In the last two weeks, I have heard more references to providence by commentators and pundits than in any two prior weeks of my life. Providence describes God Almighty’s involvement in the affairs of humanity. Merriam-Webster defines it as “God conceived as the power sustaining and guiding human destiny.” One of the most significant examples of providence in the Bible is God’s preservation of Joseph’s life, resulting in the saving of Israel’s family from starvation. Joseph’s life is a fantastic case study of providence. Genesis 50:20 is a verse every believer should commit to memory. In the context of the chapter, Joseph tells his brothers that their treatment of him was evil. He says, “You meant it for evil.” They are the culpable agents—motivated by hate, they inflicted evil upon their kid brother. “But God meant it for good.” God either used it or orchestrated it. The story begins in Genesis 37, and the reader must work through 12 chapters of Joseph’s life before he knows this was providence. From Joseph’s story, we learn it may be a while before we know something was, in fact, providence.
Dive deep with me for a few minutes. Imagine God did not elevate Joseph to prime minister. What if he remained in Potiphar’s house as a faithful servant for decades? Or, what if Joseph dies in prison, never vindicated, never reunited with his family? Would we still be talking about God’s providence in Joseph’s life? No. Did God orchestrate or use Joseph’s sale into slavery? But does that mean God orchestrates every human trafficking case? God forbid. We must proceed with caution when we declare something is providential. It is right and proper to say I don’t know. Because our understanding is not God’s understanding.
Dive deeper with me for another minute. Son ‘x’ grows up in church, professes faith in Christ, is baptized, and seems to be a follower of Christ. At the age of 17, by what absolutely seems like the providence of God, he avoids being in a multi-car accident, that resulted in several young lives lost and others suffering debilitating conditions for years. You thank God (and you should) that son ‘x’ was saved. You reflect and reflect upon why he was not with his friends—why was he spared? You wonder was this providence. You are tempted to declare that God Almighty has preserved his life. Then you pause and reflect deeper still. And you realize that when you declare that God Almighty preserved your son’s life—you are also saying God Almighty did not save the sons of your close friends in your SS class. They are grieving. God saved Jack but not Zed. God saved Tyler but not Zac. This is hard. Some would say ‘yes’ and say we must deal with His sovereignty—perhaps they are right. I don’t know; I am not God. But it seems safer to simply not say what God did or didn’t do.
Stay with me for one more minute. Fast forward five years, and son ‘x’, who did not die, never gets over the fact that on one fatal day, he lost 3 of his best friends. “Why me?” haunts him for years. He descends into drugs and alcohol. He wishes he would have died with his best friends. Seeking purpose, he is radicalized by an Islamic terrorist and ends his life as a suicide bomber at a Jewish Synagogue. His suicide attack resulted in the death of numerous parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents. Are you still willing to declare God providentially preserved his life? I promise when you see on the news what son ‘x’ did, you will think, why couldn’t he have died with the others on that day?
Declaring something was the will of God—a divine decree—is a big deal. Like a team looking for buried mines, we must proceed with extreme caution. Words matter. We are not pundits—we are theologians, ambassadors of Christ, carefully articulating every word from our mouths. Wait until the end before you declare what providence was. Peter declared after (not before) Christ rose from the grave that it was the predetermined will of God to put Christ to death.
