniel 8:16). He'd been in captivity nearly all his life, and now in his eighties, he realized that the time drew near for his people to return to Jerusalem. His prayer in Daniel 9:4-19 is so impassioned, one can almost picture him weeping as he contends for their release. Gabriel told him that he was greatly beloved (Daniel 9:23), and told him that not only did the time draw near for his people's release, but also showed him God's entire plan for history.

Meanwhile, Darius wanted to promote Daniel because, like Pharaoh had said of Joseph, he had the spirit of God's wisdom upon him (Daniel 6:3). As King Solomon wrote, a man who excels in his work will stand before kings, and not obscure men (Proverbs 22:29). Daniel did his work with excellence, but he had no ambitions in Persia. His heart was clearly with his people, his homeland, and God's plans for the earth. So when the other governors and satraps conspired against him, I imagine that Daniel almost ignored them. He had far bigger things on his mind. He probably heard the threat, knew it was petty jealousy, proceeded about his business, and forgot about it.

It was the Persian custom that a law sealed by the king could not be changed (Daniel 6:15), which was the same issue Esther ran into in her day. Clearly Darius realized that his satraps and governors had convinced him to sign such a law just to entrap Daniel. Darius wanted to rescue Daniel and tried to find a loophole (Daniel 6:14), but even he couldn't do it, which was what his officials had counted upon. Daniel's devotion to the Lord had made such an impression on Darius by this point that when Daniel was cast into the lion's den, Darius declared, "Your God, whom you serve continually, He will deliver you" (Daniel 6:16). Even this pagan king believed God would save Daniel! He also loved Daniel so well that he didn't sleep that night, and rose first thing in the morning to check on Daniel and see if God had indeed delivered him. If he had been certain to find Daniel dead, he presumably wouldn't have gone to check.

What must it have been like for Daniel to spend the night in that pit? Did he actually see the angel that he later told Darius had shut the lions' mouths? I don't see why not; he'd seen Gabriel at least twice before by this time. If Daniel's mindset was what I imagine it might have been, I suspect that he would have slept that night, just as Jesus did on the boat during the storm (Matthew 8:24, Mark 4:38, Luke 8:23). That's the picture of the perfect peace of one whose mind is stayed on the Lord because he trusts in Him (Isaiah 26:3). Daniel, I think, embodied this peace. That's why he inspired even Darius with such confidence on his behalf.

When the king found Daniel alive, he then did to the conspirators what they had intended to do to Daniel. The concept of reaping what one sows is well established in scripture (Luke 6:38, Galatians 6:7, Proverbs 26:27). The fact that the lions tore them apart before they even hit the bottom of the pit proves that they were both vicious and hungry; they just hadn't been able to touch Daniel. It seems awfully harsh to punish the conspirators' wives and children for crimes they did not commit, and this is not God's way (Deuteronomy 24:16, Jeremiah 31:30). But God was not the one to mete out judgment against Daniel's accusers; Darius was.

Fictional Retelling:

I lived almost my entire life in exile—in the land that was Babylon for the majority of my life, and then became Persia in my old age. I was constantly surrounded by political intrigue, though most of the time, it did not concern me. My dominant thoughts lay elsewhere.

Though I'd left there as a boy, my heart was still in Jerusalem: the city of my father David. It had been so many years since I'd seen it that the place had taken on a mythical quality in my imagination, and I commingled the concept of Jerusalem with that of the throne room of heaven. Every day, when my duties as one of the governors over the kingdom of Persia did not otherwise compel me, I pored over the writings of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel for some clue of the Lord's plans for His people. After I read, I opened the windows of the upper room of my home so that the sunlight would stream in; in my mind's eye, the sunlight was the radiance of the Lord Himself upon his throne, emanating from Jerusalem, His city. I faced Jerusalem and I prayed for wisdom, for repentance on behalf of my wayward people, and for mercy.

When I shifted my heavenly focus down to the here and now, I executed my duties as governor with the wisdom the Lord gave me. King Darius set forty provinces, led by forty satraps, under each of his three governors. My provinces prospered effortlessly—of course. I had the wisdom of the Lord. It was clear that King Darius recognized the Lord's influence and admired me above all of the other governors and satraps, and I knew he considered putting me over the entire realm because of this. This was fine. I had no aspirations at my age. My heart and soul belonged to my own people and nation; I only labored for this one because for now, Darius was my king, and integrity demanded that I do the work he set before me to the best of my ability. I was vaguely aware that my more ambitious peers and the satraps under them envied me. I could do nothing about this though, and regarded their esteem lightly anyway. So I paid it little attention.

Instead, I spent my days swept up in visions and prophecy. One morning when reading the writings of the prophet Jeremiah, his words leapt off the scroll to me that the time of Jerusalem's desolations was to be seventy years.

Sixty-nine years had passed.

I tore my robes and put on sackcloth, deliberately sprinkling the floor of my upper room with ashes to symbolize repentance on behalf of my people, and determined to fast before the Lord for however long it took. Then I threw open my windows and fell to my knees, praying toward Jerusalem with such fervor that it was as though time and space fell away. I do not know how much time passed before I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was already so worked up that I jumped and my eyes flew open. The man I beheld was one I had met once before: the angel Gabriel. He was much larger and more powerfully built than the greatest of the Persian warriors, radiant with light and dressed in gleaming white.

He told me I was greatly beloved. He also showed me that there was a deeper meaning to Jeremiah's prophecy than what I had first supposed. Yes, there would be seventy years until my people could return to Jerusalem. But there would also be seventy weeks of years from the time of Jerusalem's reconstruction to the end of the age, and sixty-nine weeks of years from the reconstruction to the appearance of the Messiah.

I floated after this, so buoyant with happiness and overwhelmed with the implications of Gabriel's message that the details of the concrete world around me paled in comparison. So when I heard that the other governors and satraps had convinced Darius to sign into law the ridiculous order that for thirty days, anyone caught praying to any god or man except to him should be cast into the lion's den, I hardly considered it. I would not have heeded the rule at any time, but especially not now. The Lord had shown me such wonderful and marvelous things, so much larger than myself and my own life. I saw myself as a representative for my people, and Gabriel's words had confirmed this to me. We were on the cusp of the breakthrough I had awaited all my life… would I be stymied by fear, due to the petty jealousy of those who fancied themselves my political rivals? By no means!

I went home that very day and threw open the windows of my upper room as I always did. Then I knelt down and prayed to the Lord. I prayed for the end of my people's captivity. I envisioned my own return to Jerusalem, the city of my fathers. I prayed for my people 483 years from now, when Messiah the Prince would be revealed—oh! What a day that would be! May the people of that day know and recognize and rejoice at the appearance of their hope and redemption!

Two more times that day I did the same, giving thanks to God for hearing my prayers and for esteeming me so well that He was pleased to reveal to me what would come, long after my time. Both the second and third times I prayed that day, I glanced down and saw the assembly of governors and satraps on the street below, watching me, pointing, and whispering to one another.

"Oh Lord," I prayed when I saw them, "as King Solomon wrote, 'let he who digs a pit fall into it, and he who rolls a stone have it roll back on him.'" Then I went on with my prayers, thanksgiving, and supplications. I forgot all about the men clearly conspiring against me, until I heard a pounding upon my door at nightfall. It was insistent.

"Daniel!" shouted a voice I recognized as Kasper's, one of the other governors of the realm. I could tell he was not alone, but that he was with a company—probably the very ones who had seen me praying that day. I could make out the voice of Bijan, one of the most hateful of Darius's satraps, among them. "Open up, by decree of the king!"

Instinctively and though my window was shut just then, I glanced in the direction of Jerusalem, since in my mind, that was the direction of God's throne. More of Solomon's words came back to me unbidden: Though they join forces, the wicked will not go unpunished, but the posterity of the righteous will be delivered. I wrapped my nightclothes in my cloak and opened the door. Perhaps six pairs of hands grabbed me at once, and dragged me out of my house so forcefully that I stumbled, old man that I was.

"Daniel!" Kasper's voice rose above the din, even as they dragged me toward the palace, "you have not shown due regard for the king! You were seen today petitioning and praying to your God, against the royal decree. You knew the penalty for this was death by lions. We take you now to meet your fate!"

I tripped and nearly fell numerous times on the short walk to the palace dungeons, had it not been for the hands upon my robes. I should have been terrified, and entirely in this moment. Yet somehow, I felt insulated, almost as if I were watching the events transpire against someone else. I kept thinking of my friends Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego who, many years ago, had defied a similar order from King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. I had been traveling on the king's business at the time. When I returned and heard the story of their supernatural deliverance, I'd been almost envious. I so wished I'd been there with them, to have seen the Lord face to face! What a story!

Now, almost sixty years later, here was my chance.

King Darius met me and my entourage at the entrance to the palace dungeons, looking frantic and disheveled.

"Daniel—!" he moaned, his voice thick with grief. "I did everything I could to deliver you, but the decree is iron-clad!"

"I know you did," I smiled at the king tenderly, and reached out a hand to his shoulder. It was a more familiar gesture than I perhaps would have attempted under any other circumstance, but I felt a rush of affection for him in his obvious distress. He was too inexperienced a ruler to have understood how his governors and satraps had played him. He had not known the extent of the political machinations of his court when he'd signed that decree, though he knew now.

"Your God, to whom you are so loyal, is going to get you out of this!" Darius suddenly declared.

I blinked at him in amazement, then beamed, even as the satraps moved the stone off of the mouth of the lion's den. I knew this, but to hear it from the mouth of a pagan king!

"You are already much closer to Him than you realize," I told the king. "I'll see you in the morning—"

My words were cut off by a rough thrust from the hands of my accusers, shoving me toward the open pit. I stumbled, and then fell in headlong, twisting in the air. I landed hard on my palms and knees, sending jolts of searing pain up to my wrists, shoulders, knees, and hips. I gasped, but then tested my bones and joints to make sure nothing was broken. Darius let out a strangled sob up above, as the satraps and governors heaved the stone back in place. Just before it sealed, I caught a glimpse of the five great shaggy beasts pacing and growling around me.

Then there was utter darkness.

I closed my eyes and opened them again, and could tell no difference. The padding of great paws picked up their pace, and the growling turned to roars, one after the other, like a great cacophonous symphony. I had the sense that the lions were frustrated by the prey in their very midst, and yet they could not seem to get at it.

"Let me see you, Lord," I prayed, yawning with sudden weariness as I lay down on the floor of the pit. "I know you're here…"

Suddenly the pit filled with an otherworldly glow. Gabriel circled around me, bearing a sword in each hand. He whipped it with dazzling speed each time one of the great cats got too close. They, in turn, backed off, but roared with fury.

"Go to sleep, Daniel," Gabriel told me, and flashed me a grin. "You might as well. I'm going to be up all night, anyway."

I laughed, and the vision faded until all was complete darkness again. I tuned out the lions' roars, though I think they eventually must have given up and fallen silent. I couldn't say for sure. I drifted off fairly soon after that.

"Daniel!"

I gasped awake, squinting against the light streaming in from the top of the now open pit. I perceived a silhouette up above, though all I could see was the disheveled hair sticking out in all directions. I recognized the voice as the king's though. He sounded nearly as anxious as he had the night before.

"Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God, whom you serve so loyally, saved you from the lions?"

I sat up, glancing around the pit to see the great cats fast asleep around me, though they stirred now as I did from the light and the noise. I grinned at the king, who began to come into focus as I gazed up at him.

"O king, live forever!" I called. "My God sent his angel, who closed the mouths of the lions so that they would not hurt me. I've been found innocent before God and also before you, O king. I've done nothing to harm you."

Darius let out a shout of glee, clapping his hands together. He stood up out of my view, and I could neither see nor quite hear what he did next, but I heard him speaking to someone. The next thing I knew, a thick rope with a loop at the bottom of it descended into the pit, and I saw two strong servants at the top, ready to pull me out. Two of the lions saw the commotion, got to their feet, and began to snarl and pace again.

"Hurry!" cried one of the servants, glancing at the lions with alarm, just as one of the lions let out an almighty roar.

"Oh, don't worry," I told them with a wave of my hand, as I stepped into the loop and grabbed on to the rope up above. "They're just frustrated. They can't even get close to me."

I wasn't sure if the servants even heard this, as they immediately began to heave me up and out. Once I was well out of the way, the lions paced to the place where I had been lying, roaring up at me and swiping the air with their claws. The edge of one claw sliced clean through the bottom of my robe, just as one servant let go of the robe to grab me around my waist. I twisted to sit down at the top of the pit and edge away.

"Daniel!" King Darius forgot his royal position and threw his arms around my neck, weeping with relief. Surprised, I patted his shoulders, and then he pulled me back to inspect me. "You are truly unharmed?"

"Truly, my king," I nodded, wiping the last of the sleep from my eyes as I yawned.

"Did—you sleep in there?" he demanded, incredulous. Then he added, almost accusing, "I didn't even sleep last night! I rushed here at first light to see how you fared!"

I smiled at the king fondly. "My king honors me greatly with his concern," I said, and shrugged. "I saw no reason to fear the lions. Besides, I was tired."

The servants behind King Darius let out an incredulous snort of laughter at this, but stifled it when the king whipped around to glare at them. One of the servants clamped a hand over his mouth, as a slow answering smile spread across Darius's face. Then the king started to laugh too. Before I knew it, the servants were doubled over, as was the king, tears running down his face.

Nervous relief? I thought as I watched them in wonder, totally missing the humor.

When the king recovered himself, his expression grew suddenly fierce. He told his servants, "Tell my royal guard to seize Daniel's accusers, the other two governors, the complicit satraps, and their families. Bring them here at once, before the hour has passed!"

I felt a wave of foreboding and sympathy, suspecting I knew what the king intended to do to them for their treachery. Darius got to his feet, and I followed suit. He confirmed my fears when asked me, his expression dark, "Would you like to watch, Daniel?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "No, my king."

"You are a better man than I, then," said King Darius. "I rejoice at the destruction of my enemies. And your enemies have now become mine. You are dismissed."

I bowed my head and made my way alone back to my home. At a distance, I saw Kasper, his wife and children struggling against the rough hands of the king's royal guard. His wife wept and begged. The children, I could tell, did not understand what was going on, but knew something was wrong. They cried because their mother did. Though we were far away, Kasper's eyes locked with mine, frantic with fear. A wave of nausea rolled over me.

"O God, may it be quick and painless," I prayed. "I commend the souls of the innocents to Your mercy."

I heard later that my prayers were answered. The hungry, frustrated lions overpowered all those thrown into the den, killing them instantly before they even hit the bottom.

The same messenger informed me that the king had now officially placed me above the entire realm. I had assumed this would be the case, since the other two governors had perished. The news brought me sorrow—not because I minded the position, but I had never sought it, either. All this had transpired because the governors had not wanted to relinquish their power to me. Instead of merely their power, they had lost their lives, and those of their families too.

That evening, I heard the news that King Darius had sent out a royal decree to every corner of his kingdom, which read, "Peace to you! Abundant peace! I decree that Daniel's God shall be worshiped and feared in all parts of my kingdom. He is the living God, world without end. His kingdom never falls. His rule continues eternally. He is a savior and rescuer. He performs astonishing miracles in heaven and on earth. He saved Daniel from the power of the lions."

I took the written decree to the upper room of my home, and laid it before the Lord. I thanked Him for rescuing me. I thanked Him for humbling and saving King Nebuchadnezzar all those years ago, when he returned to his right mind and served the Lord for the rest of His days. I thanked him that King Darius now honored Him too. I thought of Jonah's ministry to Nineveh, and how they too had repented. I thanked the Lord that He did not show favoritism; He wanted to save the Jew and the Gentile alike, the rich and the poor, the ruler and the peasant. I thanked Him that though I had been brought into Babylon as a captive, now like Joseph, I found myself favored by the king, and second in command of a pagan kingdom.

"You are faithful to honor Your servants who fear You, even in a land not our own," I prayed.

Yet still, my heart was not here, in this foreign nation where I had lived most of my life. For all my power and prestige, I was but a sojourner; that was the great irony. I would serve the Lord where He had placed me to the best of my ability all of my days, and would try to represent Him well. But I would daily pray toward my true home, awaiting the day of our redemption.

Today's podcast comes from this blog post: Spotlight on: Oregano.

Today's meditation and retelling comes from Luke 1:5-25, 39-80.

Zacharias and Elizabeth are the only other truly elderly couple in scripture to bear a child, besides Abraham and Sarah. There are a lot of parallels between Isaac and John the Baptist. Why this couple, and why now? Why did his need to be a "miraculous" birth?

Gabriel did tell Zacharias that his prayers for a child were heard (Luke 1:13), so we know that Zacharias and Elizabeth wanted children long before this. Zacharias's response to Gabriel's good news was skepticism, based upon their ages (Luke 1:18), which suggests that he'd given up praying for children long ago, when he thought that it was too late. But given all the promises in scripture for fertility for those who followed the Lord, and the fact that this couple was blameless (Luke 1:6), I'm sure they wondered why it seemed that the Lord had not fulfilled His end of the promise. Elizabeth also called her barrenness a "reproach" (Luke 1:25). We know from the question the disciples asked Jesus about the man who was blind from birth (John 9:1-5) that it was a common belief among Israelites that physical ailments were a direct punishment for personal sin. Thus, like blameless Job, the people likely would have believed that it was some sin on their part that had kept them from bearing children all these years.

Yet God had not forgotten them… it just took faith and patience (a lot of it!) for them to inherit this particular promise (Hebrews 6:12). One reason for this likely is because John's conception and birth would have caused such a stir, and attracted such attention. Gabriel appears to Zacharias while he is performing his duties at the Temple, and the fact that he is subsequently struck dumb alerts everyone who was waiting for him outside the temple that he must have seen a vision (Luke 1:21-22). Then, after five months of seclusion, elderly Elizabeth reveals to all that she is pregnant. Imagine the whispers! She gives birth to the child, and then on the eighth day they break with all tradition and name him John, a name found nowhere in their lineage. As soon as Zacharias complies with Gabriel's final decree, his tongue is loosed, and he announces to all the onlookers that this is to be the prophet they have all been waiting for these four hundred years. Had his conception and birth been ordinary, this child would not have caused such a stir, or such expectation (Luke 1:65-66).

That's one reason why the Lord probably chose an elderly, faithful couple to be the parents of John the Baptist. But I suspect the other reason is because Elizabeth and Mary were close relatives (Luke 1:36). (In my retelling, I imagined that she was her great aunt, though the scriptures don't say what their exact relationship is.) They obviously knew each other well, though, because Mary goes to stay with Elizabeth for three months. This close relationship with another woman who had a miracle pregnancy was probably very important for Mary, who was being asked to take such an enormous step of faith, knowing she would be ostracized for getting pregnant out of wedlock. Not only does Elizabeth's pregnancy confirm Gabriel's words for Mary, but then the Lord reveals to Elizabeth that Mary, too, is pregnant, by the Holy Spirit, and with the Son of God (Luke 1:42-45)! I'm sure Mary very much needed this confirmation of the angel's word to her, and the encouragement.

While scripture never talks about the relationship between Jesus and John the Baptist as children, given the relationship between Mary and Elizabeth and the prophetic connection between the two boys' lives, they must have known each other before they each stepped into their ministries. And Jesus was born "in the fullness of time" (Galatians 4:4-7); he could not have come any earlier than He did. His forerunner had to just barely precede him. So had the Lord granted Zacharias and Elizabeth's prayer for children any earlier, they could not have been the parents of John the Baptist. I also suspect that John's later evangelistic success was in part due to the widespread knowledge of his miraculous birth. This great honor was reserved for a faithful couple, a couple who would continue to believe in Him, even when it looked like His word had failed. But this couple—or Elizabeth, at least—knew that God's promises never fail (1 Kings 8:56). He cannot lie (1 Samuel 15:29). His word is firmly fixed in the heavens (Psalm 119:89-90).

Zacharias's muteness may have been a punishment for his unbelief, but I think Elizabeth's interpretation in the retelling is more accurate. Scripture makes very clear that death and life are in the power of the tongue (Proverbs 18:21, and throughout Proverbs), and that we will have what we say (Numbers 14:28-29). Zacharias's protest to Gabriel expressed unbelief; it may well have been that Gabriel struck him mute so that he could not stop John's conception and birth from coming to pass by speaking forth his doubts.

The end of Malachi 4:6, prophesying the return of Elijah before the Messiah, says, "lest I come and strike the earth with a curse." That was the last word from the prophets for four hundred years. What a strange statement—that without the forerunner to prepare the way for the Lord, Jesus might have cursed the earth rather than redeem it! It's hard to imagine Jesus doing such a thing; yet in His second coming, He will judge those who refuse to repent. Apparently the first and second coming could have been one and the same, without John's six month ministry calling the people to a baptism of repentance (Luke 3).

In those six months, John became incredibly well known, and his impact continued even long after his death. In fact, after Jesus' resurrection and ascension, the great apostle Apollos preached the Word accurately, but he knew of only the baptism of John (Acts 18:25). Paul found that even Gentile believers in Ephesus knew only the baptism of John, and had not heard of the Holy Spirit (Acts 19:1-5). John's teaching of repentance from sins clearly spread far and wide, long after both his death, and the death and resurrection of Jesus. His ministry, preparing the way for the Messiah, long outlasted him.

Many churches today, and many believers, in a way still only preach the baptism of John. They focus exclusively on repentance from sins, a necessary first step to prepare the way for the fruits and gifts that come from the baptism of the Holy Spirit. But repentance is meant to be the preparation, not the end in itself. John himself said this (Luke 3:16). We need the baptism of the Holy Spirit, just as the disciples did in order to fulfill their calling (Luke 24:49). We can't do it without Him.

Fictionalized Retelling:

"Goodbye, my love." Zacharias kissed me, and threw his traveling cloak around his shoulders before mounting his donkey. Then he added with a teasing wink, "Try to stay out of trouble."

I smiled at his little joke. We lived in the hill country of Judea, we kept no servants, and we were childless—so I would be all alone, and could not possibly get up to any trouble even if I had wanted to. Usually when Zacharias's turn came to serve as a priest in the temple, I spent the time gardening, tending our few livestock, and experimenting with new dishes to feed Zacharias when he returned home.

"What will you do with yourself?" he asked the customary question, expecting my answer to be the same as always.

Today, though, it wasn't. "You know… I've been drawn to the books of the kings lately, for some reason. I think I'll study that." My husband had taught me to read in our early marriage. When I was younger, I required his help in interpreting what I read. Now that I was in my seventies, though, I knew the texts almost as well as he did.

Zacharias pursed his lips before moving his donkey forward. "Elijah?" he guessed, and I nodded. "Funny. I've been drawn to those passages too, of late."

"Oh really?" I mused. "Perhaps the time is drawing near?" After four hundred years of prophetic silence, the last verse in Malachi promised that Elijah himself would return as the forerunner of the Messiah.

Zacharias chuckled. "Perhaps. Every generation has believed that theirs would be the one to see the Lord's anointed. But, someone will have to be right eventually!" He winked and dug his heels in to his donkey's side. I watched him ride to the top of the hill, waving, until he was out of sight.

Then I looked up at the sky to judge how much time I had to spend upon my studies, and went inside, withdrawing the scrolls Zacharias kept of the Hebrew texts. I meant to go straight to the records of the kings, but the scroll unrolled of its own accord to Exodus. A passage that I had meditated on years ago practically leapt off the page at me: None shall miscarry or be barren in your land.

I blinked, and tried to shake it off. I kept unrolling, and one of the scrolls fell to the table, exposing a text opened to Deuteronomy.

There shall not be male or female barren among you.

I closed my eyes, breathing through the unexpected stab of an old wound. I had clung to these verses and many others that promised the same thing in my youth, even in to middle age. But when my cycles had ceased, I realized I had a choice. Either I would believe that God had forgotten to honor His covenant, that His promises to me had failed, that He had forsaken me—or, I would consider my continued barrenness a mystery and decide to trust in Him anyway, believing that one day it would make sense. I chose the latter, since I knew the former would lead only to bitterness.

God is good. He is faithful. I had staked my entire life upon that, and I would not waver now.

Yet I had never revisited those passages in all these years. They were too painful.

I breathed through it until the emotion subsided. Another scroll slipped free, revealing the latter psalms.

Children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb His reward. Like arrows are in the hand of a mighty man, so are children born in one's youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.

"Stop," I gasped out loud, clutching my chest. I wasn't sure if I was begging the Lord to stop, or some outside force… I only knew I did not want to revisit this subject.

There was more to the issue of being a barren woman than not having a child. That by itself would have been bad enough. But Deuteronomy made it very clear that God would bless those who obeyed Him, and curse those who disobeyed Him. Because of this, the common belief among the Jews was that those who suffered a curse of any kind were receiving their just deserts. The story of Job should have dispelled the concept that affliction is always connected to personal sin, and yet the idea persisted.

Zacharias and I were not perfect of course, but we believed in the Lord and in His promises, like Abraham had done. I was sure that like Abraham, our faith was counted to us as righteousness. Yet despite this, and despite the very clear promises in scripture, we remained childless. I knew that many secretly wondered what sin I had committed to merit such a punishment. I had asked the Lord about this for almost a year after my cycles had ceased, but eventually I stopped asking. I had to. The question was driving me crazy.

I took another deep breath, and opened, finally, to the records of the kings. I reread the familiar story of Elijah's sudden arrival, announcing the famine to King Ahab. What a man he was! He reminded me a bit of King David in his outrageous faith. Without any direct word from God, he decided to take God's statement of a famine as part of the curse in Deuteronomy, and just go declare it to the king. I could just see God watching Elijah in heaven, shaking his head and smiling—almost with incredulity, if God could be incredulous. This guy was incredible.

Over the next couple of days of Zacharias's absence, I pored over the story of the famine, the ravens that fed Elijah by the brook Cherith, the widow of Zarephath, and the first recorded story of the resurrection of the dead. How did Elijah know that resurrection was even possible? It had never been done before, and there was no record that God had told him anything about it. But if anybody was going to test the boundaries of what was possible in God, it was he.

My favorite was the story of Mount Carmel. Surrounded by enemies, Elijah was supremely in control of himself, jeering at all the 750 false prophets. Perhaps your god did not answer because he was relieving himself! he taunted. I laughed out loud at that every time. Then he doused his own offering in water multiple times to make it as hard as possible to set ablaze before he called upon the Lord. Fire fell from heaven at once, of course, consuming not just his offering, but his entire altar, and every last drop of water!

I realized I was grinning with pride, and stopped to wonder at my own reaction. Pride implied ownership, didn't it?

Strange. I paused in my reading, and prepared for myself an easy supper of bread and milk. I could cook, but I didn't feel like it right now—I had no one to feed but myself, and I was too otherwise engrossed.

The day I expected Zacharias's return, I skipped to the story in the latter kings, where God took Elijah up to heaven in a chariot of fire. Elisha, meanwhile, stood down below and watched, as Elijah's prophetic mantle passed to him.

Then I opened to the passage at the end of Malachi: "Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord."

What did this mean? I wondered. Send Elijah? Would he return the way he left, in a chariot of fire? Would he return in the same body, with the same mind and personality? The scripture gave no indication that a person who died could return to earth in a new body—but then, Elijah had never actually died. He was one of only two people recorded in scripture who had not, the other being Enoch from Genesis.

"And he will turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the earth with a curse."

Lest I come and strike the earth with a curse? I had never thought about this passage before either. Did this mean that without Elijah preceding the coming Messiah, the Messiah might find that the hearts of his people had grown cold, and might curse the earth, rather than redeem it?

That was a chilling thought. It certainly made Elijah's second coming critical.

It occurred to me that Zacharias should have been here by now. I looked out the window at the position of the sun: it was late afternoon. Usually he returned on the last day of his service by midday. I determined not to worry about it, since there was nothing I could do anyway, and rose from my studies, grabbing my basket. I went out into my garden and began to collect vegetables and herbs for supper that evening. I rose when I heard the faint clop of donkey's hooves behind me.

"Finally!" I cried out, turning around. I shielded my eyes from the late afternoon sun, squinting to see Zacharias atop the donkey in his traveling cloak. "It's almost sunset, what kept you so long?"

He did not answer, though the donkey plodded on. I frowned. Hadn't he heard me?

"Zacharias?"

Still he did not reply, though he waved and nodded that he had heard me. Something was very strange. I dropped my basket and walked forward to meet him. When I came close enough, he made an exaggerated mime of writing. Then he pointed at the house. I read his lips and saw that he mouthed the words, Get me a scroll and pen.

"Can… can you not talk?"

He shook his head no, and dismounted, leading his donkey by the reins to the stable. I stood dumbfounded as well, wondering what to make of this. Was it an illness of some kind? But if that were the case, if he had merely lost his voice, surely he could still at least whisper. Yet no sound escaped his lips at all.

Finally Zacharias joined me, putting a hand on my lower back and ushering me inside. I found for him the scroll, jar of ink, and pen, and set them on the table beside the open scriptures. He scribbled as fast as he could, I saw an angel in the temple. He said his name was Gabriel.

My heart started to gallop. "The same one who appeared to Daniel?" I gasped, and my husband nodded vigorously.

The very same, he wrote. He says you are going to bear a son.

He stopped writing and looked at me. I stared at the words. My mind went blank, but my knees suddenly gave out, and I sank to a seat beside him. Zacharias reached out and took my hand in his, nodding at me as if to say, I mean what I say.

Children are a heritage of the Lord, the verse echoed in my mind. Heritage, as in, inheritance. It's a promise.

I looked up to heaven and whispered, "Why now? Why not… I don't know, forty years ago?"

Zacharias wrote, We are to call him John. I know there is no one in our family by that name, he added, as if he thought that would be my next question. He is to be the forerunner of the Christ, and will come in the spirit and power of Elijah.

My mouth fell open.

That was why the Lord had taken me back to all those passages. The promises for a child. The story of Elijah. The promises for the forerunner.

That meant the Messiah was coming—soon. Probably in my lifetime.

My hands absently sought my belly. Zacharias placed his hand over mine. I looked up at him.

"But… why can't you talk?" I whispered.

He looked a little bit bashful, and hesitated before he wrote, I talked back to Gabriel.

I let out a short little guffaw. "You did what?"

He nodded, gave me a sheepish grin, and wrote, I told him we were too old to have children. He said I would be mute until the day of John's birth.

Now I laughed out loud. "Well, it serves you right!" I teased him, wiping away the tears that I suddenly realized had leaked onto my face. Then I caught my breath. "Wait a minute—Zach." I shook my head. "'Death and life are in the power of the tongue. Those who love it will eat its fruit'… that wasn't a punishment. It's because our words can stop it from coming to pass if they don't agree with what the Lord said…" I clamped my hands on my cheeks, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. In a strange way, I was grateful for my husband's affliction, because it served as a sign to me. I had not seen Gabriel, but Zacharias would not invent such an ailment. He never even would have thought of it. Without his muteness, I might have wondered in time whether he had imagined the encounter. But here was proof!

I lifted both hands in the air and whispered, "Praise You, Lord of heaven and earth. You have not forgotten me. You have taken away my reproach among my people. You have granted me the high honor of not only bearing a child past the age of childbearing, like Sarah, but the honor of bearing a great prophet, like Hannah." I grinned at Zacharias. "He'll be a firebrand, too, if Elijah was any indication!" I sniffled, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. "I can hardly wait to meet him!"

Over the next several days, I pumped Zacharias for information until he had written down every detail of his encounter with Gabriel. I wanted to know exactly what the angel looked like, and exactly what he had said. I wanted it to be as if I had seen him myself. For the thousandth time, I was grateful that my husband had taught me to read. He wrote of how he had lingered in shock inside the temple long past the end of his service, which was why he had been late getting home. Then when he finally emerged, the people guessed that he had seen a vision when he could not speak to them.

"But you haven't told anyone," I pressed. "Right?" He shook his head no, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." He gave me a quizzical look, and I tried to put my feelings into words. Finally I said, "You know what people will say, Zach. I'm seventy, and I was barren even when I was young. They'll be well-meaning, but they'll try to talk me out of it, because they don't want me getting my hopes up. Death and life is in the power of the tongue, and—" I groped for words. "I just don't want anyone to see me until it's undeniable. Right now, let's just keep this between us. We'll study Elijah, study the Messianic prophecies so we can guide John in his purpose when the time comes, rehearse what Gabriel told you, and then just… introduce the world to our son."

Zacharias reached out, took me by both hands, and squeezed. Then he moved one of his hands to my soft, slightly sagging belly. He leaned forward and kissed me.

For five months I remained at home, meditating upon what the Lord had done for me, and dreaming of the days to come. Then, finally, I came out of seclusion. I said nothing to anyone about the little bulge as I went into the marketplace, whistling like I had a great secret. I saw people looking and whispering, but no one was brave enough to ask me. They probably had convinced themselves that I had just put on weight in a strange way. Or perhaps that I had a tumor.

In my sixth month, Zacharias and I were at home, and I heard that we had a visitor. He answered the door, though I ran to intercept whoever it was, since of course Zacharias could not speak to them. I heard the young female voice of my grand-niece Mary, and at once, I felt little John give a great kick. It doubled me over, and in the moment I tried to catch my breath, a flash of insight came to me.

Mary is pregnant with the Messiah!

I blinked, tears of joy pricking my eyes. The thought arrived with such absolute conviction that the Lord might as well have said it out loud.

I heard Mary awkwardly trying to understand why my husband would not greet her, and I straightened, calling out as I approached, "God has blessed you above all women, and your child is blessed!" She startled, and grew suddenly pale. I grinned back knowingly. "Why am I so honored, that the mother of my Lord should visit me? When I heard your greeting, the baby in my womb jumped for joy. You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what he said!"

Mary gave me a quavering smile, her eyes full of tears, and I understood that the Lord had given me those words for her sake. She was unmarried, a virgin, and newly pregnant—her miracle was even greater than mine. But she was not showing yet, and she was struggling to believe. That was why the Lord sent her to me: to see my miracle, as an encouragement to her! Her eyes went to my belly, and I beamed proudly, putting a hand on either side of it. She ran forward and hugged me, and burst into a song of praise worthy of King David, bless her little heart. I joined in, and though Zacharias could not, he watched us and raised his hands up to the Lord in worship.

"Stay with us," I urged Mary when we had finished, all three of us grinning and exultant. "At least until you are showing. It's easier that way, believe me."

Mary's joyful expression faltered. "But… Joseph doesn't know yet."

"Who's Joseph?" I asked.

"My betrothed," she murmured. "He had only just asked for my hand, when the angel Gabriel appeared to me—"

"Oh, Gabriel was the one who came to you too!" I cast a fond look at my husband, who looked bemused.

Mary nodded, and confessed, "I love Joseph. But I know what he will think—obviously. What else could he possibly think? Why would he believe such a story?"

I squeezed Mary's hand. "Let the Lord take care of it," I advised her. "It's His problem, after all. He got you into this mess; He'll work out the details."

Mary giggled, and I watched her fondly. She was so very young. What an incredible weight to place upon those narrow shoulders! And yet, the Lord would never have chosen her if He did not know she was up to the task.

"Stay with us," I urged her again. "Until John is born, at least." I gasped, as it had just occurred to me right then—"They'll be cousins, then! John and the Messiah!"

"Yes!" Mary laughed. "And only six months apart in age…"

"They will have to play together as children," I asserted at once. "They'll grow up to be great friends." Then I added, musing aloud, "I wonder when we should tell them?"

Mary puffed out a heavy breath. "One problem at a time, please!"

I chuckled. "Very wise, child. Very wise."

Mary did remain with us for three months. I still went out to the marketplace until just before my time, and by then, all my friends and neighbors knew my real condition, and marveled.

When I gave birth, I was so enamored with my child that it took me almost a full day to notice that Zacharias still could not speak. I was rather used to his silence now, but this confused me, and upset him.

When the time came for the child's circumcision on the eighth day as prescribed by the law, it was also time to officially declare his name. They asked me what he was to be called, whether we would name him Zacharias, after his father. This had never occurred to me.

"No!" I asserted at once, "his name is John."

"John?" asked the priest, perplexed. "But there is no one among your relatives who is called by that name. Surely, he will be Zacharias."

They turned to my husband, who gestured for a writing tablet. He wrote very clearly, His name is John. As the priests stared at the tablet in wonder, Zacharias burst forth, "Praise the Lord!"

I gasped. "You can speak!"

Zacharias, laughing and crying at once, hugged me and took the little bundle from my arms. He gazed down at John with such love that for a second, I had the strange thought that I was looking into the face of God, seeing His love for my newborn child reflected in my husband's face.

"Praise the Lord, the God of Israel," he proclaimed, "because he has visited and redeemed his people. He has sent us a mighty Savior from the royal line of his servant David,just as he promised through his holy prophets long ago. Now we will be saved from our enemies and from all who hate us. He has been merciful to our ancestors by remembering his sacred covenant— the covenant he swore with an oath to our ancestor Abraham. We have been rescued from our enemies so we can serve God without fear, in holiness and righteousness for as long as we live"

I blinked at Zacharias, astonished, and looked around the room to see the reactions of the rest of the priests. It was clear to me, at least, that the words were not Zacharias's own. Something—the Holy Spirit, surely—had taken hold of him.

He went on, gazing down at John, "And you, my little son, will be called the prophet of the Most High, because you will prepare the way for the Lord. You will tell his people how to find salvation through forgiveness of their sins. Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace."

I suddenly realized I wasn't breathing. I sucked in a breath, and turned to one of the priests.

"Did you write all that down?" I demanded.

As if galvanized by my words, he jumped up to find a scroll and ink. I looked at Zacharias and whispered as I caressed our son's head, "He'll want to hear his father's prophecy about him when he grows up." I kissed his forehead and added tenderly, "Our little Elijah."

Today's podcast comes from this blog post: The Anti-Aging Nutrient You've Never Heard Of.

Today's podcast comes from this blog post, Health Benefits of Algae.

Today's podcast is a meditation on the scriptures of our identity in Christ, from the verses below.

Who We Are and What We Have In Christ

"Through him and for his name's sake, we received grace and apostleship to call people from among all the Gentiles to the obedience that comes from faith" (Romans 1:5)

"We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand" (Romans 5:1-2).

"Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God's wrath through him!" (Romans 5:9)

"when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son… how much more… shall we be saved through his life!... rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ through whom we have now received reconciliation" (Romans 5:10-11).

"those who receive God's abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ" (5:17).

"through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous" (5:19).

"Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, [so] we too may live a new life" (6:4).

"count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus" (6:11).

"you also died to the law through the body of Christ, that you might belong to another, to him who was raised from the dead, in order that we might bear fruit to God" (7:4).

"we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code" (7:6).

"there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death" (8:1-2).

"You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you" (8:9).

"you received the Spirit of Sonship… Now if we are children, then we are heirs – heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ" (8:15, 17).

"And those he predestined, he also called; those he called; he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified" (8:30).

"in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us" (8:37).

"you yourselves are full of goodness, complete in knowledge and competent to instruct one another" (Romans 15:14).

"in him you have been enriched in every way – in all your speaking and in all your knowledge" (1 Cor 1:5).

"we have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us" (1 Cor 2:12).

"we have the mind of Christ" (1 Cor 2:16).

"All things are yours" (1 Cor 3:21).

"you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God" (1 Cor 6:11).

"the man who loves God is known by God" (1 Cor 8:3).

"For no matter how many promises God has made, they are 'yes' in Christ. And so through him the 'Amen' is spoken by us to the glory of God" (2 Cor 1:20).

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing" (2 Cor 2:14-15).

"in Christ we speak before God with sincerity, like men sent from God" (2 Cor 2:17).

"Such confidence as this is ours through Christ before God. Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God. He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant – not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life" (2 Cor 3:4-6).

"And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit" (2 Cor 3:18).

"through God's mercy we have this ministry" (2 Cor 4:1).

"if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ" (2 Cor 5:18-19).

"Likewise, we are weak in him, yet by God's power we will live with him to serve you" (2 Cor 13:4).

"So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by observing the law" (Galatians 2:16).

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God" (Gal 2:20).

"So those who have faith are blessed along with Abraham, the man of faith" (Gal 3:9).

"He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit" (Gal 3:14).

"You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ" (3:26-27).

"So you are no longer a slave, but a son; and since you are a son, God has made you also an heir" (Gal 4:7).

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will – to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ'" (Eph 1:3-9).

"In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity to the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory" (Eph 1:11-12).

"the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also the one to come" (Eph 1:18-21).

"God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions… and God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus" (Eph 2:4-7).

"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do" (Eph 2:10).

"in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ" (Eph 2:13).

"In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit" (Eph 2:21-22).

"In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence" (Eph 3:12).

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us" (Eph 3:20).

"Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work" (Eph 4:15-16).

"filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ" (Phil 1:11).

"my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus" (Phil 4:19).

"For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins" (Col 1:13-14).

"Christ in you, the hope of glory" (Col 1:27).

"Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Col 2:3).

"For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority. In him you were also circumcised, in the putting off of the sinful nature, not with a circumcision done by the hands of men but with the circumcision done by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism and raised with him through your faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead" (Col 2:9-12).

"These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ" (Col 2:17).

"For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory" (Col 3:3-4).

"put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator" (Col 3:10).

"the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ" (2 Thess 1:12).

"that you might share in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ" (2 Thess 2:14).

"This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time" (2 Tim 1:9).

"the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory" (2 Tim 2:10).

"He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life" (Titus 3:5-7).

"Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them" (Heb 7:25).

"And by that will, we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all" (Heb 10:10).

"who have been chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through the sanctifying work of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and sprinkling by his blood" (1 Peter 1:2).

"In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade – kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time" (1 Peter 1:3-5).

"Through him you believe in God" (1 Peter 1:21).

"He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed" (1 Peter 2:24).

"and this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also – not the removal of dirt from the body but the pledge of a good conscience toward God. It saves you by the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at God's right hand – with angels, authorities, and powers in submission to him" (1 Peter 3:21-22).

"Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord" (2 Peter 1:2).

"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires" (2 Peter 1:3-4).

"God has given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son" (1 John 5:11).

Today's podcast comes from this blog post: Acne: Root Causes and Treatments.

This retelling comes from Genesis 37, 39-45, and it appears in Blood Covenant Origins: Biblical Retellings. Introduction:

Joseph is one of my favorite biblical characters; he's such a great example of faith. It took thirteen years for his reversal of fortune to finally occur, and another nine years after that for the complete fulfillment of God's promise to him. Yet if he ever wavered in his faith that God would fulfill what He showed him in his two dreams, we have no record of it. This is even more incredible when you consider that Joseph had no written scriptures to cling to like we do. He wouldn't have even had an oral tradition of previous faith heroes similar to himself. While Abraham his grandfather had to wait 25 years for the promised child, the circumstances had little in common with Joseph's own circumstances. He couldn't read about the 13-17 years between King David's anointing and when he finally became king, for instance. Moses had not yet written Deuteronomy, telling him all the blessings he could expect if he remained faithful to the Lord. All Joseph had to go on were two cryptic dreams… but it was enough. It's fitting that the first dream showed his brothers' sheaves of grain bowing down to his, considering it was the famine and grain distribution that propelled him to second in command of Egypt in the end.

The one charge leveled against Joseph by some is that he started out arrogant: after all, what was he thinking, telling his brothers (whom he knew already envied him, due to his father's blatant favoritism) that God had told him he would rule over them? Maybe this was arrogance, or at best, a decided lack of wisdom. He was only seventeen at the time, after all. Also, with the exception of the death of his mother when Benjamin was born, Joseph had presumably lived a charmed life: the coat of many colors that Jacob had given him was the attire of a great landowner, even though Joseph was the second youngest of twelve brothers. (Pretty foolish of Jacob, too.) It's no wonder this galled them. Even so, their response to him shows how evil his brothers were, at that point. Had they not sold Joseph into slavery, they very well might have killed him—that was what they meant to do at first, after all.

Despite this, despite slavery and then imprisonment, God said Joseph was prosperous and successful (Genesis 39:2-3, 23). Even though Joseph himself was not paid for any of his work, the blessing of the Lord was upon him, and therefore his master got blessed because of him. This is an interesting concept, that the overflow of God's blessing upon us (Deuteronomy 28:2) can affect those around us who just happen to be in the way—including our bosses in this case, or our families as well (1 Corinthians 7:14).

Joseph also happened to be very handsome (Genesis 39:6)—ordinarily a blessing, but under the circumstances it was a curse, as he drew the eye of Potiphar's wife. If she was this aggressive, probably this wasn't the first time she had cheated on Potiphar. I suspect that the other servants, and maybe even Potiphar himself could compare what they knew of her and what they knew of Joseph and deduce the truth. But if Potiphar did not choose to believe Joseph, what could the other servants do? And wouldn't it have disrupted Potiphar's life more to have believed Joseph? He surely couldn't have kept Joseph in his house with his wife; he had to get rid of one of them. So in my retelling, I assumed that Potiphar's pride forced him to believe his wife, even though deep down he knew the truth. I would imagine that if he had truly believed his wife's accusation, he would have had Joseph killed, rather than merely thrown into prison.

So Joseph started out with two dreams of greatness, which led directly to his being sold into slavery for a decade (deduced from his age at the time he was sold, the number of years he was in prison, and his age when he was finally promoted). At the end of the decade, Joseph refused to commit adultery and sin against God (very interesting that he phrased it that way, Genesis 39:9)—yet for his integrity, he got thrown into prison. Most people would be bitter at this point, but"until the time that His word came to pass, the word of the Lord tested [Joseph]" (Psalm 105:19). Joseph was holding fast to the word that the Lord had given him through those dreams, even when it looked like every circumstance in his life was heading in the wrong direction. He did not yet know Galatians 6:9, but he seemed to understand the principle: "let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart."

Joseph continued to exhibit diligence and faithfulness in prison, and he must have even kept up a contagious good attitude—we can intuit this because when the butler and baker each had dreams, Joseph said to them, "Why do you look so sad today?" (Genesis 40:7). You'd think they would look sad because they were in prison without cause! But apparently their distress was unusual. Under Joseph's rule, the prison had become a cheerful place. Moreover, Joseph was not merely sulking about his own misfortune; he knew and cared about the other prisoners. Colossians 3:17 says, "And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him."

Fictionalized Retelling:

I whistled, absently twirling the cord of the colorful tunic Father had given me as I made my way back out to the fields where my brothers tended the sheep. I couldn't stop smiling, couldn't think about anything except the dream I had had last night. In it, the sun, moon, and eleven stars had bowed down to me! I pictured this over and over, relishing the thrill of it, knowing that these celestial bodies represented my entire family. I was already my father's favorite, but the Lord confirmed it—I was to be the greatest of them all! Moreover, it was the second dream of its kind; in the first, a few days ago, eleven sheaves of wheat bowed down to my sheaf. I knew upon waking what it meant: all of my brothers would bow down to me one day.

I told them so the next morning. It went over went about as well as I'd expected. They already envied me, and my little brother Benjamin: we were our father's favorite, the only two sons of our mother Rachel, the woman Father had truly loved. He was duped into marrying Rachel's sister Leah, and then in a competition to see who could bear Father more sons, both sisters had given their maids to bear children when it seemed that Mother was barren. I was the first child to open her womb, and so I was much favored even from birth. Father didn't even try to hide it—in fact, he'd given me as a gift the multicolored tunic I now wore, of the same style as the owners of the great estates. This galled my brothers; it was a preference that should have belonged to Reuben as the eldest, and only after our father's death. Yet here I was dressed as the heir, the second youngest of twelve, while our father yet lived.

I might have felt guilty for my father's obvious preference for me, but quite frankly, I could hardly blame him. My brothers were self-centered, lazy, and cruel.

God clearly preferred me over them, also! Had I doubted it at all after the first dream, the second one clinched it. Would I somehow become a king? Maybe a neighboring nation would offer their princess's hand to me in marriage… that was possible, as I was the favored son of a great man, and I was also exceptionally good looking. I didn't say so out loud, nor did anyone say it to me… but I saw the way all the young women gazed after me with longing and admiration. I knew.

But, it couldn't be marriage to a princess, I mused, because then I would only be a consort, and not the king. Unless it was of a nation with different customs, in which a king could ascend to the throne by marriage…

"Oh look, here comes the dreamer!" sneered Simeon as I approached. He and Levi mock-bowed to me. "So! You're going to rule us? You're going to boss us around?" Simeon taunted.

I shrugged. "I was just telling you what the Lord told me."

"Oh, sure," cried Levi, "and I had a dream I'm going to have a harem like Pharaoh, every concubine more beautiful than the last. I know it's true, because I dreamt it!"

I bristled, knowing he was trying to get a rise out of me, but unable to keep myself from responding. "I know it's true, and irrevocable, because I had another dream last night just like it! This time, the sun, moon, and the eleven stars bowed down to me!"

Levi's expression froze for a beat. In that half a second, I knew he believed me. Simeon recovered first.

"Oooh, bow down, guys!" cried Simeon, waving his hands in the air, "bow down to our perfect baby brother, the future ruler of the entire universe!"

Every time one of my brothers caught sight of me for the rest of the day, he made me an elaborate bow. They continued mocking me before my father and stepmothers that evening once we came in from the fields, compelling my father to ask what they meant by it. When he did, Issachar taunted, "Ask your little prince here! He's got it in his head that he's going to be greater than all of us put together!"

Father turned to me with a frown. "Joseph? What are they talking about?"

Feeling slightly abashed, I repeated my dreams, and my father, predictably, rebuked me. "What's with all this dreaming? Am I and your mother and your brothers all supposed to bow down to you?"

"I don't know," I muttered, "you're the one who taught me that the Lord speaks in dreams, remember?"

"Give him a pretty tunic, and suddenly he thinks he's God Almighty!" cried Zebulun.

But I saw my father's thoughtful expression: he believed me, too. He had taught me that the Lord often spoke in dreams. He himself had a dream of a ladder from heaven to earth, with angels ascending and descending upon it—echoing the first dream God had given to our ancestor Abraham, in which He had cut a covenant with him. In another dream, the Lord had told my father to go home to Canaan. Father had also told me of how God had appeared to my grandfather Laban in a dream when he had fled from him, telling Laban to be careful what he said when he next encountered Father.

Father knew of the power of dreams to both instruct and to prophesy. He knew my dreams must have significance, particularly since I had dreamt two that were very similar. But how could I, the second youngest son of twelve, come to rule over the other eleven? I had the same question myself—that was why I'd shared the vision. I realized, after today's taunting, that doing so had been foolish. I should have known better, considering my brothers' animosity and my father's obvious preference for me. Yet, why would God give me a dream of my future without interpretation, if He did not mean for me to share it?

The next day, my brothers went out from the Valley of Hebron to tend to the flocks out in Shechem. I did not volunteer to go with them, as I preferred to keep my distance from them after the encounter the day before. But my father sent me to them later that day, asking me to send word on how they and the flocks fared. I cringed inwardly, dreading the ongoing heckling, but that was hardly a reason to disobey my father. So I went.

I did not find them in Shechem, however. I had to ask directions from another shepherd I came across.

"I saw your ten brothers several hours ago," he told me. "They've left here, but I overheard them say, 'Let's go to Dothan.'"

I tracked them down in Dothan late that afternoon. I saw the flocks first, neglected as usual. I could tell that my brothers had seen me, though they were huddled strangely in the middle of the field, as if having an intense conversation. When I was close enough, I perceived that their council had ended, and they stopped talking, spreading out in a half circle as I approached. Their postures gave me pause: they looked alert, like predators. My steps faltered.

"Our father sent me to you to see how you and our flocks fared—" I began. But no sooner had I begun to speak, Judah and Dan started toward me, followed by the other eight. "What are you—ahhhh!" I tried to fight them off as they lunged for me, but at seventeen years old to their late twenties, thirties, and forties, I could not have fought off even one of them, let alone all ten. The blows came at me from all sides. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground curled in upon myself, trying in vain to protect my face, which was a swollen, bloody mess. I felt them rip my colorful tunic from me. Then three of them picked me up, carried me a short distance, and cast me down into a dry cistern. I landed with a sickening crunch, and let out a fresh cry of pain.

It took me some time to test my feet, and the boundaries of the cistern. I could hear my brothers' voices filtering down from up above me, so they were still there—but they were too far away to make out what they said. I began to cry out, "Help!" When there was no response, I tried again, "Someone let me out! Let down a rope!" I knew they heard me, as they stopped talking—but none of them bothered to help.

I could just make out some sort of commotion up above—new voices had joined those of my brothers, interrupting the flow of their conversation, as well as the rumble of wheels and the characteristic jingle of merchandise. I strained to hear what they were saying, but could not.

All of a sudden, Zebulun's face appeared up above, backlit by the sun so that I could not make out his expression. He tossed down a rope and said cheerfully, "Grab on, Joseph!"

I asked no questions; I grabbed on, as he and Issachar hauled me up, squinting in the brightness when I cleared the top of the cistern. Then I discerned the Midianite traders, their camels laden with spices to sell, and saw the merchants hand silver to my brother Zebulun with a handshake. My eyes widened as I began to understand what was happening. Naphtali and Dan shoved me toward them, and I cried out as the traders caught me and pinned my wrists behind me, binding them and then my feet as they tossed me sideways atop one of their camels.

"No, please!" I begged, "please! Help me!"

My pleading gaze happened to fall upon Simeon, who sneered, "Let's see what comes of your grandiose dreams now, eh, little brother?"

It was the last words any of my brothers spoke to me. After that, the caravan moved on.

It was first an uncomfortable, then a painful journey. My position on the camel caused my abdominal muscles to spasm, and blood to pool in my head and feet as I bounced. Before long I had a splitting headache, which was no doubt worsened by my fear, despair, and previous injuries. None of the traders took any notice of me; to them I was only merchandise. The only exception to this was when they stopped to relieve themselves—they unceremoniously unslung me from the camel and made me lift my tunic right there beside it, so that they did not have to unbind me.

Days passed—I lost count how many. I was constantly hungry and thirsty. The traders did feed me on bread, water, and strips of dried meat when they stopped, though never enough. I overheard one of them comment, "Don't want him to waste away before he gets to market, or he won't fetch a good price." It was from this that I understood my fate for certain, though I had suspected before. I was to be sold as a slave.

Once we were deep into the desert and there was nowhere I could have gone even if I had escaped, one of the traders unbound my feet so that I could ride astride my camel, rather than tossed over him between his humps like so much cargo. It was amazing what an improvement this made: my headache and abdominal cramps relieved, and at last I had some mental space to think about something besides my physical pain.

Lord, I prayed. Then my mind went blank. I was so overwhelmed with my circumstances that I didn't know where to start.

I wondered what my brothers would tell my father to explain my disappearance. All I knew for sure was that they would not tell him the truth. They would tell him I'd been killed—they must. How else could they explain my long-term disappearance?

I had a vision of my father weeping for me as he had wept for my mother. I saw my little nine-year old brother Benjamin, my only full-blooded brother, weeping beside him. The vision made my chest ache with sorrow and longing. I closed my eyes and shoved it away as tears stung my lashes. I took a deep breath.

I'm here now, I told myself, and at least at the moment, there is nothing I can do about it.

After another few miles, as the sweat rolled down the sides of my face, I tried praying again.

Help me, was all I managed. I had no specifics. I didn't know what else to pray.

Presently I overheard some of the traders telling one another that they had made good time: only fifteen days, they said, when the glittering mirage of Egypt appeared on the dusty horizon. At first the sight of it filled me with dread, and terrible visions of oppression, whippings, and chains—but I shut these thoughts down, recognizing the futility of experiencing imaginary hardships before the real ones materialized.

Within hours, we were in the heart of the bustling city. I was overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells—never had I seen so many people and animals and buildings all in one place. There was a profusion of both wealth and waste intermingled in a confusing array. The traders allowed me to dismount on my own, but then led me with a vice grip on one arm to a raised platform. I blinked, taken aback, when I saw the lineup of naked men upon it. I had only seconds to process this when the trader who had steered me toward it released my arm and in the same motion produced a knife in one hand, gripping my tunic with the other. Before I knew what he was doing, he had sliced half of it away. I started to resist when another trader pinned me so that the first could finish the job. Seconds later, horror and hot shame rolled over me as the traders shoved me up on the platform with the other woebegone men, my hands now bound behind me so that I could not so much as cover my genitals with my fists.

Lord, I cried out in my mind, but again, I could not think how to finish the prayer.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to pretend I was somewhere—anywhere—else. Trying to tune out the jeers and the haggling of the buyers. It had never occurred to me in the long journey to Egypt that the slave trade required nudity, but now suddenly it seemed obvious: buyers wanted to inspect their purchase, to see what they were getting. When the haggling began over me, even though I did not speak their language, I gathered that the bidding was fierce. I heard the note of finality in their voices that I had heard in previous sales when the price was agreed upon, and opened my eyes to behold my new master as he stepped forward. He was a tall, swarthy man—as most of them were—imposing and probably at least twice my age, if not more. I had no experience with Egyptians, but his dress suggested a uniform. I wondered if he was an officer of some kind.

The man beckoned me to join him, and I meekly obeyed. Nothing like public nudity to induce humility. He produced a small knife and sliced through the bonds that held my wrists behind me. I rubbed the raw places where the ropes had bitten into my flesh, not even bothering now to use my hands to hide myself. What difference did it make? Everyone who had wanted to had already gotten a good look.

Though he could not speak to me, the man produced a simple blue tunic and a length of silken cord to secure it. My eyebrows raised as I saw it: both the dye and the material suggested wealth. I put it on at once, grateful for the renewed dignity. The man gave me a nod, and put a hand on his own chest.

"Potiphar," he pronounced, very slowly.

"Potiphar," I echoed, understanding that my new master was telling me his name. I placed a hand on my own chest and said, "Joseph."

"Joseph," he echoed, and gave another perfunctory nod, beckoning me to follow.

I gaped as I beheld my new home for the first time. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined such opulence as these marble floors, sculpted columns, and dyed silken curtains. I wondered what Pharaoh's palace must be like, if this Potiphar was only one of his officers.

Potiphar introduced me to the rest of his household via charade, but I was already starting to pick up a few Egyptian words here and there. I was one of dozens of servants, male and female, their skin ranging from dark to pale and with all sorts of distinctive features of races I had never before beheld.

As I made my halting introductions to the staff, an attractive woman in her late twenties approached Potiphar and languidly draped her arm through his. She drew my eye because I felt her gaze upon me, roving over my body in a way that made me feel like I was still naked. She wore fine blue silks, and her arms were spangled with bracelets. From this and from her familiarity with Potiphar, I gathered that she must be either his wife or his mistress. I looked away abruptly.

The overseer of the household, an aging man who introduced himself as Babu, took me under his wing. With him, I learned to do all of the various chores, both in the estate and in the fields. Babu was also very patient with me as I learned Egyptian words, and within the next few weeks, I at least knew enough to communicate the essentials with a combination of halting Egyptian and hand gestures. I quickly grew wary of spending too much time indoors, though, as Edrice, whom I learned was in fact Potiphar's wife, always seemed to be wherever I was. She lurked in hallways and lingered in boudoirs, sometimes pretending to be occupied but always with her eyes upon me.

At first this was all she did, and I ignored her when I could not avoid her. But as time passed and my Egyptian became more proficient, she began to engage me in smalltalk, which I could not avoid without rudeness. She'd comment on the weather, ask unnecessary questions about the progress of whatever task I was engaged in at the time, or sometimes ask me personal questions about how I had come to be in their household as a slave. I answered as briefly as possible, asked no questions in return, and excused myself.

Years passed. In time I grieved the loss of my freedom, my family, and my identity, and I determined that I would do the work the Lord placed before me with all my heart. Babu and then Potiphar took notice of this. Babu, I learned, was beginning to suffer from poor health, and had been hoping to find a replacement for his position. He had recommended me to Potiphar for the job, so that he could take on less responsibility. Suddenly I found myself managing scores of servants on what I later learned was one of the largest estates in Egypt—and actually, I loved it. Even in my father's household, I'd never had either respect or responsibility. Here, I was trusted, and I rose to the challenge. Babu praised my management, telling Potiphar in my hearing that never had his fields or his wealth grown so quickly, never had his affairs run so efficiently, as they did under my care.

The only blight upon my surprising happiness was Edrice. She grew increasingly bold over time, when I did not return her attentions to her satisfaction. When she started to inquire about my history with women, and whether I was still a virgin, I began to avoid her outright. At last I hinted about her behavior to Babu, who gave me a knowing glance, and said, "Edrice is a beautiful bird in a gilded cage. She longs for freedom, and will seek it where she can."

I blinked, understanding that he meant to tell me, without telling me, that she had been unfaithful to Potiphar in the past.

"Does he know?" I asked at last.

Babu hesitated, and then gave a very subtle nod. "Everyone knows."

"What do I do?" I whispered at last.

Babu sighed. "I don't see that you can do any more than you have. Avoid her when you can. But do your best not to spurn her outright. Her pride is… easily wounded."

Babu's warning rang in my mind for days, particularly because I had sensed Edrice's growing irritation with me. I needed to appease her. So when I felt her eyes upon me across the room, rather than pretending I did not notice, I looked up and smiled. She blinked, and her scowl softened in response, replaced by a flirtatious gleam in her eye. I panicked and looked away abruptly. I'd meant to appease, not encourage her—but how was I to know the difference? I'd never done this before…

She crossed the room to me, and before I knew what was happening, she was beside me, stroking my forearm with her trailing fingers. I was suddenly very aware that we were alone—I had no idea where the nearest servants were. Potiphar was away on Pharaoh's business.

"Joseph," she murmured, as if savoring my name, tracing my bicep with her fingers. "You are… so very handsome."

My heart hammered in my chest, though with fear or with arousal, or a strange combination of both, I could not tell. My throat felt too thick to reply. I just froze.

Edrice gave a soft laugh. "I'm making you blush! Oh, I just love virgins…" Her hand trailed from my arm down my torso. I grabbed her wrist before it could descend any further, and found my tongue.

"Look, my master doesn't give a second thought to anything that goes on here—he's put me in charge of everything he owns. He treats me as an equal. The only thing he hasn't turned over to me is you. You're his wife!"

She puffed out her lower lip. "I know you find me attractive."

This was dangerous territory. There was no safe answer to that question. "That has nothing to do with it," I insisted. "How could I violate his trust and sin against God?"

"God?" she scoffed. "Your God allowed you to be sold as a slave. You owe Him nothing. And Potiphar has never paid you a day's wages in the almost ten years you've been with us. Don't you think it's time you got a little… reward?" The hand I had not seized by the wrist also went exploring before I took hold of it too.

"I cannot do this! It is wrong!" I hissed. I let go of both of her wrists at once, and fled the room.

Either fortunately or unfortunately, I could not tell which, Edrice did not take this as rejection, but as enticement. I could tell by her increasing brazenness that she thought I burned for her and could barely restrain myself. At times, I wondered if this was actually true—after all, I could not stop thinking about her, even though thinking of her was a kind of torture. I successfully avoided being alone with her for the next week or so, but I knew I could not do so forever.

At last, one day after Potiphar again went away on Pharaoh's business, I was inside managing the orders for the kitchen after the morning meal. I stopped what I was doing, and frowned when I realized that the whole house was eerily silent—more so than I had ever heard before. Usually there were some servants chattering or clanging about at least in the distance. It was as if all of them had suddenly gone on holiday.

A wave of foreboding passed over me, and then I sensed that I was not alone. I turned around and saw Edrice standing there in the most provocative gown I had ever seen. She rested one arm on the doorframe to give me the best possible view, her gaze inviting me to come and take her.

"You know you want to," she purred. "I promise I won't resist."

"Edrice—" my voice came out hoarse, and I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from her nearly exposed bosom, no matter how hard I tried.

She grinned and sauntered forward, swinging her hips. I could not move. The next thing I knew, she stood before me, tugged on the cord of my tunic, and began undressing me.

"Sleep with me, Joseph," she whispered.

I had one choice in that moment: stay and obey her, or run.

So I ran. She had a firm grip by then on my tunic, and I nearly tripped and fell on my face, as it was half off already. Instead I wrestled myself free of it, leaving my tunic in her grip, and alas—fled naked.

Some of the other servants who were outside at the time saw me. I saw the fleeting looks of confusion and shock. Then Edrice began to scream.

There was a commotion after that. Several of the men went running into the house, and those near enough to me cast glances of alarm in my direction. I hid myself among the shrubbery, not sure what else to do, feeling like I might throw up. I didn't know exactly what Edrice was playing at, but I suspected I knew well enough.

A few minutes passed. Babu found me and handed me one of his own tunics without a word. I saw the look in his eyes, of mingled worry and sympathy, and it alarmed me.

"You should have just done as she wanted," he murmured under his breath.

"How could I do such a thing against Potiphar, and against the Lord?" I protested as I put on the tunic.

Babu sighed, and shook his head. It was a long moment before he answered. "Joseph." The way he said my name, with such regret, made my heart sink into my stomach. He bit his lip and then said, his voice barely above a whisper, "You spurned her. It's exactly what I told you never to do. All the servants know who and what she is, and I daresay Potiphar does too, but I don't think it will matter. She is accusing you of attempted rape."

Waves of horror washed over me. That was even worse than a consensual affair. How was it that by doing the right thing, I'd managed to make my situation even worse?

"But… if everyone knows her ways…" I began weakly.

Babu shook his head. "She is the lady of the house," he murmured. "Any servant who dares to contradict her story will be subject to her wrath himself. The only one who might be able to challenge her is Potiphar, and while I suspect he knows, if he admits that she is guilty in this, it makes him a cuckold—not just this once, but the many times he has turned a blind eye in the past as well."

My breath came in short, ragged gasps. "What do I do?"

Babu ran a hand through his graying hair. "I will… try… to convince Potiphar to merely sell you, rather than punish you."

I sank to my knees. Babu stood watching me. At last I murmured, "Shall I be killed?"

"I do not think so," Babu said with surprising conviction. "You would be if Potiphar believed her story, but he is not an evil man. He will want you out of his sight and out of his household, but he knows you are not capable of such a thing, even if he does not admit it to himself." He patted my shoulder. "Stay in my chambers and do not show your face until Potiphar returns. I will attend to your needs myself, and discuss how we might best plead your case to him when he does."

The rest of that day was one of the longest of my life, with the possible exception of those first several weeks' ride to Egypt. Fortunately I did not have to wait longer, as Potiphar arrived back home unexpectedly that evening. I heard him in the vestibule, and I heard Edrice's renewed histrionic wails. I cowered in Babu's small chambers, catching words here and there—mostly my name in Edrice's high-pitched shriek, and Potiphar's angry growls. I closed my eyes, and tried to steel myself for what came next. Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall toward me, and the door flew open. I opened my eyes and beheld Potiphar's face. It was nearly purple with rage. He held my tunic in his hand like it was evidence against me.

"What," he seethed, "is the meaning of this?"

In a split second, even though I knew it would likely make my own situation worse, I decided to try the truth. If I were married to an unfaithful woman, I would want to know. I stood up straight and said, "Your wife has been attempting to seduce me for years, Master, and earnestly for the last several months. You know this to be true. She has invented her current story because I spurned her and fled, and she kept hold of my tunic as I did so. I could not sin against the Lord and against you."

If possible, Potiphar's color turned an even deeper shade of purple. "How—dare you!" He threw my tunic down and took two steps toward me, hands balled into fists. I clasped my own hands behind my back as hard as I could, determined not to protect myself, should he strike a blow. But I looked him directly in the eye, knowing that doing so would communicate my truthfulness better than anything else I could do.

It worked, at least on some level. Potiphar nearly snorted, he breathed so heavily, his face etched in a snarl. But he did not strike me. Behind him, three of the male servants who had grown quite fond of me in the last few years, and I of them, appeared in the hallway.

"Throw him in prison," Potiphar pronounced my sentence, and turned to stalk out. "I want him out of here tonight."

The three servants shuffled awkwardly, before moving forward to fulfill Potiphar's orders. One apologized as he began to bind my wrists. I shook my head.

"That is not necessary," I told him, and forced a smile. "You know I will not resist you."

The young man gave me a tiny nod, and the four of us marched out of the room with one abreast, two at my sides. I tried not to look around at the great manor I was leaving forever. This was the second time my home had been ripped from me; I did not think I could bear it if I looked and considered this.

Edrice appeared at the entrance to the estate with one arm positioned brazenly on a marble pillar, a vicious half smile on her full red lips. She still wore the scandalous gown, which surprised me at first—wasn't that gown evidence of my version of the story? But then I realized, it doesn't matter. She knows Potiphar will refuse to believe her unfaithful, regardless of the evidence. She still wore the gown on purpose. It was evidence of her power over me.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," she taunted in a low trill as I passed by her.

"Oh, how quickly your lust turns to hatred," I returned, looking her straight in the eye. "The Lord sees what you have done, and will repay you for it."

My words hit the mark. Her gloating smile vanished, and she began to shriek after me, "How dare you, you filthy Hebrew slave! You should be hung on the gallows! I see to it that you're hung on the gallows—!"

The door closed behind us, cutting off her threats. I took a deep breath of the night air, and one of the other servants murmured, "Empty threats. She's already exerted the extent of her power against you."

Another agreed, his voice still low, "We've seen her watching you for months, and watched you avoid her, too. We know you're not guilty. So does Potiphar, even if he won't admit it."

Tears pricked my eyes at this, and a lump rose in my throat. "Thank you."

We walked in silence the rest of the way. When we arrived at the prison and the other servants identified me as the prisoner to the keeper, he glanced at my unbound hands in surprise.

"And… he comes willingly?"

"I would not struggle against my brothers," I said. "They are merely following orders. Besides, where could I go?"

The keeper of the prison looked even more surprised at this, and looked to them for an explanation. They told my story for me, and I bowed my head.

"You will never find a more capable worker or better manager, sir," one of the servants finished, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Judge for yourself, but we are all very sorry to lose him."

The keeper of the prison let out a breath through pursed lips. At last he pronounced, "Well, this is certainly the strangest way I've ever been introduced to a new prisoner." He took me by the arm and began to lead me inside, but the servants stopped him to hug me goodbye with some tears before they went their way. The keeper shook his head.

"Curiouser and curiouser," he murmured as he watched our farewell. Then he said, "Well, normally I'd take you to a barred cell, but with three witnesses such as those in your favor… you might just be a gift from the gods. I tell you, I've been quite overwhelmed lately with the number of prisoners, particularly managing resources from Pharaoh and directing labor. I could use the help of a skilled household manager."

I inclined my head. "Happy to be of service in any way I can."

"Splendid!" The keeper, who introduced himself as Shakir, took me to a small room with a cot and a desk near the cells where the prisoners were kept. It did have a small window though. "This will be your room, then. I'm sure it isn't much compared to your chambers in Potiphar's house, but at least it is neither a cell, nor the gallows, eh?"

I managed a smile. "I am very grateful for your kindness. I will work hard for you and will not take it for granted."

Shakir blinked at me again and shook his head. "Poor kid," he murmured at last, more to himself than to me. "Those good looks of yours are a curse." With that, he left me alone and closed the door behind me.

In the silence that followed, I approached the window, leaning on the sill and looking up to the stars. I reminded myself how many years my ancestor Abraham had believed the Lord for a son, looking at those very same stars. His descendants were not yet so numerous, but certainly my father had been fertile. My chest ached as I thought of my brothers, particularly of my little brother Benjamin. He had been nine when my half-brothers had sold me into slavery. He would be nineteen now. I wondered what he looked like. I wondered if he remembered me. I wondered if—

No, I stopped myself. I had been about to wonder if my dreams would ever come to pass. They certainly looked impossible, as I went from my father's favorite son, to slave, and now to prisoner. But the Lord had given me two dreams for a reason: that told me that the future it foretold was not conditional. It would happen. It was not up to me to determine how, or when. I must continue to cling to that; I must continue to believe that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, or my heart would faint. Especially tonight, of all nights.

Many years ago, I'd had to release my anger and bitterness toward my half brothers, or it would already have eaten me alive. Tonight, the image of Edrice's scandalous dress and haughty smirk floated back to me, and I gnashed my teeth. She belonged here, not me… but I knew the memory came because the Lord wanted me to release her to Him too. He was a God of justice—I knew this, despite how things looked, because of the covenant He had made with my father Abraham. He'd said to him, "Your descendants shall possess the gate of their enemies." The gate was the place of power and influence, was it not?

I had had power and influence over Potiphar's house, relatively speaking. I now already seemed to have the favor of the keeper of the prison. Was that all God's promise had meant for me? Was this the extent of the blessing I could expect upon my life?

No, I told myself emphatically, closing my eyes and deliberately conjuring again the memories of the dreams, now rather faded and possibly distorted with time. I saw again my brothers' sheaves of wheat bowing down to mine, and then the sun, moon and stars bowing to me. The Lord gave me those dreams in advance because He knew I would need them, in addition to what I knew of the covenant to His people in general, to sustain me through this dark period of my life. It would not last forever. It must not. Somehow, somehow—I would be reunited with my brothers and my family again. The Lord would place me in a position of power and influence. How prison was a stepping stone to anything, I certainly did not know. But He was God, and I was not.

"I trust You," I murmured aloud to the Lord. "I forgive my brothers, I forgive Edrice, and I leave their punishment to You. I trust You to bring Your word to pass in my life. Somehow."

I heard nothing back. I wished God would speak to me, the way He had to some of my ancestors, and even to my father Jacob. But I felt the comfort of those stars winking down at me from above, and I knew He saw me and He cared. I was not forgotten.

Over the next days and weeks, I got to know the prisoners as well as Shakir, and learned the business of prison—for business it was. We had finances and shipments from Pharaoh for the upkeep of both prison and prisoners, schedules to manage and enforce, and some of the prisoners also engaged in labor as part of their service. I could see why Shakir had been overwhelmed before. But I applied the management skills I had gained in Potiphar's household to management of the prison, and within the first month, I gained not only Shakir's trust but his admiration and gratitude as well. He often referred to me as a "gift from the gods," though he'd always look a bit abashed after he said it, conscious that he was profiting from my misfortune. When he apologized for the third time after a declaration like this, I finally smiled at him and said, "It is all right. The Lord is with me, and He will repay me for what was stolen."

Shakir blinked, and seemed to want to say something. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He walked away with a puzzled look on his face.

In time, the prisoners and Shakir came to be a sort of makeshift family to me, just as Babu at the other servants had been. I was surprised to wake up one day and realize that I was happy again. Despite all, I found great satisfaction in doing my work well, and in the relationships I had formed with those around me. I genuinely cared about my fellow prisoners. I came to know their stories, and wept for those whose stories were even more tragic than mine. Of course there were a few actual criminals among them, but in short order I won over even them. I rejoiced with those whose sentences were completed or commuted when they returned to freedom, even though I was still imprisoned indefinitely, with no apparent hope of escape. They were perplexed how I could maintain such hope in such a place—so I taught them about the Lord, about the covenant He had made with my fathers.

"That's all very well for you," one of them grumbled at first, "but your god has never spoken to me or my fathers. What hope do I have?"

"It's not about what He's said or hasn't said," I insisted. "Yes, He made a covenant with my fathers to prosper and bless them, but how could I be assured that that blessing would extend to every one of their descendants, including me? Yes, I had two dreams that suggested I would be blessed"—I had told the prisoners the secret of my dreams, in due time—"but those were very obscure, after all. If I wished to doubt their meaning, particularly after all that has happened to me, I certainly could. What assures me is the character of Him who made those promises to my father Abraham. It isn't about what He has done, but about who He is. He told Abraham that through him, every nation of the world would be blessed, not just Abraham's direct descendants. That includes you, too! He is both good and mighty, as well as trustworthy. So yes, I have hope, and always shall have. You can have that same hope, if you want it."

A few months after I had arrived, the prison received two new rather illustrious prisoners from the Pharaoh's own household: his butler and his baker. I felt sorry for them, as they seemed exceedingly upset to have found themselves in such a predicament. We all understood; every one of us, even the guilty ones, went through a period of first denial, then anger, then grief, and ultimately a depressed sort of acceptance when we arrived here. It was even worse for the two of them, as the butler had no idea why he was there at all. The baker's cooking had apparently displeased the capricious Pharaoh one too many times.

"I don't know what I said," the butler moaned to me, his head in his hands. "I don't know what I did…"

I clucked my tongue sympathetically as the baker sat beside him, patting his arm. "One never knows," he murmured, "Pharaoh is like a child."

"Shh!" hissed the butler, horrified. "You must not say things like that?"

The baker gave a short laugh. "Why not? What else is he going to do to me?" He gestured at the bars of their cell; they were currently in the same one, as I had allowed them to comfort one another as they could.

"He could kill us, of course!" the butler hissed back, "the walls have ears, I'm sure!"

"You are as safe as I can make you here," I assured them. "We're all family here, right guys?" I called to the other prisoners. Shouts, claps, and grunts from the other nearby prisoners responded to this, and I flashed a brief grin at the newcomers. "We're here if you need us. Take your time."

It was a few weeks before the butler and baker worked their way through the various stages of acceptance of their new predicament. I marveled as I watched their fellow prisoners commiserate with them in the process, feeling how I'd imagine a proud father might feel as he watches one child comfort another in his distress.

One day after both the baker and butler had adjusted to life in prison, and had grown cheerful for the most part, I noticed an abrupt change. Both of them seemed sad and troubled again, and did not perform their work as efficiently as usual. I frowned.

"What is wrong?" I asked them. "Why do you both seem so sad today?"

The butler said for both of them, "We each have had a dream, and there is no interpreter of it."

The vision of my own dreams to which I had clung for the past many years flashed across my mind as I said, "Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell them to me, please."

The two men exchanged a look, and then the butler ventured, "Behold, in my dream a vine was before me, and in the vine were three branches; it was as though it budded, its blossoms shot forth, and its clusters brought forth ripe grapes. Then Pharaoh's cup was in my hand; and I took the grapes and pressed them into Pharaoh's cup, and placed the cup in Pharaoh's hand."

My heart swelled as he spoke. I understood the dream's meaning, and I also knew, I knew this was to be my salvation as well! "Here's the meaning. The three branches are three days. Within three days, Pharaoh will get you out of here and put you back to your old work—you'll be giving Pharaoh his cup just as you used to do when you were his cupbearer. Only remember me when things are going well with you again—tell Pharaoh about me and get me out of this place. I was kidnapped from the land of the Hebrews. And since I've been here, I've done nothing to deserve being put in the dungeon."

The baker's eyes lit up too, and he declared, "Three days—that will be Pharaoh's birthday! That is often when he commutes sentences…" He turned to me and said eagerly, "Tell me what my dream means too! It went like this: I saw three wicker baskets on my head; the top basket had assorted pastries from the bakery and birds were picking at them from the basket on my head."

I blinked at the baker, and felt my heart sink to my stomach. He saw my expression and his own faltered too. I knew this interpretation at once, also, but wished I did not have to tell him. "This is the interpretation: The three baskets are three days; within three days Pharaoh will hang you from a tree, and the birds will pick your bones clean."

All the color faded from his cheeks, and his mouth fell open. The three of us sat in silence, not even looking at each other. At last I placed a hand on the baker's shoulder, who shrugged it off and hid his face. The butler and I exchanged a sympathetic look.

"Well," the butler said to me in a low tone, "at least we know that you do not hesitate to prophesy good or evil. In three days' time, we shall see."

I nodded, knowing full well what we should see. I reminded the baker, more soberly now, "Do not forget me."

"I won't," he promised.

Three days later it happened just as the Lord had shown me through the dreams. Pharaoh held a feast in honor of his own birthday, and summoned the butler and the baker from the prison in the middle of it. Shakir, who had been at the feast, arrived with guards to escort them. We all watched them go in dead silence. Everyone was nervous for them.

Before they all vanished, I took Shakir by the arm, and asked, "Please return after the feast tonight, no matter how late it is, and tell us all what became of them."

Shakir gave me a strange look. "I thought you already knew."

"I do," I confirmed. "But for the sake of the rest of the prisoners."

He gave me a small nod, and left, last behind the guards.

Around the third watch of the night, Shakir returned again, looking haggard. Most of the prisoners dozed, but lightly. We all roused when we saw his lantern and heard his footsteps. I sat up first.

"Well?"

Shakir sighed. "It was as Joseph predicted," he confirmed. "The butler was restored to the right hand of Pharaoh. The baker…" he shook his head and bowed it. There was a moment of silence. A few of the prisoners swore. One quietly sobbed. We had all grown quite fond of the two men.

Despite my sorrow for the murder of the baker, I could not entirely forget that I now had an ally at the right hand of Pharaoh. I had reminded him several times not to forget me. Surely he wouldn't! Every day I anticipated a retinue of soldiers to come and release me as well. When they did not come after a week, I grew confused.

When they did not come after two weeks, I sank into depression, for the first time since those weeks riding across the desert to Egypt. Even when I'd been thrown into prison, I'd maintained my faith, and bounced back quickly. But now, when I was alone at night, I cried out to God.

"It's been eleven years!" I told Him in a hissing whisper, like He didn't know. "Eleven years!" I panted with rage, until I finally needed an outlet of some kind and pounded my fists against my wall. "Am I ever getting out of here? Did You forget about me? Do you care at all?"

I knew the answers to all of these things by the quiet reproach in my mind as soon as I'd said them. At once, my rage melted away and I crumpled, giving way to tears for the first time in years. I buried my face in my hands and wept, feeling small and vulnerable, like the child I had once been in my mother's lap. She had died giving birth to my brother Benjamin, when I was only eight years old. I conjured her in my mind now, picturing her caresses on my back as I remembered them until I had no more tears left within me. They were followed by first a dull numbness, and then, inexplicably, a sense of peace. I fell asleep to the vision of the sun, moon, and stars bowing down to me once again, a reassurance that despite the apparent setbacks, the Lord had promised. He would fulfill His word.

Over the next few days, I acknowledged to myself that it was the hope of an immediate fulfillment that had set me up for such disappointment; before, when I had placed no timeline on my deliverance, I had been able to thrive regardless of my circumstances. Now that it was clear that the butler had forgotten me, I let go of my expectations and became my old cheerful self again, caring for my inmates and managing them well. The Lord would deliver me when and how He might, but I'd just as soon not know until it happened. I never wanted to go through that again.

Two more years passed before that moment finally came, and it was as abrupt as I could have wished for. I was in my office, calculating income versus expenses for the prison, when the palace guards arrived.

"We are looking for the Hebrew called Joseph," announced the guard.

I frowned. "I am he."

The guard bowed to me—a prisoner. "You have been summoned to the Throne Room by His Majesty, Pharaoh."

My mind went blank. My mouth reacted first.

"May I… be permitted to make myself presentable first?" I gestured at the filthy rags of an inmate I wore, and my long, unkempt beard and hair.

"You may. Come."

A few of the prisoners whose cells were close enough to hear some of the commotion pressed their faces to their bars curiously. Shakir, who had heard the entire interaction, watched me with wide-eyed fear. I knew he was remembering what had happened to the baker. But that made sense—Pharaoh had known and been offended by him. He should have no knowledge of my existence.

Unless… my heart beat faster as the guard led me to the river to bathe, and provided me with a razor, a servant, and a change of clothes. I bathed as quickly as I could, my nervousness only growing as I did so. I did not let my mind imagine, in case this was not what it appeared to be. When I emerged from the water, dried myself and put on the new garments, the servant combed and used the razor to trim my hair and beard before shaving my face clean. When he had finished, he gestured back to the water, inviting me to look at my new self. Tentatively, I did so, though I dreaded the change I might find—the last time I had beheld my own reflection was when I still served in Potiphar's home, three years ago. I feared that my ordeal in the prison might have aged me ten years or more.

I blinked at the man who peered down at me, and swallowed hard, raising my hands to my own chin gingerly. I had not been clean shaven since I was a boy; the face I saw therefore looked significantly younger than the one I remembered. I might have been a teenager again, though I had turned thirty this year.

The guard, who had waited for my transformation, now stepped forward and beckoned me.

"Pharaoh is not a patient man. Come," he said, and I followed.

The whole thing felt incredibly surreal, as I crossed the threshold of the enormous vestibule of the palace. Potiphar's house had been a shack by comparison. The marble pillars held up a ceiling so high it might have been the sky. Colorful mosaics lined the floors, and intricate paintings of great exploits decorated the walls. The opulence astounded me; I could not stop staring, even though I kept pace with the guard.

In the throne room were four men dressed in Egyptian finery. Three were gray haired and weathered. The fourth stood at a window with his arms clasped behind him, his forearms adorned with thick gold bracelets. He alone of the four wore a geometric headdress, his tunic bedecked with purples and golds, complete with a gold sash. He turned as we entered, and I saw Pharaoh's face for the first time. He had the swarthy, coppery skin of all of the Egyptians, his black beard close-cropped. I saw that he was not much older than I was. He might have even been younger.

"Joseph the Hebrew prisoner, Your Majesty," bowed the guard, and backed away, leaving Pharaoh and me to face one another alone. The other three—advisors? servants?—stood at a respectful distance, but close enough to hear. Pharaoh regarded me with an expression I could not read. I knew nothing of the etiquette; should I speak first or wait for him to address me? Should I bow? Surely I should bow. I had just made up my mind to do this and started, when Pharaoh abruptly began.

"I dreamed a dream," he announced. "Nobody can interpret it. But I've heard that just by hearing a dream you can interpret it."

This is it, I realized in dazed wonder. This is really it.

I found my tongue. "Not I, but God. God will set Pharaoh's mind at ease."

Pharaoh searched my face. Something about my answer gave him pause. Then he went on, "In my dream I was standing on the bank of the Nile. Seven cows, shimmering with health, came up out of the river and grazed on the marsh grass. On their heels seven more cows, all skin and bones, came up. I've never seen uglier cows anywhere in Egypt. Then the seven skinny, ugly cows ate up the first seven healthy cows. But you couldn't tell by looking—after eating them up they were just as skinny and ugly as before. Then I woke up.

"In my second dream I saw seven ears of grain, full-bodied and lush, growing out of a single stalk, and right behind them, seven other ears, shriveled, thin, and dried out by the east wind. And the thin ears swallowed up the full ears. I've told all this to the magicians but they cannot tell me what the dreams mean."

My mind whirred with images and understanding as Pharaoh spoke, as clearly as if there had been no parable at all. The second dream overlay the first in my mind, making me even more certain that my interpretation of the first had been correct.

Thank you, Lord, I prayed silently. To Pharaoh, I said, "Pharaoh's two dreams both mean the same thing. God is telling Pharaoh what he is going to do. The seven healthy cows are seven years and the seven healthy ears of grain are seven years—they're the same dream. The seven sick and ugly cows that followed them up are seven years and the seven scrawny ears of grain dried out by the east wind are the same—seven years of famine.

"The meaning is what I said earlier: God is letting Pharaoh in on what he is going to do. Seven years of plenty are on their way throughout Egypt. But on their heels will come seven years of famine, leaving no trace of the Egyptian plenty. As the country is emptied by famine, there won't be even a scrap left of the previous plenty—the famine will be total. The fact that Pharaoh dreamed the same dream twice emphasizes God's determination to do this and do it soon.

"So, Pharaoh needs to look for a wise and experienced man and put him in charge of the country. Then Pharaoh needs to appoint managers throughout the country of Egypt to organize it during the years of plenty. Their job will be to collect all the food produced in the good years ahead and stockpile the grain under Pharaoh's authority, storing it in the towns for food. This grain will be held back to be used later during the seven years of famine that are coming on Egypt. This way the country won't be devastated by the famine."

I had watched the transformation in Pharaoh's face as I spoke. His hard features softened, his eyes widened, and I could see that the Lord had confirmed my words to him. He withdrew to consult with his advisors in low tones that I could not hear—yet I could hardly suppress the smile that stretched across my lips.

Pharaoh returned to me, his advisors right behind him this time.

"You shall be the one in charge of all you propose. No one is as qualified as you in experience and wisdom. From now on, you're in charge of my affairs; all my people will report to you. Only as king will I be over you. I'm putting you in charge of the entire country of Egypt."

I stared at him, my mind blank. I had expected that he would believe me; that he would favor me; even that I would never return to prison. But… what had he just said?

His next actions confirmed it: he took a signet ring off of his own hand, took my own hand, and placed it upon my finger. Behind me, servants I had not seen enter the room draped my shoulders with a fine linen garment, and my neck with a gold chain. As they did all this, Pharaoh went on, "I am Pharaoh, but no one in Egypt will make a single move without your approval. We must do something about your Hebrew name, though. Henceforth, you shall be known as Zaphenath-Paneah." I bit my lip to keep the surge of tears at bay—the new name meant in Egyptian, God Speaks and He Lives. I met Pharaoh's eyes, and to my utter amazement, I found him smiling at me fondly, like we were almost peers. More than that—like we were kin.

This man just met me! How—

I am restoring all that was stolen from you, the Lord whispered to my heart. Sevenfold.

I found myself ushered along with Pharaoh's servants like a tide sweeping out to sea. The day played out like a dream: they helped me into Pharaoh's second chariot, and rode me around Egypt, introducing me to the people of the land by shouting before me, "Bow the knee! Bow the knee to Zaphenath-Paneah, second in command of all of Egypt!"

I expected to wake the next morning back in prison. It took me several confused moments to remember what had happened when I saw the luxurious bed with linen curtains, and the window with a view of all of Egypt, through which the early morning sunlight streamed in. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and sat up to see servants bustling about in a corner of the enormous room, laying out my breakfast. One of them looked up and said, "Ah, my lord is awake." He brought the food over to my bed, and then beckoned to someone outside the room. One of the advisors I had seen with Pharaoh in my encounter with him yesterday approached and bowed, introducing himself as Lateef.

"My lord Zaphenath-Paneah," he began. "We have much to discuss. Would you prefer to eat in silence and seek me after, or—"

"No, no, Lateef, please." I gestured to a chair by the window. Lateef accepted it and seated himself as I ate. He then proceeded to tell me all of the plans Pharaoh had discussed with them on my behalf while I was riding around the city in Pharaoh's second chariot: where I was to live, who I was to marry (marry? I thought in amazement), and how I was to begin to implement the recommendations I had made to Pharaoh regarding the collection of grain. He rattled off the names of master builders they had already recruited to build both my home—to be constructed on land adjacent to the palace—and the massive storage facilities they would need to store up dried grain. Lateef was here to ask my preferences on the architecture and building materials for my home. Would I like essentially a miniature palace? Would I like a pool indoors and open to the sky, for bathing and recreation? Would I like my bedroom to face east or west? Did I prefer mosaics or simpler flooring and walls?

All the questions made my head spin. I had been merely a servant in Potiphar's house, and now my own home would be many times as grand as his. I weakly indicated that I trusted the master architects' tastes and would be extremely gratified by whatever they chose. Lateef gave a short nod to this. Then he announced, "Pharaoh also hopes that my lord will be pleased to take Asenath to wife: she is the daughter of Poti-Pherah, priest of On."

I had heard about the Egyptian god On, of course; he was one of many Egyptian gods. I had a brief flash of concern that my wife would worship another god, but then I realized, what alternative did I have? The same would be true of any woman in Egypt. At least they were polytheists, and therefore would not object to my worship of the one true God. And, given the new name Pharaoh had bestowed upon me of God Speaks and He Lives, the same appeared to be true of Egyptians in general.

"I would be most honored," I told Lateef.

He beamed. "Splendid. We shall arrange the wedding to coincide with the completion of your house, so that you may have a home for your bride."

Pharaoh recruited so many workers to construct my home and storage facility that both were completed within a few months. During that time, I met and courted Asenath, and was dazzled by her. Pharaoh had clearly selected her for me not only because of her pedigree, but also for her own merits. Beautiful, accomplished, and demure, she was one of the most highly sought women in the land. I was pleased to find that she was also very intelligent when I gave her the opportunity to engage with me on matters of state, and at least did not object to my worship of the Lord. I would hope for more than mere acquiescence to Him in time.

I otherwise spent my days touring the land of Egypt, observing the abundance of the land, collecting and drying, pickling, salting, smoking, or fermenting one fifth of the produce of the land. Until my granaries were completed, I stored what I could, where I could, but I had designated store houses before long.

One day on these tours, I caught sight of my old master, Potiphar. He saw me too. After a moment's hesitation, he bowed, his expression like stone. I approached him alone, motioning for some of my servants who usually moved with me to remain behind. I did not know what I would say until we stood face to face.

"Zapthnath-Paaneah," Potiphar growled my new name pointedly. "Tell me, does Pharaoh know your true identity, Joseph the adulterous Hebrew slave-turned-prisoner?"

I searched Potiphar's face. "I believe you know, deep down, that I never betrayed you, and never would have done. As I told you at the time, it was your wife who attempted to seduce me, and left me no choice but to run. She accused me because I jilted her." I watched as Potiphar's face turned red with suppressed rage, and he balled his fists at his sides. But as I was now second in command over Egypt, he would not dare assault me. "Your own heart tells you this is true," I went on, "in fact, you suspected her of infidelity long before I came to your house, I believe. I advise you to stop misdirecting your anger and confront her. In the meantime, whether you come to see this or not, I forgive you for what you did to me."

His mouth fell open, and he gave a short, affronted laugh. "You… forgive me?"

"Yes," I nodded, "because there is nothing you, or even Edrice, could ever do to me that the Lord would not ultimately use for my good. And whatever you think of my forgiveness now, when you finally admit the truth to yourself, you will be glad of it."

Before he had a chance to reply, I turned around and returned to my chariot, without looking back.

Once my home was completed, Asenath and I married, and her father Poti-Pherah presided over the ceremony. The whole of Egypt was invited to participate in the feast, during those years of great abundance. I was grateful once again that my experience with Asenath was not tainted by guilty flashbacks to a sordid experience with Edrice.

Years passed, and the sharp tang of painful memories faded in light of my newfound blessings and abundance. Asenath bore me two sons in those plentiful years, Manasseh and Ephraim. Toward the end of the seven years of plenty, very occasional moments of doubt plagued me. What if the time of plenty continued, when I had achieved my position only because I had predicted seven years of famine? All of Egypt, and Pharaoh himself, would call me a false prophet…

But I stopped those thoughts before I could fret more than a few moments about them. It wasn't, of course, that I wanted draught and famine—but the Lord had shown me that it would occur for a reason. He had never misled me before. Pharaoh had two dreams, each depicting the same thing. It was not in doubt.

The first few months of the eighth year indeed produced an abrupt change. By the third month of that year, the people began to cry out to Pharaoh for food, and Pharaoh sent them to me. I had previously been busy in a leisurely sort of way; now I found myself called upon day and night by citizens desperate to feed their families. Within a few months, it was not just Egyptians who came to see me; word had spread far and wide that there was food in Egypt, and many surrounding nations came to purchase it.

Then one day, I sat on a grand elevated chair at the top of a dais outside the central granary, and scanned the line of supplicants waiting to speak to me after I had dismissed the last one laden with purchased grain. My eyes fell upon a group of ten men dressed in Hebrew tunics, and I caught my breath.

I steeled my expression so as not to give anything away, standing as they approached. I could tell that they did not recognize me. A lump rose in my throat as they bowed before me, the granary of wheat behind me. I had a flash of my first dream: eleven sheaves of wheat bowing to mine.

Here it was. The fulfillment, over twenty years later. Almost… there were only ten of them. Where was Benjamin?

I prayed silently, and with a flash of insight I knew that now was not the moment to reveal myself. I forgave them long ago, but had they changed? Or were they still the same evil men who had first plotted to kill their brother, and then sold him into slavery? I wanted to know. I needed them to volunteer information about themselves, and I could think of only one way to do this: put them on the defense.

So I pretended not to recognize them either, or to understand their language. I spoke to them through the interpreter at my side, asking in Egyptian, "Where do you come from?"

My brother Reuben, always their spokesperson, stepped forward and answered in Hebrew, "From the land of Canaan. We have come to buy food."

I narrowed my eyes at them. "You are spies!" I pronounced, "You've come to look for Egypt's weaknesses."

I could feel the strange look from my interpreter as he translated my message, but I ignored him, watching my brothers' responses.

Issachar spoke up next. "We've only come to buy food. We're all the sons of the same man; we're honest men; we'd never think of spying."

I snarled, "No. You're spies. You've come to look for our weaknesses!"

I watched them all exchange helpless looks with one another. Then Reuben spoke up again. "There were twelve of us brothers—sons of the same father in the country of Canaan. The youngest is with our father, and one is no more."

I swallowed this reference to myself without flinching. So they'd told others I was dead after all. I said, "It's just as I said, you're spies. This is how I'll test you. As Pharaoh lives, you're not going to leave this place until your youngest brother comes here. Send one of you to get your brother while the rest of you stay here in jail. We'll see if you're telling the truth or not. As Pharaoh lives, I say you're spies."

Their eyes widened, and I gestured to several of my guards to surround them, as they all loudly protested and struggled. It didn't matter; ten though they were, they were no match for Egyptian guards.

"Take them to the dungeon overseen by Shakir," I said with a wave of my hand, and did not look back, attending to the next in line.

I knew that Shakir would treat them kindly, even without knowing who they were to me. He could not do otherwise. But I wanted them desperate enough to do as I asked. I also admit, I wanted them to feel just the tiniest bit of what they had done to me—not to get even (three days could never do that), but to spark a bit of empathy when they finally learned the truth. After all, they did not know what kind of a man I was, or what I might do to them next. They were at my mercy, just as I had been at the mercy of Potiphar and Shakir.

I slept very little those three days. It took all the will I had not to run to the prison each day and reveal myself. At last on the third day I went with my Hebrew translator, pausing at the threshold in a strange moment of deja vu—it was the first time I had set foot in the dungeon since Pharaoh had summoned me, now nine years ago. I had seen Shakir in those years, but only in my official capacity as a supplier of grain to the prison, and at my wedding. Shakir saw me first, and bowed low.

"My lord Zaphnath-Paaneah," he said, with just the tiniest smirk in his voice.

I gestured to my translator, "Go on inside, I shall meet you there." Then I pulled Shakir outside and closed the door behind him, so that none of the prisoners could hear us. He beamed and I embraced him.

"It's good to see you, Shakir."

"Joseph!" he whispered, and then reproached me, "You never come to see us anymore!"

"I've been busy," I confessed with a shrug and a smile. "But I've missed you."

"Sure, sure you have…"

"How are the men I sent to you three days ago?"

He shrugged. "About like all new prisoners. Angry, terrified. I put them all in one cell. They've come to blows with each other a few times."

I sighed, running a hand across my face. "Listen, are there still any prisoners in there who might remember me and call me by name?"

"A few. Amon and Gamal. And Horos too. Why?" he regarded me curiously.

"I can't explain right now, but I don't want the new prisoners to know my Hebrew name. Can you go in and tell Amon, Gamal, and Horos to act like they've never met me before?"

A spark of understanding lit Shakir's face as he put it together. "Those men are Hebrew too… you knew them, didn't you?" Then his eyes widened. "They're not…" he let the question trail off, and gasped as I nodded.

"They are. But tell no one."

Shakir cackled, and clapped his hands together in his mirth. "They're the brothers who sold you! Oh, this is rich… are you going to have them executed, then?"

"No!" I said at once. "I'm just trying to get them to apologize!"

His glee melted into confusion. "Apologize?" he said, like he'd never heard the word before. "For ten years as a slave and three as a prisoner… you want them to… apologize."

"Yes!" I hissed. "And I want them to bring my other brother, the only one who didn't betray me. And to tell me what's become of my father. Will you help me?"

Shakir blinked at me, and shook his head. "I guess… if that's really all you want. I'd hang them if were you, but it's your call, of course." He went back inside to tell the three remaining prisoners to pretend I was a stranger, and then poked his head back outside and whispered, "All right, all clear."

I met the eyes of the other prisoners, all of whom bowed and murmured my Egyptian name. I flashed a smile at Amon, Gamal, and Horos, but I needn't have worried: they all gazed at me with disbelief and reverence, either awed by my current position even though they knew me, or else they were much better actors than I'd expected.

I approached the cell Shakir led me to, though I'd have known the one anyway: it was the only cell large enough for ten men. They looked haggard, sleepless, and a few of them seemed listless. The translator waited for me and came to my side. When my brothers saw me approach, half of them jumped to their feet, and alerted the other half with swift nudges and kicks to do the same. I gave them a curt nod.

"Do this and you'll live," I said abruptly. "I'm a God-fearing man. If you're as honest as you say you are, one of your brothers will stay here in jail while the rest of you take the food back to your hungry families. Bring your youngest brother back to me, confirming the truth of your speech, and not one of you will die." The translator repeated my words in Hebrew, and the brothers turned and whispered to one another, also in Hebrew, unaware that I understood them.

"Now we're paying for what we did to our brother—we saw how terrified he was when he was begging us for mercy," hissed Dan. "We wouldn't listen to him and now we're the ones in trouble."

"Didn't I tell you, 'Don't hurt the boy'?" Reuben cut in. "But no, you wouldn't listen. And now we're paying for his murder."

A lump sprang to my throat, and I turned abruptly away, beating a path to the office-cell that was once my own just in time to hide my tears. I buried my face in my hands and wept.

They truly believed I was dead! Perhaps they thought I had died in the slave caravan, or that my master had beaten me to death. Such a thing was far from unheard of. At least I knew one thing: their consciences still smote them for what they had done. Was that enough? Should I reveal myself now?

Not yet, I thought, with a flash of my second dream. In it, the sun, moon, and eleven stars bowed to me. That would have to represent Benjamin, my father, and my stepmother, in addition to the ten brothers who were here already. This could not yet be the end of the story.

When I had composed myself again, I returned, assuming the character once again of their Egyptian overlord.

"Well? Have you chosen who will remain behind, while the rest of you return and bring your youngest brother?"

Reuben began to step forward, but Simeon placed a hand on his shoulder, and stepped forward in his place.

"I shall stay," he offered. "Let my brothers return to Canaan."

I gave a quick nod, and Shakir opened the cell, and handed me a length of rope. I made a show of binding Simeon's wrists together, and gestured for the other nine to leave the cell. Many of them did not even cast Simeon a backward glance, I noted, and frowned inwardly. Maybe they weren't yet so different as I had hoped. I would have to prod them to repentance a little harder.

I sent word on ahead to the granary to fill the sacks of the nine Hebrew brothers with grain, and to likewise place the money they had brought to pay for it back with each brother's sack, along with provisions for the several week journey back to the land of Canaan—but I told the servants strictly to make sure they did not tell the brothers that their money had been returned to them. I knew this order would raise eyebrows also, but no one but Pharaoh himself could contradict my orders, and he did not bother himself about such matters.

Nearly six months I waited. I knew there would be some delay, as I had sent my brothers with grain to last about that long. I did not dare visit Simeon in the prison during those months, though I sent word to Shakir on a regular basis to ask how he fared.

Toward the end of those months, though, I began to look for my brothers in my grain line every day. Then, one day, I saw them—with Benjamin! I caught my breath as I saw my brother's face as a grown man for the first time. He was young of course, and while the other nine looked fidgety and nervous, I could only describe Benjamin's expression as excited. He gazed around Egypt in wide-eyed wonder, and his expression reminded me forcefully of Ephraim's, my youngest, as he discovered the world for the first time. I could hardly wait to introduce Manasseh and Ephraim to their uncle.

Before they could reach the front of the line, I beckoned one of my servants to my side and pointed them out. "Take these men into my house and make them at home. Butcher an animal and prepare a meal; these men are going to eat with me at noon."

The servant gave a swift nod and made his way down the dais to where my brothers waited their turn. I smothered a laugh as I watched Reuben and Issachar startle upon being addressed. I hardly attended to the man and his wife who were speaking to me; most of my attention was focused upon my brothers' anxious expressions as the servant led them away. I suspected what they must be thinking: this was a set up. I thought they'd stolen the money they had brought to pay for grain the first time, and I was trying to lull them into complacency, before accusing them of theft and taking them all as slaves.

Asenath would know who they were of course—I'd told her six months ago, and she'd listened to me agonize nightly over when I would at last see them again. She wouldn't know they were coming to dine today, but when she saw the strange Hebrew men and noted their number, she'd figure it out. I knew I could count on her to maintain the charade as long as I chose.

I finished with the couple before me, and beckoned another servant over, gesturing with my eyes in the direction of my brothers. "Send word to my steward," I murmured, "and if those men say anything about finding their money in their sacks the last time they came, assure them that we received their payment in full, and not to worry themselves. And please also fetch their brother from the prison and bring him to them as well."

My servant bowed and did as I bid him.

I paid little attention to the rest of the queue until noon, only half listening to their stories and pleas, sometimes accidentally cutting them off as I signaled for the servants to bring them grain. At last, word came that the feast had been prepared, and I leapt to my feet in relief, hurrying toward my home, where I knew my brothers waited. I entered through the back, and Asenath met me with a quizzical look on her face, dandling Ephraim on her hip. I gave her a quick kiss, and nodded, in response to all the questions on her face. Before she could ask me anything else, I washed my hands and feet, and made my way into the main dining space where my brothers stood waiting awkwardly. When I entered, as one, they all bowed to me, each man offering the present of coins he had brought back with him. Once again, I saw the stars from my second dream—all eleven of them this time. I took a moment to steady myself as my brothers straightened again. Then I cleared my throat.

"Are you all still well since last we met?"

They all assented that they were, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"How is your father, the old man of whom you spoke? Is he still alive?"

Reuben spoke for them. "Yes—your servant our father is quite well, very much alive." He initiated a second bow, and the rest of them followed suit.

When they straightened again, at last I looked at the youngest of them. "And is this your youngest brother that you told me about?" Benjamin lifted his chin to me, and my voice came out thick. "God be gracious to you, my son." All I wanted to do was to embrace my only full-blooded brother, but of course I could not do this without revealing myself. So instead, I turned abruptly and left the room. I was sure this confused my brothers, but I barely made it into my sleeping chamber as it was before I broke down and cried. I remained there until I managed to compose myself, probably ten minutes or so. Then I splashed my face with water to hide the evidence of my tears, made my expression as impassive as I could, and returned to the dining room. I felt my brothers' curious stares, but I could offer no explanation. I glanced at Asenath, whose smile was fixed in place, and announced to the servants, "Serve the meal, please."

The servants began to do so, setting places for each of our guests as well as for myself and for the Egyptians in my service. I pulled one of them aside and whispered that the last place should receive a serving five times larger than that of anyone else. If he wondered at this, he did not show it, but nodded once. As the servants set the places, I directed each of my brothers to their places, beginning with Reuben at the head of the table, and then I seated my brothers in descending order of age, setting Benjamin in the last place with the largest serving. I watched them glancing at one another in astonishment at what they took to be a remarkable coincidence, and smiled inwardly. I intended to give them a hint, hoping they might start to piece together the truth on their own.

The wine flowed, acting as the social lubricant we all needed. Even Simeon, after his long imprisonment, luxurious though I knew it was by prison standards, loosened up and began to tell stories from back home of the years I had missed. I caught Benjamin sneaking curious glances at me more than once. Did he recognize me at all, I wondered? Did he notice that we both had our mother's eyes, and her cheekbones?

When the meal ended, my brothers were in no condition to begin their journey home. I urged them to remain the rest of the day and set out in the morning. That night, I sought my steward.

"Fill the men's bags with food—all they can carry—and replace each one's money at the top of the bag," I told him. "Then put my chalice, my silver chalice, in the top of the bag of the youngest, along with the money for his food."

I caught the steward's confused look, but he did not question me. He did as I requested.

When morning dawned, I purposely lingered in bed, though I hardly slept that night. I heard the shuffling in the house of my brothers rising to begin their journeys. I waited until the house was silent, and then waited a little longer still.

Asenath was awake beside me, too—she propped her head up on her hand, narrowed her pretty dark eyes at me, and demanded, "How long are you going to let this go on before you tell them?"

I met her gaze, and shook my head. "As long as it takes, I suppose."

"To achieve what, precisely?" she challenged. "They can't apologize to you without knowing who you are. You already overheard them lamenting what they did to you. You saw your brother Benjamin. What else are you waiting for?"

I bit my lip. "I just want to know that they've changed."

"How do you plan to determine that?"

The corners of my mouth curled. "Watch." I rose, and called my steward in to our chamber as Asenath wrapped herself in silks. My steward appeared at the doorway and bowed.

"Run after the men who just left," I told him. "When you catch up with them, say, 'Why did you pay me back evil for good? You stole the chalice my master drinks from; he also uses it for divination. This is outrageous!'"

I again caught the fleeting look of confusion on the steward's face, but he bowed again, and turned to carry out my orders. I turned back to Asenath with a grin on my face.

"So you're just torturing them a little more, is that it?"

My grin faded. "No," I protested, a little hurt that she would so misconstrue my motives. "Don't you see? If my father is still alive, the only reason he would have kept Benjamin at home the first time my brothers made their journey must be because he favors him the way he once favored me. That was why my brothers hated me: they were jealous. Twenty years ago, if I were framed and endangered, my brothers would have abandoned me to the mercy of the Egyptian overlord and saved their own skins in a heartbeat—obviously. They did even worse than that. Now I've recreated a similar situation: Benjamin is suddenly the one in peril. Will they abandon him to his fate, too?"

Asenath searched my face. "What if they do?" she asked quietly. "What will you do then?"

I sighed. "Never trust them again, certainly. But I haven't thought that far. I'm still hopeful they will prove to me that they are not the men they were."

I splashed my face, dressed, and waited until I heard the commotion outside indicating that my steward had returned with my brothers. I affixed my face with my most stern, imperious look, and went out to meet them. They all came back, that was something. Also, I noted the torn clothing, the haggard expressions, as they fell prostrate before me.

"How can you have done this?" I demanded of them. "You have to know that a man in my position would have discovered this."

My brother Judah spoke first. "What can we say, master? What is there to say? How can we prove our innocence? God is behind this, exposing how bad we are. We stand guilty before you and ready to be your slaves—we're all in this together, the rest of us as guilty as the one with the chalice."

I kept my expression impassive, but inwardly my heart leapt. They were all willing to take the fall together—was that not evidence of changed hearts? But I decided to push it further, just to be sure.

"No, only the one involved with the chalice will be my slave," I declared. "The rest of you are free to go back to your father."

My brothers all exchanged another anguished look, and Judah ventured for all of them, "Please, master; can I say just one thing to you? Don't get angry. Don't think I'm presumptuous—you're the same as Pharaoh as far as I'm concerned. You, master, asked us, 'Do you have a father and a brother?' And we answered honestly, 'We have a father who is old and a younger brother who was born to him in his old age. His brother is dead and he is the only son left from that mother. And his father loves him more than anything.' Then you told us, 'Bring him down here so I can see him.' We told you, master, that it was impossible: 'The boy can't leave his father; if he leaves, his father will die.' And then you said, 'If your youngest brother doesn't come with you, you won't be allowed to see me.' When we returned to our father, we told him everything you said to us. So when our father said, 'Go back and buy some more food,' we told him flatly, 'We can't. The only way we can go back is if our youngest brother is with us. We aren't allowed to even see the man if our youngest brother doesn't come with us.' Your servant, my father, told us, 'You know very well that my wife gave me two sons. One turned up missing. I concluded that he'd been ripped to pieces. I've never seen him since. If you now go and take this one and something bad happens to him, you'll put my old gray, grieving head in the grave.'"

My heart dropped to my stomach. This was the first time I had heard what my father believed had happened to me. Of course—I knew they believed that I had died, but they told him I had been devoured by wild animals all those years ago! My poor father…

Judah went on, "And now, if I show up before your servant, my father, without the boy, this son with whom his life is so bound up, the moment he realizes the boy is gone, he'll die on the spot. He'll die of grief and we, your servants who are standing here before you, will have killed him. And that's not all. I got my father to release the boy to show him to you by promising, 'If I don't bring him back, I'll stand condemned before you, Father, all my life.' So let me stay here as your slave, not this boy. Let the boy go back with his brothers. How can I go back to my father if the boy is not with me? Oh, don't make me go back and watch my father die in grief!"

As Judah spoke, my heart swelled as if it might burst out of my chest, until at last I could stand it no more. I turned to my steward and all the curious attending servants, and shouted, "Leave! Clear out—everyone leave!"

They scurried to do as I asked, and even Asenath gave me a significant look before she too left the room. My brothers looked stunned and terrified; Judah still groveled at my feet.

"I am Joseph!" I burst out at last, dropping to my knees where Judah lay. "Your brother, Joseph! Is my father really still alive?"

I didn't know what I expected at this pronouncement, but my words were met with utter silence. No one so much as moved. I remained on my knees, and said, "Come closer to me, please." It took a moment for them to obey, but at last they shuffled forward. I presented my face for their inspection, insisting, "I am Joseph, your brother, whom you sold into Egypt. But God was behind it. God sent me here ahead of you to save lives. There has been a famine in the land now for two years; the famine will continue for five more years. God sent me on ahead to pave the way and make sure there was a remnant in the land, to save your lives. So you see, it wasn't you who sent me here, but God. He set me in place as a father to Pharaoh, put me in charge of his personal affairs, and made me ruler of all Egypt. Hurry back to my father! Tell him, 'Your son Joseph says: I'm master of all of Egypt. Come as fast as you can and join me here. I'll give you a place to live in Goshen where you'll be close to me—you, your children, your grandchildren, your flocks, your herds, and anything else you can think of. I'll take care of you there completely. There are still five more years of famine ahead; I'll make sure all your needs are taken care of, you and everyone connected with you—you won't want for a thing.'"

I could tell they were beginning to believe, and pressed them, "Look at me. You can see for yourselves, and my brother Benjamin can see for himself, that it's me, my own mouth, telling you all this. Tell my father all about the high position I hold in Egypt, tell him everything you've seen here."

Benjamin's eyes widened at last, with a look of recognition on his face.

"Joseph?" he whispered, and for a flash, I saw the little boy of nine I remembered from all those years ago. He reached out a tentative hand toward my face, and that was all the incentive I needed. I reached out and embraced him, and he me, our tears intermingling as they flowed down both our cheeks. I held Benjamin this way a long time, but them I embraced all of my other brothers as well.

For the rest of that day, I delegated grain distribution to other servants so that I could spend time with my brothers, at last with no secrets between us.

Word reached Pharaoh that my brothers had come to Egypt. I had never told Pharaoh the story of how I had come to be in Egypt, so he held no animosity on my behalf, but was pleased for me. He summoned me to the throne room, and when I appeared and bowed before him, he told me, "Tell your brothers, 'Load up your pack animals; go to Canaan, get your father and your families and bring them back here. I'll settle you on the best land in Egypt—you'll live off the fat of the land.' Also tell them this: 'Here's what I want you to do: Take wagons from Egypt to carry your little ones and your wives and load up your father and come back. Don't worry about having to leave things behind; the best in all of Egypt will be yours.'"

I grinned at Pharaoh and thanked him profusely for his kindness to my kin, and hurried back to my brothers. I helped them gather provisions for their journey, including a new tunic for each of them, but five for Benjamin, as well as three hundred pieces of silver. Then I loaded up ten additional donkeys with spices and silks, and ten more with grain, bread, and food for their return trip to Egypt.

The complete fulfillment of my second dream did not occur until a little over a month later. My brothers went to Canaan and returned in a large caravan with their families, their belongings—and my father.

I had imagined that moment so many times. In my mind, each year I aged my father a little more, and so though he looked so much older that I hardly recognized him from my memories, his appearance did not surprise me. I was just so grateful that he was still alive, and that I got to embrace him once more. I held him and he held me, and we wept together for some time. At last he pulled back to gaze at me, taking my face in both of his hands.

"I am ready to die a happy man," he whispered, "since I have seen your face. You are still alive!"

"I am," I agreed, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "As are you." I touched my forehead to his, and breathed a contented sigh.

At long, long last, I understood. What my brothers meant for evil, God used for not only my ultimate blessing, but also to bring about fulfillment of His covenant to our father Abraham—despite the circumstances which otherwise might have destroyed us.

It would have been nice if You'd told me all that while I was still a slave and a prisoner, I reproached the Lord.

But then, hadn't He? Why else would He have given me those dreams so many years ago? He had shown me the end from the beginning. He had shown me this moment all those years ago, and in doing so, it had served as both as the incident that occasioned my long and circuitous journey, and also as the encouragement I needed to cling to hope along the way.

I'd imagine the most difficult time in Joseph's entire journey came after the baker's execution, and the butler's return to the right hand of Pharaoh. Joseph expected the butler to say something on his behalf (Genesis 40:14), which leads me to believe that Joseph hoped this would be the moment of deliverance. But the butler forgot Joseph for two more years (Genesis 40:23, 41:1). Hope deferred makes the heart sick (Proverbs 13:12), and this was the first time we have a clear indication that Joseph expected his circumstances to eminently change. It's one thing to remain faithful while expecting deliverance sometime in the unspecified future; it's another to expect it every moment, and to suffer continual disappointment. Many would have given up at this point. We're not told how Joseph dealt with such a blow. Yet God is not a man that He should change His mind (1 Samuel 15:29). He had given Joseph two dreams, not one—and Joseph himself later told Pharaoh that "the dream was repeated to Pharaoh twice because the thing is established by God, and God will shortly bring it to pass" (Genesis 41:32). Joseph must have known that this principle applied to himself also.

When the reversal finally came, it was very sudden, and it did indeed come from the butler, though much later than Joseph had expected. One day Pharaoh simply sent for Joseph. He paused long enough to make himself presentable (Genesis 41:14), and then, within the space of mere hours, he went from the dungeon to the palace. In a few hours more, he was suddenly second in command of all of Egypt! This must have made his head spin—Pharaoh did not even know Joseph, yet he immediately placed him in a position of power second only to himself. What incredible favor (Psalm 5:12)!

At this point Joseph was set up to see the fulfillment of his dreams, but it had not yet come to pass. I imagine by this point he had an idea of how it would look, as he gathered and stored grain, and then a few years into the famine, he began to distribute grain to those who came from surrounding nations. It makes sense that Joseph's brothers would not have recognized him after all this time: for one thing, he was seventeen when they had sold him, and he would have been about thirty-nine when they saw him again. He would have changed quite a bit. For another, he was way out of context—they certainly would not have expected to find him a ruler of Egypt. He also certainly would have spoken Egyptian like a native. They, on the other hand, would not have changed nearly as much as he had, as they were all fully grown men when they had sold him. They were also all together, dressed in their usual attire, and exactly where he would have expected to see them. Joseph had all the advantages.

If Joseph truly forgave them for their treachery, why didn't he just reveal his identity to them at once, rather than putting them through such trials beforehand? I suspect there were several reasons. First, when ten brothers appeared before him, he knew this was not yet the fulfillment of his first dream, which had shown all eleven brothers bowing down. Benjamin was still at home. He also longed to see his only full-blooded brother, and the only one who had not been part of the plot against him. In his second dream, the sun and moon also bowed to Joseph, which he had interpreted as his father and mother. Rachel had died before Joseph was ever sold, though, so this must have been Leah, his father's other wife. Still, when Joseph saw his brothers alone, even once they brought Benjamin, it still was not the complete fulfillment. He'd waited long enough, and he wanted the whole thing.

But I suspect there was another reason too. While our forgiveness cannot be contingent upon the other person's repentance, of course Joseph longed to know that they did repent; otherwise there could have been no true restoration of relationship. They would have bowed to him in fear, had he revealed himself to them at once, but Joseph did not want his brothers to fear him (Genesis 50:19); he wanted his family back. I wonder if he also hoped they might guess his identity on their own, when he returned their money to them (Genesis 43:23), and then when he seated them in their birth order, and also ate with them when Egyptians considered it an abomination to eat with Hebrews (Genesis 43:32-34). It also should have been a clue when Benjamin's portion was five times as much as the rest of the brothers' at mealtime. Meanwhile, he learned, as he tested them, that they regretted what they had done to him (Genesis 42:21-24), and that they had learned their lesson when they refused to treat his brother Benjamin as they had treated him (Genesis 44:13-34). This was apparently what he waited to learn, as he revealed himself immediately afterwards.

How must it have gone when the brothers had to tell Israel their father that Joseph, whom they had told him died at the hands of a wild animal all those years before, was in fact alive and ruling Egypt? He did not believe them at first (Genesis 45:26). How could they explain without admitting to what they had done?

Even when the brothers accepted Joseph's identity and his provision for them and their families, they still thought that he secretly longed for revenge and it was only their father that prevented him from harming them (Genesis 50:15-17). I love what Joseph says to them: "You meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive" (Genesis 50:20). Thousands of years later, Paul would say it this way: "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, and to those who are the called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28). God certainly did not cause Joseph's brothers' hatred. He did not make them sell Joseph into slavery. He did not make Potiphar's wife falsely accuse Joseph. But He used the free will choices of evil people in order to bring about His good purposes—not just for Joseph, not even just for Joseph's family and the budding nation of Israel, but for all of the surrounding nations as well.

Joseph understood how all of this fit into the larger context of God's covenant with Abraham's descendants. God had told Abraham, "Know certainly that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, and will serve them, and they will afflict them four hundred years, And also the nation whom they serve I will judge; afterward they shall come out with great possessions… But in the fourth generation they shall return here, for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete" (Genesis 15:13-16). Joseph knew the Israelites would one day return to the land of Canaan, and in fact he made their children swear that they would carry his bones with them when they went (Genesis 50:25). With all of Joseph's faithfulness through the trials of his life, it was this statement that earned him mention in the "faith hall of fame" (Hebrews 11:22). Joseph understood God's covenant with His people. He knew that just as God had fulfilled His promises to himself, He would certainly do the same for the nation of Israel.

Today's podcast comes from this blog post: Health Benefits of Quercetin.

Today's podcast is a meditation on the letters to the seven churches of Revelation 2-3

Today's podcast is a meditation and retelling of 1 Samuel 8-10.

Introduction

How disappointing for God. He had chosen this nation, and had a special relationship with them, promising nothing but blessings galore (Deuteronomy 28), if only they would obey Him. He always intended to lead them personally, through one judge as His liaison. He knew they wouldn't be faithful to Him, but I doubt that made it any less heartbreaking when time and time again, the people abandoned Him and worshipped false gods. He was covenant-bound to withdraw from them when this happened, leaving them open to the enemy to steal, kill, and destroy. When they'd had enough finally, the people would cry out and God would send the deliverer who was to be their next judge—whoever was the best option He had at the time.

Samuel had been one of the good judges, and perhaps it wouldn't have ended as it did if his sons had been like him. It is strange that Samuel thought his sons would succeed him though, since God's judges were never meant to be a dynasty. Presumably Samuel also knew of his son's shortcomings.

It's very clear in this story that God didn't think a king was a good idea, and took it as a personal rejection (Hosea 13:11). Yet He granted what the people wanted anyway. It's interesting how often in Old Testament stories God gives the people what they demand, even though He knows it isn't for the best. God chose to make creatures with free will, and because of it, God rarely gets His first choice. I'm thinking of the story of Balaam: God told him not to go with Balak's messengers the first two times he asked. Balaam should have left it at that, instead of pressing God to give in! But, Balaam wanted financial gain, just as the Israelites wanted to govern themselves rather than having to rely on God. Moses also permitted divorce, even though Jesus said that wasn't God's first choice either (Matthew 19:8). God gave the people what they asked for, consequences and all.

At the same time, I have to wonder whether the Israelites' desire for a king was somehow premature. Saul reigned for forty years, Acts 13:21, and David began to rule when he was thirty years old, just after Saul's death, 2 Samuel 5:4. That means David wasn't even born until the tenth year of Saul's reign, though God began to look for a "man after His own heart" (1 Samuel 13:14) in the second year of Saul's reign. Saul's beginning was certainly less than illustrious, and we can see seeds of the cause of his downfall, insecurity and fear of man, from the very beginning. It almost seems like Saul was just a placeholder, until David was old enough to be anointed and trained up in the "school of hard knocks," as it were, to become ready for the throne.

That said, it's interesting how God used natural circumstances (Saul's father lost his donkeys and had sent him and a servant to look for them) to bring Saul and Samuel together. Samuel's prophetic insight to set aside the best cut of meat, expecting Saul to show up the next day, surely primed Saul to accept Samuel's proclamation that he would become king. God knew that a man like Saul wouldn't just believe such a word; he would need to be convinced. Then Samuel gave him a number of other confirmatory events to look for in the subsequent seven days, so that he would be ready for the big "reveal" of the man God had anointed a week later. Unfortunately, Samuel's presentation fell flat when their new king was literally hiding among the baggage. Presumably his absurd behavior was why some of the men of Israel despised him. Shortly after this, God used an attack from their enemies as a means to galvanize Israel to fight under Saul's leadership (1 Samuel 11). Thus Saul redeemed himself, earning a new and better coronation.

Yet only a year later, in the second year of Saul's reign, Saul disobeyed God for the first time, causing God to proclaim through Samuel that God would take the kingdom away from Saul and give it to a "man after His own heart" (1 Samuel 13:14). A decade or so later, after Saul again disobeyed, God formally rejected Saul as king. Saul's response to this was interesting: he asked Samuel to at least continue to honor him before the people (1 Samuel 15:30), indicating what really mattered to him. He wanted the honor and respect of men, not God (Proverbs 29:25). This was exactly why God chose David instead.

Fictionalized Retelling:

I couldn't help wondering, in the quiet of night, whether it was all my fault.

The Lord had never told me that the position of judge should be hereditary, nor had it ever been so in Israel's history. Yet I'd had it in my mind since my sons were born that as soon as they were old enough, they could share my load. I suppose I had this idea because Eli had practically raised me, and the priesthood was hereditary.

Eli's sons had turned out poorly too, though. I don't know why I thought that would be a good model to follow.

Yes, I did know. I had wanted to believe it.

I wanted the latter part of my life to be easier than the first part had been, but I also had a romanticized ideal of sharing what mattered most to me with Joel and Abijah. I was so focused on this goal that I failed to see—I refused to see—the men my sons had become, just as Eli had done. The elders of Israel all assembled before me one day and shouted their accusations from all directions.

"Look, you're an old man, and your sons aren't following in your footsteps!" one called.

Old? I winced inwardly. I was barely sixty—but I was certainly tired, after forty-eight years of ministry. I felt old.

"They cheat us!" another of the elders cried. "They'll rule in favor of whoever bribes them the most!"

These words struck me like a blow. I'd seen this tendency in my sons from their youths. I didn't think either of them had ever heard from the Lord. Secretly I had worried that they did not truly fear Him, but I'd hidden those fears even from myself. Now, here was the proof.

"Appoint a king to rule us, just like every other nation!"

I cannot vouch for my expression when I heard this demand. I was not a man given to tears, but after all I had done for them—after devoting forty-eight years to judging these people, delivering them from the Philistines and bringing them back to true worship of the Lord, they had rejected me. Their words felt like a personal betrayal.

"I will bring your request before the Lord," was all I could manage before I retreated from them, slamming the door to my home in their faces.

I'd continued in prayer from then until now, on my knees in the temple before the Lord. It was now past midnight, but the Lord never spoke according to my timeline.

"Go ahead and do what they're asking," came the Lord's whisper at last. "They are not rejecting you. They are rejecting Me as their King."

I swallowed, somehow both saddened and soothed to hear that the Lord felt exactly as I did.

"From the day I brought them out of Egypt until this very day they've been behaving like this, leaving Me for other gods. And now they're doing it to you."

I nodded. "I know they have, Lord," I murmured, "they are a stubborn people. I don't know what they think a king is going to do for them that a judge won't do." But as soon as I'd said this, I realized I did know. The judge acted in the position of Moses, constantly returning for the Lord's direction before every decision, both militarily and in government. The king would not be in such communion. He would do as he thought best, without need to consult the Lord. He would be dependent upon human wisdom, though—and because of this, he would probably be even more prone to corruption than my sons were.

"Let them have their own way," the Lord said. "But warn them of what they're in for. Tell them what they're likely to get from a king." I knew enough of how kings of neighboring nations behaved to be able to guess what He meant, but He gave me a vision of it anyway.

When the Lord's vision finished, I rose, feeling desolate. I wasn't entirely sure if I was now sharing in the Lord's own heartbreak, or because my own vision for the latter part of my life had been destroyed, or because I had been forced to confront my sons' corruption. I splashed water on my face and went to my own home, walking the dark, empty streets illuminated only by moonlight. I always imagined that the Lord Himself walked beside me on these moonlit strolls. Tonight, I needed the company.

The next morning I sent for Joel and Abijah. I told them first what the people had said, so that they could get their own initial outrage out of the way before they encountered the news publicly. It went precisely as I had imagined it would. Joel sulked and turned stony and silent. Abijah threw a fit, shouting, throwing, and breaking things.

"What are we supposed to do now, then?" he demanded. "You raised us to be Israel's judges!"

"That was my own fault," I sighed heavily. "You both have other skills—Joel, you have some knowledge as a farmer, and Abijah, you can work for your brother—"

"Work for my brother?" Abijah ranted, "it's his fault the elders of Israel rejected us! He's the cheater!"

Joel leapt to his feet, and the boys almost came to blows in a pattern they had repeated hundreds of times since they were children. I always inserted myself between them to force them apart, if I was present at the time. If not, someone got bloody. I played my role again now, but felt too tired to engage with their accusations.

"The elders will assemble to hear the word of the Lord in one hour," I told them. "It would be seemly if you were both present and in one piece. If you are not… well. That will be your choice." Then I turned and walked away, ignoring their shouts and protests.

My sons did not appear with the elders in front of the temple an hour later, to my sorrow but not to my surprise. To do so would have required a measure of humility I knew they did not possess. If they had, we might not be in this situation in the first place.

"This is the way the kind of king you desire would operate," I called out to the people in warning once they quieted down. "He'll take your sons and make soldiers of them—cavalry, infantry, regimented in battalions and squadrons. He'll put some to forced labor on his farms, plowing and harvesting, and others to making either weapons of war or chariots in which he can ride in luxury. He'll put your daughters to work as beauticians and waitresses and cooks. He'll conscript your best fields, vineyards, and orchards and hand them over to his special friends. He'll tax your harvests and vintage to support his extensive bureaucracy. Your prize workers and best animals he'll take for his own use. He'll lay a tax on your flocks and you'll end up no better than slaves. The day will come when you will cry in desperation because of this king you so much want for yourselves. But don't expect God to answer."

The elders in the front row cried out, "We will have a king to rule us!" Another voice rose above the clamor of agreement, adding, "Then we'll be just like all the other nations. Our king will rule us and lead us and fight our battles!"

My heart felt so heavy. Didn't they know that until now, God had fought their battles for them? Yet they wanted a leader they could see.

Do as they say, I heard the Lord whisper to me. Make them a king.

I took a deep breath and cried, "The Lord has heard you! Go home, each of you to your own city."

They dispersed slowly, and I stood there on the temple steps until the last of them had gone. Last of all, I wandered away.

"Who, Lord?" I asked aloud once I was alone. "What man is there in Israel whom You would trust with such power?"

I heard no response that day, nor the next, nor the day after that. This silence, I knew, and the wait, were the very reasons why the people wanted a king in the first place. Hearing from the Lord was unpredictable. His timing was His own. I knew enough of Him to wait in peace, but the elders tended to fret in the silence, wanting to take matters into their own hands. A king would do just that.

About a week later, the Lord finally spoke to me.

"This time tomorrow, I'm sending a man from the land of Benjamin to meet you. You're to anoint him as commander over my people Israel. He will free my people from Philistine oppression. I have heard their cries for help."

"Huh," I replied aloud. "Benjamin?" It was the smallest of the tribes, ever since the concubine incident several generations earlier which had almost wiped them out. I'd have expected the Lord's anointed to come from any tribe but that one.

The next day was a local sacrifice in the land of Zuph, where I lived. Tradition held that I should go and bless the people's sacrifice to the Lord so that they could eat of it. Since the Lord had told me I would meet His anointed before the sacrifice would occur, I told the people to set aside the best portion of the sacrifice and give it the following day to the one I indicated to them. The day of the sacrifice, I went my way up to the high place, and stopped just as I exited the city. Two men approached: one was clearly a servant, and the other was a sight to behold. He was taller than any man of Israel I had ever seen, powerfully built, and had a head of thick dark hair and a full beard. He practically radiated with health and beauty.

He's the one, the man I told you about, the Lord said to me. He is the man who will reign over my people.

Though I had previously been heartbroken when the people asked for a king, I'd gotten used to the idea in the intervening week of silence from the Lord. Now, the moment I beheld this incredible specimen of a man, I felt a throb of pride, almost as if he were my son.

The man approached me directly. "Pardon me, but can you tell me where the Seer lives?"

"I'm the Seer," I told him. "Accompany me to the shrine and eat with me. In the morning I'll tell you all about what's on your mind, and send you on your way." Then in a flash of insight, the Lord revealed to me why they were here and what concerned them. "By the way, your lost donkeys—the ones you've been hunting for the last three days—have been found, so don't worry about them. At this moment, Israel's future is in your hands."

The magnificent man looked thunderstruck. "But I'm only a Benjaminite, from the smallest of Israel's tribes, and from the most insignificant clan in the tribe at that," he stammered. I was struck by the strange contrast between his looks and his manner. "Why are you talking to me like this?"

I regarded him, but despite the temptation to reveal all now, I obeyed the prompting of the Lord.

"I will tell you in the morning," I reiterated, and let the way to the high place for the feast.

When we arrived and found that all the people were already assembled, I gestured for the man, whose name turned out to be Saul, and his servant to take their seats among the people. I noticed how the people stared at him in awe, yet Saul did not seem to notice. Presumably he'd grown used to the stares over a lifetime.

I pulled the cook aside and whispered, "Bring the choice cut I pointed out to you, the one I told you to reserve."

The cook looked slightly bemused, but did as I had asked, and brought out the thigh, placing it before Saul.

"This meal was kept aside just for you," I announced to Saul, loudly enough that all who were assembled could hear. "Eat! It was especially prepared for this time and occasion with these guests."

Saul looked terribly embarrassed, but after a feeble protest or two, he eventually did as I had bid him. The rest of us took our portions of the sacrifice from what was left. We all ate and drank merrily before the Lord, and then Saul and his servant returned with me back to my house. I prepared a bed for them in the top of the house cooled by the breeze, and slept little that night myself.

At daybreak I called to Saul, "Get up and I'll send you off." I offered them breakfast, and walked with them to the outskirts of the city, but then at last told Saul, "Tell your servant to go on ahead of us. You stay with me for a bit. I have a word of God to give you."

After my promise the day before, and also my strange behavior at the feast, Saul had evidently been expecting this. He simply nodded to his servant, who sped up while we hung back.

When the servant was far enough ahead that Saul and I were alone, I withdrew from my cloak a flask of anointing oil, and gestured for Saul to kneel before me. He did so, and I poured the oil over his thick black hair until it ran down his beard. He looked astonished, as I took his face in my hands, kissing him on both cheeks.

"Do you see what this means?" I proclaimed, "God has anointed you commander over his people. This sign will confirm God's anointing of you as king over his inheritance: After you leave me today, as you get closer to your home country of Benjamin, you'll meet two men near Rachel's Tomb. They'll say, 'The donkeys you went to look for are found. Your father has forgotten about the donkeys and is worried about you, wringing his hands—quite beside himself!' Leaving there, you'll arrive at the Oak of Tabor. There you'll meet three men going up to worship God at Bethel. One will be carrying three young goats, another carrying three sacks of bread, and the third a jug of wine. They'll say, 'Hello, how are you?' and offer you two loaves of bread, which you will accept. Next, you'll come to Gibeah of God, where there's a Philistine garrison. As you approach the town, you'll run into a bunch of prophets coming down from the high place, playing harps and tambourines, flutes and drums. And they'll be prophesying. Before you know it, the Spirit of God will come on you and you'll be prophesying right along with them. And you'll be transformed into a new person! When these confirming signs are accomplished, you'll know that you're ready: Whatever job you're given to do, do it. God is with you! Now, go down to Gilgal and I will follow. I'll come down and join you in worship by sacrificing burnt offerings and peace offerings. Wait seven days. Then I'll come and tell you what to do next."

Saul stared at me in mute amazement as I said all of this; I could almost see his brain spinning as he tried to process all that I had said. I gestured for Saul to rise to his feet, which he did as if in a daze. I marveled once again, now that he was right next to me, at what a tower of a man he was. Then I patted him on the back to give him the indication to get going and to catch up with his servant.

Seven days later, I called all the people together at Mizpah. I was excited: today was to be the great day of the Lord's unveiling of the people's king. My sons, once again, were conspicuously absent—sulking, no doubt—but I did not let this bother me. I wondered if, after the Spirit of the Lord had come upon Saul, I would even recognize him as the timid man I had met on the road.

When all the people were assembled, I stood up and spoke to all of them as I had weeks ago spoken to the elders.

"This is God's personal message to you: 'I brought Israel up out of Egypt. I delivered you from Egyptian oppression—yes, from all the bullying governments that made your life miserable. And now you want nothing to do with your God, the very God who has a history of getting you out of troubles of all sorts. And now you say, 'No! We want a king; give us a king!' Well, if that's what you want, that's what you'll get! Present yourselves formally before God, ranked in tribes and families."

I wanted to maximize the impact of this ceremony—not just announce Saul as the king, but to really give the moment the build-up it deserved. When I chose the tribe of Benjamin, I heard the whispers. They were my own reaction, and Saul's as well. I waited for the whispers to subside, and then announced, "Tribe of Benjamin, now arrange yourselves by families!" They did so, and I frowned—Saul was a head taller than all the men of Israel. I should have been able to spot him easily. Where was he? Yet I felt the Lord lead me to the family of Matri, so I chose them. The men of the family came forward, and I scanned the lot of them, searching for the face I expected.

"Saul, son of Kish, is the man!" I cried out, with rather less impact than I had hoped. "But where is he?"

I felt the Lord draw my attention to a pile of baggage brought by their tribe, since they had to come from all over Israel for this ceremony. I heard the Lord say to me, he's right over there—hidden in that pile of baggage.

I felt a wave of—dread? embarrassment?—but I walked toward the pile of baggage with my head held high, gesturing for some of Saul's own family to help me move the bags one by one. I uncovered Saul's chagrined face, which was bright red, as well it should be.

"Get up," I hissed. "Fortunately for you, not everyone in Israel has a good view of this ridiculousness!"

Saul crawled out from under the pile in which he'd been hiding, and brushed himself off. I pulled him up to the raised area from which I had been speaking, and added under my breath, "Head high, and for goodness' sake, try to look like a king!" Then I cried to the people, trusting that Saul's extraordinary looks would be the first thing they would notice, "Take a good look at whom God has chosen: the best! No one like him in the whole country!"

"Long live the king!" the people cried out, their voices joining together and rising in a crescendo. "Long live the king!"

That was a good start. I hoped it meant the story of the baggage wouldn't spread, but as I left, I overheard the whispers.

"Deliverer? Don't make me laugh!"

"How can this man save us? He hid himself at his own coronation!"

"What a marvelous leader he must be!"

I closed my eyes but chose not to rebuke them on Saul's behalf. He would have to do that himself.

He was Israel's leader now, after all—not me.

Today's podcast comes from this blog post: The Toxic Effects of Glyphosate.

Today's podcast is a meditation on the story of the Israelites' first attempt to take the Promised land from Numbers 13-14, when they finally went in and did it from Joshua 1-6, when Caleb took the mountain in Joshua 14, and the writer of Hebrews' reflection on what this means for us from Hebrews 4.

Today's podcast comes from this blog post: Are Soil-Based Probiotics Better than Traditional Probiotics?