It’s a question that all of God’s people must ask and answer for themselves: Is the God we serve and worship worthy of our trust even when it seems he’s nowhere to be found?

Listen below through Spotify, or find our Podcast “From the Pulpit” for weekly Sunday morning messages on Anchor, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and wherever else podcasts are found.

Manuscript

Trust is an essential ingredient to the recipe of life.

Though we may not always be aware of it, our lives are filled with a series of assessments and pronouncements on the trustworthiness of the people we encounter.

Do I trust my bank with my money?
Do I trust my friend with my secret?
Do I trust my parents with my development?
Do I trust my spouse with my heart?
Do I trust my teachers with my mind?
Do I trust my government with my freedom?
Do I trust my doctor with my health?
Do I trust my barber with my hair? (A non-issue for most of these days in isolation!)
Do I trust my teenager with my car?
Do I trust my babysitter with my kids?
Do I trust myself with my future?

In life we are forced to constantly and consistently evaluate just how worthy of our trust the people in our lives are and with what they can be trusted.

As one modern leadership guru has written, “Trust is the glue of life. … It’s the foundational principle that holds all relationships.”

That leaves us with a question: How do we evaluate this intangible quality in people?

Well, if I was to ask you right now to think of the person in your life that you trust most and then, after you’d thought of that individual, if I asked you to describe how they became so trusted, how would you answer? I’m guessing you’d say something like, “They proved it over time.” “They earned my trust.” 

You see, we learn to trust people by watching them. We study their actions and we experience the consistency—or inconsistency—of their dependability.

And as we study the people around us, we’re asking ourselves diagnostic questions whether we realize it or not like 

Do they come through more often than not? and 

Do they have our best interest in mind? 

And, if they do, over time our trust flourishes and the relationship grows. 

Each and every Christian has a similar but far more important relationship to evaluate. We all must ask ourselves, Do I trust my God? 

Do I trust him with my life? Do I trust him with my death? Do I trust my God with my future? Do I trust my God with my salvation? Do I trust that he will never leave me nor forsake me? Do I trust that he works all things together for good?

Is the God we serve and worship worthy of trust? 

Normally, I might say that last question sounds almost irreverent, but I think it’s one that the Bible, God’s own Word to us, encourages us to ask and demonstrates God’s people asking in its pages.

And so, I ask it again: Is the God we serve and worship worthy of trust? 

Has he demonstrated dependability? Does he have our best interests in mind? The implications of how we answer that question are immeasurable. And so, we all need to consider it carefully and answer it honestly, even if only to ourselves.

And, in Genesis chapters 40 and 41, we’re going to find a snapshot from the life of Joseph that prompts us to ask and answer a version of that question. More specifically, Can God be trusted even when he seems absent? 

Now today, I want to read the text in its entirety before we begin to study it together and, because of its length, I’ve recruited some help from within our church family. So, let’s follow along with them as they read for us Genesis 40 and 41.

To get our heads around this significant chunk of Scripture, I want to consider this passage in two overlapping scenes. 

Scene #1 we’ll call DOWN but DEVOTED. These two chapters describe Joseph having to endure unrelenting trials in his life and yet remaining unwaveringly faithful to his God. He’s brought down but he stays devoted.

Chapter 40 begins with three words that force us to look backwards: “Some time later.” Some time later after what?

Well, in chapter 37 we’re introduced to Joseph, a young man who, being his father’s favourite child, is hated by his jealous brothers. They misunderstand him, mistreat him, and, eventually sell him into foreign slavery.

Joseph ends up serving in the house of an Egyptian named Potiphar and things go okay for a while. That is, until Potiphar’s wife falsely accuses Joseph of trying to rape her and he’s thrown into prison.

And there Joseph sits in jail until “some time later” he’s joined by the king’s cupbearer and chief baker which we read about today. 

But how long is “some time later”? Well, let’s allow the passage to give us a timeline so we can better appreciate Joseph’s hardship.

We’re told Joseph’s age at the beginning of the narrative (37:2).

“Joseph, a young man of seventeen, was tending the flocks with his brothers.”

Near the end of our passage today (41:46), we’re again told his age.

“Joseph was thirty years old when he entered the service of Pharaoh king of Egypt.”

So there we have our bookends: 17 and 30. We’re talking thirteen years of time, most of which Joseph spent in prison. And of those thirteen years, eleven pass by with the label “some time later.” 

But, then, something happens at around that eleven-year-mark—these two new royal prisoners are added to Joseph’s cell block. 

Chapter 40 tells us they had dreams and God, through Joseph, revealed their meanings. Joseph says to the cupbearer, the one that would not be killed (40:14–15):

“But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of this prison. I was forcibly carried off from the land of the Hebrews, and even here I have done nothing to deserve being put in a dungeon.”

Three days later, when, as Joseph predicted, the baker was executed and the cupbearer was restored to Pharaoh’s service, chapter 40 concludes with these disheartening words:

“The chief cupbearer, however, did not remember Joseph; he forgot him.”

And then, to make matters worse, the opening phrase of the next chapter says: 

“When two full years had passed, Pharaoh had a dream.”

Joseph: Sold into slavery, framed for rape, thirteen years in prison, eleven of which the text doesn’t even mention, and then, finally, when it seems like he has a glimmer of hope—a contact on the outside through whom he may be able to right the injustice he’s had to endure—he’s forgotten by the guy he miraculously helped.

I’ve had some tough times in life; some circumstances I’ve had to endure. I’m sure if we compared battle scars many of yours would likely eclipse my own.

But on a scale of one to life-is-brutal, I’m not sure many of us could rival Joseph. At 30-years old, this young man had been forced to endure the depths.

And yet, amazingly, throughout this time, the text makes it clear that Joseph remained devoted to his God. He remained faithful to and trusting of the God of his family in spite of being brought down time and time again.

Consider 40:8 and initial conversation between the two new prisoners and Joseph. They say to him:

“We both had dreams … but there is no one to interpret them.” Then Joseph said to them, “Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell me your dreams.”

After eleven years of rotting in a prison cell under false accusations, Joseph’s knee-jerk response is to lift high the supreme power and knowledge of his God, confident that same God will use him to help.

A similar situation is in 41:16. But this time it’s Pharaoh wanting his dreams interpreted. Joseph responds to the request: 

“I cannot do it … but God will give Pharaoh the answer he desires.”

So Pharoah, in verses 17–24, describes his dream to the now-cleaned-up prisoner, Joseph, who again responds in verse 25:

“The dreams of Pharaoh are one and the same. God has revealed to Pharaoh what he is about to do.”

Joseph then lays out the God-given meaning of Pharaoh’s dream, returning the spotlight again to God in verse 28:

“It is just as I said to Pharaoh: God has shown Pharaoh what he is about to do.”

And he outlines the plan that would save countless lives during seven years of famine by saving food during the seven years of plenty that would directly precede them.

And if there was any question in the room as to where this information, this insight, this brilliance came from, Joseph answers it clearly in verses 32 and 33:

“The reason the dream was given to Pharaoh in two forms is that the matter has been firmly decided by God, and God will do it soon. And now let Pharaoh look for a discerning and wise man and put him in charge of the land of Egypt.”

God, not me. God, not you. God, not us. Look for someone, not me, that’s wise and can implement this plan that God, not me, has provided.

And Pharaoh, being either so struck with Joseph’s devotion or acknowledging the power of the God that Joseph was repeatedly pointing toward, starts to sound like this ex-con in verses 37–39:

The plan seemed good to Pharaoh and to all his officials. So Pharaoh asked them, “Can we find anyone like this man, one in whom is the spirit of God?” 

Then Pharaoh said to Joseph, “Since God has made all this known to you, there is no one so discerning and wise as you.

Thirteen years of mistreatment, abuse, slavery, loneliness, and disrepute and yet, given the chance to shine in front of the greatest power in the known world, to potentially win back his reputation and to perhaps vindicate himself for good, Joseph points all credit to God, the one in whom he had complete trust. 

Joseph was brought down but remained devoted.

I think we’d do well here to pause and ask ourselves a potentially difficult question. When we face times of desperation and helplessness in life,—times we’re thrown down into the depths, how do we respond? 

We all know that it’s one thing to say “I trust God” when we’re loved in the palace. It’s another to say “I trust God” when we’re a decade in the prison.

Kara Tippetts was a wife, mother of four, and author who died about five years ago of cancer in her late 30s. While she was fighting her losing battle with the disease, Kara refused to be defined by her illness and considered every moment she had a gift and an opportunity to learn more about grace and trusting God; she believed suffering was not an absence of beauty, but an opportunity to understand God’s love on a deeper level. Near the end of her life Kara wrote this on her blog:

My little body has grown tired of the battle, and treatment is no longer helping. But what I see, what I know, what I have is Jesus. He has still given me breath, and with it I pray I would live well and fade well. By degrees doing both, living and dying, as I have moments left to live. I get to draw my people close, kiss them and tenderly speak love over their lives. I get to pray into eternity my hopes and fears for the moments of my loves. I get to laugh and cry and wonder over heaven. I do not feel like I have the courage for this journey, but I have Jesus—and he will provide. He has given me so much to be grateful for, and that gratitude, that wondering over his love, will cover us all. And it will carry us—carry us in ways we cannot comprehend.

Kara Tippetts was down but devoted. Joseph was down but devoted. 

I pray that we, brothers and sisters, would grow, by the power of the Holy Spirit, to be likewise devoted to our God in spite of our life circumstances. 

Now, as know from already reading the text, Joseph didn’t stay down, did he? No he didn’t! 

And so this tees us up for the second scene I want us to look at today. While the first scene was down but devoted, Scene #2 is prospering by providence. 

Through his incredible rise from prison to the palace, Joseph’s life showcases God’s sovereign workings behind the scenes and his trustworthiness through all of life.

Joseph prospered by God’s providential hand.

We remember that, as soon as he was brought from prison and rightly interpreted Pharaoh’s dream, Joseph is given a new job. The king says to Joseph (41:40–44):

“You shall be in charge of my palace, and all my people are to submit to your orders. Only with respect to the throne will I be greater than you.” 

So Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I hereby put you in charge of the whole land of Egypt.” Then Pharaoh took his signet ring from his finger and put it on Joseph’s finger. He dressed him in robes of fine linen and put a gold chain around his neck. He had him ride in a chariot as his second-in-command, and people shouted before him, “Make way!” Thus he put him in charge of the whole land of Egypt. Then Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I am Pharaoh, but without your word no one will lift hand or foot in all Egypt.”

Note the idiom used at the end of that text, that no one will lift hand or foot in all the land without Joseph’s say-so.

We may remember that in his life to date, many people have lifted body parts against Joseph.

Joseph’s brothers had “lifted their hands” against him (37:21, 22, 27). Potiphar’s wife had “lifted up her eyes” against him (39:7). 

But here we’re told that never again would anyone anywhere lift up any body part against Joseph—hand, eye, foot or anything else. In fact, they wouldn’t do anything without his agreement! 

Things have changed!

In a single conversation with the king, Joseph goes from imprisoned and displaced slave to almost unrivalled ruler of the most powerful nation in the world. It’s quite the new job.

Joseph is also given a new name in verse 45, essentially naturalizing the Hebrew as an Egyptian. Whereas Potiphar’s wife had tried to use his non-Egyptian status as ammunition against him—pejoratively calling him “that Hebrew”—Pharaoh, and the rest of Egypt along with him—now accept Joseph as one of their own.

Joseph is also given a new family. He’s given a wife in that same verse and children in verses 50–52. 

It’s a meteoric rise in prosperity: From the lowest of lows to the highest of highs almost overnight. 

But in no way does this passage allow us to attribute that climb to anything other than the providential workings of God. God, though not always seen, was always working behind the scenes to bring these things about—to eventually bless Joseph  and, through Joseph, his family, his nation, and eventually the world.

Notice all the “coincidences” that occur in these chapters.

In 40:1, it just so happens that two employees of Pharaoh are imprisoned at the same time “in the same prison where Joseph was confined.”

Then verse 4, the “captain of the guard” just so happens to assign them to Joseph’s care.

In verse 5, it just so happens that these two men each have vivid dreams on the same night and wake up disturbed.

Then, in verses 9–18, The men trust Joseph with their dreams and it just so happens that he’s is able to interpret them.

In verse 20, it just so happens that all of this occurs a few days before Pharaoh’s birthday on which, it just so happens, the king is moved to release those two imprisoned dreamers—one to service and one to death as Joseph had predicted … it just so happens.

Finally, consider 41:1. Even the two-year amnesia of the cupbearer, forgetting about Joseph and his miraculous predictions, is a fascinating coincidence. 

We spoke of it earlier as adding to the depths to which Joseph was being forced to endure, and it certainty was that. But it was also God keeping Joseph in place to be released at the exact moment that would place him in the biggest spotlight, in front of the most significant audience, elevating him to the highest prosperity available and to maximum usefulness.

You see, God, though not always seen, was always working behind the scenes. 

This was prosperity by providence. God was at work.

Think about it this way: Would Joseph have stood before Pharaoh without first standing in Pharaoh’s prison? Would he have served the king without first having to attend to the kings’ prisoners? 

Would Joseph’s eventual place of power have been realized had he not gained the favour and trust of the prison warden? 

Would any of this have happened if Joseph had not been falsely accused of attempted rape? If he had not been a slave in Potiphar’s house?

Would Joseph have ended up as the most powerful man in the most powerful nation of the world if he had not first been hated by his own brothers and sold into captivity?

Would Joseph have ever ascended to a position that would eventually save countless lives if his father had not first been led to believe he had lost his own?

Would Joseph be remembered as he is now if he had not first been forgotten for two years by the cupbearer? 

Would Joseph’s have become a favoured story of God’s people for millennia if he had first not been sinfully favoured by his father?

Though not always seen, God was always working behind the scenes. 

Joseph rose to prosperity by God’s providence. And this is acknowledged by Joseph at the end of our passage in the naming of his two sons (41:51–52):

Joseph named his firstborn Manasseh and said, “It is because God has made me forget all my trouble and all my father’s household.” 

Forgetting here doesn’t mean “not remembering.” Instead, it means something like, “God has enabled me to close that chapter of my life.” It carries a sense of acceptance and trust in God’s care.

The second son he named Ephraim and said, “It is because God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.”

Notice that there’s no denial of the suffering here. The trials happened. But, as Joseph knew, God invites you and I to know as well: God is at work behind the scenes even if he can’t always be seen, and he can and will make us fruitful in spite of our hardships.

Though he was down Joseph remained devoted to a God he couldn’t see but trusted. It wasn’t until he ascended in prosperity that God’s providential workings could be seen, like a quilt that, in the early stages of sewing looks more like scraps  of fabric and loose thread. But as it takes shape, its thoughtful patchwork is increasingly revealed for appreciation. 

And, friends, that hasn’t changed since the days of Joseph. God is still constantly working in varying degrees of visibility. He’s there in our prosperity and our poverty, our thrills and our spills, our breakthroughs and our heartbreaks. 

In Psalm 23, David famously declares that, “even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil” Why can he say this? “for you [God] are with me” (23:4). 

God was with David. God was with Joseph. And God is with you and I as well. 

And with that truth as the foundation, I want to leave us today with two complementary admonitions; two connected invitations that we all need whether we find ourselves in the prison or the palace.

The first is this: When God is obvious, celebrate Him!

When God’s providence becomes clear to you, when you see the quilt developing, when he pulls back the curtain and allows you a glimpse into his workings, take time to celebrate that. 

I have to think that as Joseph named his two sons as the second-most-powerful-man in Egypt, he was at the same time marvelling at God’s goodness and worshiping him for his kindness.

So too should we. If you’re experiencing a time in your life right now where, in spite of the corona-quarantine—or perhaps, because of it—you’re seeing God at work in an obvious way, take time to acknowledge him, to thank him, to praise him, and to celebrate him.

In fact, I would suggest that, if that’s you right now, find a way to make that celebration tangible and concrete. 

Write it down. Email it to a friend. Journal about it. Write a poem. Call a relative. 

Find a Bible verse that represents the providence of God you’ve been experiencing and in the margin next to it scratch a nemonic note so you’ll come upon it again later. 

Find a way to make this time of celebrating God’s obviousness, tangible.

This is important for at least two reasons: 1) Because he’s worthy of such thoughtful worship and celebration, and 2) because we know—both from our passage today and from life experience—that he won’t always be so obvious and we want to remember.

And that brings us to the second, related but distinct, admonition: When God is undetectable, trust Him! 

When he’s obvious, celebrate him, but when he’s undetectable, trust him!

Those times will come. Some of you may be in the midst of one now. 

We need to remember that feeling as though God is undetectable isn’t necessarily a mark of immaturity or weak faith. We find such declarations in the Bible.

Consider Psalm 13:1, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”

We experience down times like this, don’t we? Of course we do. But we’re called to remain devoted, like Joseph did; to trust a God who has proven to be trustworthy. Listen to how that same Psalm ends:

“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.”

Notice that in spite of the seeming undetectability of God, the psalmist is determined to sing the Lord’s praises anyway, trusting in a love that has never failed in the past, a salvation that is secure in spite of his experience and emotion, and a litany of memories of God’s past kindness in his life.

When God is undetectable, trust him! He’s still at work. He’s still with you. He still cares. He still hears you. Trust him!

Your inability to perceive him at work in the moment does not negate the salvation you’ve already received, the love you’ve had lavished upon you, and the goodness he’s shown you in the past. Trust him. 

If this is what you’re experiencing right now, I encourage you to take a stroll down memory lane and stop at specific addresses—perhaps your conversion, your baptism, a healing, an answered prayer.

Remember those times. Again, make it tangible somehow by writing it down or sharing it with someone. Those are memorial stones in our lives to God’s trustworthiness, unchanging character, and unfailing faithfulness.

When God is obvious, celebrate him! When he’s undetectable, trust him!

Trust is an essential ingredient to the recipe of life. And, as much as that’s true with all of our relationships with the people around us, it’s even more true in our relationship with our Heavenly Father. He invites us to trust him. His track-record is pristine and he is always at work. 

Brothers and sisters, the God we serve and worship is worthy of that trust.

May God help us all, and all of us together, live lives marked by that reality.