Missy, please forgive me for stealing your words right off your blog. I read this and I thought “that is so appropriate for where I am right now”. I hope you don’t mind if I share it with my blog readers.
For the rest of you, you can see more of Missy’s blogs by scrolling down the page and clicking on the “Miscellaneous from Missy” link on the left hand side under the “Blogroll” title.
I have always, always, always wanted to be a Secret Agent.
When I was a kid, my brothers and sisters and I would create a fort out in the yard, and I would take my tiny notebook and a pencil out there with me. One of the brothers or sisters would be posted as a lookout, and when a car would come driving innocently down the street, they would stage whisper “Incoming!” Or “Alert! Alert!” Or if we were playing Kingsmen! they would call out “KINGSMEN!! KINGSMEN!!” We all had to quickly get into our fort and stay low because the driver and passengers were really King’s Men scouring the land for orphans like us to kill or to put into slavery for the king — we would then be separated from each other, the only ones whom we had ever loved, and much angst would ensue.
While we all hid in the fort, I would furtively peek through the slats of the wooden fence that surrounded our yard, and write down the license plate number along with a description of the car, and if I could get a good view, a description of the driver as well. This was just in case the real American Government (not our imaginary King’s Men) were to come to our house and ask if we knew anything of the whereabouts of some criminal who might have been passing down our street. In my room at night, I would flip my tiny notebook open and memorize the license plates and descriptions so that if I saw them again, I could report it. I wished daily for just one of those cars to do something that could be considered suspicious, and I practiced swallowing the incriminating pages of my notebook in case one of those criminals ever tracked me down and tortured me to find out what I knew.
So you can imagine how reading Psalm 105:17 sparked my imagination the other night during my meandering through the Bible. It says, “and he [God] sent a man before them — Joseph, sold as a slave.”
And I thought about that with my imagination on full alert. God had a Secret Agent!
(A quick synopsis of the history is this: Joseph had a bunch of brothers who hated him. They beat him up and then sold him to some slave traders who took him off to Egypt, then they told their dad that they had found evidence that he had been killed by a wild animal. Joseph became a slave to a wealthy guy in Egypt, but the guy’s wife decided Joseph was cute and she tried to seduce him. Joseph told her he could not sin against God and against his owner (her husband) and he ran away, leaving her clutching his jacket. When the owner came home, the wife told him Joseph had tried to rape her, and she showed hubby the jacket as proof. Hubby had Joseph beaten and thrown into prison. Joe stayed there in jail for years and years and years until finally the king had a dream that kept bugging him and he wanted to know if it meant something. Someone who had met Joe in prison told the king that Joe might be able to help him interpret the dream, so the king sent for Joseph. Joseph told the king that the dream was a prediction of the future. The land of Egypt would have a great economy for seven years, and then the next seven years after that there would be a worldwide famine and everyone would starve to death. The king asked Joseph if he had any ideas on what to do to prepare for the bad times so the people of Egypt wouldn’t starve, and Joseph had some great ideas, so the king put him in charge of carrying them all out. Long story short: when the worldwide famine did come, Joseph’s preparations ended up saving most of the world, including his own family.
So here I am reading Psalm 105:17 and it’s saying that God had an inside man, but He had to send him undercover. I laughed to myself when I realized, Joseph was so undercover, even HE didn’t know about it! Maybe God thought Joseph wouldn’t eat the evidence in time if he were tortured; I don’t know, but for some reason, it was better for God and better for the mission and better for the agent if Joseph didn’t know about his Secret Agent status. I wondered if Joseph was ever resentful. Resentful when he was sold into slavery by his brothers. Resentful when he was falsely accused by his owner’s wife. Resentful when the owner punished him for the wife’s crime. Resentful when he sat year after year rotting in a filthy prison. Not knowing that he was a Secret Agent.
Then I really thought about it. God has missions for me, too. Some of them Top Secret. So secret, in fact, that even I as the agent don’t get access to the file folder on God’s desk marked CONFIDENTIAL.
Am I resentful while I’m on the case? How silly would that be? I finally get to be a Secret Agent! And not a Secret Agent for just any old government or cause, I get to be GOD’s Secret Agent!
How awesome is that!
So, just how cool is that. I must be on a secret mission. Still wish the Lord would tell me what was going on. You would think we would be less apt to make mistakes that way. Then again . . . probably pride would get in the way.