In the cold ocean waters off the coast of Greenland are numerous icebergs—some fairly small and some unbelievably large. If you look at them closely you’ll notice something quite interesting—they move in different directions. The smaller ones tend to drift in one direction while the massive ones tend to flow in the other. The explanation for this puzzling phenomenon is actually quite simple. The smaller icebergs are controlled by the winds at the surface, while the larger ones are carried along by the unseen currents below.
In many ways, this serves as an illustration of the sovereignty of God—the reality that while things are happening at the surface of our lives that causes stuff to shift and move, there’s also a powerful, hidden flow operating beyond the realm of what we can see that’s responsible for movement in the big things of life. Something imperceptible is at work in the unseen realm guiding us to where we’re supposed to be, even though we can’t necessarily sense it in the moment.
The notion of God’s sovereignty, while perhaps a difficult word to define, is a concept that’s all over the Bible. Perhaps the clearest example is Romans 11 where, at the end of the chapter, Paul pours out praise to God for the plan of salvation that embraces both Jews and Gentiles. The gospel is God’s answer to sin. Jesus’ sacrificial death is His response to the dilemma brought on the human race’s rebellion. Listen to how he frames it:
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Who has ever given to God, that God should repay them?” For from him and through him and for him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen. (Romans 11:33-36, NIV)
God’s ways are inscrutable. He never has to ask for advice because He knows full well what He’s doing. His understanding is absolute. His insight is unblemished. His awareness is undisputed. Everything is from him … everything runs through him … and everything is to Him. He gets the glory.
Sovereignty is a particularly appropriate topic as we come to the part of Joseph’s story recorded in Genesis 41. He’s been in prison for two years. It looks, for all the world, like he’s hit a dead end—betrayed by his brothers, sold as a slave, rising to a position of that held some measure of promise only to be falsely accused of something he didn’t do and thrown in jail. He helped out a fellow prisoner, only to be forgotten when that prisoner was released. If we’d have asked Joseph what he was doing during those two years, no doubt he could have talked about how he prayed, served, and tried to point others to God. But it’s also true that every day in prison took on a monotonous sameness that over time really wore on him. After two years, he was undoubtedly feeling it. He was asking, “Why did all this happen to me?” He was wondering if he’d ever get out. It had to seem like his whole life was two steps forward and three steps back. It didn’t make sense.
But then again—so much of what goes on around us doesn’t make sense. Why is it someone who never smoked a cigarette gets lung cancer and a guy who smoked a pack a day for decades doesn’t? And of those who get cancer—why is it one person goes through treatment and the cancer goes into remission and another receives the same treatment and it doesn’t change their condition? Why is one family hit with a seemingly endless series of trials and another seems to never have anything adverse happen to them? Why did the car wreck leave this person crippled while the person sitting next to him walked away unscathed? Why was this person promoted and the other one passed over? Questions like this can go on and on and on.
Much of the time we can’t discern any clear answers. At any given time, God is doing perhaps ten thousand different things in our lives but we’re only aware of a small minority of them. We only get a small glimmer of all He’s doing in us, through us, to us, and for us. We’re like little kids watching a baseball game through a knothole in the outfield fence. At best we see a fraction of what’s happening on the other side, but we often mistake that fraction for the whole spectrum of reality. Joseph’s experience is a case in point. His time in prison was preparing him for a future only God could see. In Genesis 41, it begins to come into focus.
One night Pharoah had a couple of bizarre dreams. In his first one, seven fat cows came up out of the Nile River and were eaten by seven skinny cows who also emerged from the river. In the second dream he saw a stalk with seven plump heads of grain on it that were suddenly swallowed up by seven shriveled heads of grain. Essentially the same dream—one involving cows and the other involving grain.
Listen to what happened next:
In the morning his mind was troubled, so he sent for all the magicians and wise men of Egypt. Pharaoh told them his dreams, but no one could interpret them for him. (Genesis 41:8, NIV)
Here’s Pharoah—the most powerful man on earth—and he’s helpless to understand his own dream. He’s baffled and stuck. So he summons his advisors and magicians, and they’re also stumped. It’s then the cupbearer remembered Joseph and recalled how he’d interpreted his and the baker’s dream some months earlier.
Now a young Hebrew was there with us, a servant of the captain of the guard. We told him our dreams, and he interpreted them for us, giving each man the interpretation of his dream. And things turned out exactly as he interpreted them to us: I was restored to my position, and the other man was impaled. (Genesis 41:12-13, NIV)
With virtually no warning, Joseph found himself standing before Pharoah. Because most of us are familiar with this story, we can easily gloss over how stunning and remarkable a breakthrough this really was. An ordinary, unknown Hebrew slave who’d been incarcerated for the last two years standing before the mightiest man in the world. Twenty-four hours earlier no one could have predicted this—least of all Joseph.
Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I had a dream, and no one can interpret it. But I have heard it said of you that when you hear a dream you can interpret it.” “I cannot do it,” Joseph replied to Pharaoh, “but God will give Pharaoh the answer he desires.” (Genesis 41:15-16, NIV).
Joseph gives Pharoah an interpretation that is the ultimate good news, bad news scenario. First there will be seven years of plenty in the land—the rains will come, crops will be plentiful, and everyone will have plenty to eat. But those seven years of plenty will be followed by seven years of famine. And those seven bad years will be more unfavorable and adverse than the seven good years were good. Then Joseph adds this …
The reason the dream was given to Pharaoh in two forms is that the matter has been firmly decided by God, and God will do it soon. (Genesis 41:32, NIV)
In other words, “Pharoah, you’d better take this seriously because God does. The fact you dreamed two dreams with the same basic storyline means you better not dismiss what I just said.”
Having explained the dream and its meaning, Joseph suggests Pharoah find someone qualified to administer the economic affairs of the nation during the upcoming years of plenty so that they can be ready when the famine strikes. This was a very shrewd and prudent suggestion, but it hinged on him finding a man of character—somebody gifted in administration, loyal to him, and honest in all his dealings. Obviously, with the amount of grain that would be handled, there would be numerous opportunities for someone to fleece the people and line their own pockets. This choice would be critical or the whole plan would fail.
It’s not surprising Pharoah recognized Joseph as the man for the job.
So Pharaoh asked them, “Can we find anyone like this man, one in whom is the spirit of God?” Then Pharaoh said to Joseph, “Since God has made all this known to you, there is no one so discerning and wise as you. You shall be in charge of my palace, and all my people are to submit to your orders. Only with respect to the throne will I be greater than you.” (Genesis 41:38-40, NIV)
It’s interesting: Even though Pharoah was a pagan ruler, he—as was the case with Potiphar a few years earlier when Joseph oversaw his household affairs—recognized the Spirit of God at work in his life. He promoted Joseph to functional equivalent of prime minister and, in the verses that follow, ratified it by giving him his signet ring (kind of like having the king’s credit card), a wardrobe of linen clothing (a sign of high honor), a gold chain (another sign of royal authority), and a chariot for transportation (so he could go wherever he wished). He also instructed the soldiers to cry out, “Bow down!” whenever Joseph passed, so that everyone could get the message.
Not bad for a Hebrew slave! Thirteen years earlier he was tending the flocks with his brothers. Now he’s the prime minister of Egypt. At the snap of the fingers, he went from being a detainee who was imprisoned against his will on a false charge and unable to move about freely to the administrator of a major government initiative instituted by the leader of the pre-eminent world power of the day.
As you think about that turn of events, think about these three questions: (1) How much of this did Joseph see in advance? None of it! (2) How much of it happened by chance? None of it! (3) Who’s behind it? God! I don’t know how we can fail to see the sovereignty of God in this chapter.
If you read on, everything played out the way Joseph predicted it would. Seven years of plenty where there was more than enough food were followed by seven years of famine where the crops died up and hunger spread. How great it must have been for a leader like Pharoah who, when the cries of the people reached his ears, could respond like it says he did in verse 55:
When all Egypt began to feel the famine, the people cried to Pharaoh for food. Then Pharaoh told all the Egyptians, “Go to Joseph and do what he tells you.”
But there’s one other note of interest and importance …
Before the years of famine came, two sons were born to Joseph by Asenath daughter of Potiphera, priest of On. Joseph named his firstborn Manasseh and said, “It is because God has made me forget all my trouble and all my father’s household.” The second son he named Ephraim and said, “It is because God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.” (Genesis 41:50-52, NIV).
A couple of things: First—Manasseh and Ephraim are Hebrew names. Even though Joseph was living in Egypt and had married an Egyptian woman, he gave his sons names that would forever remind him, and them, of their heritage as Hebrews. Even though he was living in a foreign land and had overcome incredible obstacles to where he was doing quite well, he hadn’t forgotten who he was or where he’d come from. In the names he gave to his two boys we realize that.
Second—in the Hebrew culture names meant something. When a parent named a child, it either expressed something of the life circumstances into which that child was born or something of the aspirations and longings the parent had for the child. That was certainly the case with these two boys: The firstborn—Manasseh—was a derivative of the Hebrew word “forget.” Joseph gave him this name because God had enabled him to forget the pain associated with his family of origin. That didn’t mean he’d forgotten his family for, as we’ll see later, they always remained close to his heart. But it means God had enabled him to move on from the rejection and betrayal of his brothers—that it didn’t cause him to become stuck. The second child he named Ephraim, which means “made fruitful.” Ephraim was given this name because in this place where he’d suffered so much—in these situations where he’d endured such injustice and pain and heartache—Joseph was now experiencing untold blessing.
Here’s the point: The order of the names is important, for Manasseh must always come before Ephraim. It is only when we’re set free from the heartbreak, pain, and bitterness of the past that we can experience the blessing, goodness, and graciousness of God in the present. If we’re ever going to do that, we must embrace the reality of His sovereignty and take into account the fact that, like those deep ocean currents that put massive icebergs in motion off the coast of Greenland, there are divine forces at work in our world that we can’t see but are nevertheless at work in those situations where things don’t seem to add up or make sense … that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him” (Romans 8:28). It’s only when we believe in the sovereignty of God that we can let go, move forward, and eventually come to a place where we can experience the blessing.
Which brings us back to the question: How big is your God? Is he big enough for your problems … your pain … your fears—whatever it is you’re facing? You know—there’s no going back in life. We can learn from the past, but we can’t undo it. Joseph couldn’t undo what his brothers had done to him. He couldn’t undo the lies of Potiphar’s wife. The only way he could go was forward. And the same holds true for us. We can only go forward; we can’t go back. But if we’re going to go forward, we need to place our confidence in a God that’s big enough to cover all our pain—a God whose power is such we can have confidence in him even when we don’t understand.