In October of 1986, Angie and I moved from Kansas City to Red Oak, Texas with a six-week old son in town to begin our ministry. We went there to start a church. The district had been given four acres of land and decided to build a house that would someday become a parsonage and convert the three-car garage into a chapel. But the construction was lagging behind and wasn’t finished so, for almost two months, we put our stuff in storage and our one starter family moved out of their bedroom and let us live with them. You can imagine how much fun that was with an infant! I look back and think, “How did we do that?” But we did. The church is still going, and that starter couple—the husband and wife—just turned ninety and are in an Assisted Living facility in Dallas. We still occasionally talk to them and try to drop by and pay them a visit when we’re in the area.
Point of the story—I’ve been in ministry for a while. And over the years, I’ve met some really great people—people that have wonderfully enriched my life … people that, when you spend time with them, you automatically feel like you’re a better person. But I’ve also met some really challenging people—people who, because of their brokenness and dysfunction, time spent with them becomes a very draining and depleting thing.
Here’s what I’ve concluded: Those who dare to confront and come to grips with the truth about themselves are those who pour a sense of life into others. Those who face their fear and pursue the hard road of truth are the ones that are a joy to be around. But those who play games and never come to grips with the truth are the ones who make me feel uneasy. Those who gloss over the truth and put on a mask are those who cause me to feel on edge and uptight.
I remember something a counselor friend said a number of years ago: “John 8:32 is true—‘You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.’ But before it sets you free, it typically makes you really uncomfortable.” There’s a lot of people who intuitively know that. They want to get better, but don’t want to face the truth. They want to get healthy, but don’t want to take the medicine. So, they do whatever they can to keep from facing the truth—the result being they remain stuck in their dysfunction and brokenness.
The story of Joseph from the Old Testament highlights this basic truth: If you want to be set free, you’ve got to be willing to confront the truth about yourself and come to grips with some unpleasant realities. But many of us don’t want to do that. It’s not that we don’t know the truth or how to access it. We don’t want to deal with the pain it can cause, so we deflect it, ignore it, deny it, and avoid it any way we can. But the result of that avoidance is we’re still angry, stubborn, bitter, greedy, arrogant, and self-willed. It’s only when we’re willing to be hurt by the truth about ourselves—those things others can’t see but we know are there—that we’ll be set free.
Joseph, in an effort to see if his brothers had changed, sent them home with grain. But he also instructed them to bring back his brother Benjamin. He accused them of being spies and required they return with him to substantiate their story. They do so and, when they arrive, they think there will be consequences for the fact the silver they’d brought to pay for the purchase of grain was mysteriously still in their sacks. Instead, Joseph has prepared an elaborate banquet. It’s the first time in over twenty years all twelve brothers have been in the same room at the same time. But remember—they don’t recognize Joseph. They don’t know their brother is orchestrating this. They think he’s dead.
What goes on in Genesis 44-45 is not just about setting the stage for a long-estranged brother to be reunited with his family. It’s about a group of men who were participants in a despicable act over two decades earlier being set free from the hidden truth of their past. And the recipient of that malicious action is the catalyst for it. But they don’t have a clue. The truth is about to set them free. But before it does, it will sting like the dickens.
The banquet is over and it’s time for the brothers to return to Canaan. But before they leave, Joseph has his steward hide a silver chalice in Benjamin’s bag. After the brothers leave and start home, that steward is dispatched to flag them down. He stops them and accuses them of theft. The brothers, of course, deny it with the promise that if any of them is found to be possessing it, he will die.
Each of them quickly lowered his sack to the ground and opened it. Then the steward proceeded to search, beginning with the oldest and ending with the youngest. And the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack. (Genesis 44:11-12)
You can imagine how confusing and distressing this was to the brothers. But this was another test. Joseph wanted to see if they’d bail on Benjamin the way they’d abandoned him a couple of decades earlier. Were they the same men, or had they changed?
Apprehended, they return to meet with Joseph. And even though they have no idea how the silver cup ended up in Benjamin’s possession, they pledge to become his slaves.
“What can we say to my lord?” Judah replied. “What can we say? How can we prove our innocence? God has uncovered your servants’ guilt. We are now my lord’s slaves—we ourselves and the one who was found to have the cup.” But Joseph said, “Far be it from me to do such a thing! Only the man who was found to have the cup will become my slave. The rest of you, go back to your father in peace.” (Genesis 44:16-17)
So it is that Judah—the one who was the ringleader in the decision to sell Joseph twenty years previously—speaks up. Beginning in v. 18, he makes an impassioned plea they be allowed to take Benjamin back home to Canaan, concluding with this entreaty:
“Now then, please let your servant remain here as my lord’s slave in place of the boy, and let the boy return with his brothers. How can I go back to my father if the boy is not with me? No! Do not let me see the misery that would come on my father.” (Genesis 44:33-34)
With this statement, Joseph gets a window into their hearts and is overcome with emotion:
Then Joseph could no longer control himself before all his attendants, and he cried out, “Have everyone leave my presence!” Genesis 45:1a)
Twenty years previously, the brothers would have abandoned Benjamin in a heartbeat. But things have changed—they’ve changed. They’re not going to bail on him in his time of need. In many ways, there’s been a coming together over the past twenty years. Something has happened to them on the inside. They’ve become a family. But something even more powerful is about to happen. Because they’re about to be set free in a way they can’t fathom or imagine.
So there was no one with Joseph when he made himself known to his brothers. And he wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard him, and Pharaoh’s household heard about it. Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph! Is my father still living?” But his brothers were not able to answer him, because they were terrified at his presence. (Genesis 45:1b-3)
They were “terrified” at his presence. I can think of a number of other verbs that would apply. Dumbfounded. Bewildered. Blown away. Speechless. What would it take to convince you that someone you thought was dead was actually alive? The last time they’d seen him was twenty-two years previously—when he was seventeen and they sold him to a passing band of desert nomads. Now he’s almost forty and an influential official in the Egyptian government. I don’t know about you, but I’d struggle to find the right words to say. Something like, “No hard feelings, right?” … or “It was just a joke, dude” … or “We’re cool, aren’t we?”—wouldn’t cut it.
But the amazing thing is there were no hard feelings … no recriminations … no getting even … no threats. Joseph’s brothers are dead to rights guilty, but he lets them off the hook. Listen to what he says:
Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come close to me.” When they had done so, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt! And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you. For two years now there has been famine in the land, and for the next five years there will be no plowing and reaping. But God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance. “So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God. He made me father to Pharaoh, lord of his entire household and ruler of all Egypt. Now hurry back to my father and say to him, ‘This is what your son Joseph says: God has made me lord of all Egypt. Come down to me; don’t delay. You shall live in the region of Goshen and be near me—you, your children and grandchildren, your flocks and herds, and all you have. I will provide for you there, because five years of famine are still to come. Otherwise you and your household and all who belong to you will become destitute.’ (Genesis 45:4-11)
What an amazing perspective! Joseph essentially affirms the sovereignty of God—the belief there are forces and factors at work in our lives that we can’t see or discern that allow us to be positioned precisely where He wants us to be at any given time. He doesn’t deny his brothers’ role in what played out, for he says in essence “I’m here because of your actions.” But he also acknowledges, at a deeper level, that God was at work … sending him ahead so he could be in a position to intervene and provide sustenance for the family when the famine struck—so he could make sure God’s promise they’d someday become a great nation would not be wiped out by the famine.
There’s something else in this story that is very meaningful:
“Tell my father about all the honor accorded me in Egypt and about everything you have seen. And bring my father down here quickly.” (Genesis 45:13)
Joseph provides us an illustration of something hard-wired into every child—the desire to know his father is proud of him. Even though he has risen to the pinnacle of human achievement after experiencing more than his share of pain and sorrow … and even though he is now in a position of great influence and great authority—at the end of the day he’s his father’s son and he wants to know his dad is proud of him. There was an emotional need deep inside that nothing short of his dad’s approval and blessing could satisfy. What a powerful, compelling image to those of us that are dads.
Genesis 45 ends with the brothers going back home and informing their aged father that Joseph is alive—an announcement that almost causes him to die on the spot:
So they went up out of Egypt and came to their father Jacob in the land of Canaan. They told him, “Joseph is still alive! In fact, he is ruler of all Egypt.” Jacob was stunned; he did not believe them. But when they told him everything Joseph had said to them, and when he saw the carts Joseph had sent to carry him back, the spirit of their father Jacob revived. (Genesis 45:25-27)
Jacob was obviously overjoyed at the news that his son was still alive:
And Israel said, “I’m convinced! My son Joseph is still alive. I will go and see him before I die.” (Genesis 45:28).
He revises his bucket list. The family moves to Egypt and they settle in the region od Goshen. And for the next four hundred years the Jews will there. Initially they’ll live there in peace. But when a Pharoah comes along some years later who didn’t know about Joseph and his contributions to the Egyptian empire, they’ll end up in captivity. And they’ll remain there until a deliverer named Moses is raised up to lead them out of Egypt and back to their original land.
And about 1800 years about that, a baby will be born of Hebrew lineage who’s the ultimate deliverer—in fact, here’s how the NT begins:
This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah the son of David, the son of Abraham: Abraham was the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers … (Matthew 1:1-2)
Joseph, who’s the hero of this story, isn’t mentioned in the genealogy of Jesus. He’s simply included as one of the brothers of Judah. If you read Genesis closely, Judah’s track record is checkered. He’s the one who suggested selling Joseph to the Midianite traders. In Genesis 38 he’s at the center of very tangled circumstance involving his daughter-in-law Tamar. On the plus side, when the silver chalice was found in Benjamin’s sack, he’s the one who said, “Take me instead of him. Our father won’t be able to deal with this. Please let him go; I’ll be your slave.”
Point being—given the character attributes of these two men, one might think the Messiah would come from the line of Joseph and not Judah. If I were writing the script, that’s how I’d write it. But God wrote this script, and he put Jesus in the family tree of Judah—a reality which goes to show just how little many of us really understand grace.
A number of years ago, that same counselor friend I mentioned earlier said something else I’ve never forgotten, “You’re only as sick as your secrets.” Secrets have a way of festering on the inside until our soul is diseased and we don’t know why or what we can do about it. If we want to be free, at some point we’ve got to come clean. Joseph’s brothers had been sick with the guilt of their sin for a long time. Keeping their secret had kept them in bondage. But the path to freedom involves facing up to the truth of our sin and, in an act of confession, repenting of our wrongdoing. It means giving up our anger … our excuses … our whitewashed explanations … our rationalizations … and owning up before God to the wrongness of what we’ve done. Only then will we be free. Only then can true healing occur.
You don’t need to perfect to come to Jesus. All you need to be is willing to face the truth. Jesus said it so well:
“You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32)