A Meditation for Wednesday after the Second Sunday in Lent

By Theresa Wilson

Confession and Mercy

I grew up in the Southern Baptist tradition, and I am thankful for the way this upbringing rooted me in God’s Word and taught me to see how my faith impacts all areas of my life. However, I also learned to see God ultimately as a Judge who was watching me to make sure I made the right choices each day. Obviously, my first duty was to have a quiet time with God each morning. If I did this, God would be pleased, and my day would (or should . . . if God was keeping his end of the bargain) go well. If I neglected to begin my day with quiet time, I could chalk up bad experiences during the day to my failure at the beginning of the day. As we all know, fear is a terrible motivator. And it distorted the true gift of spending time with God daily, which is to provide us with a framework through which to encounter brokenness throughout the day. When our identity is rooted in Christ (which comes through spending time with him), we can rest in his peace that passes understanding when frustrations come up throughout the day or when we receive bad news. In other words, spending time with God is meant to bless us and keep us from spiraling when things go downhill, as they will in a fallen world. As our Lenten refrain beckons us throughout this season: 

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.

In the Old Testament reading for today, we see Joseph struggling to know how to respond to his brothers showing up on the scene. As Rusty Reno explores in his commentary on Genesis (Brazos Theological Commentary, pp. 275-276), there is not a definite explanation in Scripture as to why Joseph deals with his brothers as he does. Perhaps he accuses them of being spies to gauge their reaction and to bide himself some time. After three days, Joseph calls his brothers back and concedes to having one of the brothers bound and put in prison while the others go and bring back their youngest brother. Perhaps Joseph is curious to see if his brothers will leave Simeon in distress in exchange for their own safety, a story all too familiar from almost 15 years prior. At this point in the story, Joseph indeed overhears them arguing that God is punishing them for leaving their own brother in distress long ago. Joseph turns away and weeps. Again, we are not told why he weeps, but Reno posits Joseph is convicted of treating his brothers the same way they treated him. He is testing them, but his actions hinge on revenge. Ultimately, we know that Joseph forgives his brothers, and his family prospers because of Joseph’s choice to forgive.

Joseph’s life and actions point towards Jesus, the greater Joseph. Both were sold and abused. Both chose to forgive those who abused them and through this forgiveness offered their abusers new life. However, while Joseph seemingly struggled between revenge and forgiveness, Jesus, who had every right to exact judgment on humanity, chose instead to give his life away as retribution for our sins. This, then, is the God to whom we confess. We do not confess to an exacting God, fearing his unassuaged wrath. Rather, we confess to a God whose glory it is always to have mercy, whose own Son took on the consequences for our sin.

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.

The Song of Penitence we read today is a powerful display of undeserved forgiveness. As I read the song after the reading from Genesis, I imagined Joseph’s brothers asking for his forgiveness through the (slightly revised) words of this song:

We have sinned, O Jacob, we have sinned,

And we know our wickedness only too well.

Therefore we make this supplication to you:

Forgive us, Jacob, forgive us.

Do not let us perish in our sin,

Nor condemn us to the depths of the earth.

I encourage you to read the Song of Penitence through the lens of Joseph’s brothers asking him for forgiveness (with the caveat that not all lines will fit the context). Joseph was all-powerful, able to end their lives or redeem them. His brothers were at his mercy. They could do nothing except beg for his forgiveness. However, they did not have a guarantee of his forgiveness. Joseph could have chosen to exact revenge.

Now read the Song of Penitence as a prayer from you to God–as a heart-rending plea for God’s mercy in the midst of your brokenness and with the sweet reassurance that God always meets confession with mercy.

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.

I wish I could go back and speak that refrain over the fearful little girl I used to be, trying her best to do right in order to incur God’s approval instead of judgment. I wish she could have seen God as “on her side,” so to speak, cheering her on each day, lovingly scooping her up when she made a mistake, wiping away her tears and reminding her who she is in Christ. In my adulthood, now fully ensconced in the Anglican tradition, I experience God bringing healing to me. Throughout the season of Lent, I know I can come with penitence before God, trusting in his character, not mine. And even when the days get busy and I go to bed realizing I did not spend intentional time communing with God, I hear his voice saying that his mercies are new every morning. This wooing makes me want to spend time with God; love is the ultimate motivator.

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.

Theresa Wilson is the director of St. Francis in the Field Episcopal Church’s Louisville Fellows Program, a leadership development program for recent college and trade school graduates forming them as marketplace and ministry leaders committed to contributing to the common good and bringing healing where there is brokenness through the vocations to which God has called them. Theresa has an M.A. from Denver Seminary, and she is married to Fr. Clint Wilson, a son of the House. They have a rambunctious 5-year-old son, James, and an equally tolerant 12-year-old dog, Denver. Theresa and Fr. Clint are committed to discipling those in the church and pursuing greater church unity as a witness to the powerful work of Christ in a fragmented world. The readings for the preceding devotional may be located here from Forward Movement.