Joseph, Repentance, and Reconciliation

All right, guys, are y’all ready? Ready? You ready to do this? Are you sure? I’m not.

Genesis 42. And if you’re scratching your head and thinking, “Hold on here. Ethan’s preaching this morning. Is that a typo—42 through 45?” It is not a typo, okay? I’m going to attempt to do what I’ve never done before, so you guys may—or hopefully may—witness history being made this morning.

Honestly, I have thought, “How can I divide this section, this narrative, into different sermons?” But it’s telling one story, and I feel like it hits better and packs a greater punch if you put all the chapters together. We’re going to use a kind of hybrid method. We’ll tell the story and interject the Scriptures throughout, which is not typically how I preach, but I think it will work for this one.

So, Genesis 42. We will begin by looking at verse 1. And just as a preface, this sermon may be a smidge longer than you guys can take. Are you ready? You buckled up? Let’s do it. Are you ready to go? All right, all right.

Genesis 42, verse 1:

“And when Jacob learned that there was grain for sale in Egypt, he said to his sons, ‘Why do you look at one another?’ And he said, ‘Behold, I have heard that there is grain for sale in Egypt. Go down and buy grain for us there, so we may live and not die.’ Ten of Joseph’s brothers went down to Egypt to buy grain, but Jacob did not send Benjamin with them because he feared harm might come to him. Thus the sons of Israel came to buy among the others who came, for the famine was in the land of Canaan.

“Now Joseph was governor over the land. He was the one who sold to all the people of the land. And Joseph’s brothers came and bowed themselves before him with their faces to the ground. Joseph saw his brothers and recognized them, but he treated them like strangers and spoke roughly to them. ‘Where do you come from?’ he said.

“‘From the land of Canaan to buy food,’ they replied.

“Joseph recognized his brothers, but they did not recognize him. He remembered the dreams he had dreamed about them and said, ‘You are spies. You’ve come to see the nakedness of the land.’

“And they said to him, ‘No, my lord, your servants have come to buy food. We are all sons of one man. We are honest men’”—insert chuckle—“‘your servants have never been spies.’

“He said to them, ‘No, it is the nakedness of the land that you have come to see.’

“And they said, ‘We, your servants, are twelve brothers, the sons of one man in the land of Canaan. And behold, the youngest is this day with our father, and one is no more.’”

Talk about irony.

“But Joseph said to them, ‘It is as I said to you: you are spies. By this you shall be tested.’” Keep that in mind. “‘By the life of Pharaoh, you shall not go from this place unless your youngest brother comes here. Send one of you, and let him bring your brother, while you remain confined, that your words may be tested, whether the truth is in you. Or else, by the life of Pharaoh, you are spies.’”

And that is the word of the Lord.

Our main point this morning is that Joseph’s reunion with his brothers reveals how God’s grace grants true repentance and empowers forgiveness.

Now, what would you do if you had unlimited power and unlimited resources? If you could go anywhere, do anything, and have complete authority, with no one to stop you, how would you wield that authority? We might say, “Well, I would feed the hungry. I would pay off college debts. I would pay off my parents’ house. I would eliminate medical debt and render humanitarian aid.” But if we’re honest, there’s a temptation lurking beneath the surface: “I would find that so-and-so, and I would get back at them.”

And, by the way, let me just say this in full transparency as your pastor: I have had to eat these words this week. If we were in Joseph’s position, we would be tempted to use our power for revenge rather than reconciliation.

With that in mind, let’s go back thousands of years to an Egyptian palace. We’ve watched Joseph journey from privilege to the pit, then from the pit to Potiphar’s house, from Potiphar’s house to prison, and finally from prison to the palace. The dreamer has become the deliverer. The prisoner has become prime minister.

Now he’s the second most powerful man on the face of the entire planet. He can do whatever he wants, with whomever he wants, whenever and however he wants. That’s Joseph’s power. When his brothers come to Egypt asking for help, will he use his power for revenge or reconciliation? We’ll find out as we look at Genesis 42 through 45 this morning. But remember, we’ll see a beautiful image of the heart of Jesus Christ, who could have condemned his enemies but chose to save them instead.

Point number one, if you’re a note-taker: write down the reunion.

The famine spreads. Jacob says, “Why are you guys staring at each other? We’re out of food. We’re going to die. You go to Egypt, because I’ve heard there’s bread there. Only you’re not taking Benjamin. He’s the only remaining son of my beloved Rachel”—or so he thinks.

Now, the irony is this: these brothers go to Egypt. They enter the throne room of Egypt’s governor. They’re dusty from travel, worn by famine, desperate, and vulnerable. They’re Semitic shepherds who pay homage to Egyptian power. Then they look up and see a man draped in fine linen. A gold chain hangs around his neck. On his hand gleams Pharaoh’s signet ring. He’s shaved from head to toe. His eyelids are lined with Egyptian kohl, and he speaks to them through an interpreter.

And he’s harsh. He’s rough. He almost seems ticked off that they’re even in his presence.

The boy they stripped of his cloak is now clothed in the robes of a governor. The brother they sold for a price is now the one who sets the price for the food. The dreamer they mocked is now the one who interprets dreams for Pharaoh himself. The voice that cried from the pit now commands Egypt’s armies.

They don’t recognize him, but Joseph recognizes them. In fact, Moses repeats that three different times. He wants us to feel the dramatic tension. They’re blind. They don’t know whom they’re standing before, yet he sees everything.

This reminds me of another Hebrew who would stand before his brothers, and they would not recognize him either. Isaiah 53:2 says of this Messiah, “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, no beauty that we should desire him.” Even Jesus’s own brothers did not believe that he was who he claimed to be. When he entered Jerusalem, the religious leaders didn’t recognize him. When he stood before Pilate, Pilate didn’t recognize him. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 2:8, “If the rulers of this age knew who he was, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” The Lord of creation came unto his own, and his own did not receive him. They did not recognize him.

Isn’t that the tragedy of sin? It blinds us to the very one we so desperately need. It causes us to bow before false gods and false powers, trusting in false security without realizing that the King we rejected is the Savior we need.

Joseph will use his concealed identity to issue a series of tests—to see whether these men have changed, whether they have truly repented of the wrong they did to him. Joseph now embarks on a wise pursuit of repentance.

But before we go further, what is repentance? The Hebrew word shuv means to turn, to turn around. Sometimes people need a shove in the right direction. It means to be going one way, but then to do a complete 180 and turn in the other direction. The Greek word metanoia carries the same weight. It’s a change of mind that leads to a change of heart, which then leads to a change of behavior.

There’s a difference between merely feeling remorse or regret, or getting caught, and actually being sorrowful for your sins. It’s godly sorrow that leads to repentance. In fact, Jesus’s first message was, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” It is to turn from sin and self to the Savior. And it is, indeed, the kindness of God that leads us to repentance.

Joseph embarks on a series of tests. He’s like a doctor pressing on a wound to see what comes out. These chapters in Genesis are really psychologically complex. First, Joseph accuses them of being spies and throws them in prison for three days. Then he demands that they bring Benjamin, keeping Simeon as a hostage.

Is this revenge? Is Joseph toying with them? I don’t think so, because five times over the course of these chapters, Joseph recreates the circumstances of his betrayal in order to reveal whether God has truly changed their hearts. Through these tests, Joseph seeks genuine transformation. Repentance isn’t just saying, “I’m sorry.” It’s changing and pursuing reconciliation.

Test one: Can they admit their guilt?

Joseph has kept Simeon in prison. He wants them to bring their younger brother to prove they’re not spies. They say, “We are guilty concerning our brother. We saw his distress but didn’t listen, causing this trouble.” Reuben responds, “I told you not to sin against him, but you didn’t listen. So now there comes a reckoning for his blood.”

A three-day imprisonment is their first opportunity to repent. And those three days likely echo the time Joseph spent in the pit before being sold: time in the darkness to think. It works, because they confess, “Hey, we sinned.” The chickens have come home to roost. Our sins have found us out. We remember when we threw Joseph into the pit. We heard his cries and his pleas for mercy, but we didn’t listen. Instead, we sat down and ate lunch. That’s why this distress has come upon us. God is paying us back for what we did.

For 22 years they have lived in silence, keeping up this façade and lying to their father, Jacob, about what truly happened. But pain and suffering have a way of bringing out the truth. Reuben says, “I told you not to sin against the boy. Now there’s a reckoning for his blood.” God is bringing judgment, but they don’t realize that their Judge is also their Redeemer.

The first test is passed. Their conscience has been awakened. But does this prove they’ve changed, or is this just guilt talking?

Guilty people sometimes have no problem saying, “Yeah, we’re guilty.” Under pressure, they say, “Well, we’ve all made mistakes, and nobody’s perfect.” They may even be able to name the exact sin. That doesn’t necessarily mean repentance has taken place, but it is the first step: acknowledging guilt and confessing it.

Practically, that’s the difference between saying, “Yeah, I’m sorry if I hurt you,” and saying, “I’m sorry. I was wrong to speak to you that way.” It’s the difference between explaining it away and actually taking responsibility. It’s not merely protecting our ego; it’s exposing our sin. Can we specify exactly what we did and to whom? Can we confess it before God in prayer? Can we say it out loud without excusing ourselves?

Joseph hears them speaking in Hebrew. They think he doesn’t understand because he has been speaking through an interpreter. Joseph turns away and weeps. His heart is drawn to these brothers. He hasn’t seen them in over two decades, and hearing the Hebrew tongue spoken in his presence brings him home. He wants to run and hug his brothers, but it’s not time yet. He has to ensure that they’ve actually changed.

This is costing him something. And the word used for “weep” is strong. It means to weep aloud or to sob. But notice that Joseph doesn’t push them to apologize. He gives space and time for grace to work.

Loved ones, it is precisely the kindness of God that leads sinners to repentance. Sometimes it’s consistent gentleness and kindness that really draws repentance out. But sometimes that takes time, right? Love bears the cost. Love waits. True love doesn’t rush past the wound; rather, it creates space for the wound to be properly healed. And we see in this test that repentance accepts responsibility.

Joseph keeps Simeon as a hostage. He sends the others home with the command to bring Benjamin. The brothers return and tell their father everything. But something bad has happened. They open their sacks, and what do they find? Their silver has been returned.

Verse 28: When they see the silver they used to purchase the grain, their hearts fail them, and they turn trembling to one another, saying, “What is this that God has done to us?” They didn’t know that Joseph had ordered his servants to put the silver back in their sacks.

So, once again, divine irony. They once sold Joseph for a mere 20 pieces of silver. Now this silver, which appears stolen, could cost them their very lives. Joseph is recreating the circumstances, showing them, “Hey, you reap what you sow.”

Jacob’s response is heartbreaking: “You mean you didn’t bring Simeon back? You’ve taken away my children. Joseph is gone, Simeon too, and now you’re taking my beloved Benjamin. All this has happened to me. I’m losing everything.”

Like Jacob, we can often feel that everything is against us, even though God is using those very circumstances for us. Jacob doesn’t realize what’s happening. He doesn’t realize that this will result in the salvation of his family.

Reuben then steps up and assumes responsibility for the safe return of both Simeon and Benjamin. Maybe this was another attempt by Reuben to regain his father’s favor after his earlier failures. After all, it was Reuben who suggested casting Joseph into the pit in Genesis 37. Although he initially intended to rescue Joseph, he still bore responsibility for the plan that set the tragedy in motion.

So here, Reuben offers his own two sons as a pledge for his brother’s safe return, willing to bear the cost rather than evade accountability. Loved ones, true repentance doesn’t result in blame-shifting but in taking responsibility for one’s deeds and actions. He could have said, “You know what? You guys are just as guilty as I am.” Instead, he says, “You know what? It’s my fault, and I will bear the blame.”

True repentance is getting it out in the open, confessing it before God, and taking action against sin. It is being honest. What does it look like practically? It looks like a husband who, mid-argument, stops defending himself. It looks like an employee who, rather than saying, “You know what? It’s the other guy’s fault,” takes responsibility: “The error is mine.” It looks like a parent who apologizes to a child after sinning in front of them instead of making excuses.

Test number three leads us to chapter 43, verses 1 through 14: Can they sacrifice for each other?

Loved ones, repentance is a sacrifice made for the good of others. The famine continues. Time has passed, leaving Jacob with no other option. For him, sending Benjamin is unthinkable. He has already lost Joseph. He doesn’t want to risk losing Rachel’s only remaining son. But there’s no bread left in Canaan. They’re starving to death. They have to go back, and the only way they can get Simeon and bring back food is to take Benjamin.

Now Judah, an unsuspecting hero in this story, steps forward to guarantee Benjamin’s safety with his own life. Verse 9 of chapter 43 says, “I will be a pledge of his safety. From my hand you shall require him. If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, let me bear the blame forever.”

This is some character development, isn’t it? The Judah of chapter 37 said, “Yeah, let’s not only throw him into a pit; let’s make some cash off him and be rid of him for good.” The Judah of chapter 38 has sex with a prostitute who happens to be his daughter-in-law. But the Judah of chapter 43 is taking responsibility and even putting himself and his family at risk for the good of another.

And, by the way, keep this in mind: this is the language of substitution. “I will take his place.”

Judah’s transformation proves that genuine repentance is possible. Maybe there’s someone in your life like Judah, and you’re thinking, “There’s no way they’ll ever change.” Judah is a testament to the life-changing grace of God. God can change a person when he saves a person.

Jacob finally relents. “If I lose my children, it’s as if I’ve lost everything. Go to Egypt, and bring back Benjamin.” The third test has been passed. They are willing to sacrifice themselves for another instead of sacrificing another for themselves.

Loved ones, repentance is not just saying, “I’m sorry.” Repentance is a change of character, a change of attitude, and a change of actions.

In tests one and two, Joseph applied pressure, and the brothers responded rightly under it. But nobody forced Judah to make this decision. Judah is being proactive rather than reactive.

What does this look like for us? It’s a friend who offers, without being asked, to cover a debt for someone who wronged them years ago. It’s a sibling who takes care of a parent even though the other sibling doesn’t want to. It’s putting your own reputation, time, and money on the line for the good of someone who once treated you as expendable. If test two is, “I’ll own what I did,” test three is, “I will now spend myself for the person who once harmed me.”

So they return to Egypt. Joseph summons his brothers into his house, and immediately they assume they’re in trouble. Their guilty consciences have convinced them that they’re about to be punished over the return of the money. Their fear causes them to interpret Joseph’s invitation as judgment.

But instead, what does Joseph do? Joseph responds with unexpected grace. He commands that the finest food be prepared, saying in verse 16 of chapter 43, “These men shall dine with me at noon.” The men have their feet washed, their donkeys are cared for, and Joseph’s steward begins to calm their fears, saying, “Peace be to you. Do not be afraid. Your God and the God of your father has put treasure in your sacks for you. I received your money.”

Instead of condemnation, Joseph showers his brothers with kindness and even returns their money. That’s not repaying evil for evil, but evil with good. That is loving your enemies, isn’t it? Blessing those who curse you, doing good to those who despise and mistreat you. That is overcoming evil with good.

Joseph comes out in his royal attire. In verse 27, he asks the pressing question: “Is your father well? The old man of whom you spoke, is he still alive?” Joseph misses his dad. It’s been over two decades, and he wants nothing more than to see his father. “How’s your father?”

When the brothers present themselves, Joseph’s eyes immediately alight upon Benjamin. Verse 29: “Is this your younger brother, of whom you spoke to me?” This is Benjamin. Joseph can barely contain himself. After two decades, he finally sees his baby brother, his only full brother, Rachel’s other son. The last time he saw Benjamin, he was just a child. “My, how you’ve grown.” He probably has a wife and children of his own, and Joseph just wants to run to Benjamin and say, “My baby brother, I’ve missed you.”

Verse 30: Joseph has to hurry out, for his compassion grew warm for his brother, and he sought a place to weep. He entered his chamber and wept there.

Moses uses a very strong word for compassion in Hebrew. It’s the word for womb. It’s the deep, visceral love a mother has for her child. Joseph cannot contain himself. He has to go to a private room, and he weeps.

Loved ones, do you see Jesus here? The greater Joseph, who in Matthew 23:37 said, “O Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who were sent to it, how often I wanted to gather you under my wings as a hen gathers her brood, and you were not willing.” The greater Joseph wept over the city that would crucify him.

Test number four: Can they celebrate another’s blessings without jealousy? Repentance rejoices instead of injuring.

Loved ones, in verses 31 through 34, Joseph composes himself and returns to the feast. He arranges their seating in a specific manner. He seats them from the firstborn, according to his birthright, to the youngest, according to his youth. And the men look at one another in amazement. How can this foreign governor know how old we are? How can he know our birth order? He can’t, unless— But they’re too amazed.

We haven’t eaten like this in months. In fact, we’ve never eaten like this. We’ve never been in an Egyptian palace. We’ve never eaten at an Egyptian table.

Years earlier, they hated the favorite son. Will they still hate and resent the favorite son? Will they resent Benjamin the way they once resented Joseph? They don’t. Instead, verse 34 says, “They drank and were merry with him.” They feast together in joy. The fourth test is passed. They celebrate Benjamin’s blessing without bitterness.

That’s hard, isn’t it? Sometimes we’re good at weeping with those who weep, but it is hard to rejoice with those who rejoice when you’ve been overlooked and somebody else gets the promotion. But God is able to soften our hearts. The same brothers who hated Joseph, who could not speak peaceably with him, now rejoice to see their baby brother receive five times the portion they were given.

Loved ones, true repentance is evident in our hearts when we can genuinely celebrate someone else’s promotion, a friend’s answer to prayer, or a coworker’s praise. We can celebrate someone else’s thriving marriage, someone else’s vibrant ministry.

Now, there’s an irony in this feast. Do you notice it? They once ate lunch while Joseph was crying in the pit. But now the tables have turned. Now it’s Joseph who is feeding them, and they’re the ones who are afraid.

But this is grace, isn’t it? Preparing a meal for those who betrayed you and threw you into a pit. This points us to a greater Joseph who would one day wash the feet of and prepare a feast for those who, that very night, would betray him. That’s what grace does. It loves your enemy. It blesses those who curse you. It prays for those who despise you. It does good to those who persecute you.

The last test: Will they abandon Benjamin to save themselves? Repentance prioritizes others’ well-being above self-preservation.

Joseph fills their sacks with grain after their feast, and once again he returns their silver. But in Benjamin’s sack, in verse 5 of chapter 44, he places his own silver cup, the cup he uses for divination. They would look at water or wine in cups, and it would somehow swirl around and show them the future.

Joseph sends them on their way, but he hatches a plan. He sends a servant after them. The servant overtakes them and says, “Hey, you’d better go back, because you stole something very valuable from my master.”

The brothers say in verses 7 through 9, “Far be it from your servants to do such a thing. Behold, the money that we found in the mouths of our sacks we brought to you from the land of Canaan. How could we steal silver or gold from your lord’s house? Whichever of your servants is found with it, he shall die, and we will be my lord’s servants. We’ve done nothing wrong. If you find a cup in one of our sacks, he’s a dead man.”

Verse 12: “He searched, beginning with the eldest and ending with the youngest, and the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack.”

Oh no. What on earth have we done?

Once again, Joseph is recreating another scenario. Years earlier, his brothers abandoned him to a pit and sold him for profit. Now they have the chance to abandon Benjamin. “We didn’t have anything to do with it. We didn’t know he was a thief. Take him. We’ll go.” They have an opportunity to split, but they don’t.

Instead, verse 13 says, “They tore their clothes”—the same gesture Jacob made when he thought Joseph was dead—“and they returned to the city together.” They will not abandon their brother.

The fifth and greatest test is passed. The brothers who once sacrificed Joseph are now willing to sacrifice themselves to preserve Benjamin. Loved ones, that is what repentance looks like. When we truly repent, the way we treat others changes as well. Can I get an amen?

Both times, they could have chosen self-preservation, but now they choose loyalty. They could have walked away, but instead they bear fruit in keeping with repentance. And notice, it’s a consistent pattern. Joseph gave them five tests, which they passed five different times. That’s what repentance looks like practically: it’s consistent. It’s a pattern of choosing someone else’s good over one’s own safety and good.

Verses 18 through 34 are very precious. Judah steps up and says, “Oh my lord, please let your servant speak a word in my lord’s ears, and let not your anger burn against your servant, for you are like Pharaoh himself.” He’s speaking to Joseph, coming in humility but making a bold request.

He rehearses the entire story. He notes how Jacob was reluctant to let Benjamin go. He says in verse 20, “His brother is dead, and he alone is left of his mother’s children, and his father loves him.”

Judah gets to the heart of the matter in verses 30 through 31: “As soon as I come to your servant my father, and the boy is not with us, then, as his life is bound up in the boy’s life, as soon as he sees that the boy is not with us, he will die, and your servants will bring down the gray hairs of your servant our father with sorrow to Sheol”—that is, the grave.

Judah has truly changed, hasn’t he? “I can’t stand the thought of my father hearing about his other son dying a horrible death.” Judah has moved from being a self-centered schemer to being the one who can’t stand the thought of breaking his father’s heart.

But here we go. Verses 33 and 34: “Please let your servant remain instead”—keep that word in mind—“instead of the boy as a servant to my lord, and let the boy go back with his brothers. For how can I go back to my father if the boy is not with me? I fear to see the evil that would find my father.”

Judah is saying, in essence, “Let me take his place.”

Notice what has happened across this entire scene. Judah takes responsibility. He no longer protects himself. He no longer blames others. He offers himself in Benjamin’s place. They acknowledge guilt and sorrow. They confess their iniquity before God. They value their brother rather than sacrifice him. They’re demonstrating all the fruits of true repentance, aren’t they?

The Judah who once said, “What profit does it bring if we kill our brother?” is now saying, “Do not take this brother. Take me instead.”

Loved ones, that’s what true repentance does. It produces true love and selflessness toward others. John says we know we’ve passed from death to life because we love the brothers. True repentance effects a change in our attitudes, our actions, our affections, and our love for one another. Judah’s repentance is demonstrated not merely by words of sorrow, but by a selfless love that costs him everything.

Loved ones, this is substitutionary atonement in shadow form, because Judah’s substitution points forward to another from the tribe of Judah. In fact, he’s known as the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He would offer himself as a substitute. He himself would descend into slavery and death to save his brothers—the greater Son of Judah, who would bear the punishment that belongs to others so that we could go free.

Judah is willing to bear the punishment that belongs to another. He’s willing to die, in effect, so that his brother might live. But Paul writes that, for our sake, God made Jesus to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Jesus, the descendant of Judah, took our place. He stood in our stead. He absorbed the wrath we deserved. We see the pattern: Judah steps forward as a substitute; Jesus steps forward as our substitute. Judah offers to bear blame forever; Jesus bore our sin forever on the cross. Judah cannot bear his father’s grief, but Jesus satisfies the Father’s justice. It’s amazing, isn’t it?

Chapter 45, verses 1 through 3:

“Then Joseph, after hearing Judah’s speech, could not control himself before all those who stood by him. He cried, ‘Make everyone go out from me,’ so no one stayed with him when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. And he wept aloud, so that the Egyptians heard it and the household of Pharaoh heard it. And Joseph said to his brothers, ‘I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?’ But his brothers could not answer him, for they were dismayed at his presence.”

Joseph can’t take it anymore. He has tested them time and time again, and they’ve proven that they are not the same men they were 22 years ago. He says, “I am Joseph.” The great revelation. Here he is—more alive, more glorious, more exalted than ever before.

They deserve judgment. He offers them a feast. They expect a sentence of condemnation; instead, he gives them a future. They confess their guilt to a stranger; instead, they find the brother they wronged, who is absorbing the cost of their forgiveness. They come to buy grain, and they find a brother. They come as beggars, and they’re about to leave with all the best provisions of Egypt.

The brothers are dismayed. Oh my goodness, I don’t know about you, but I probably wouldn’t even be able to speak. I might need a new robe.

Joseph continues: “Come near to me, please. I’m your brother Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt.” Notice that he doesn’t sugarcoat what happened. The truth must be named before it can be forgiven.

Then Joseph offers one of the most theologically rich passages in all of Genesis, verses 5 through 8: “Do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life. So it was not you who sent me here, but God. He has made me a father to Pharaoh and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt.”

Joseph, are you sure? Have you forgotten what happened? God didn’t put you in the pit; your brothers did. God didn’t sell you to the Ishmaelites; your brothers did.

Now, this is not fatalism, and Joseph is not denying human responsibility. He doesn’t say, “Well, you didn’t really sell me. It was all God.” No, he says, “You sold me, but God sent me.” This is the theology of providence.

And, by the way, this is one of the clearest biblical statements of God’s providence working through human sin. The brothers acted with evil intent. Their sin was real. Their guilt was genuine. And yet God was sovereignly orchestrating events for their good the entire time. Isn’t that amazing?

God does not call sin good, but God is so sovereign, so powerful, that he can use even sin for his good purposes. He rules and overrules. Praise God.

If Joseph is never sold into slavery, he never goes to Egypt. If he never suffers in Egypt, he never has the opportunity to be faithful in injustice. He never shows his wisdom. He never shows his brilliance as an administrator. He never sees his dreams of being a ruler fulfilled. He never rises to Pharaoh’s right hand. And if he never oversees the food supply of the nation, then Joseph’s family languishes in Canaan and possibly dies.

All of this is God’s way of preserving the seed of the woman, who will culminate in the person of Jesus Christ. Is our God not sovereign over all the events of man, both good and evil? Can he not overrule all those things for his good pleasure and in order to accomplish his good purposes? Absolutely he can.

Why? Because God is not reactive. God is proactive. God has already ordained all the events of our lives, and he is sovereignly orchestrating them to accomplish his purposes.

“God sent me.” Three times Joseph says, “God sent me.” He’s not minimizing their guilt; he is magnifying God’s grace. This is Romans 8:28 before Romans 8:28: “In all these things God works together for good for those who are called according to his purposes.”

And this is seen most brilliantly at the cross. In Acts 2:23, Peter says about Jesus, “This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. But God raised him up and has made this same Jesus both Lord and Christ.”

Loved ones, human evil, human responsibility, and yet divine sovereignty—all at the same time. God, in his sovereignty, uses even the evil intentions of the wicked to accomplish his good plan.

So you might feel like saying, “Lord, what on earth is going on in my life?” Believe me, I ask it every day. But I know what’s going on: God’s purposes are being fulfilled.

Verse 5: Why did God send Joseph? To preserve life. To preserve a remnant, to keep alive for you many survivors. Joseph’s suffering had a redemptive purpose. It positioned him to be a savior. Both Jesus and Joseph went down into suffering to bring life to others. Both were exalted after humiliation, and both saved people from every nation. What the brothers meant for evil, God meant for good.

The third and final point: reconciliation.

Chapter 45, verses 9 through 11: “Hurry up, go to my father and say to him, ‘Thus says your son Joseph: God has made me lord over all the land of Egypt. Come down to me; do not tarry. You shall dwell in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me. I will provide for you, for there are yet five more years of famine, so that you and your household and all that you have do not come to poverty.’”

“You’ve got to be near me.” In Hebrew, the verb is in what’s known as an intensive form: “I will provide for you. I will abundantly provide for you. I will continue to provide for you. I will always provide for you.”

Verses 14 through 15: “And he fell upon his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, and Benjamin wept upon his neck. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them. And after that his brothers talked with him.”

Maybe Joseph had dreams of falling upon his brothers in a different way while he was in prison. But seeing how God has changed their hearts, how they have truly repented, he does exactly what the father does in the parable of the prodigal son. He runs to them. He falls upon them, weeping tears, meets them with outstretched arms, and brings them into an embrace. And then they talk.

You know, sometimes people are too broken to receive words of forgiveness. Sometimes they just need to be held first. Joseph knows when to show that physical affection and when to speak.

Loved ones, that is the heart of God toward those who will repent. He welcomes them with outstretched arms. He weeps upon them and welcomes them home. He says, “Come to me. I will provide for you.”

And notice what Joseph does. First, in order to be reconciled to his brothers, he names the wrong out loud. He says, “I’m your brother Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt.” Forgiveness isn’t sweeping sin under the rug and pretending nothing happened. It is getting it out and saying, “Yeah, you sinned against me.”

Second, he speaks a word of release before he embraces them. Forgiveness has to be spoken. And just this week, guys—just this week—I had to name the names of people I forgave. And I’m going to be honest: I had not forgiven them until this week. I had to speak it out.

Third, he moves toward them physically. He falls upon them. He weeps upon them.

Fourth, he backs the words with tangible provision. In verses 9 through 11 and 17 through 24, he gives them wagons to carry hundreds of pounds of food back to their father and their family.

And, by the way, Pharaoh hears about it. Joseph’s family is here in Egypt, and they need a place to stay—not just any old place, but let’s give them the fertile land close to the Nile, the land of Goshen. They literally get to settle in the best part of Egypt. Is that not God working all things for good?

These brothers are reconciled. It isn’t just a moment of emotion; it’s followed by a changed relationship going forward. Loved ones, reconciliation costs the one who was wronged. It means investing in a relationship going forward, not just settling the account of the past.

But as a caveat, notice the order: repentance came first, over the course of five tests, and only then did Joseph reveal himself and offer them an embrace.

Forgiveness—which is releasing the debt, refusing revenge, and not holding the sin over someone’s head—is something we can and must do in our hearts regardless of whether the other person repents. We have to forgive. The cross, the gospel, and our own forgiveness compel us to forgive.

But reconciliation—the restored relationship, the shared table, the dwelling near one another—requires the other party to repent. Forgiveness can be one-sided; reconciliation is a two-way street. Forgiveness is unconditional; reconciliation is conditional. We must pray for the repentance of those who have wronged us. And if we have wronged someone else, we must go to them, repent, and pursue reconciliation.

Through the cross, God was in Christ, reconciling us to himself. Anyone who will can be saved. But we must also be reconciled to God: repent and believe the gospel.

Joseph gives them wagons, provisions, animals—extravagant generosity. And he gives his brothers a change of clothes. They ripped the clothes off him 22 years ago; he gives them clothes in return.

And then, oh buddy boy, Benjamin: he gives him five changes of clothes and silver. He knows they’re not going to beat him up and take it from him.

Then, in verse 24, almost humorously, Joseph sends his brothers away with a final warning: “Oh yeah, by the way, boys, don’t fight on the way.” He knows brothers will be brothers. Boys will be boys. Try to get along.

Loved ones, there’s a great gospel connection here. There’s a greater Joseph who had his garment stripped away but now clothes those who stripped him with the robes of his righteousness. He gives it to sinners who stripped him, rejected him, and crucified him. Loved ones, God’s grace doesn’t merely cancel our debt; it clothes us with what we could never provide for ourselves.

Pharaoh hears about Joseph’s family and orders a royal caravan to be sent to bring the patriarch Jacob to Egypt. In verse 13, Joseph says, “You’ve got to hurry. You’ve got to tell my father all my honor in Egypt, all that you’ve seen. Hurry and bring him down.”

When the brothers arrive, in verse 26 they say, “Joseph is alive, and he’s ruler over all the land of Egypt.” Jacob can scarcely believe it. The news seems too good to be true, and his heart grows numb. But when he sees the wagons, the food, and the animals, and hears the news about Joseph, verse 27 says, “The spirit of their father Jacob revived.”

Isn’t that a beautiful picture of what happens when we hear the gospel, the good news of our greater Joseph? Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the good news, the word of God.

It reminds me of Jesus, who was so excited to tell John’s disciples, “Go and tell John everything that you see and hear.” John was asking, “Are you the Christ? Are you the one?” And he’s like, “Yeah, go tell him everything that I’m doing.” He points them toward the evidence of his messianic glory.

Jesus, in his high-priestly prayer in John 17:24, says, “Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory.” Joseph is saying, “I want my family, my father, to see my glory.” Jesus says of us, “Father, I want them to see my glory. I want them to see how exalted I am.” Because Jesus is not just lord of Egypt; he’s Lord over the entire universe.

And the good news brings life to our souls, just as the good news of Joseph brought life to Jacob’s.

There’s a greater connection here as well, because just as Joseph provided a meal of reconciliation, our greater Joseph provides us with an even better feast. On the night he was betrayed, he took bread and said, “This is my body, given for you. This is my blood, poured out for you.”

So every time we take communion, every time we approach the Lord’s Table, we are, in essence, reenacting Joseph’s feast. We are the guilty brothers. We didn’t throw Jesus into a pit, but our sins nailed him to a cross. And yet he embraces us and says, “Come near to me. Come, all you who are weary, heavy-laden, and burdened with guilt and sin, and I will give you rest.”

And he offers us bread and wine, symbols of his broken body and shed blood. Every time we partake of the Lord’s Table, we’re receiving the invitation of the greater Joseph to draw near. Every time we come to the Lord’s Table, we are being lavished with his love and provision, and we are celebrating the fact that he has reconciled us to himself.

Now I want to give you some words of application, guys. We are almost done.

For those of you who are carrying guilt this morning, if you’re like Joseph’s brothers and you’re living with the weight of something you’ve done in the past that you can’t undo, and you’ve spent years replaying that moment, hearing the cries for help—if you’ve confessed it to God a hundred times but still can’t believe that you’re forgiven—I would remind you that the greater Judah has taken your place.

He went to the cross, and he bore the wrath you deserved. The greater Joseph weeps over you and invites you to come to him, showering you with love and lavishing his kindness and mercy upon you. So yes, name what you did. Confess it. But then take it to the cross and receive the greater Joseph’s embrace. Stop punishing yourself for that which Christ was already punished for, and live in your new identity.

For those of us who have been wronged, maybe you’re like Joseph and you’ve been betrayed, falsely accused, and abandoned by those who should have protected you. Hear this: God sees. God hears. God knows. And God is sovereign over your suffering.

When you see your circumstances the way Joseph did, through the lens of God’s sovereignty, then you have the power to forgive. Why was Joseph able to forgive his brothers so easily? Because he believed in God’s sovereignty. “Yeah, you sold me, but God sent me.”

How am I able to forgive? How are you able to forgive those who have wronged you? Because we know God allowed it for our good. Therefore, we can release them. Therefore, we can say, “You know, I’ve been forgiven an infinite debt. I can forgive this small thing you’ve done by comparison.”

Practically, if someone has wronged you, pray for their repentance. Name their sin specifically, and pray that God will change their hearts the way he changed the brothers’ hearts. Pray that they will actually confess their sin, take responsibility, sacrifice for others, celebrate the good without resentment, and choose the welfare of someone else over their own.

Because we do desire for people to be reconciled. In fact, Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5 that we are Christ’s ambassadors, making an appeal to people: Be reconciled to God.

Therefore, every time you forgive someone who has wronged you, every time you pursue reconciliation instead of putting distance between yourself and someone else, every time you tell someone who’s far away from God that the door is open, you’re acting like Joseph. You’re extending the same invitation he extended to his brothers and the same invitation Jesus extends to us: Come near. Come be reconciled.

Loved ones, there’s a greater feast prepared for us. There’s a greater feast prepared for us. One day Jesus, like Joseph, will reveal himself in fullness, and every eye will see him. They’ll see Jesus more alive, more glorious, more exalted than ever before. They will bow before him, and the nations will gather around his table and feast at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

That feast is being prepared for us right now. The question is: Will you receive that invitation to be forgiven, to be reconciled, to pull up a chair at his table?

Let’s take a moment to reflect silently on this, followed by a time of prayer.

Lord, we thank you for your forgiveness, because we are all like Joseph’s brothers. Instead of standing up for you, Lord, we mocked you. Our sins nailed you to the cross. But you descended into the pit, burying our sin and shame, and arose to be exalted at the right hand of the Father, given all authority in heaven and on earth.

Instead of using that power to crush us, you did what Joseph did for his brothers. You say, “Come near to me. Come be reconciled to me. Come, the feast is prepared for you.”

We want to fall into your embrace. We want to eat at your table. We want to enjoy that intimate communion we have with you.

And Father, as you have forgiven us, may we this week be able to forgive and pursue reconciliation with those who have wronged us. May you work repentance in their hearts the way you did in Joseph’s brothers, and may you give us the same compassion Joseph had—the compassion of our greater Joseph.

In Jesus’s name, amen.