Genesis 37:12-36.
A NEW chapter in Joseph’s history is opened to us in the passage read to-night. We have already had before us what might be called the prologue to the great drama of the life of Joseph. The chief actors have been introduced. But, so far, we have only seen them, as it were, in tableaux. To-night we find ourselves in the midst of a scene of stirring activity, and each actor begins to play his part in the dark tragedy of Joseph’s betrayal.
Joseph’s brethren had gone to feed their father’s flock in Shechem, and Israel sends him to them to inquire for their welfare, and the welfare of the flocks. Joseph yields willing and hearty obedience. “Here am I,” he answers to his father’s command. “So,” we read, “he sent him out of the vale of Hebron, and he came to Shechem.” How beautifully we see pictured here the coming of the Son of God into the world! It is, in type, the advent in their midst of Israel’s Messiah. He was “sent” of his father; and in the New Testament we read that “the Father sent the Son.” And Christ said to the Jews that God’s work was to “believe on Him whom He hath sent.” And He said again, “Him whom He hath sent ye believe not.” The blind man is directed to wash in the pool of Siloam, which, the Spirit of God is careful to tell us, means “sent,” reminding us in this way of Him who was “sent for the recovering of sight to the blind” (John 9; Luke 4).
And “he sent him out of the vale of Hebron.” Hebron means fellowship, or communion. The vale suggests quiet peacefulness and rest. It was intended, I believe, to point them forward (and point us back) to the fellowship of the Son of God with the Father in heaven’s eternal calm and peace previous to His entrance, at His incarnation, into this scene of sin and toil and sorrow. God has told us something of this in the mystical language of the 8th of Proverbs; the only language, it seems to me, in which mysteries of such a profound nature could be told to human ears. His pre-incarnation existence is declared to us directly in the opening verses of the Gospel of John. He was ever the “fellow” of Jehovah, and His equal. The unitarian denies this. And I do not spell the designation with a capital, for unitarianism to-day is fearfully prevalent, even in the theoretically orthodox bodies of Christendom. It has spread, and continues to spread, like a deadly gangrene, in Protestantism. All have not the honesty, like poor B. Fay Mills, to commit themselves, and declare openly for the awful blasphemy. It is antichristian, a damnable doctrine, and will shut out of heaven forever all who die in the belief of its hellish lie. The denial of Christ’s eternal deity is taught in one of its most subtle forms in the series of books called “Millennial Dawn.” No Christian should suffer one of these books to enter into his house. It is Satanic, I do not hesitate to declare. Every true Christian’s heart must find its echo in the lines of Newton:
“Some take Him a creature to be —
A man, or an angel, at most,
But they have not feelings like me,
Nor know themselves wretched and lost.
So guilty, so helpless am I,
I durst not confide in His blood,
Nor on His protection rely,
Unless I were sure He is Gon.”
“And he came to Shechem,” we read. Shechem was the place where Joseph’s brethren had dealt so treacherously with the unsuspecting people of Hamor. In their “fierce anger” and “cruel wrath” they had committed wholesale murder. So black was their crime, and so base their treachery, that their father says, “Ye have troubled me, to make me to stink among the inhabitants of the land.” It just illustrates the condition of affairs among the Jews when Jesus came into their midst. Such was their hypocrisy and deceit, that they had made themselves to become a stench among their Gentile neighbors. They were “contrary to all men,” as the apostle afterward wrote. And through them, because of their wickedness, the name of God was blasphemed among the Gentiles, the same apostle says. (See 1 Thessalonians 2:15; Rom. 2:24). And it was into such a scene, and among such a people, that the antitype of Joseph came. Oh, what grace was this! what “matchless kindness” and disinterested love! And He came willingly, like Joseph. Joseph would have had good cause to draw back from such an errand. He knew his brethren’s wickedness and hatred. He knew the envy of their hearts against him. He could with reason have asked his father to excuse him from this undertaking. But no; “Here am I” he says, ready always to obey, and glad to seek his brethren’s welfare. And Jesus, ere “He came unto His own,” knew perfectly the “hatred” they should give Him for His “love,” He knew well their wickedness, “He knew all men,” John writes, “and needed not that any should testify of man, for He knew what was in man.” He knew He was coming into the midst of a “generation of vipers.” He knew well that He was being sent to “an evil and an adulterous generation,” to be among them as God’s “lamb” in the midst of “wolves.” And yet He came, willingly, obediently. “Lo, I come to do Thy will,” He says, when being sent into the world by God, His Father. Old King George III. once visited a poor, sick Gipsy woman in Windsor Forest, and the world thought it a wonderful act of condescending kindness. But heaven’s King came down in deepest tenderness to guilty Israel (and in them to the whole world, for they are but a sample of the entire human race), yet not many think it very wonderful, alas! The few who know Him do, however. They sing —
“What wonderful love, that Jesus should come
To man’s hostile earth from heaven’s bright home,
To suffer, and seek all who far from God roam,
In love — such wonderful love!”
Joseph does not find his brethren when he comes to Shechem. They have departed. Now is his chance to return to Hebron if his heart is not wholly in his mission. Here he has given him a good excuse for turning back and giving up the undertaking. But no; he has no thought of turning back, or giving up the work given him of his father to do. We read, “A certain man found him, and, behold, he was wandering in the field: and the man asked him, saying, What seekest thou? And he said, I seek my brethren: tell me, I pray thee, where they feed their flocks. And the man said, They are departed hence; for I heard them say, Let us go to Dothan, And Joseph went after his brethren, and found them in Dothan.” How like the blessed Son of God I He, too, “found in fashion as a man,” was here,
“Wandering as a homeless stranger.”
Joseph wandering in the field, in utter loneliness, is but a shadow of Him who here on earth had “not where to lay His head.” Though often in the midst of crowds, His life was one of loneliness and sorrow. He was like “a sparrow alone upon the housetop.” Few could, or even cared to, share His thoughts. Sometimes, as in the case of Joseph, “a man found” Him, and to such He told His errand. To these, His disciples, He could unburden the intents of His burdened heart; but the world knew Him not! But, oh! how He persisted in His search for those “lost sheep of the house of Israel” to whom He was “sent.” Nothing could turn Him back. He set His face like a flint. No seeming lack of success in His mission could cause Him to relinquish it. He presses on like Joseph, who, if he cannot find his brethren in the place of their former wickedness, Shechem, will follow them to Dothan. “Dothan” means “two wells,” or, perhaps beer, “cisterns.” This at once recalls what God says of Israel in Jeremiah 2:13. He says, “They have forsaken Me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.” This was Israel’s condition exactly when He with whom was “the fountain of life” was in their midst. And when, because of their self-righteousness and pride, they would not be convinced by Him of their wickedness, He appealed to their unsatisfied hearts, and cried, on “the last day, that great day of the feast, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink.” It is just Joseph going from Shechem — the scene of their wickedness — to Dothan (heart thirst). And sinner, this is Christ’s way still with souls. It seems impossible for some to think that they are great and grievous sinners. And so they have no crushing sense of guilt to drive them to the Saviour of lost sinners. But empty, unfilled hearts they have; and when they see how broken are earth’s cisterns, they will come to Him who is Himself the satisfying fountain for some to think that blessedness. It was so with me. I knew, of course, I was a sinner; but it was more as to “the fountain of life” than as to the “fountain opened for sin and uncleanness” that
“I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad.”
Men have not only consciences, but hearts. And Christ appeals to both. And He appeals to you who are unsatisfied and thirsty. He can meet those strange, mysterious longings of your soul. He has met mine, and those of men of the very highest intellectual capacity; and He can meet yours, surely. Only let Him. Begin to let Him now.
Let us follow Joseph now to Dothan, and see how He is treated by his brethren. The narrative reads, “And when they saw him afar off, even before he came near unto them, they conspired against him to slay him. And they said one to another, Behold, this dreamer cometh. Come now therefore, and let us slay him, and cast him into some pit, and we will say, Some evil beast hath devoured him; and we will see what will become of his dreams.” His reception was like Christ’s. He was no sooner born than men began to plot against His life. When Joseph was yet “afar off, even before he came near,” his brethren conspired against him, and determined to have his life. And so it was with Jesus. At His birth, Herod, and all Jerusalem with him, “was troubled,” we read. And Herod sought the young Child’s life. This was when He was “afar off,” for He was yet too young to reign in Herod’s place; and it was not till thirty years after that He was to enter upon His public ministry among the Jews. But He was “the heir,” and the counsel of the nation was, “Come, let us kill Him.” They ever thirsted for His life’s blood. Even the prophets who had shown before His coming were slain by them. “Even before He came near unto them,” they had marked Him out for death. “Crucify Him I crucify Him!” they cried, when at last they thought they had Him in their power. And what the Jew did nineteen hundred years ago, you and I, and every man, would do to-day if unrenewed by grace and placed in similar circumstances.
Murder, in the germ, lies buried in the natural heart of every man born in the world. And we read, “The carnal mind is enmity against God.” God permitted all this manifestation of enmity and murder in the Jewish heart that you and I might see just what is in our own. For our hearts are, by nature, all alike. Scripture says so. Harken!” As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man” (Prov. 27:19). Notice the perfection of the figure used. It is not “As in a mirror,” but “As in water.” It is well-nigh impossible, as most here may know, to obtain an absolutely plane surface on either glass or metal. And to see a perfect image of yourself, you must look upon a surface that is perfectly plane. An ordinary mirror only reflects a resemblance. There is always more or less distortion. But look into a pail or pool of water perfectly at rest, and you see an exact image of yourself in the reflection. Because water at rest presents an absolutely plane surface. I know then, from this verse in Proverbs, that when I see the Jewish heart displaying itself in the presence of Jesus here on earth, I see, not a resemblance of my Gentile heart, but an exact image. And yet, oh wonder of wonders! He loved, and loves, me still! And when He came to earth He knew just what treatment He should receive at the hand of man. Joseph did not, could not, know how his brethren would seek to destroy his life. Had he known, he would never have gone, perhaps. But Jesus knew; and, knowing, came!
Let me adapt an illustration: A widow has an only son. She loves him dearly; and wishing to inculcate in him a spirit of unselfishness and care for others, she says one day, “James, I wish you to carry this basket of eatables to the Smith family over the mountain. I hear they are in very hard circumstances, and perhaps are starving. It is a long journey, but if you start now, while it is yet early morning, you will have time to get back before dark. Please ask them to accept this food as an expression of my neighborly care and love.” James, always in hearty sympathy with his mother’s plans, gladly undertakes the journey over the rough, steep mountain, and just after noon arrives at the dilapidated but in which the squatters to whom he is sent are living. As he is seen approaching, the rough, rude elder sons come out, and begin to ill-treat the widow’s son. Though he meets them with a kindly, gentle smile, they first mock and then begin to beat him, until, all covered with blood, he lies insensible and still upon the ground. Supposing him to be dead, they cast him into the bushes, and begin to eat, with the rest of the family, the basket of victuals. After a time poor James recovers consciousness, and succeeds, by a terrible effort, in reaching his mother’s house about midnight. As he staggers, all bruised and bleeding, into his mother’s arms, he groans, “O mother, had I known they were such cruel people, I never should have gone” And this would be but human. But the love of Christ was more than human love; it was divine. He knew beforehand just how men would treat Him, yet He came. He knew the heartless mockery and the cruel crown of thorns that they would place upon His brow. He knew that they would nail Him to the shameful tree — yes, He knew it all; yet, blessed be His name, He came. My heart cannot withstand such love as this. It is a love “which passeth knowledge.” It will melt the stoutest heart that, by God’s grace, believes it. May you, poor Christ-rejector, get to know and believe that love to-night.
Many are like Reuben — they try to occupy a neutral place. He seeks, in a timid, half-hearted way to save the life of Joseph. If he knew Joseph to be unworthy of such treatment, why did he not step out boldly and say, “No; lay no hand on this defenseless lad. Why do you seek to kill the child? I shall stand by him; and if you kill him, you must do it over my dead body.” “Well said, Reuben!” we would all exclaim. But no; he is too cowardly. He tries in a weak kind of way to save the life of Joseph, but he is careful that it is at no risk to himself; and he suffers with his wicked brethren just as if he had, like Judah, taken the leading part. Is there a Reuben here to-night? Be warned. You cannot occupy a neutral place between this Christ-rejecting world and an open confession of His name. You may think in your heart that you have a kind of respect or regard for Jesus; but let me tell you, this will not avail you in the coming day. Hear what He says about this matter: “Whosoever shall confess Me before men, him shall the Son of man also confess before the angels of God. But he that denieth Me before men shall be denied before the angels of God” (Luke 12:8, 9). You must make your choice, and openly abide by it. Remember what He said to the daughters of Jerusalem, who, out of the tenderness of their womanly hearts, wept as they beheld Him being led to death and bearing His cross. “Weep for yourselves,” He says, “and for your children,” as He saw what would come upon them. They were not really believers, and had not confessed Him, like His true disciples. And He can only say to them, “Weep for yourselves.” You too may weep as you hear preachers pathetically describe the sufferings of Christ upon the cross of Calvary; or you may be moved to tears as you gaze upon some life-like picture of the thorn-crowned and bleeding Saviour. But I say, Weep not for Him, but for those miseries that are coming upon your soul if you do not from your heart believe on Him, and with your mouth confess Him in the face of this world’s scorn and hatred.
More than two hundred years ago the city of Limerick was besieged by King William, and at last surrendered, conditionally. An open space was prepared outside the city, and one gray October morning the soldiers of the surrendered garrison were marched towards this spot. The two flags of the rival French and English nations were planted at opposite points, and the Irish regiments were allowed to choose, each man for himself, which flag he preferred to live under and fight for. The first to decide was the foot-guard regiment, fourteen hundred strong. All but seven chose the tri-color of France. Next came Lord Iveagh’s regiment, a splendid body of men. Will they, too, decide against the flag of England? The inhabitants of the city and country-side stand almost breathless as they advance with measured tread, and in perfect order, toward the spot where the decisive choice of each man must be made. One by one they stopped before the flag of England, until they stood a solid body, and as one man declared for England’s king. Not one denied allegiance to the British crown. As the last man of this loyal regiment halted beneath the ensign of Britain, the silence of the spectators was broken by a mighty shout. Cheer after cheer rent the morning air. And men and angels look to you to see if you will make the Christ of God your public choice to-day, my unsaved hearer. You must decide as did each soldier on that morning of long ago outside the gates of Limerick. No man that clay could take neutral ground. It must be the one flag or the other. And you must choose between the world and Christ. “Choose ye this day,” is the word of command. It is impossible to continue long a Reuben. May God show you this, and “for the divisions of Reuben” may there be “great searchings of heart” to-night.
Now let us come back to the narrative. Reuben’s expedient to deliver him out of his brethren’s hand fails. True, they do not kill him. They strip him of his coat of many colors, and cast him into a pit of the wilderness. And in Reuben’s absence (evidently) they sell him to the Ishmaelites. Like the Jews with Jesus, they deliver him up to the Gentiles. Twenty pieces of silver is the price they get for him. This was just two-thirds the price of an average adult slave (see Ex. 21:32). Judas asked the chief priests what they would give for Jesus. Thirty pieces of silver is their offer. The price of a slave is their estimate of His worth who was ever God’s delight, the object of the adoration of all angels, the fear of demons, and the “all” and “altogether lovely” of the hosts of the redeemed. “Every man has his price” is a vulgar saying of the world, and it is frequently untrue. But every soul whom Satan cheats of Jesus has its price. Some accept gold, others position or power. With some it is paltry pleasure, or lust, or some darling secret sin rolled like a sweet morsel under their tongue. What is he giving you, poor sinner? you are accepting something, be assured. And whatever it may be, you are being fooled a thousand times more really than the stupid savage who sells an exhaustless gold mine for a few brass buttons. Well might the sold and slighted Saviour say in seeming irony, as He beholds it all, “A goodly price that I was prized at of them” (Zech. 11:13).
I know this may not give you much concern just now. It did not trouble Joseph’s brethren very much that they had basely betrayed and sold him. But the time came, after many years, that they were forced to feel it. And you will some day realize the sin of all your sins — the rejection of the Son of God. It is the crown-crime of human guilt, and shuts heaven in your face. There is no place but hell for men who choose the world and sin, and leave the patient, pleading Saviour standing unanswered at their door.
Will you not have Him to-night, unsaved man, woman, child? He stands ready to-night to receive and save you. He will gladly forgive the years of neglect and rejection you have shown Him, just as Joseph, when exalted in Egypt, forgave his brethren freely when, in their need and sorrow, they were brought before him. You need a Saviour. You need one now. You need a Saviour from sin, and you need a Saviour from hell. Jesus waits to be all this to you right here and now. Love led Him to Calvary to die for your sins, and it is love, long-suffering love, love for the lost, that causes Him to delay His coming, and to call, and call you, though you do not yet respond. Oh, say to Him,
“Just as I am, Thy love, I own,
Has broken every barrier down.
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come.”
God help you to say it! Amen and Amen.