THE noble words in which Joseph dissipates his brothers' doubts have,
as their first characteristic, the recognition of the God by whom his
career had been shaped, and, for their next, the recognition of the
purpose for which it had been. There is a world of tenderness and
forgivingness in the addition made to his first words in verse 4,
'Joseph, _your brother_.' He owns the mystic bond of kindred, and
thereby assures them of his pardon for their sin against it. It was
right that he should remind them of their crime, even while declaring
his pardon. But he rises high above all personal considerations and
graciously takes the place of soother, instead of that of accuser. Far
from cherishing thoughts of anger or revenge, he tries to lighten the
reproaches of their own consciences. Thrice over in four verses he
traces his captivity to God. He had learned that wisdom in his long
years of servitude, and had not forgotten it in those of rule.
There will be little disposition in us to visit offences against
ourselves on the offenders, if we discern God's purpose working through
our sorrows, and see, as the Psalmist did, that even our foes are 'men
which are Thy hand, O Lord.' True, His overruling providence does not
make their guilt less; but the recognition of it destroys all
disposition to revenge, and injured and injurer may one day unite in
adoring the result of what the One suffered at the other's hands.
Surely, some Christian persecutors and their victims have thus joined
hands in heaven. If we would cultivate the habit of seeing God behind
second causes, our hearts would be kept free from much wrath and
bitterness.
Joseph was as certain of the purpose as of the source of his elevation.
He saw now what he had been elevated for, and he eagerly embraced the
task which was a privilege. No doubt, he had often brooded over the
thought, 'Why am I thus lifted up?' and had felt the privilege of being
a nation's saviour; but now he realises that he has a part to play in
fulfilling God's designs in regard to the seed of Abraham. Cloudy as
his outlook into the future may have been, he knew that great promises
affecting all nations were intertwined with his family, separation from
whom had been a sorrow for years. But now the thought comes to him with
sudden illumination and joy: 'This, then, is what it all has meant,
that I should be a link in the chain of God's workings.' He knows
himself to be God's instrument for effecting His covenant promises. How
small a thing honour and position became in comparison!
We cannot all have great tasks in the line of God's purposes, but we
can all feel that our little ones are made great by being seen to be in
it. The less we think about chariots and gold chains, and the more we
try to find out what God means by setting us where we are, and to do
that, the better for our peace and true dignity. A true man does not
care for the rewards of work half as much as for the work itself. Find
out what God intends, and never mind whether He puts you in a dungeon
or in a palace. Both places lie on the road which He has marked and, in
either, the main thing is to do His will.
Next comes the swiftly devised plan for carrying out God's purpose. It
sounds as if Joseph, with prompt statesmanship, had struck it out then
and there. At all events, he pours it forth with contagious earnestness
and haste. Note how he says over and over again 'My father,' as if he
loved to dwell on the name, but also as if he had not yet completely
realised the renewal of the broken ties of brotherhood. It was some
trial of the stuff he was made of, to have to bring his father and his
family to be stared at, and perhaps mocked at, by the court. Many a
successful man would be very much annoyed if his old father, in his
country clothes, and hands roughened by toil, sat down beside him in
his prosperity. Joseph had none of that baseness. Jacob would come, if
at all, as a half-starved immigrant, and would be 'an abomination to
the Egyptians.' But what of that? He was 'my father,' and his son knows
no better use to make of his dignity than to compel reverence for
Jacob's grey hairs, which he will take care shall _not_ be 'brought
down with sorrow to the grave.' It is a very homely lesson--never be
ashamed of your father. But in these days, when children are often
better educated than their parents, and rise above them in social
importance, it is a very needful one.
The first overtures of reconciliation should come from the side of the
injured party. That is Christ's law, and if it were Christians'
practice, there would be fewer alienations among them. It is Christ's
law, because it is Christ's own way of dealing with us. He, too, was
envied, and sold by His brethren. His sufferings were meant 'to
preserve life.' Stephen's sermon in the Sanhedrin dwells on Joseph as a
type of Christ; and the typical character is seen not least distinctly
in this, that He against whom we have sinned pleads with us, seeks to
draw us nearer to Himself, and to lead us to put away all hard thoughts
of Him, and to cherish all loving ones towards Him, by showing us how
void His heart is of anger against us, and how full of yearning love
and of gracious intention to provide for us a dwelling-place, with
abundance of all needful good, beside Himself, while the years of
famine shall last.