Joseph the Dreamer - Jailed

   

      “Break it up!” he called out, grabbing each of the men by the shoulders and pushing himself between them. “What are you fighting about now?” Their replies tumbled over one another, each trying to speak louder than the other. Joseph pressed his lips together, then solved their quarrel with a few words. It was always something trifling. A swiped blanket, not enough rations, whose turn it was to empty the waste bucket - everyday there was another complaint. It fell to Joseph to sort it out.

    The chief jailer had seen how he handled the others, and put him in charge of all the prisoners. Joseph organized the meals and fresh water, made sure the cells were kept clean, and insured the weak, elderly or sick were cared for. It was a lowly position, but at least he had something to keep himself busy.      

     The jailers praised his abilities, yet Joseph shrugged his shoulders. He didn't see much to brag about. After all, you can't live among a huge family and not learn something about organizing people. His father Jacob had wives, children, servants, livestock and fields to supervise. A more difficult, and much more worthy, proof of ability. Such a life might have been Joseph's someday, if his brothers hadn't hated him.

     Joseph went to his own corner. No one bothered his chosen place. He threw himself down and scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands. He groaned lowly, assaulted by the nightmare that had brought on all his troubles.

     Him, sprawled at the bottom of the pit, looking up at their jeering faces.

     “Father will punish you for this!” his voice had been petulant as he looked up at their sneering faces. “You can't treat me like this and get away with it!”

     But they had. They had done worse.

     He had been boiling with rage when they finally heaved him out of the pit. He had rehearsed in his head everything he would tell their father Jacob, exactly how he would cut his brothers down to size. His imagination had delighted in picturing his father's purpled face, the angry words he would shout at his ten wayward sons, all while he tucked  Joseph under his arm.

     Joseph never had the chance to say any of it. He had not been able to enjoy his father's protectiveness. Nor felt his mother stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, taking his side as her only son. He had not even been granted a chance to kiss his mother or father good-bye. 

     He had scrambled onto the rocky soil, risen to his full height, and met the flinty eyes of a slave trader.

     His beard was long now. He dragged his fingers through it, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. Two years had slipped by, and still he languished in this prison.

      He had hoped the cup-bearer would put in a good word for him. Either the man had forgotten, or Pharoah had no need for a slave who was accused of sleeping with his master's wife. Wrongly accused, he scoffed to himself. His innocence didn't matter. What was the word of a slave against the word of Captain of the Bodyguard? He tipped his head back to hit the stone wall.

     Why had God given him the dreams, if he was to be sold as a slave by his own brothers?

     Why had God raised him to prominence in Potiphar's household, just to have a lustful woman cast him into prison?

     Why had God helped him interpret the Baker's and the Cup-bearer's dreams, if he was to spend the rest of his days rotting in this wretched place?

     Did God have a plan for him at all?

    What would he give to walk through the fields of his homeland? To draw his hands over the sheep as they entered the corral at day's end, their thick wool oily beneath his fingers. What would he give to be present at family feast once more? To hear the storytellers stand up and recite the stories of his Great-grandfather Abraham, and his Grandfather Isaac? They told about the promises of God, and how God had worked among them. The stories bound his people together, and showed them their purpose.

     What was Joseph's purpose in a jail cell in Egypt?

     How could he be part of God's people in a land where they did not know God?

     The door swung open, and the jailer thrust his head in.

     “Joseph, good,” the man said, as if Joseph might have been anywhere else. “Pharaoh has summoned you.”

     Joseph didn't move. “Me? Pharaoh want's me?”

     “No, he wants Mahu,” the jailer said, his voice exasperated. Mahu sat up taller, but the jailer rolled his eyes. “He asked for you, Joseph! Quickly now!”

     Joseph scrambled to his feet, and followed the jailer through the door. It banged shut behind him, and he felt odd to be on this side of the lock. He was led, unshackled, to the palace and taken to the bathing quarters.

     He bathed properly for the first time in over two years. As the water sloshed the dust from his hair, he began to feel like a lamp was in his chest, flickering brighter and brighter with hope. Yet, what could Pharaoh want with a slave?

     Clothes were laid out for him, and Joseph ran his fingers over the soft linen and grinned. It was but a simple outfit, but the garments looked like a kingly robe to him.

     He was barely dressed when guards appeared to hustle him down cool hallways. The hasty march ended in a throne room. His eyes widened at the opulence and splendor. He gaped at the alabaster columns, the walls painted in intricate stories, the polished floors, and the retinues of servants. At the end of the room was Pharaoh himself. As Joseph humbly approached the throne, he saw a man who was deeply troubled. Dark shadows were beneath his eyes, and his lips curled with doubt and bitterness.

     Joseph bowed low before the ruler of all Egypt. His mind was tossed like a bird in storm. For what purpose was he here?

     Pharaoh spoke, slowly, carefully. “I hear you can interpret dreams.” Joseph glanced up with surprise, and noticed for the first time the royal cup-bearer standing near the throne, the man grinning ear-to-ear as Pharaoh continued. “I have had a dream, and none of my wise men could interpret it for me.”

     Joseph felt the lamp within his chest burst into bright flame. He drew a deep breath. “It is not I, but God, who can interpret your dream.”

     The ruler pursed his lips, considering. As Joseph listened closely, with hope and eagerness that his trials were over throbbing through him, and Pharaoh told him his dream.

Read this story for yourself in Genesis 37, 39 and 40.

My Thoughts:

     God did indeed have a purpose for Joseph, yet Joseph did not know what it was, nor if his life was ever to be more than drudgery and imprisonment. I wonder, at what point did Joseph realize the good that came out of being sold as a slave by his brothers? He ended up saving not only Egypt, but his family from a seven year drought. God used him for His purposes, even if Joseph started off as a spoiled favorite son.

     Sometimes, in my own life, it feels like everything is hard. I begin to see everything as a struggle. Grocery shopping is like planning a military event when bringing a stubborn three-year-old. Making it to Church (on time, and with happy attitudes!) seems like a massive undertaking. Stubborn teenagers, preschooler tantrums, school, work, and then hobbies all thrown into the mix, I end up feeling like life is spinning out of control. I know I am learning patience, compassion and grace as I navigate motherhood. I do not enjoy difficulty by any means, but it helps a little to be reminded that it is the gritty times in life that sand away the rough edges of my many flaws.

     Remembering Joseph (whose struggles far outstrip my own!), falsely accused and forgotten in prison, is a good reminder to me that somethings we just need to be patient, and wait for God to bring things to His purpose. Notice that Joseph did not wait sitting on his hands though. He kept working for good, even while in his prison cell. 

Your turn!

Are you stuck in tough times, with the light at the end a tiny pin-prick, or appearing non existent? 

Do you have a favorite story, verse or saying that helps you remember that the hard times don't last forever? I'd love it if you'd share it in the comments to encourage me, and others.