When he was seventeen, Joseph’s brothers sold him as a slave to a band of traders headed to Egypt. But through an improbable set of circumstances, he rose to become a leading official in the Egyptian government—the administrator of a program to handle the distribution of grain in the wake of a devastating famine. The famine brought his brothers to Egypt and set the stage for their dramatic reunion.
They eventually moved to Egypt, leaving the land of Canaan and settling in Goshen—a fertile and comparatively unpopulated section of Egypt that had good grass, was well-watered, and would have been perfect for raising livestock. It was a section away from the centers of power … a territory where Joseph could keep an eye on them and make sure they were taken care of without running the risk of being absorbed into the Egyptian culture and losing their tribal identity.
One of the things that stands out about Joseph is that he was the same person in every circumstance. In a day when many folks compartmentalize their lives—they’re this “person” at work, another “person” at home, and a third “person” at church—Joseph was the same person in every setting and surrounding. I believe that explains why he thrived in pressure-packed situations and excelled in whatever he did. He was a man of integrity—the word coming from the word “integer”—a word from the field of math that refers to numbers that don’t contain a fractional component. At its core, integrity means a person is whole. There’s a consistency and cohesion about how they live.
In Genesis 46-47, there are three main events that take place: (1) Joseph’s family relocates to Egypt, (2) they meet with the Egyptian authorities and work out the details that will allow them to settle there, and (3) Joseph continues to oversee the famine initiative as the suffering and hardship becomes more intense. Chapter 46 begins by painting Jacob as having mixed motives—thrilled at the thought of being reunited with his son he’d given up for dead, but uneasy at the thought of leaving the land God had promised to his grandfather Abraham—land that would someday serve as home base for a nation that would proceed from his loins. But God stepped in and made himself known at Beersheba saying, “I’m in this … I’m in control … I’ll be with you”, helping him arrive at a place of peace.
So Israel set out with all that was his, and when he reached Beersheba, he offered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac. And God spoke to Israel in a vision at night and said, “Jacob! Jacob!” “Here I am,” he replied. “I am God, the God of your father,” he said. “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make you into a great nation there. I will go down to Egypt with you, and I will surely bring you back again. And Joseph’s own hand will close your eyes.” (Genesis 46:1-4)
In spite of the magnitude of the challenge, the family made its way to Egypt. But upon their arrival they had to receive the blessing of the authorities to settle there:
Then Joseph said to his brothers and to his father’s household, “I will go up and speak to Pharaoh and will say to him, ‘My brothers and my father’s household, who were living in the land of Canaan, have come to me. The men are shepherds; they tend livestock, and they have brought along their flocks and herds and everything they own.’ When Pharaoh calls you in and asks, ‘What is your occupation?’ you should answer, ‘Your servants have tended livestock from our boyhood on, just as our fathers did.’ Then you will be allowed to settle in the region of Goshen, for all shepherds are detestable to the Egyptians.” (Genesis 46:31-34)
Note that Joseph is using his influence to do good for his family while helping them settle in Egypt in a way that benefitted the nation as well. Given that the Egyptians, for some reason, intensely disliked shepherds—a fact Joseph would have known from having spent twenty-plus years in that culture—he coached them on what to say when they met with Pharoah. He’s not being deceptive or encouraging them to do anything that’s fraudulent or misleading. He merely counsels them to employ a bit of diplomacy. He basically says, “Tell them you raise livestock. Frame what you say in such a way that it will avoid some of their biases.” And it worked. For if you read on, it says in Genesis 47:6 that Pharoah asked them to care for his flocks as well.
The key point is that even though Joseph had a great deal of power—the routine decisions he made as overseer of the grain initiative affected people’s lives and impacted them in critical ways—he still remained and didn’t chafe under the authority of his superiors. When his family showed up and sought to settle there, he coaxed them to use the proper channels. He didn’t use his influence to circumvent the Egyptian officials or undermine them. He didn’t see himself as exempt because he’d risen to such a prestigious position. He realized the rules still applied to him and he needed to submit to those in authority over him just as he wanted those he was overseeing to acknowledge and submit to his authority.
This is perhaps one of the greatest tests of integrity … and spiritual maturity. If you’re accustomed to being in power and having a measure of control, how do you deal with it when you’re in another arena where someone else is in control? Do you undercut them, challenge their leadership, and make life difficult for them? Or do you remain supportive—even if, at times, you question their decisions and would handle things differently? I’m convinced—and this is something we see from Joseph—that one of the best indicators of integrity is our ability to remain under someone else’s authority—particularly when we’ve become somewhat accustomed to being in control. It’s a detail that can very easily go unnoticed, but nothing speaks more to the depth of Joseph’s integrity than this.
And what’s really interesting—and this is one of the funniest components in the story—is that when Joseph’s brothers find themselves in Pharoah’s presence, they mess up. He selected five of them to appear before Pharoah—no doubt tapping the most well-spoken among them. And he counseled them extensively as to how they should frame their remarks—they should refer to themselves as “keepers of livestock,” but not “shepherds.” But listen to what happens:
Joseph went and told Pharaoh, “My father and brothers, with their flocks and herds and everything they own, have come from the land of Canaan and are now in Goshen.” He chose five of his brothers and presented them before Pharaoh. Pharaoh asked the brothers, “What is your occupation?” “Your servants are shepherds,” they replied to Pharaoh, “just as our fathers were.” (Genesis 47:1-3) Can you imagine the frustration and annoyance Joseph felt? “We went through this and when you got in there, you flubbed up!” Yet, we don’t see Joseph overreacting and taking it out on them. He gave them room to fail. He realized, at the end of the day, he was responsible for himself and they were responsible for themselves and, while he wanted to assist and support them any way he could, that didn’t mean he had to own their blunder.
Fortunately for Joseph, and for them, their indiscretion didn’t prevent the door from opening that would allow them to settle in Goshen.
So Joseph settled his father and his brothers in Egypt and gave them property in the best part of the land, the district of Rameses, as Pharaoh directed. Joseph also provided his father and his brothers and all his father’s household with food, according to the number of their children. (Genesis 47:11-12)
Once they’re settled, the story returns to the account of how Joseph administered the affairs brought on by the famine. And it paints a very bleak picture—one that undoubtedly provoked high levels of stress in people’s lives, and one that placed great pressure on Joseph since he was holding the reins of the relief effort. This was the kind of situation that could easily have taken a lesser man down. It was a very stressful and emotionally charged situation. People were running out of money, selling their animals, and eventually selling their land just to be able to make ends meet and stay alive. To our capitalistic sensibilities this looks like an exploitative action on the part of the Egyptian government—an opportunistic land grab that preyed on people’s vulnerabilities and cashed in on a tragic situation. But again—cultural distance colors our perception of what’s going on here. For had Joseph done anything unethical—had he conducted himself in a way to where folks felt exploited and victimized—they wouldn’t have responded as it indicates they did in Genesis 47:25:
“You have saved our lives,” they said. “May we find favor in the eyes of our lord …”. (Genesis 47:25)
If Joseph had done something dishonest or corrupt, they’d have been angry. The fact they expressed gratitude and praised him for his fairness means they were not upset at how he handled the situation. They were grateful for the skill and character he’d shown in navigating some exceptionally challenging circumstances.
But Joseph did that for a very simple reason; he had a rudder for his life. His relationship with God served as a guiding force to where he didn’t succumb to the kinds of temptations and allurements that would have derailed many a man. His sensitivity to God kept him on point. The same sense of virtue that enabled him to function with dignity and decency when he was in Potiphar’s house … and when he was in prison … held him firm so that he functioned similarly now that he had a much higher level of responsibility and power—power that controlled people’s lives. He knew, at the end of the day, his ultimate accountability was to the One to whom Pharoah, and someday each of us, must ultimately answer.
Each of us that professes to being a follower of Jesus is being watched and evaluated. People are checking us out to see if what they saw in Jesus they see in us. Granted—some folks have some distorted and unrealistic notions of what they should be seeing in us. But most people get it! They know what Jesus stands for, and they believe they should see something that corresponds with that in the lives of those of us who claim to follow Him. For at the end of the day, there are only two options—we either conduct ourselves with integrity, or we join the ranks of the hypocrites. We either live our lives in a way to where people see Jesus in us, or we add to the image problem Christianity is struggling with—a problem brought on by those who espouse loyalty and allegiance to Jesus but behave in ways that are counter to his character.
I mentioned earlier the word integrity comes from “integer” which means whole … complete … not segmented or fractional in any way. The word hypocrite, on the other hand, comes from the Greek word for actor. In Greek dramas actors would wear masks as they assumed a different character; it’s from that practice we get the word. A hypocrite is one who puts on a mask … who pretends to have virtues and values that he or she does not actually possess … who projects a false appearance and then behaves in ways that contradict his or her actual beliefs.
For those of us who profess to follow Jesus, we either live with integrity or we’re a hypocrite. We either have such an intimate connection with Him to where the essence of who He is systematically makes its way through every facet of our being, or we conduct ourselves in a way that eventually breaks down and comes off as two-faced and deceptive. There is no in-between … no middle ground.
For any of us who fashion ourselves as Jesus-followers but aren’t consistent or steady when it comes to living it out—for any of us that suffer from areas where our profession and practice don’t line up—the good news is that God doesn’t want to merely do something about our past. He wants to do something about our future. He doesn’t want to just forgive us; He wants to do a transforming and empowering work within us to where our future isn’t a repeat of our past. He wants to do a work in us that will enable us to live a victorious, triumphant Christian life … a life of congruity, harmony, and integrity … a life where our character and disposition reflects the character and disposition of Jesus.
But God won’t do that kind of work with us unless we let Him. He only does it when He’s asked to—when we place our forgiven and redeemed life before Him and say, “God, I don’t want you to just be my Forgiver and Savior. I want you to be my Lord and Sanctifier. I want you to methodically and systematically move through my life to where every element of who I am is aligned and in agreement with you. I’m open. I’m taking hands off. You can have unrestricted access to my life.” That’s where true righteousness starts. That’s where true integrity begins—when you surrender yourself fully to God and you decide you don’t want to be partially and fractionally his, but thoroughly and completely His.