Twenty years ago Shrek 2 was the biggest movie of the year, MySpace was the most popular social media site, Motorola released its iconic Razr phone, and Friends aired its final episode. Twenty years ago, Napoleon Dynamite was released in theaters.
Twenty years is a long time, and a lot can happen. It’s roughly the amount of time it takes a child to go from entering the world to entering the workforce. A lot of water flows under the bridge over the course of twenty years. But one thing that can’t happen is for the hurt and pain of a guilty conscience to go away. You can develop a seared conscience—one so hardened and calloused you no longer feel the pangs of guilt. But just as toxic waste stored underground eventually bubbles to the surface, so things from our past we bury and try to forget about have a way of creeping back into our lives.
We see that in the story of Joseph and how, in Genesis 42 & 43, his brothers are re-introduced to the pain of an event they’d participated in some twenty years previously. It’s a part of the story that compels us to confront the question, “Are you willing to face your past?”
One of the harsh realities of life is you can’t go back to the past—what’s done is done and it can’t be changed. Joseph, when he found himself rotting in an Egyptian jail, couldn’t go back and change the unjust and unfair series of events that landed him there. But at the same time, each of us must at some point face our past. When our conscience awakens and stirs, we find that event, episode, or experience we tried so hard to forget is still there, and we have to deal with it.
Every one of us has a conscience … an internal moral barometer that senses when we’ve done wrong. It’s not a matter of religion or education or ethnic origin. It’s a matter of being human. It’s part of God’s original design. In most cases, the conscience is a good thing because it keeps us out of trouble. But it’s not infallible. And it’s not the same as the Holy Spirit, for our conscience doesn’t have the power to compel our behavior. It’s like a flashing red light at a traffic intersection. It can’t keep you from running the light, but it lets us know that, if you’ve chosen to do so, you’ve done something wrong.
While all of us have a conscience, we can ignore it, discount it, and look the other way for so long it begins to not function the way it was meant to. What once seemed wrong doesn’t seem so bad anymore. What once kept us awake at night no longer bothers us.
I’m sure, in the case of Joseph’s brothers, they thought the passage of time would alleviate the guilt of what they’d done to their younger brother. After all, they hadn’t seen him since they sold him to a band of traders making their way to Egypt. My guess is they assumed he was dead, for slaves typically didn’t have a long lifespan. If their conscience pricked them from time to time, they’d long since learned to hide it, cover it, and quickly change the subject. To their father, they only spoke of their brother in the past tense. And to each other, they didn’t speak about it at all. It was taboo.
But down in Egypt, through a series of events so incredible no one could have even dreamed them up, Joseph has risen to the position of prime minister. The brothers have no clue. But they’re about to find out.
Genesis 42 resumes the story roughly nine years after Genesis 41 ends, and everything has happened exactly as Joseph said it would. The seven good years have indeed been very good. The surplus has been set aside. But they’re now two years into the bad years, and things are very bad. A vast famine has gripped not just Egypt, but the entire region. And word has traveled to Canaan, probably through traders like the ones Joseph was sold to, that grain is available in Egypt.
So it was that Jacob—Joseph’s father—asked his sons to go to Egypt in search of grain. You can imagine how awkward this made them feel, for this was the place they’d sent Joseph. Even though they believed he was dead and no one would remind them or confront them about what they’d done, to have to travel to this land to get the food they needed to stay alive reminded them of their despicable action. Which highlights this point of application: If you’re going to be healed from a guilty past, you’ve got to go to Egypt. At some point, you must face up to what you’ve done.
Genesis 42 begins with Joseph functioning in his role of prime minister when, one day, out of the clear blue, his brothers show up in search of grain. Of course, they don’t recognize him—he’s dressed in Egyptian dress and speaking to them through an interpreter. But he immediately recognizes them and knows who they are. How would you have responded if this had happened to you? What would you have done if, after twenty years, those who had wronged you and been the source of great pain in your life suddenly showed up on your doorstep without warning? I don’t think we can fathom the wave of emotion—the range of confusing feelings—that came over him in that moment.
Some people, when they read this part of Joseph’s story, are bothered that he didn’t immediately reveal himself to his brothers. They think he’s toying with them unnecessarily in his series of subsequent moves in ways that are needlessly painful—accusing them of being spies, having them briefly put in prison, and putting the money they’d brought for the purchase of grain back in their sack to where they discover it on the way home. But my sense is Joseph was driven by a desire for reconciliation, and the only way to know if it was possible was if he got the answers to some important questions—questions like, “Are they the same scoundrels they were a couple of decades earlier or have their hearts changed?” “Will they own up to what they did?” “Do they even want me in the family again?” He put them through a series of tests while keeping his identity hidden so he could get some answers.
There are a couple of turning points in these two chapters. The first comes after the brothers spend three days in an Egyptian jail.
They said to one another, “Surely we are being punished because of our brother. We saw how distressed he was when he pleaded with us for his life, but we would not listen; that’s why this distress has come on us.” (Genesis 42:21, NIV)
During their brief time in prison, the Holy Spirit jostled their memory so they’d connect their current situation with what happened in the past. And it’s interesting what they remembered—not just how they hated him or how they’d plotted against him or the way they betrayed him. They remembered his screams from the pit. Those blood curdling cries were so engraved in their minds that, two decades later, it all came rushing back. The Holy Spirit has connected their past sin with their present suffering. And this is so important. For if you want to make peace with your past—if you want to successfully deal with the skeletons in the closet—the first step is that you’ve got to go there. You’ve got to stop blaming others or your circumstances. You’ve got to quit justifying and rationalizing your actions and own what you did.
The second turning point came when they recognized God’s hand in their current circumstances. This is tied to when, on the way back to Canaan with the grain they’d purchased, they discover the silver they’d taken to make the purchase sitting in the top of their sacks.
Joseph gave orders to fill their bags with grain, to put each man’s silver back in his sack, and to give them provisions for their journey. After this was done for them, they loaded their grain on their donkeys and left. At the place where they stopped for the night one of them opened his sack to get feed for his donkey, and he saw his silver in the mouth of his sack. “My silver has been returned,” he said to his brothers. “Here it is in my sack.” Their hearts sank and they turned to each other trembling and said, “What is this that God has done to us?” (Genesis 42:25-28, NIV)
What’s so important about this development is this is the first time in the entire story the brothers ever acknowledge God—demonstrate any sensitivity to, or awareness of, His reality. As things turn against them in Egypt, the Holy Spirit taps them on the shoulder and says, “Remember what you did to Joseph? This is connected to that.” They know they did wrong and God is bringing it to light.
For the wound must be cleaned before healing can begin. You can’t help anyone who’s in denial and refuses to confront the truth. One of the greatest indicators a person is coming clean is when, as it relates to their past, they tell you something you didn’t know. Most of us, when we get caught, try to confess as little as possible. But when they tell you more than you knew—if you knew A, B, and C about the situation and they tell you D, E, and F—you know their repentance is genuine. True repentance involves coming clean … and coming clean means owning up to the whole pattern of wrongdoing—not just the thing that happened to get us caught.
It’s hard for any of us to say, “I’m guilty” or “I was wrong.” For Joseph’s brothers, they’d covered up their sin and stifled their guilty conscience for twenty years. But God is beginning to awaken them and, in Joseph’s mind, they’ve passed the first test. So they go back to their father Jacob and tell him they must bring Benjamin—Joseph’s younger full brother—back with them to Egypt to prove they’re not spies. Naturally Jacob isn’t eager to embrace the notion:
Their father Jacob said to them, “You have deprived me of my children. Joseph is no more and Simeon is no more, and now you want to take Benjamin. Everything is against me!” (Genesis 42:36, NIV)
But the brothers convince the father there is no other way, so he reluctantly agrees to let Benjamin accompany them.
When they get back to Egypt, nothing makes sense …
When Joseph saw Benjamin with them, he said to the steward of his house, “Take these men to my house, slaughter an animal and prepare a meal; they are to eat with me at noon.” The man did as Joseph told him and took the men to Joseph’s house. (Genesis 43:16-17, NIV)
They think it’s payback for the silver in their sack, but they arrive to find the table has been set for a great banquet. Simeon is released from prison and reunited with them. And then Joseph enters the banquet hall and, upon seeing his brother Benjamin for the first time in twenty years, is so overcome by emotion he has to leave the room to compose himself.
As he looked about and saw his brother Benjamin, his own mother’s son, he asked, “Is this your youngest brother, the one you told me about?” And he said, “God be gracious to you, my son.” Deeply moved at the sight of his brother, Joseph hurried out and looked for a place to weep. He went into his private room and wept there. (Genesis 43:29-30, NIV)
As the banquet begins, the brothers notice something:
The men had been seated before him in the order of their ages, from the firstborn to the youngest; and they looked at each other in astonishment. (Genesis 43:33, NIV)
Was this a coincidence or what? This had to feel like a Twilight Zone moment. And there’s one final detail:
When portions were served to them from Joseph’s table, Benjamin’s portion was five times as much as anyone else’s. So they feasted and drank freely with him. (Genesis 43:34, NIV)
Benjamin receives five times as much food as the others—a gesture that was also a test. How will the brothers react when he’s treated in a way that conveys some sort of favored status? Will they bristle and become upset, or will they be not allow it to come between them and their younger brother?
Because this is where chapter 43 suspends the stsory, I want us to hit the pause button. But we need to focus on a really important matter. If we stand back and look at the story thus far, we can ask, “How does God awaken a guilty conscience?” I believe he does it the way we see it happening here—by forcing us, little by little, to face the consequences of our past. It’s rarely easy, and it’s almost always painful. But anything that brings us to our senses is ultimately for our good. Just as was the case with the prodigal son, had the father intervened and struck out after him too soon—before he’d had the chance to hit rock bottom and come to his senses—there wouldn’t have been the outcome that resulted because he chose to wait.
That has to happen in each and every one of us. We must move past our denial and come to grips with the wrongness of our actions. When it happens can’t be forced, for repentance is a work of God in the human heart. As long as the scheming, lying, and deceiving continues, all we can do is pray for God’s Spirit to bring the other person to their senses and wait patiently for that day to come.
Which leaves me with two things to say. What if you, like Joseph, have been the victim of mistreatment at the hands of others? What if you’ve been betrayed, abused, and falsely accused? How can you awaken a guilty conscience in the heart of your tormentor? How can you help them own and come to grips with what they did? You can’t! Only God can do that. You and I can’t force another person to repent. All we can do is give God the time to deal with those who’ve hurt us, let go of it to the best of our ability, and move forward.
But some of us are more like Joseph’s brothers. We’re the ones burdened with the guilty conscience. For the past few weeks, if not months, He’s been peeling back the layers and forcing us to confront something from our past—something we’ve tried to shove underground and disregard. But right now, we can’t not deal with it. If that’s where you are, listen to these helpful words:
“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. Though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” (Isaiah 1:18, NIV)
The good news of the gospel is that there’s forgiveness. Nothing we’ve done is so glaring, flagrant, or grievous that it has moved us outside the reach of God’s transforming touch. Jesus came to this world to save sinners and restore guilt-ridden consciences. The door to the Father’s house is open … the lights are on … and we won’t be turned away—because He loves us.