The Place Guilt and Grace

Introd

Apart from Benjamin, Joseph’s brothers were a miserable lot. Sons two and three, Simeon and Levi, were guilty of premeditated genocide in the slaughter of the unsuspecting Shechemites (cf. chap. 34). Number one son, Reuben, had committed incest with his father’s concubine in an attempt to secure ascendancy over his father Jacob (cf. 35:22). Next, all ten of them had taken young Joseph and stripped him and beaten him and thrown him into a pit with fratricidal intent—which was only averted by a passing caravan and his sale into slavery in Egypt (cf. 37:12–28). Number four son, Judah, then impregnated his daughter-in-law, Tamar, who had disguised herself as a Canaanite prostitute (cf. chap. 38). So by any estimation these patriarchs-to-be were less than promising as bearers of the promise of Abraham and root stock for the covenant nation that would emerge from Egypt at the exodus.

These ten needed to be confronted with their guilt. They needed an awakening of conscience. They needed to mourn. They needed to genuinely repent. And they needed rapprochement with Joseph if they were to be preserved during the worldwide famine. Truly their future rested upon such changes. God could easily raise up new patriarchs if he so chose, as indeed he would do with Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Manasseh (cf. 48:8–22). The brothers desperately needed grace, though they did not know it.

The famine was not just an Egyptian phenomenon but engulfed “all the earth” (41:57). So the lands around Egypt were also drought-stricken, and the people were starving. But because of Joseph’s prescience and brilliance, Egypt had enough stored to save the world. As the drought reached a crisis level in Canaan, Jacob’s sons were at best indecisive, at worst indolent. So Jacob got after them. “Why do you look at one another?” (42:1). In effect he was saying, “Come on, boys. Get with it!” as he charged them to make the trip down to Egypt. So they all went, with one exception. “But Jacob did not send Benjamin, Joseph’s brother, with his brothers, for he feared that harm might happen to him” (v. 4). Jacob had no certain knowledge of what had actually happened to Joseph, but he knew the character of his sons, and he sensed that they were to blame for Joseph’s death. And his sons felt it. So his charge to go to Egypt (where they had consigned Joseph), plus the withholding of Benjamin, likely stung their consciences.

Awakening Guilt (vv. 6–25)

So it was that thirteen years after selling Joseph into Egypt, Joseph’s brothers made the trek across the Sinai and down into the Nile Valley. Never in their wildest and worst dreams did they imagine that they would ever meet him. If he was alive, he would be an obscure slave in some household or business, and they were themselves awash in a sea of desperate, hungry foreigners flooding into Egypt. But, of course, as God would have it, they did meet Joseph unwittingly and unawares. And Joseph had become virtually unrecognizable. He was beardless and clean-shaven and, likely, dressed in flowing white linen decked with gold and the color palette of the Nile aristocracy. And he spoke the language of the Egyptians. Thus they did what every other foreigner did—they “bowed themselves before him with their faces to the ground” (v. 6b) in a gesture of subordination. To them, this was a hateful gesture, but necessary to their survival.

Recognition. Of course, Joseph recognized them in an instant. They were bearded Semites. And there were ten of them—all brothers! The older ones had grayed but were still recognizable by their profile and gait and, of course, their Hebrew dialect. Did Joseph momentarily freeze? Did he inwardly gasp? We do know that he recognized them and carried out his dealings with them with perfect regal composure.

Now Joseph had absolute and perfect advantage. They had no idea who he was, but he knew each one of them with a terrifying intimacy. And from their perspective he held over them the power of life and death. At the same time Joseph needed to know what was in his brothers’ hearts. Were they the same callous, murderous lot? Were they as heartless as they had been thirteen years earlier? Did they still hate him? Would they resort to similar expedients among themselves when pressured? Would they sacrifice another to save their skins? Joseph needed to know the truth. And he knew that he might never know if he revealed who he was. Moreover, a pardon would allow the truth to be glossed over. So on the spot Joseph conceived a brilliant strategy—that of fierce, implacable interrogation.

Accusation. Remember, these were hard men who had massacred a whole people and had even sold their brother into slavery. So Joseph was tough with them.

He treated them like strangers and spoke roughly to them. “Where do you come from?” he said. They said, “From the land of Canaan, to buy food.” And Joseph recognized his brothers, but they did not recognize him. And Joseph remembered the dreams that he had dreamed of them. And he said to them, “You are spies; you have come to see the nakedness of the land.” 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. Your servants have never been spies.” (vv. 7b–11)

In the midst of the interrogation Joseph remembered his two dreams of them bowing to him, as they had now done. And a certain satisfaction came to him. But he also realized that his dreams were not yet fulfilled, because the dreams included not ten but eleven brothers, plus his parents. There was more to come! So he flung charges of espionage at them: “You are spies; you have come to see the nakedness of the land”—the weak points in Egypt’s defenses. As they countered with terror-stricken demurrals of honesty, he pressed harder: “ ‘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.’ But Joseph said to them, ‘It is as I said to you. You are spies’ ” (vv. 12–14). Joseph’s repeated accusations unnerved the ten. They revealed that there were really twelve brothers. They counted not only Benjamin among them but himself! Were their consciences coming to life?

Testing. At this point Joseph put his brothers to the test by afflicting them with what they had done to him. They had oppressed him; now he oppressed them. They had accused him of spying; now he accused them. They had thrown him into the pit; now he tossed them into prison. And most of all, he called them to bring forth their youngest brother, the favorite of their father who now occupied the place in their father’s heart that had once been his. Note these subtle parallels as he lays out the test.

“By this you shall be tested: 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 there is truth in you. Or else, by the life of Pharaoh, surely you are spies.” And he put them all together in custody for three days. (vv. 15–17)

Those three days in an Egyptian prison provided time for terror-filled reflection over the wrenching parallels and the raising of conscience. And, of course, they discussed who would be the one to go and inform their father that Benjamin must come to Egypt if they were to receive help. Probably most chose to wait in prison rather than be the messenger.

Joseph had been brilliantly messing with their minds and hearts, and he continued to do so when, after three days, he surprised them with two new things. First, he stunned them by referencing God (Elohim): “On the third day Joseph said to them, ‘Do this and you will live, for I fear God’ ” (v. 18). Thus far the ten brothers never once mentioned the name of God, but the Egyptian did. And he announced that he feared God! Such dissonance. God was intruded into their swirling, trembling thoughts by the pagan viceroy. And then, second, Joseph decided that only one brother would have to stay as hostage, while the nine others returned for Benjamin. Mercifully, this would allow them to carry adequate grain back to their families, but it also was suggestive of Joseph’s original descent into Egypt. One brother was to remain in Egypt. And that subjected the brothers to a temptation familiar to Joseph. Would they abandon another brother as they once had abandoned Joseph?

Guilt. Joseph’s strategy bore remarkable fruit in their corporate admission of guilt.

Then they said to one another, “In truth we are guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the distress of his soul, when he begged us and we did not listen. That is why this distress has come upon us.” And Reuben answered them, “Did I not tell you not to sin against the boy? But you did not listen. So now there comes a reckoning for his blood.” (vv. 21, 22)

Their confession was tinged with retrospective tenderness. Joseph, whom they had scorned as “this dreamer” (37:19), was now referred to as “our brother” and by the oldest brother Reuben as “the boy.” Joseph learned here that Reuben had not consented to his sale. Joseph learned too that his macho, unfeeling brothers were not as hardened as some might think—that his pathetic pleas had been heard and had been haunting their souls during all the intervening years. And more, they believed that this distress had rightfully come upon them. Joseph’s brothers were experiencing the grace of guilt—bloodguilt. They knew that they were guilty and deserving of death. God’s ancient dictum to Noah rang in their consciences:

Whoever sheds the blood of man,

by man shall his blood be shed,

for God made man in his own image. (9:6)

True guilt is a grace because it brings the guilty to seek forgiveness and to repent. It is especially a grace in a day when Freudian analysis has dismissed conscience and guilt as mere safety devices, collectively created to protect civilized order—an illusion of narrow minds.

Joseph’s brothers were wracked with guilt that, in the context of the Bible, put them in the way of grace. This was good guilt, healthy guilt, graced guilt. Without guilt there could be no forgiveness and no resolution. And without guilt they could never assume their covenant mantles. Perhaps your growing knowledge of God’s Word and your own heart is helping you understand and acknowledge your guilt. If so, embrace it because such an embrace can be a prelude to grace.

Relentless, ruthless Joseph is so beautiful here: “They did not know that Joseph understood them, for there was an interpreter between them. Then he turned away from them and wept” (vv. 23, 24a). He was so moved by their expressions of guilt and remorse that he could not control himself. There would be more tears—when he first saw Benjamin (cf. 43:30), and when Judah offered to take Benjamin’s place (cf. 45:2), and finally when he met his father (cf. 46:29). But the great revelation of his initial tears right here was that Joseph had to turn away from his brothers to hide his sorrow for the pain his strategy was bringing upon them.

Yet there was still more probing that he had to do—a further test. So he composed himself. “And he returned to them and spoke to them. And he took Simeon from them and bound him before their eyes. And Joseph gave orders to fill their bags with grain, and to replace every man’s money in his sack, and to give them provisions for the journey. This was done for them” (vv. 24b, 25). Of this St. Chrysostom wrote, “See how Joseph takes every means of putting fear into them so that, on seeing Simeon’s bonds, they may reveal whether they manifested any sympathy for their brother. You see, everything he does is to test their attitude out of his wish to discover if they had been like that in dealing with Benjamin. Hence Joseph also had Simeon bound in front of them to test them carefully and see if they showed any signs of affection for him.”

With this, Joseph further tested his brothers by placing money in their sacks. Would they be happy to abandon Simeon for money, as they had once done to Joseph? How would they interpret Joseph’s actions? As a gift? Or as an attempt to frame them as thieves?

Raising Godly Fear and Sorrow (vv. 26–38)

The answers were soon to come. “Then they loaded their donkeys with their grain and departed. And as one of them opened his sack to give his donkey fodder at the lodging place, he saw his money in the mouth of his sack. He said to his brothers, ‘My money has been put back; here it is in the mouth of my sack!’ At this their hearts failed them, and they turned trembling to one another, saying, ‘What is this that God has done to us?’ ” (vv. 26–28).

Godly fear. This is the first time ever in the narrative that the brothers mention the Lord. But because of their raging guilt, they were quick to see God in this. They were traumatized, shocked, and terrified by a fresh and fearful awareness of the divine. However, this was not mere fear—it was godly fear. Joseph’s brothers realized that their sins were against God. Fear is one thing, but godly fear comes from sensing that a holy God is the hand behind the circumstances of your life to bring you to where you ought to be. The brothers trembled in their awesome awareness.

Godly fear is a grace because the fearer knows where he or she must turn to have the fear assuaged. Fear alone (like guilt alone) is of little use. In fact, it can be debilitating. But godly fear is a fear that God blesses, for he comes to those who fear him. Good things were happening to those brothers. A godly fear is precisely what every child of God needs. Those who live with awed reverence find that God orders all their life to his glory and, ultimately, to his children’s glory.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear.

John Newton, 1779

When the long journey to Canaan was complete, Jacob’s sons told him “all that had happened to them”—well, almost all (cf. vv. 29–34)! In an effort to persuade him to send Benjamin to Egypt, they neglected to mention some minor details—like their being imprisoned for three days, and the viceroy’s threat to execute them, and the discovery of money in one of their sacks. But despite their tamed-down account Jacob remained unmoved and silent.

Fear and sorrow. But Jacob’s silence was not for long.

As they emptied their sacks, behold, every man’s bundle of money was in his sack. And when they and their father saw their bundles of money, they were afraid. And Jacob their father said to them, “You have bereaved me of my children: Joseph is no more, and Simeon is no more, and now you would take Benjamin. All this has come against me.” Then Reuben said to his father, “Kill my two sons if I do not bring him back to you. Put him in my hands, and I will bring him back to you.” But he said, “My son shall not go down with you, for his brother is dead, and he is the only one left. If harm should happen to him on the journey that you are to make, you would bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to Sheol.” (vv. 35–38)

Jacob’s mention of his gray hairs indicates the toll that his grief and sorrow had taken upon him in his loss of Joseph. The loss of Benjamin would cause him to die of sorrow.

Jacob made it clear that his sadness was the work of his sons whom he believed were responsible for Joseph and Simeon being “no more” (v. 36). As the oldest, Reuben felt his father’s pain and made an absurd promise. But nothing could lessen the pain exacted by his sons’ sins. Thus the godly fear of Joseph’s brothers was now matched by their godly sorrow—and that was a grace. As Paul would later advise the Corinthians, “Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done” (, , niv). And that is what godly sorrow would effect in Joseph’s brothers. Godly sorrow is a grace because it leads to repentance.

Israel’s patriarchs would never become choirboys. They were always imperfect. And their past sins would continue to haunt them, as, for example, with Simeon and Levi when Jacob refused to bless them because they had been men of such violence (cf. 49:5, 6).

But this initial experience with their unrecognized brother was a redemptive grace to their souls.

• Guilt. Their admission of guilt, the acceptance of responsibility for their sins, this real guilt, this godly guilt, put them in the way of forgiveness.

• Fear. Next their godly fear, the realization that God was afflicting them, focused their souls on the only source of forgiveness and help.

• Sorrow. And their godly grief and sorrow then paved the way for repentance.

They had meant to do evil to Joseph, but God meant it for good—to preserve his people (cf. 50:20). And now godly guilt and godly fear and godly sorrow were going to effect a trio of graces on these impossible men.

Friends and sinners, do you desire God’s grace? If so, accept the guilt for your own sin. Do not blame anyone else. Such guilt is good. It invites God’s grace. Along with this, cultivate a godly fear that reverently trembles before him. Such fear will invoke a graced wisdom in your life. And then own a godly sorrow that will lead you to repentance.

May God bless you—

• —with guilt,

• —with sorrow,

• —and with fear.

Amen!