God Writes Straight with Crooked Lines

All of us, no matter our race or age or sex or culture, have lived through (and will live through) difficult twists and turns in life. Some of those were beyond our control, and some were of our own making. Very often we find ourselves asking how we might carry on, how we might take the broken pieces of the life we knew and put them back together. How do we make something meaningful, something beautiful, out of so many crooked lines? At moments like these, we can find the Author of life writing straight with our crooked lines.

The product of this Author’s writing is often a beautiful sight to behold. Anyone who spends much time around me becomes aware, fairly quickly, of my infatuation with the story of the little French Huguenot village Le Chambon-sur-Lignon and its Pastor and leader André Trocmé. Throughout the second world war, the people of Le Chambon sheltered runaway Jewish children from both the complicit Vichy regime and the murderous Nazis who sought to kill them. They did so at great risk to their own lives, and they did so without hesitation A short version of the story may be found here.

A longer work, Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed, by Philip Hallie, both presents the story of Le Chambon and explores the background of both the village and Trocmé in order to understand what prepared them for the ordeal they would face under Nazi occupation. In addition to a thorough commitment to the teachings of Jesus, two tragic stories lay behind the strength of the people of Le Chambon—and André Trocmé—in resisting the evils intended for those children. Hallie relates an incident in which Trocmé’s father, a passionate man given to angry outbursts, argued angrily with his mother during a drive through the French countryside when Trocmé was a boy. He lost control of the car, and his wife was killed. Trocmé’s father was a broken man, and André himself was greatly formed by the event—becoming committed to nonviolence and the teachings of Jesus especially on anger. André Trocmé thus devoted his pastoral career to resisting anger and violence with the weapons of the gospel.

In addition to Trocmé’s tragedy, the story of the villagers in Le Chambon is undergirded by the tragedy of living as Protestants in medieval Catholic France. The Chambonnaise were Huguenots and had experienced centuries of passive and active persecution. Generations of the villagers had lived out the teachings of the sermon on the mount under extreme persecution, so much so that it became a part of the soul of the village.

I don’t believe that God caused these tragedies. But I believe that Scripture teaches us that the God of the Bible took these tragic twists, these crooked lines, and drew them together to create a beautiful moment in history, one from which we may all draw strength and hope. I believe that we see these kinds of things throughout the Bible, and I believe it would do us good, in these difficult times, to reflect on them. Let’s spend a brief time together, then, reflecting on a tragically beautiful (or beautifully tragic) story of God writing straight with crooked lines: the story of Joseph in Genesis.

Joseph’s story actually began twisting before he was born. Joseph’s father, Jacob, had been tricked into marrying Joseph’s aunt, Leah. Jacob had fallen in love with Laban’s daughter Rachel, and had asked for her hand in marriage. Laban had agreed—with the stipulation of seven years of labor—but on the wedding night Laban led a veiled Leah to Jacob rather than Rachel, since Leah was the first born. Jacob was forced to labor for seven more years to marry Rachel. Joseph, of course, was Rachel’s first son.

It seems to me—and I am aware that I’m reading into the text a bit here—that Joseph was originally something of a brat. Think about the way Jacob fawned over Joseph. Think about Joseph and his coat, and his willingness to receive his father’s honors above all of his brothers. Think, too, about Joseph’s willingness to report the dreams he’d received indicating his rule over his brothers. It is possible, of course, that Joseph was simply naïve, that he intended no ill from these reports. I, too, am a younger brother and would be shocked—shocked!—to see selfish motives from Joseph. Nevertheless, I think the text at least allows for the interpretation that Joseph was a pampered younger brother who was all too willing to accept his place over his brothers.

Here, though, Joseph’s life took its first crooked turn. His brothers had finally had enough. They beat him almost to death and threw him into a cistern, trying to determine whether or not to kill him. Ultimately a Midianite caravan came by and offered the brothers an opportunity to avoid the bloodguilt of taking Joseph’s life by selling him into slavery. The Midianites took Joseph to Egypt, which of course carried ominous overtones for any Israelite: he was abandoned, cut off from the land of his inheritance, separated from the God of his people. In Egypt, Joseph found himself sold to one Potiphar, apparently an official in the Pharaoh’s regime.

The text tells us, though, that even though Joseph had found himself alienated from his home and his people, “The LORD was with Joseph.” Joseph found this crooked line turning straight as the God of his fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob blessed his every endeavor. Potiphar, too, was blessed by the straightening of this crooked line. He promoted Joseph to ruler of his household, and he saw his household prosper as it had never prospered before.

Perhaps in Potiphar’s service Joseph believed that he was secure, that the twists in his life were finished. But we know, of course, that this was not the case. Potiphar’s wife, the Bible tells us, also saw how things prospered under Joseph’s touch, and she sought to seduce him (Gen 39). Joseph, though, remains faithful to his God and to his master, the man under whom God had placed him. He resisted the advances of Potiphar’s wife, and for this he suffered greatly. Upon being rebuffed, Potiphar’s wife accused Joseph, a lowly slave, of attempted rape, and Potiphar subsequently had Joseph thrown into prison (incidentally, the fact that Joseph wasn’t immediately (and heinously) executed suggests Potiphar was aware of the falseness of this charge).

And so Joseph found himself in an Egyptian prison, once again abandoned and alone. But the text tells us, again, that “the LORD was with Joseph” (39:21). Again, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob took the crooked lines of Joseph’s life and wrote them straight. Joseph found himself the director of the prison—as an inmate!—and again, everything he touched flourished.

Additionally, while in prison, Joseph interpreted the dreams of two of the most important officials in Egypt (Gen 40). The text tells us that the beneficiary of this interpretation, upon return to his service of Pharaoh, “did not remember Joseph.” Again, Joseph’s life took a crooked turn. But though the official didn’t remember Joseph, the LORD did. Pharaoh himself had dreams which only Joseph could interpret. In an incredible twist, Joseph found himself ruling over all of Egypt because of this interpretation, preparing the land for a coming famine through years of great abundance. God had, once again, written his crooked lines straight.

But this is not, of course, the last twist in Joseph’s life. In a sense, the most profoundly crooked line is still coming. I don’t know for sure, but from his reaction I believe Joseph never thought to see his brothers again. Yet, the famine has reached into the land of his birth, and Joseph finds himself staring at his brothers as they kneel before him and do not recognize him. Genesis tells us that they are changed men, that they have repented of their evil (cf. 42:21; 44:33). But Joseph, too, is a different man. This is in fact the moment that he sees his crooked lines written straight, where he sees God’s hand fully at work, despite the crooked lines of his life. And Joseph, transformed, acts in mercy and in love (Gen 45:1–15).

There are several points to learn from Joseph’s crooked lines, but I'll just point out a few here:

1)    Joseph trusted

a.     In the midst of all of this turmoil, all of these twists and turns in the storylines of his life—some of his own making, some forced upon him—Joseph trusted in the God of his father Israel.

b.     Read 39:8–9; 40:8 and 23, and 41:16: even after he had been forgotten, and seemingly forgotten by God himself, Joseph trusted.

c.     Genesis 45:5–8 is in fact the revelation of Joseph’s trust, at least in hindsight: “Do not be distressed or angry with yourselves for selling me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life.”

2)    Joseph observed

a.     Note that Joseph, throughout the story, pays attention to where God is active.

b.     Joseph recognizes God in action in every place he serves; note too that his understanding isn’t necessarily some big plan, not until the end; it is faithfully watching in his own small place in life.

3)    Joseph obeyed

a.     In every place in which Joseph found himself he served to his full capabilities; and God was with him, so that everything he did prospered.

b.     Joseph did not shirk at Potiphar’s; he did not sulk in prison; he carried out his purpose with Pharaoh.

c.     Joseph was faithful in little, and so God made him faithful in much, and thus Joseph was able to see the crooked lines of his life come together.

As we reflect on Joseph’s story, we may find ourselves within it. All of us have crooked lines. Some of those lines we wrote ourselves, and some were written for us. Take a moment and reflect on your life—maybe even journal about it. Where has God written straight with your crooked lines?

Let us also pay attention to and reflect on the ways God is at work in others, around us, writing straight with their crooked lines. Let’s learn from Joseph to be observant, to look for the bends and cracks in our lives that God is going to make straight; to see the bends and cracks in the lives of the people around us in which God wants us to be involved, to be his pen to write his lines in their lives.

And we need to act, to see where God is calling us and to jump in without fear. There are a few times in my life that I saw God starting to write straight in someone’s life, but I didn’t act. I know God doesn’t need me, but I also know there are moments and places where he won’t act without me. So get in there and do it.

Most of all, we have to trust. As I said, a lot of these lines in your life—your own decisions, forced upon you, whatever—are still ongoing. You don’t know why they’re happening, or how they’re going to resolve. And it’s scary, and it’s easy to feel abandoned and despair. But always remember that God writes straight with crooked lines.

I leave this reflection with the poem of William O. Everson, the inspiration for the title:

God writes straight. My crooked lines, tortured between

grace and the depraved human heart (my heart), gouge

out the screed of my defection. Everywhere about me

the straight writing hems me in, compresses me,

flattens my will. I write crooked. Error after error blows

through me, the corruptible mortal man, whose every

gesture reeks of imperfection. Would you have it

straight? I am not God. The matchless God-writing,

calligraphed unendingly on trees, peaks, rivers, oceans,

lakes, rebukes and dazzles me. I must hush my heart….

The Divine writing goes forward with an

excoriate straightness, but never in the manner one

supposes; nor does it ever relate precisely what one

hopes to hear. I have written, but what I have written is

undone, not done. I have labored to make a birth of my

life, but it becomes, in retrospect, only a long crooked

line. This much, however, I do know; and given the

nature of Reality it cannot be otherwise: all my

violations, virulent as they are, in the end can only

make for the good. My evil cannot win out. I wrote; I

have written; I will write. But no matter how crooked I

set it down, God writes it straight.