You meant evil against me

Stories should really be less frightening when one knows their end. When one knows that they end well. Yet even though I know that the affair of Joseph—the one with the colorful coat and the evil brothers—ends well in the end, I still shudder every time I think of it. Why is that?

In Genesis, starting from chapter 37, we learn the story of Joseph, son of Jacob. He is a special child—and a particularly loved, indeed: a spoiled child.

Once his father had a specially colorful coat made for him, and it did not go over well with his brothers:

Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his sons, because he was the son of his old age. And he made him a robe of many colors.[1] 4 But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him and could not speak peacefully to him. (Genesis 37:3-4)

At one point he told his half-brothers of very special dreams (Genesis 37:5-10). In his sleep, symbolic visions appeared to him, predicting that one day his brothers would bow down before him. One might say: Joseph did not exactly make himself popular among his siblings! But was it his fault that God gave him such dreams?

Soon after his marvelous dreams, Joseph’s brothers had finally had enough. The brothers were pasturing the sheep and goats near Dothan (a town in central Palestine; see Wikipedia)). The father sent Joseph to check on his brothers.

But when the brothers saw their sibling walking alone through the wilderness, their joy was rather muted, and they called to each other:

Behold, this dreamer comes. Come now therefore, and let us slay him, and cast him into one of the pits, and we will say, Some evil beast has devoured him: and we shall see what will become of his dreams. (Genesis 37:19)

At first Reuben was able to persuade his brothers to “only” throw him into a pit, intending to rescue him secretly later. But Judah then persuaded them to sell Joseph as a slave into Egypt.

Joseph’s time in Egypt can hardly be described wrongly as eventful, with both lows and highs. (Read for yourself starting from Genesis 39!)

We know that Joseph in Egypt eventually rose to become Pharaoh’s vizier. But we also know that Joseph repeatedly endured shame and injustice—not because he did something wrong, but because he did the right thing!

For example: Potiphar’s wife (Genesis 39:7-20) wanted something from him. He refused, not wanting to betray his master in such a way. But the woman, angry and offended, then accused Joseph of having forced himself on her—and Joseph ended up in Pharaoh’s prison. No, it wasn’t only since the 20th century that men have been imprisoned because of false accusations.

But at last, years later, after being forgotten, after interpreting dreams, and in the midst of a great famine, it happened that the brothers came down to Egypt and actually bowed before him, just as he had once dreamed.

After some testing, Joseph revealed himself to his brothers. And he said to them that sentence which can give us so much courage and strength even today:

As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today. (Genesis 50:20)

Above all, this first sentence can comfort us in dark hours, as promise and prophecy. When evil is done to you, you may hope one day to be able to say with Joseph: “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.”

“They repay me evil for good, hatred for my love,” so you want to lament with the psalmist. Dostoevsky speaks exactly to you when he writes: “Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”

“Oh, that my grief were weighed, and my calamity laid in the balance together!”—thus you make Job’s words your own.

The Bible is not poor in verses from and for people who are threatened with breaking apart under the weight of unjust reward for their labor and morality.

But amidst all anger and despair, we still seek comfort in Joseph’s explanation: “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.”

I know that Joseph’s story turned out well in the end. That he was betrayed by his brothers and sold into Egypt turned to blessing for him. The brothers intended evil, but his God intended only good. All’s well that ends well—or is it?

The story of Joseph is despite its happy ending a frightful one.

For when and while a man is stuck in such a mess, sitting in prison though innocent, one does not see that or how it will yet end well. We don’t even know, even if we trust, what for us the “good ending” will actually be.

But do we know whether we will remain as strong as Joseph when injustice is done to us?

The Psalms are especially known for their warming effect in cold times. Psalm 23 is probably the most famous, and it says there: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,[3] I will fear no evil, for you are with me”.

But what are you to do when you simply cannot trust God, when faith fails you?

Well then, you turn (for the moment) to Rudyard Kipling and you search for strength. When “that which you gave your life to is broken,” gather once again, one last great time, the strength with which “you can stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools.”

When we rebuild, so I heard, what wasn’t meant to remain broken, it is truly him, who is doing the rebuilding (Amos 9:11). He is stronger than you can ever be, and his strength will become your strength. (And if you don’t believe that … uff, prepare for really tough times.)