Some simple facts:
I have never been asked to be a godparent.
I am one of three "equally loved" sisters.
I have been in a grand total of two weddings (being asked to officiate does not count). I will never be a maid-of-honor.
No one has chosen me to be their spouse.
I have been in the top 10 in my class, but never first.
I have, perhaps, been a teacher's favorite -- but that was long ago. I don't remember the teacher's name.
And so I understand, a bit too well, the brothers who desire to throw their pretty-robe-clad, annoying-dream-sharing brother into a pit. No one wants to be reminded that they are not the favorite. Maybe I don't understand the part where they think to kill him, nor even the part where they actually take the money from the slave traders. But the jealousy, I get. And the anger. I'm not proud to say any of this. I know it is petty. And ugly. And selfish. But I also get that when they throw him into the pit, it's really a desperate desire to get out of the pit they live in themselves. And I know that it doesn't work.
What is the way out for those who desire to be some one's favorite and know they never will be? I suppose the answer must be grace. The grace to know you are loved and worthy, even if you never are first. The grace to rejoice in the good fortune of your neighbor, even if it's fortune you will never have yourself. The grace you hope will come from those who are the favorites, that they will wear this honor lightly. The grace to know that we are all God's favorites and somehow to accept that, in the amazing economy of the kingdom of heaven, this fact does not dilute the power of God's favor to any of us. And, perhaps, also the grace to change my point of view; to see that while I may not be the "favorite", the love and grace and kindness I receive from so many wonderful people adds up to a whole lot of goodness. A whole lot of favor. Much more than any one title of "favorite" ever could. And so I can live a life of freedom of joy, rather than spend my time staring into the pit. May it be so.
I am one of three "equally loved" sisters.
I have been in a grand total of two weddings (being asked to officiate does not count). I will never be a maid-of-honor.
No one has chosen me to be their spouse.
I have been in the top 10 in my class, but never first.
I have, perhaps, been a teacher's favorite -- but that was long ago. I don't remember the teacher's name.
And so I understand, a bit too well, the brothers who desire to throw their pretty-robe-clad, annoying-dream-sharing brother into a pit. No one wants to be reminded that they are not the favorite. Maybe I don't understand the part where they think to kill him, nor even the part where they actually take the money from the slave traders. But the jealousy, I get. And the anger. I'm not proud to say any of this. I know it is petty. And ugly. And selfish. But I also get that when they throw him into the pit, it's really a desperate desire to get out of the pit they live in themselves. And I know that it doesn't work.
What is the way out for those who desire to be some one's favorite and know they never will be? I suppose the answer must be grace. The grace to know you are loved and worthy, even if you never are first. The grace to rejoice in the good fortune of your neighbor, even if it's fortune you will never have yourself. The grace you hope will come from those who are the favorites, that they will wear this honor lightly. The grace to know that we are all God's favorites and somehow to accept that, in the amazing economy of the kingdom of heaven, this fact does not dilute the power of God's favor to any of us. And, perhaps, also the grace to change my point of view; to see that while I may not be the "favorite", the love and grace and kindness I receive from so many wonderful people adds up to a whole lot of goodness. A whole lot of favor. Much more than any one title of "favorite" ever could. And so I can live a life of freedom of joy, rather than spend my time staring into the pit. May it be so.
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