28 Jacob lived in Egypt seventeen years, and the years of his life were a hundred and forty-seven. 29 When the time drew near for Israel to die, he called for his son Joseph and said to him, “If I have found favor in your eyes, put your hand under my thigh and promise that you will show me kindness and faithfulness. Do not bury me in Egypt, 30 but when I rest with my fathers, carry me out of Egypt and bury me where they are buried.”

“I will do as you say,” he said.

31 “Swear to me,” he said. Then Joseph swore to him, and Israel worshiped as he leaned on the top of his staff.

Dear God, one thing I have to say for Jacob (because, on the whole, I don’t have a whole lot of respect for his character) is that he worshiped you until the end. He never forgot you. He recognized you and worshiped you all of the days of his life. He worshiped you in times of wealth and he worshiped you in times of despair. He could be unscrupulous, a terrible father/husband, a wicked brother, etc., but there was a part of him that knew that he had better be submitted to you. I think, in the end, he remembered that you were bigger than him.

I attended an interesting class last night where they talked about the history of the Christian church from Jesus until now. Granted, they fit it all into the span of less than an hour, so some parts were missed, but it was interesting for me to hear how things morphed over time. Generationally, I think that some in the church (especially about 600 or 700 years ago) started to think that the church was bigger than you. Protests came and soon reform at every level followed. The church can be a beautiful thing with the person leading it is submitted to you, but if that person ever starts to feel bigger than you then bad things can happen. Terrible things can happen.

So how am I doing? Do I feel bigger than you? I think there are times when I take control. It isn’t conscious. It is just how I respond in the heat of battle. I get wounded or stressed, so I circle the wagons, maybe lash out at someone in judgment, and do my best to pacify my emotional self instead of allowing for your grace to flow through me. For example, a woman called me yesterday who doesn’t like me. She called to accuse our clinic of doing something that she didn’t agree with (treating a potential patient badly). This woman is not well mentally or physically, and, frankly, she is usually spoiling for a fight with me. Well, I tried to remain as polite as I could on the phone with her, but then I took an opportunity later to tell a couple of staff people about the phone call and how wronged I was by her. Why did I do it? Insecurity. Hurt. Anger. Scars leftover from our previous encounters. But if I were truly letting you live through me then her phone call could have just stayed with me and I wouldn’t have felt the need to denigrate her to others.

Father, forgive me for my treatment of this woman. Going back to her physical/mental issues, she is not well and not completely responsible for her actions, yet I treat her like she is fully functioning and capable of meeting me on equal ground. That is so wrong. I should be extending her more grace than I do to others, not less. So help me to look on this woman in love. Help me to extend her more grace than I have in myself, but grace that can only come from you. Help me to be your submitted servant all of the days of my life. I am prone to wander, Lord, I feel it. I am prone to leave the God I love. Here’s my heart, Lord, take a seal it. Seal it for thy courts above.