Sermon: “Providence” - Genesis 37 - Joseph Series, September 6, 2026
Scripture: Genesis 37
Preacher: Ryan Slifka
Sermon: “Providence”
Seeing as how it’s September, we’re starting our fall sermon series “God Meant it for Good: the Story of Joseph.” Not Joseph, as in Jesus, Mary and Joseph. But Joseph, son of Jacob, from the book of Genesis.
Why Joseph? Well, because it’s a foundational story for Jews and Christians. But more than that: it is one of the best examples in the Bible for what we call the doctrine of providence. Providence.
Providence being the teaching that God not only sees ahead–pro-video–but that God provides a future. That human life, and the universe itself is ultimately governed not by chance, or by brute force. But is moving forward by a divine purpose. A purpose that is good.
Joseph’s worth our time, because it says that all time is ultimately God’s time. It’s all about providence.
Now, having heard the beginning of the story, you’d be forgiven for thinking that it has nothing to do with any kind of divine purpose.
We have seventeen-year-old Joseph, youngest of twelve. It begins with him tattle-tale-ing on his oldest brothers for doing a poor job of shepherding. Making his brothers hate him.
Not only that, but he’s daddy’s favourite. His father, Jacob, gives him this long, beautiful coat with sleeves–what the King James Version calls a “coat of many colours.” The name of the late Dolly Parton’s breakout album. Really, it’s like he’s given Gucci, or vintage Air Jordans, or a Canada Goose, while every other brother’s back-to-school shopping at Walmart. This guy’s a spoiled brat. Making his brothers hate him more.
Then we find out he’s having dreams. One where several sheafs of wheat bow down to this other one, with Joseph bragging to his brothers that he’s the king wheat and they are the rest, destined to serve him one day. Then another dream where the sun and moon and eleven stars bow down–meaning that his mom and dad (sun and moon) are gonna serve him one day, too. So Joseph’s not only a spoiled brat, but has an ego the size of the night sky. This makes his brothers hate him even more. If that’s even possible.
And One day all this hate comes to a head. His brothers are off in distant pastures and his father sends him off to help them out. And get this–this guy, Joseph, he shows up wearing that fancy jacket of his. They can see it on him, shimmering off in the distance as he draws near, causing them to simmer with rage. There comes the dreamer, one says.
Long story short, they decide to kill him. Reuben–the oldest–thinks it’s a bad idea, but doesn’t actually do anything about it. And so when he gets close enough, they tear off that stupid robe of his, and throw him down in a pit. One without water, one too deep to climb out of.
Now, whether they’re just going to leave him for dead, or just trapping him until they actually kill him–we’re not sure. But just as they’re waiting around some Arabic traders show up, passing by on their way to Egypt. It occurs to another brother–Judah–that not only can they get rid of Joseph, they could actually make some money off the smarmy little jerk. So in the end, we have these traders pulling Joseph out of the pit and into slavery, while the brothers pocket a cool twenty silver pieces. And to cover it all up, the brothers smear that stupid coat of his in goats blood, and claim to their dad that he must have been killed by a wolf. Or a bear or something.
So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen: divine providence!
Joseph Sold into Slavery Ferenczy
All kidding aside, this thing’s a total, brutal mess.
So where’s the providence exactly?
I don’t know about you, but all I see here is self-centered arrogance. Indulgence and favouritism, envy and resentment, murder, greed and slavery. In fact, God isn’t even named. Not once in this entire chapter. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see much of a divine plan. Jealousy, arrogance, murderous rage, and slavery. I don’t see providence. All I see here… is sin. Human sin, of just about every kind. Just when you thought your family was a mess. This one beats it, hands down.
Now, the thing about the Joseph story–spoiler alert—by the way, I’m about to ruin the rest of the story for you. But all this this stuff is a setup for all the events that follow.
We heard that Joseph was sold into slavery in Egypt. Well, once in slavery, Joseph’s master finds out how good he is at interpreting dreams–they aren’t just a novel method of alienating his family members, no. They are his key to a promotion! He’s put in charge of all his master’s affairs.
Then he’s framed for adultery, and sent to rattle chains in prison. But then Pharaoh–the Egyptian king—is also wowed by his ability to interpret his dreams. So Joseph’s promoted to the Egyptian court, where he just kills it in kingdom administration. Then he’s basically made Prime Minister, where he reforms the entire Egyptian food system, having Pharaoh set aside supplies from all over the country in central granaries in case of a famine. Then the famine happens and–lo and behold–Egypt’s spared its worst effects.
And here’s the even more poignant thing. That same famine hits Canaan, the home that he was taken from. So Jacob–Joseph’s indulgent father–sends his eleven murderous brothers to negotiate their resettlement in Egypt where the food is plenty. And there, they eventually come face-to-face with their brother who they sold for twenty pieces of silver. The ones who sold him end up saved. So those little annoying dreams he had ended up coming true after all. And, not only did his brothers bow down to him, but his parents, too. In fact, all of Egypt–the empire do, too.
And here’s the thing. Without the mess at the beginning–the indulgent father, the murderous brothers, the sale into slavery—not only would Egypt’s vast population have starved, God’s people would have been wiped out, too. Even more than that–God’s original promise made to Abraham and Sarah earlier in Genesis that their descendants would be more numerous than the stars, that they would be blessed to be a blessing to the whole of creation, would have been cancelled out, also. Meaning that–if none of that happened, then God’s own promises would have been cancelled, shown to be a complete joke at best, a lie at worst.
But that’s not how it played out. Behind the scenes, God was using this whole mess to bring about not only the salvation of his own people, but the salvation of whole empire. And it’s all summed up with Joseph’s words to his brothers in the final chapter: “you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good.”
You meant evil
“You meant evil against me; but God meant it for good.”
This teaching becomes even more intense and all-encompassing from the vantage point of the New Testament.
Commentators have always at least heard echoes of Jesus in the stories of Joseph. “The main one being that Jesus’ kin also plotted to kill him.” God’s own people were the ones who threw him in the pit of death, not selling him to traders, but selling him out to the Roman authorities to be crucified, with Judas getting forty pieces of silver for Jesus’ life. Twice the amount that Joseph’s brother’s received.
The difference is, of course, is that Jesus died, while Joseph lived. “Was this the end of God’s plan of salvation? By no means. Just as God used the evil deeds of Joseph’s kin, God used the evil deeds of Jesus’ kin to save his people” Not only starvation, but from sin, and death itself. Leading the Apostle Paul to famously remark that, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”
The cross–that ultimate act of deceitful hatred–the murder of the Creator of the universe himself—has become for us the greatest symbol of hope. The deepest sign of God’s provision. That what we meant for evil, God meant it for good. God used it for the greatest good of all.
To be clear: it’s not saying that God made all these things bad things happen, just for a good purpose—that would make God the author of evil. What was done by his brothers, and what was done to him was sinful.
But what it’s saying is that, even in the worst of it–especially in the worst of it–God was using and overriding evil to bring about good. He couldn’t see it when it was happening, but looking back on his life, Joseph was eventually able to see the hand of God. Though it was hidden at the time.
The preacher Fleming Rutledge tells the story of a dark and damp cellar in Cologne Germany at the height of the second world war. This was a place where thousands of innocent Jews were hidden from Nazi persecution and extermination. Imagine being one of the many huddling together, not knowing if or when you’ll make it past another day.
And yet, when the cellar was liberated at the end of the war, the following poem was found carved into one of the walls:
Poem
“I believe in the sun when it is not shining.
I believe in love even when I cannot feel it.
I believe in God even when he is silent.”1
We don’t know who wrote this poem. We don’t know what happened to this prisoner either–whether, like Joseph, his or her fellow Jew, they miraculously made it through. Or, like the Jewish Messiah, was murdered in cold blood. Nonetheless, this persecuted Jew provides us a powerful testimony to the providence of God that stands either way.
And either way, it’s true. That there is–though often hidden from our eyes–there is a power above all earthly powers who governs this world ultimately for good. You could say that Christians believe in one conspiracy theory—not that the bad guys are pulling the strings behind the scenes, but a loving Creator who desires the salvation of all. There’s a God who provides us with a future, a God who is guiding the entire universe to fulfilment and everlasting peace. Even the worst of human sin can not annul his promises. Or erase his blessing.
That’s what we mean by providence. That in, and behind all things–even the worst human life has to offer. That your life, and mine, are the arena not only of random chance, or fate, or malevolent forces, but the realm of a gracious God at work for our good. We are not prisoners of our pasts, our sins, our hatreds, or our greed. We are not defined by what we’ve done, or what we’ve had done to us. Because God is at work, making all things new. All of it. Even when we can’t see it, or feel it. Not that everything that happens is God’s direct doing, but that God uses even our baddest doings to bring about blessing.
We can trust that God provides a future, even when the future is at its most fearful and obscure. We can trust that even when this God is silent, even when this God is completely hidden from our sight, there is a goodness, a love at the heart of all things. We can trust that in spite of all of life’s suffering, shame and injustice, that our lives belong to a divine design. The work of a divine designer, one who works all things for good. Because
This is my Father’s world–our Father’s world
O let us ne’er forget
that though the wrong oft seems so strong,
God is the ruler yet!
This is our Father’s world:
the battle is not done;
Jesus who died will be satisfied,
and earth and heaven be one!
I offer this to you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Stay on “We know that…” slide until hymn begins