The Providence of Pain: Joseph's Test, Part III

Background:

Some men who ironically thrive under failure fall apart in times of success. But not Joseph. Every sinew of his soul has been tested on the rack of unfulfilled promise, but his hope in God has been vindicated at last, and his boyhood dreams have come true. Or have they? Something unfinished hangs in the air, but Joseph has little time to analyze what it is. His sorrows are behind him, as even the names of his two sons suggest. Manasseh, "For God has caused me to forget all my toil and all my father's house," and Ephraim, "For God has caused me to be fruitful in the land of my affliction," serve as living memorials of the Divine Providence Who has monitored every moment of pain on Joseph's rise to power. Surely, it is worth it to wait for God! And how precious is the touch of one's own flesh and blood to thrill all those years of longing for the warmth of home! Is it really true that twenty-two years have come and gone since that cruel day when his ten brothers sold him to the Ishmaelites? Has it been that long since he has watched the sun rise over those rolling hills of Canaan? Yes, that is the unfinished business that tugs on Joseph's cloak of responsibility.

Joseph's Brothers Journey to Egypt:

God looks down in tender preparation as, meanwhile, back in Canaan, Jacob tells his ten sons that he has heard there is grain in Egypt. Egypt!? Why should the mention of Egypt make his ten sons stare stupidly at one another? Jacob insists, and ten sheepish brothers submit to a tortuous journey of 250 miles, over the same bumpy roads that bounced and jostled Joseph more than a generation ago. Perhaps they are thinking, Whatever happened to him, anyway? I bet he didn't last a year under all that hard labor. Do they comfort themselves wickedly with the lie they have had to make truth every single day all these years? But Joseph is very much alive, and little do his brothers know they are trudging right into the fulfillment of those hated boyhood dreams. Bow to Joseph? You've got to be kidding! Oh, what a drama the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph has scripted to bring these proud and wicked brothers to their knees!

One day as Joseph looks up from doling out those ubiquitous bags of grain, he notices a group of Hebrew heads bowed with their faces to the ground. Something familiar defines their posture, their physique. Surely not--he looks again. It can't be. Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah--all ten of them. They haven't aged well--but they're all there--all except Benjamin. Doesn't Joseph know exactly why Benjamin didn't come? We can be sure a storm of emotions brews in Joseph's heart and that, for a few thrilling seconds, the smells of home nearly break him down. Something tangible and long-forgotten ripples through the air, as if his father has just stepped into view. Fierce with grief, Joseph commands his eyes to hold the tears. He will not cast his pearls before swine.

Confrontation:

"You are spies!" he cries roughly, passing the test of sentiment. I wonder how close he came to stepping forward and making himself known? But a Divine Hand of resistance holds him back. No, Joseph. It's not time. How his mind must flash back with crystal clarity to that empty pit. No, it's not time. His brothers, terrified, protest with one voice, "No, your servants are not spies! We are honest men!" Oh, really? Joseph remembers his dreams as ten "sheaves of grain" bow before him begging to buy grain (Genesis 37:7; 42:9)! How the tables have turned for these brothers who sat down to eat when they threw him into that pit! "You are spies!" he shouts again. Majestic in his fury, Joseph releases years of righteous rage. No, this is not a time for mercy. It is a time for pain.

Joseph's mind leaps into action. Honest men? No. I don't think so. Joseph must convince his brothers that they are sinners. It is the only way they can ever be saved. Forgiveness won't do. Lecture won't do. Even punishment won't do. The only way to break through the smug complacency of willful deceit is to be shrewd (Psalm 18:26). So they have played a mind game all these years with their frail and aging father? A mind game they now play against themselves? (They obviously don't recognize Joseph, assuming he is dead.) Then a mind game they will get. They won't know fact from fiction when I get through with them. They will think they have gone stark-raving mad. Is this revenge? "That's not what Jesus would do," our culture would so inanely judge. Joseph will stage an elaborate whodunit in which his brothers face themselves as antagonists. Like being caught in an Agatha Christie mystery play in which the villain now becomes the victim, they will be caught in a web of their own cunning.

In a drama of five movements, Joseph will take his brothers on a little journey beginning with confrontation. His justified ill report, "You are spies!" puts them on the defensive immediately, and each of the three times Joseph utters this charge, his brothers' counterclaim, "We are honest men!" falls on deaf ears. They are powerless before the near-sovereignty of their brother to invent accusations out of thin air. "Spies?" Wherever on earth did he come up with that one? The fear of death in a foreign land adds a shrill note of panic to each renewed protest, with greater and greater sense of misgiving that their words are true. Almost like Mark Antony's funeral speech in which he "praises" Caesar's assassins as "honorable men," Joseph's brothers' protest, "We are honest men!" sounds phony even to their own ears.

Something is really, really weird about this whole setup. Who framed us, anyway? It is almost as if this man has heard of them long before now, and the worst thing of all is that their only recourse is to fetch their youngest brother from Canaan to prove that their words are true. There is simply no way that is going to happen. Jacob won't let Benjamin out of his sight. But the governor is unrelenting, "In this manner you shall be tested" (Genesis 42:15). And he claps them all in prison for three days. No such thing as innocent until proven guilty in this strange land. The order is for one brother to return to Canaan to bring back the youngest, while all the other brothers remain in prison. After all, they are criminals. But in a burst of contrition on the third day, Joseph flips Plan A into Plan B, "For I fear God: if you are honest men, let one of your brothers be confined to your prison house," but the rest get to return and bring back the youngest (Genesis 42:19).

Conviction:

Just as the script in Joseph's drama reads, this confrontation with "false" accusation has moved his brothers to some sense of true conviction. After three days with nothing to think about except the dank dungeon walls closing in on them indefinitely and the renewed horror of their father at the very thought of losing Benjamin, Joseph's brothers start talking, not knowing Joseph understands them since he had used an interpreter. "We are truly guilty concerning our brother, for we saw the anguish of his soul when he pleaded with us, and we would not hear; therefore this distress has come upon us" (Genesis 42:21). Truly guilty? "We are honest men!" Which is it? Joseph turns his back quickly to weep. So they are not past hope. The guilt seems as fresh as the day they first walked home without him. Joseph hears Reuben now taking the lead, "Therefore behold, his blood is now required of us" (Genesis 42:22). These men have some capacity to discern fact from fiction after all. Having regained his composure after marveling at this revelation, Joseph binds Simeon before their eyes as the hostage forcing their return to Egypt with the youngest brother.

What a strange land of myths, fables, idols, and lies! Perhaps Joseph's brothers assume an uneasy sense of normalcy on their return home, comforting themselves that at least this time the fact of one brother missing isn't their fault. Is it? Oh, that's right. It is. Each mile home must drag on as the dread of facing Jacob without Simeon only proves that their past guilt is alive and well, regardless of whatever happened to Joseph so long ago. The laws of God have no statute of limitations, do they? "Be sure your sin will find you out," Moses will one day warn the tribes of Reuben and Gad (Numbers 32:23). Then out of nowhere, the mind game strikes again, deepening a sense of conviction amid an unnerving distortion of reality. Along the way, one brother opens his sack to find his money restored on top. "We are honest men!" Right. Who will believe that now? But I didn't steal anything! Did I? I'm positive I gave him my money. I picture all the other brothers looking at him strangely, quizzically, waiting for him to explain. But I think his eyes clear him of blame--that spooked look is really creepy. It's as if he's following us home, as if he's omniscient or something! "Then their hearts failed them and they were afraid" and they say to one another, "What is this that God has done to us?" (Genesis 42:28). Conviction deepens with the helplessness to clear their names.

When they arrive home, they discover that every brother's money has been returned. Now even Jacob is afraid. This has become a crime of state. Jacob listens heavily as they report their strange tale. Only one thought pierces through the fog: how is it that every time these sons leave home, one more is missing? We can feel Jacob's agony as he hurls his not-unjust accusations, "You have bereaved me of my children: Joseph is no more, Simeon is no more, and you want to take Benjamin away. All these things are against me" (Genesis 42:36). Jacob issues his final word: Benjamin is going nowhere. If Benjamin is going nowhere, that means Simeon is going nowhere, either. All those months of eating up the grain, nine brothers are eaten up with a helpless desire to confess the mistake and to clear their names. "We are honest men!" The day arrives when the last kernels of grain are shaken out of the bag. We're going to die, Jacob points out the bald reality. Return to Egypt for more grain. How hard can this be?

Judah--cold, cunning, cerebral Judah--confronts his father with his own set of facts: we're not going unless we can take Benjamin. Jacob stares him down, Benjamin is not going. Judah stares back, Then we're not going. We promised we would bring back Benjamin. Jacob, who has never outright accused his sons of chicanery in Joseph's disappearance, nevertheless obeys his sixth sense for a reason, "Why did you deal so wrongfully with me as to tell the man whether you had still another brother?" (Genesis 43:6). Judah explains and promises, "If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, then let me bear the blame forever" (Genesis 43:9). It was, after all, Judah's bright idea to sell Joseph to the Ishmaelites rather than killing him all those years ago. Jacob relents, cooking up the idea as he did for Esau all those years ago, to prepare a tempting present of balm, honey, spices, myrrh, pistachio nuts, and almonds. This, on top of double money, should ensure Benjamin's safe return to Canaan. Jacob prays out loud, "And may God Almighty give you mercy before the man, that he may release your other brother and Benjamin! If I am bereaved, I am bereaved!" (Genesis 43:14). How keenly do we feel Jacob's not-undeserved pain.

Confession:

The second journey to Egypt begins with the third movement in the hearts of nine sinful brothers: confession. Joseph's invitation to dine with him at noon haunts them with new fears and imaginations. "Now the men were afraid because they were brought into Joseph's house," and they think it's because of the money in their sacks, "so that he may seek an occasion against us and fall upon us, to take us a slaves with our donkeys" (Genesis 43:18). Paranoid, they pour out their innocent tale to Joseph's steward that morning, proving that they are honest men by offering back the money they each found in their sacks. They are careful to explain that they do not know who put it there, but here it is. The steward eyes them curiously as he not ungraciously dismisses their version of reality, "I had your money." Eighteen eyes lock in amazement. Who's crazy here, him or us? Mealtime brings yet another mind game as Joseph seats the brothers by birth order, from oldest to youngest (Simeon has been released), and gives Benjamin five times as much food as the others. Yet, things seem to be going well.

Repentance seldom follows a straight line, and confession doesn't lead to conversion yet because this was a confession of innocence, not of guilt. As the brothers are leaving for Canaan, Joseph resets the stage for a replay of confrontation and conviction as he plants his silver cup in Benjamin's sack. The men no sooner leave Joseph's home than they are chased down and overtaken by the steward, who accuses them of stealing Joseph's silver cup with which he can practice divination (not that he ever did, but Joseph's brothers need a renewed awareness that Someone with more power than they have can see right into their hearts--and their sacks). But these self-assured brothers, unnerved though they be, are so certain that no one among them would steal something like that that they protest their innocence on penalty of death for the thief, while offering themselves as slaves. "Far be it from us that your servants should do such a thing" (Genesis 44:7). Yes, far be it from "honest men" to steal anything of value!

Suspense builds as the steward searches each man's sack, beginning with the oldest down to the youngest. Just as Joseph staged it, he finds the silver cup in Benjamin's sack. The brothers tear their clothes in horror and grief as the reality of Benjamin's fate stares them in the eyes. Even though the steward has rejected the penalty of death over enslavement, offering the others to go free, the reality of returning home without Benjamin proves the catharsis necessary to exhume all those buried emotions of returning home without Joseph. How can they face their father again, after giving him their word as "honest men"? As each man retraces his bewildered steps to Joseph's house, finding him still there, each falls "before him on the ground" (Genesis 44:14). This--and only this--not worship, not power, but repentance--is the fulfillment to Joseph's boyhood dream--that something unfinished that hung in the air even as he busied himself with the urgency of saving his nation from starvation. As if calling out to them from that empty well, Joseph cries out, "What deed is this you have done?" (Genesis 44:15).

Conversion:

This time, no one even bothers to say, "None, my lord. We are honest men." Shattered with fear, dread, confusion, and guilt, Judah composes his thoughts in perhaps his first-ever act of true humility and shame. "What shall we say to my lord? What shall we speak? Or how shall we clear ourselves? God has found out the iniquity of your servants; here we are, my lord's slaves, both we and he also with whom the cup was found" (Genesis 44:16). This is a moment of real confession--a confession of guilt, not of innocence, standing in vicariously, as it were, for that other heinous crime, since they are, in fact, innocent of this one. But it doesn't go far enough. How utterly wise, how shrewd indeed, is Joseph to back Judah into a corner while holding a mirror to his soul. Appearing benevolent, he tests Judah to the breaking point with an offer to set all the brothers free except Benjamin. If Judah takes the offer, as he did for Joseph in reality all those years ago, he will have failed the test and lost the path to forgiveness.

Judah, in the paradoxical self-respect borne of self-loathing, sees Benjamin's life as more precious than his own. True to his word to Jacob, Judah offers himself in Benjamin's stead, painting a vivid picture of his father's certain death without Benjamin. As Judah describes the reality of bringing his father's gray hair with sorrow to the grave, we can feel Joseph's buried emotions rising as he hears for the first time his father's reaction to his own disappearance, "Surely he is torn to pieces and I have not seen him since" (Genesis 44:28). By what miracle of grace has Judah come to care what sorrow his father has already borne all these years, to the point that he offers himself as a slave to prevent him further pain? Finding in self-denial his genuine conversion, Judah utters this cry of pain, "For how shall I go up to my father if the lad is not with me, lest perhaps I see the evil that would come upon my father?" (Genesis 44:34). Yes, evil. We now know fact from fiction, for that is the only correct word.

Communion:

Joseph can restrain himself no longer and orders every Egyptian from the room as he weeps aloud. We can only imagine the force of that pain being expelled from the prison in Joseph's soul as he reveals himself to his astonished brothers. He falls on Benjamin's neck and weeps. He kisses all of his brothers and weeps over every single one. It seems that they should be the ones doing the weeping, but such is the love of Divine Grace that cannot withhold its reward when old-fashioned conviction leads to genuine conversion. Is there any communion like that of the soul that has made its peace with God? Joseph's forgiveness knows no bounds. His dream has come true at last. His lost brothers have been found through the mysterious, heavenly smiles behind the Providence of pain.