Missions Paul

Some stories in Scripture are not just stories. The story of Joseph, where he is thrown into a pit, sold into slavery, and forgotten in a dungeon, is a prophetic story of what was to come. On this Easter Sunday, we celebrate the One who would go into a deeper pit yet rise in a way that changed everything.

“When two full years had passed, Pharaoh had a dream: He was standing by the Nile, ² when out of the river there came up seven cows, sleek and fat, and they grazed among the reeds. ³ After them, seven other cows, ugly and gaunt, came up out of the Nile and stood beside those on the riverbank. ⁴ And the cows that were ugly and gaunt ate up the seven sleek, fat cows. Then Pharaoh woke up. ⁵ He fell asleep again and had a second dream: Seven heads of grain, healthy and good, were growing on a single stalk. ⁶ After them, seven other heads of grain sprouted—thin and scorched by the east wind. ⁷ The thin heads of grain swallowed up the seven healthy, full heads. Then Pharaoh woke up; it had been a dream. ⁸ In the morning his mind was troubled, so he sent for all the magicians and wise men of Egypt. Pharaoh told them his dreams, but no one could interpret them for him. ⁹ Then the chief cupbearer said to Pharaoh, “Today I am reminded of my shortcomings. ¹⁰ Pharaoh was once angry with his servants, and he imprisoned me and the chief baker in the house of the captain of the guard. ¹¹ Each of us had a dream the same night, and each dream had a meaning of its own. ¹² Now a young Hebrew was there with us, a servant of the captain of the guard. We told him our dreams, and he interpreted them for us, giving each man the interpretation of his dream. ¹³ And things turned out exactly as he interpreted them to us: I was restored to my position, and the other man was impaled.” ¹⁴ So Pharaoh sent for Joseph, and he was quickly brought from the dungeon. When he had shaved and changed his clothes, he came before Pharaoh. ¹⁵ Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I had a dream, and no one can interpret it. But I have heard it said of you that when you hear a dream you can interpret it.” ¹⁶ “I cannot do it,” Joseph replied to Pharaoh, “but God will give Pharaoh the answer he desires.” (Genesis 41:1-16)

Suddenly, after two years of silence, everything changed literally in a morning.

The prison and the length of time meant Joseph didn’t look too good! He shaves, changes his clothes, and stands before the most powerful man in the world. The prisoner becomes the interpreter. The forgotten one becomes the voice of God in the throne room of Egypt.

This is the Easter story: the pit cannot hold him. The darkness cannot keep him. What looked like the end of the story was in fact only the beginning.

They come expecting to anoint a body if someone could roll the stone away. But when they arrive, the stone is already gone. And a figure in white says: He is not here. He has risen.

Joseph is not claiming credit for his own survival. He is pointing beyond himself. The power that sustained him through the years of darkness is not his own, “but God will give Pharaoh the answer he desires.”

Before Joseph stands before Pharaoh, he changes his clothes. He cannot appear in prison garments before the throne. Paul will one day use exactly this language to describe what baptism and resurrection mean: “you have put off the old self… and have put on the new self” (Col 3:9–10).

The resurrection is not merely resuscitation. It is the same body woken up, the same life resumed. The risen Christ still bears the wounds. But the grave clothes are not around him; they are left behind, neatly folded in the tomb.

Joseph’s pit is empty. The tomb is empty. The stone is rolled away. Not gradually — not as the result of long negotiations or improved circumstances — but in a single, sovereign act that no amount of Roman sealing could prevent. He is not here. He is risen. And the one who went down into the pit has come up from it as the Lord of all that is.

The pit could not hold Joseph. The tomb could not hold Christ. And the power that raised Jesus from the dead is the same power at work in lives today. This is the Easter promise. Not just that something happened two thousand years ago in a garden outside Jerusalem, but that the God who rolls away stones is still rolling them. He is risen. And because he is risen, there is nothing, a pit or a sealed tomb that gets the final word.

Alleluia. Christ is risen.

Between the cross and the resurrection, there was a day of silence — no angels, no miracles, just waiting. Joseph knew that silence well. Forgotten in a pit, his one hope was walking free without a word on his behalf. But the waiting is never wasted.

“Some time later, the cupbearer and the baker of the king of Egypt offended their master, the king of Egypt. ² Pharaoh was angry with his two officials, the chief cupbearer and the chief baker, ³ and put them in custody in the house of the captain of the guard, in the same prison where Joseph was confined. ⁴ The captain of the guard assigned them to Joseph, and he attended them. After they had been in custody for some time, ⁵ each of the two men—the cupbearer and the baker of the king of Egypt, who were being held in prison—had a dream the same night, and each dream had a meaning of its own. ⁶ When Joseph came to them the next morning, he saw that they were dejected. ⁷ So he asked Pharaoh’s officials who were in custody with him in his master’s house, “Why do you look so sad today?” ⁸ “We both had dreams,” they answered, “but there is no one to interpret them.” Then Joseph said to them, “Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell me your dreams.” ⁹ So the chief cupbearer told Joseph his dream. He said to him, “In my dream I saw a vine in front of me, ¹⁰ and on the vine were three branches. As soon as it budded, it blossomed, and its clusters ripened into grapes. ¹¹ Pharaoh’s cup was in my hand, and I took the grapes, squeezed them into Pharaoh’s cup and put the cup in his hand.” ¹² “This is what it means,” Joseph said to him. “The three branches are three days. ¹³ Within three days Pharaoh will lift up your head and restore you to your position, and you will put Pharaoh’s cup in his hand, just as you used to do when you were his cupbearer. ¹⁴ But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of this prison. ¹⁵ 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.” ¹⁶ When the chief baker saw that Joseph had given a favorable interpretation, he said to Joseph, “I too had a dream: On my head were three baskets of bread.^[a] 17 In the top basket were all kinds of baked goods for Pharaoh, but the birds were eating them out of the basket on my head.” ¹⁸ “This is what it means,” Joseph said. “The three baskets are three days. ¹⁹ Within three days Pharaoh will lift off your head and impale your body on a pole. And the birds will eat away your flesh.” ²⁰ Now the third day was Pharaoh’s birthday, and he gave a feast for all his officials. He lifted up the heads of the chief cupbearer and the chief baker in the presence of his officials: ²¹ He restored the chief cupbearer to his position, so that he once again put the cup into Pharaoh’s hand— ²² but he impaled the chief baker, just as Joseph had said to them in his interpretation. ²³ The chief cupbearer, however, did not remember Joseph; he forgot him.” (Genesis 40 v 1-23)

Joseph has accurately interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh’s cupbearer and baker. He asks one thing of the cupbearer: “Only remember me, when it is well with you, and please do me the kindness to mention me to Pharaoh, and so get me out of this house.”

But see what happens, “Yet the chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph, but forgot him.” V23.

A door closes. The silence continues. Saturday continues. What were the disciples doing? We have no record. It felt like the end. The temple’s curtain had torn. The earth had shaken. And now, nothing.

The one who could have helped (the cupbearer) walks away. Joseph remains in the pit.

Two years passes by and we don’t know what happens in the time frame. But by the time he is dragged out of prison, he is ready. The ‘Saturday’ was not wasted.

A Saturday season could be a moment of unanswered prayer. You may be feeling forgotten but one thing is definitely true – it’s not over.

So sit tight and wait. God will move.

Good Friday and the story of Joseph both confront us with the same brutal reality: faithfulness offers no immunity from suffering, and God’s presence does not always mean God’s rescue. Yet in both the prison and the tomb, the Lord was quietly, stubbornly there — and in both cases, the pit turned out not to be the last word.

“When she saw that he had left his cloak in her hand and had run out of the house, she called her household servants. “Look,” she said to them, “this Hebrew has been brought to us to make sport of us! He came in here to sleep with me, but I screamed. When he heard me scream for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.” She kept his cloak beside her until his master came home. Then she told him this story: “That Hebrew slave you brought us came to me to make sport of me. But as soon as I screamed for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.” When his master heard the story his wife told him, saying, “This is how your slave treated me,” he burned with anger. Joseph’s master took him and put him in prison, the place where the king’s prisoners were confined. But while Joseph was there in the prison, the Lord was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favor in the eyes of the prison warden. So the warden put Joseph in charge of all those held in the prison, and he was made responsible for all that was done there. The warden paid no attention to anything under Joseph’s care, because the Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did.” Genesis‬ ‭39‬:‭13‬-‭23‬ ‭

It is brief and brutal. Joseph’s master “took him and put him into the prison, the place where the king’s prisoners were confined, and he was there in the prison.” That is it. One moment Joseph is trusted; the next he isn’t. 

Good Friday is the same. The crowd that had cheered Jesus into Jerusalem shouts for Barabbas. Pilate washes his hands. Jesus is handed over like a parcel no one wants. By midday he is on the cross. By three o’clock, it is finished.

“And Joseph’s master took him and put him into the prison… But the LORD was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love.” v20–21 

God didn’t remove the circumstances but He was with Joseph in the prison. Present. God goes into the pit with him.

Ever ask this question: where is God in this? The disciples clearly did not know. They scattered. The cry from the cross “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” was pulled directly from Psalm 22, the prayer of a sufferer who feels utterly abandoned.

Yet the psalm does not end in abandonment. It ends in vindication. 

The story of Joseph carries the same logic. The Lord was with him in the pit. 

We do not call this day Good because it is pleasant. It is good the way surgery is good.

Joseph does not know, on the night he is put in the prison, that this descent is part of an ascent that will one day place him at Pharaoh’s right hand. The disciples do not know, standing at the foot of the cross, that this is the hinge point of history. 

The pit is not the end. The prison is not the last word. Why? God was with Joseph and God was with Jesus.

The prison and the tomb was real and God was there in both places. 

I intend to use chapters 39 and 40 of Genesis as the backdrop to the easter story over the next few days.

“Now Joseph had been taken down to Egypt. Potiphar, an Egyptian who was one of Pharaoh’s officials, the captain of the guard, bought him from the Ishmaelites who had taken him there. ² The Lord was with Joseph so that he prospered, and he lived in the house of his Egyptian master. ³ When his master saw that the Lord was with him and that the Lord gave him success in everything he did, ⁴ Joseph found favour in his eyes and became his attendant. Potiphar put him in charge of his household, and he entrusted to his care everything he owned. ⁵ From the time he put him in charge of his household and of all that he owned, the Lord blessed the household of the Egyptian because of Joseph. The blessing of the Lord was on everything Potiphar had, both in the house and in the field. ⁶ So Potiphar left everything he had in Joseph’s care; with Joseph in charge, he did not concern himself with anything except the food he ate. Now Joseph was well-built and handsome, ⁷ and after a while his master’s wife took notice of Joseph and said, “Come to bed with me!” ⁸ But he refused. “With me in charge,” he told her, “my master does not concern himself with anything in the house; everything he owns he has entrusted to my care. ⁹ No one is greater in this house than I am. My master has withheld nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How then could I do such a wicked thing and sin against God?” ¹⁰ And though she spoke to Joseph day after day, he refused to go to bed with her or even be with her. ¹¹ One day he went into the house to attend to his duties, and none of the household servants was inside. ¹² She caught him by his cloak and said, “Come to bed with me!” But he left his cloak in her hand and ran out of the house.” (Genesis 39 v 1-12)

There is a cloak left behind, in the hands of what was the enemy.  She will hold it up as evidence. It becomes the thing that condemns an innocent man.

Maundy Thursday is, among many things, a night of betrayal. Judas goes out into the night with thirty pieces of silver jangling in his pocket. The disciples argue about who is greatest even as Jesus wraps a towel around his waist and kneels at their feet.

“Now Joseph was handsome in form and appearance. And after a time, his master’s wife cast her eyes on Joseph and said, ‘Lie with me.’ But he refused.” V 6-8.

Joseph refuses. He refuses on the grounds of loyalty to his master and to his God.

The irony of the Thursday night in Gethsemane is that Jesus had every opportunity to leave. Three times he prays; three times he returns to find the disciples asleep.

Joseph could have made a different calculation. Potiphar’s wife was persistent — the text tells us she pressed him “day after day.” He could have reasoned that one small compromise would avoid catastrophe. Instead, on the day she grabbed his cloak, and he ran, he chose integrity over safety. “She caught him by his garment, saying, ‘Lie with me.’ But he left his garment in her hand and fled and got out of the house” v12.

Something is always left behind when innocence is betrayed. Joseph leaves his cloak. Jesus, in a detail only Mark records, leaves a young man running naked into the night when the soldiers reach for him (Mark 14:51–52). Joseph’s abandoned cloak and Jesus’ arrest in Gethsemane share the same shape: an innocent man, a false accusation, a garment left behind.

Today, sit with the image of a man fleeing a house, leaving everything in the hands of those who wish him harm. And then remember that this is not only Joseph’s story. The cloak has been left behind. Thursday ends in darkness. But there’s more to come.

Joseph will not stay in that house. He runs. And what he leaves behind, that cloak, will be used against him. Innocence, it turns out, is no protection. It never has been. But the story does not end in Potiphar’s house, just as it does not end in a dark garden. Friday is coming. And beyond Friday, something no one in either story could yet see.

Have you ever looked at your life and wondered where God is in all of it? Certain prayers were never answered the way you had hoped. You wished for an open door or even a closed door, but it never came.  A young man named Joseph knew exactly how that feels. This chapter, which we read in its entirety, tells how Joseph goes from a slave to the place of honour and then back to prison again. Through it all, the Lord was with him.

That same truth is yours today, whatever your circumstance.

“Now Joseph had been taken down to Egypt. Potiphar, an Egyptian who was one of Pharaoh’s officials, the captain of the guard, bought him from the Ishmaelites who had taken him there. ² The Lord was with Joseph so that he prospered, and he lived in the house of his Egyptian master. ³ When his master saw that the Lord was with him and that the Lord gave him success in everything he did, ⁴ Joseph found favour in his eyes and became his attendant. Potiphar put him in charge of his household, and he entrusted to his care everything he owned. ⁵ From the time he put him in charge of his household and of all that he owned, the Lord blessed the household of the Egyptian because of Joseph. The blessing of the Lord was on everything Potiphar had, both in the house and in the field. ⁶ So Potiphar left everything he had in Joseph’s care; with Joseph in charge, he did not concern himself with anything except the food he ate. Now Joseph was well-built and handsome, ⁷ and after a while his master’s wife took notice of Joseph and said, “Come to bed with me!” ⁸ But he refused. “With me in charge,” he told her, “my master does not concern himself with anything in the house; everything he owns he has entrusted to my care. ⁹ No one is greater in this house than I am. My master has withheld nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How then could I do such a wicked thing and sin against God?” ¹⁰ And though she spoke to Joseph day after day, he refused to go to bed with her or even be with her. ¹¹ One day he went into the house to attend to his duties, and none of the household servants was inside. ¹² She caught him by his cloak and said, “Come to bed with me!” But he left his cloak in her hand and ran out of the house. ¹³ When she saw that he had left his cloak in her hand and had run out of the house, ¹⁴ she called her household servants. “Look,” she said to them, “this Hebrew has been brought to us to make sport of us! He came in here to sleep with me, but I screamed. ¹⁵ When he heard me scream for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.” ¹⁶ She kept his cloak beside her until his master came home. ¹⁷ Then she told him this story: “That Hebrew slave you brought us came to me to make sport of me. ¹⁸ But as soon as I screamed for help, he left his cloak beside me and ran out of the house.” ¹⁹ When his master heard the story his wife told him, saying, “This is how your slave treated me,” he burned with anger. ²⁰ Joseph’s master took him and put him in prison, the place where the king’s prisoners were confined. But while Joseph was there in the prison, ²¹ the Lord was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favour in the eyes of the prison warden. ²² So the warden put Joseph in charge of all those held in the prison, and he was made responsible for all that was done there. ²³ The warden paid no attention to anything under Joseph’s care, because the Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did.” (Genesis 39)

Today, right now, in this moment, God is with you! It matters not the circumstance. You can be living in pleasant surroundings (v2) or even in a prison (v20-21) today, the Lord is with you! When the Lord is with you, then there must be the expectancy of Him working in you.

Today, right now, in this moment, the favour of God is on you! It matters not the circumstance. Joseph became Potiphar’s attendant (v4). Joseph became the prison warder’s charge-hand (v22). It is what you become through the circumstance that is the heart of any story. When the favour of the Lord is on you, then there must be the expectancy of affecting others.

Today, right now, in this moment, others are being blessed by the Lord through you! It matters not the circumstance. Everything Potiphar had was being blessed by God (v5). The prison warden was a happy man, knowing an incredible season of success (v23). Look around at the people God is blessing significantly simply because you are here!

Today, right now, in this moment, your character is being tested! It matters not the circumstance. Joseph refused Potiphar’s wife when no one was watching (v8-9). Joseph fled even when it cost him everything (v12). It is not what is done to you through the circumstance, but what is found in you through it. When the Lord is with you, then there must be the expectancy of His strength to do right.

Today, right now, in this moment, your prison has a purpose! It matters not the circumstance. Joseph did nothing to deserve the false accusation (v13-18). Joseph did nothing to deserve the prison cell (v20). It is not the injustice of the moment that defines the journey, but the destiny beyond it. When the Lord is with you, then there must be the expectancy that no wrong road can derail His right plan.

Joseph’s story did not end in the pit, in Potiphar’s house, or in prison.

So today, right now, in this moment — look up. God is with you. If you are in a ‘prison’, then it has a purpose ahead of it that you cannot yet see.

All that matters is His presence. He makes all the difference today, right now, in this moment.

Do you remember the story of Jacob and Esau (Genesis 25)? They were twins—Esau emerged first, but Jacob grasped his heel and took his place. Similarly, let’s move now to the story of the children of Tamar and Judah.

“When it was time for Tamar to give birth, there were twin boys. As she was in labour, one child put out his hand, and the midwife tied a scarlet thread around his wrist, saying, “This one came out first.”But then he drew back his hand, and his brother came out instead. The midwife exclaimed, “So this is how you have broken out!” and he was named Perez. Afterward, his brother, the one with the scarlet thread on his wrist, was born and named Zerah.” (Genesis 38: 27-30)

Reading this chapter isn’t easy. The story is full of failure, deception, and then unexpected grace. Despite the mess, there’s an important outcome: the birth of twins.

Tamar names the boys in connection with the events of their birth. This echoes the earlier account of Jacob grasping Esau’s heel. Once again, the order of birth is unconventional.

This raises questions: which twin will be born first? Who receives the inheritance? During childbirth, Zerah’s hand emerges first, and a scarlet thread is tied around his wrist, marking him as the firstborn. But unexpectedly, Perez—whose name means “breaks through”—arrives first. Scandal!

That detail is the family secret hidden in their names. The gospel of Matthew even includes both names—Zerah and Tamar—highlighting their significance: “Judah, the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar” (Matthew 1:3).

As with all our stories, we notice a thread of grace, redemption, and sovereignty running through them—woven by God, alongside many other themes.

Consider Tamar’s determination to continue Judah’s bloodline through levirate marriage with her father-in-law. Notice also Perez, the one not obviously chosen or first, but who breaks through because he is God’s choice.

Looking back, we can see the positives. But, it’s important to remember: the good emerges from the bad.

Your family’s story may not be a romantic, sweet tale suitable for all ages. Perhaps, like this narrative, it could be an 18 certificate! If so, your story is akin to that of Jesus, whose origin comes from sinful, ordinary people like us.

We all experience labels and rankings, such as first and second. The careful reader should ask: what threads have been tied on your wrist that God never allowed? Those threads cannot control God’s purpose. He works in unexpected places and ways.

Judah thought his actions were hidden. He left that roadside encounter believing it would soon be forgotten. But nothing escapes God’s notice, and this is just the beginning. What happens next will reveal not only Judah’s wrongdoing but also show how God works through the messes we try to conceal.

“Meanwhile Judah sent the young goat by his friend the Adullamite in order to get his pledge back from the woman, but he did not find her. 21 He asked the men who lived there, “Where is the shrine prostitute who was beside the road at Enaim?” “There hasn’t been any shrine prostitute here,” they said. 22 So he went back to Judah and said, “I didn’t find her. Besides, the men who lived there said, ‘There hasn’t been any shrine prostitute here.’” 23 Then Judah said, “Let her keep what she has, or we will become a laughingstock. After all, I did send her this young goat, but you didn’t find her.” 24 About three months later Judah was told, “Your daughter-in-law Tamar is guilty of prostitution, and as a result she is now pregnant.” Judah said, “Bring her out and have her burned to death!” 25 As she was being brought out, she sent a message to her father-in-law. “I am pregnant by the man who owns these,” she said. And she added, “See if you recognize whose seal and cord and staff these are.” 26 Judah recognized them and said, “She is more righteous than I, since I wouldn’t give her to my son Shelah.” And he did not sleep with her again.” (Genesis 38 v20-26)

The story continues as Judah sends his friend to pay the prostitute and retrieve his pledge. Yet she was nowhere to be found. His friend asked around, but no one had even seen a shrine prostitute there. With this, Judah wrote it off. “Let her keep it. Move on. No one needs to know.” That’s his attitude.

However, three months later, this illusion of secrecy was shattered. Someone did know. Tamar was visibly pregnant, and word reached Judah quickly. His response was ruthless: ‘Bring her out and have her burned to death.’ The man who had just slept with a roadside stranger was now calling for the execution of his daughter-in-law for sexual immorality. He was ready to burn the evidence without ever realising he was the evidence.

At the crucial moment, Tamar produced the seal, the cord, and the staff.

Everything stopped. Judah recognised them immediately, and in that moment the whole carefully constructed facade collapsed. To his credit, he did not deny it. ‘She is more righteous than I,’ he said, marking a turning point in the story.

Judah recognised the seal and cord immediately, but had been blind to his own guilt the whole time.

This is what happens when hidden things come to light. While we may try to hide our faults and control our image, God brings truth to the surface not to shame us but to reveal what needs to change. The lesson is clear: real transformation happens not by hiding, but by facing what is true, allowing God to work through our failures.

Let me recap this story so far: Judah drifts away from God and his family, making a series of compromising choices by aligning himself with Canaanite culture. One of those was to marry a Canaanite woman. His children were ‘evil’, and the Lord killed them because He sees absolutely everything.

So we continue.

“Judah then said to his daughter-in-law Tamar, “Live as a widow in your father’s household until my son Shelah grows up.” For he thought, “He may die too, just like his brothers.” So Tamar went to live in her father’s household. ¹² After a long time Judah’s wife, the daughter of Shua, died. When Judah had recovered from his grief, he went up to Timnah, to the men who were shearing his sheep, and his friend Hirah the Adullamite went with him. ¹³ When Tamar was told, “Your father-in-law is on his way to Timnah to shear his sheep,” ¹⁴ she took off her widow’s clothes, covered herself with a veil to disguise herself, and then sat down at the entrance to Enaim, which is on the road to Timnah. For she saw that, though Shelah had now grown up, she had not been given to him as his wife. ¹⁵ When Judah saw her, he thought she was a prostitute, for she had covered her face. ¹⁶ Not realizing that she was his daughter-in-law, he went over to her by the roadside and said, “Come now, let me sleep with you.” “And what will you give me to sleep with you?” she asked. ¹⁷ “I’ll send you a young goat from my flock,” he said. “Will you give me something as a pledge until you send it?” she asked. ¹⁸ He said, “What pledge should I give you?” “Your seal and its cord, and the staff in your hand,” she answered. So he gave them to her and slept with her, and she became pregnant by him. ¹⁹ After she left, she took off her veil and put on her widow’s clothes again.” (Genesis 38 v 11-19)

Judah made Tamar a promise he never intended to keep.  Shelah, another of his sons, would never marry her. She had been with Er and Onan, and they died; he was not risking his third son with this woman.

So Tamar goes home, puts on her widow’s clothes, and waits.

In the waiting, nothing happened. Shelah grew up, and yet no message came. There was never going to be a message.

Both of Tamar’s husbands had dealt with her badly, and now their father discards her. She has no future, for she has no husband, no children and no one to take care of her. So she comes up with a plan.

Her prostitute act worked, and the clever thing she did was to get his seal, his cord and his staff. We may scratch our heads at what she did, but her world had written her off. People do the most audacious things when they are desperate. Judah, not knowing it was Tamar, slept with her, and she got what she needed. This was a desperate woman with desperate measures. Judah walked away thinking no one had seen, and it was all forgotten. Nothing was further from the truth.

Today, on Palm Sunday, we celebrate how the crowds waved palms and shouted Hosanna, but most of them misunderstood what kind of king he was and what kind of rescue he had come to bring. They were expecting liberation from Rome. He had come to do something far deeper.

In Matthew 21 v 14, after overturning the money tables, it says, “The blind and the lame came to him at the temple.”

Tamar’s story has that same quality of unexpected rescue. She was a woman the system had forgotten — wronged, discarded, without recourse. And yet God had not forgotten her. The rescue, when it came, looked nothing like anyone would have planned or approved of. It was messy, uncomfortable, and hidden from view. But it was real.

That is often how God works. He enters the forgotten places. He sees what the respectable world walks past. The woman sitting by the road in desperation, the widow with no future, the one that polite society has quietly written off — these are precisely the people the gospel has always been good news for.

Judah thought no one had seen. But God sees everything. And the story was far from over.

Joseph has been sold into slavery and finds himself in Egypt; we will come back to him, but for now, we are back with his family. A family full of moral disorder, and this chapter will show us that, but it’s not a comfortable read.

“At that time, Judah left his brothers and went down to stay with a man of Adullam named Hirah. ² There Judah met the daughter of a Canaanite man named Shua. He married her and made love to her; ³ she became pregnant and gave birth to a son, who was named Er. ⁴ She conceived again and gave birth to a son and named him Onan. ⁵ She gave birth to still another son and named him Shelah. It was at Kezib that she gave birth to him. ⁶ Judah got a wife for Er, his firstborn, and her name was Tamar. ⁷ But Er, Judah’s firstborn, was wicked in the Lord’s sight; so the Lord put him to death. ⁸ Then Judah said to Onan, “Sleep with your brother’s wife and fulfill your duty to her as a brother-in-law to raise up offspring for your brother.” ⁹ But Onan knew that the child would not be his; so whenever he slept with his brother’s wife, he spilled his semen on the ground to keep from providing offspring for his brother. ¹⁰ What he did was wicked in the Lord’s sight; so the Lord put him to death also.” (Genesis 38 v 1-10)

Judah left his brothers. These four words reveal perhaps the state of his heart. He has seen his brother sold into slavery and then his father being lied to about his death. But there is something else beneath the leaving. It was Judah who proposed selling Joseph in the first place (Genesis 37:26-27). He didn’t just witness a tragedy — he helped engineer it. He left carrying that guilt. So he separates himself from his family and from God. He befriends a Canaanite and moves into his house, then marries a Canaanite woman. Each of these decisions reveals a spiritual drifting away from God — the kind of drift that often begins with a guilty conscience and an unwillingness to face what we have done.

Genesis 38 is not an easy read. We are told little details at times.

Er, “was wicked in the Lord’s sight” — and that is all. We are given nothing else. Whatever the wickedness was, God took it seriously, and Er was no more.

We are told more about Onan. The outcome was the same; God killed him, too. The reason was that he found a way to take the privilege and not the responsibility, v9. Onan took the privilege (sleeping with Tamar, his dead brother’s wife) but not the responsibility (the law of levirate marriage — fathering children with the wife of his dead brother to preserve the name). Onan died because of his deception and contempt for his dead brother. Onan wanted the privilege but not the cost.

And we should not pass over Tamar too quickly. She is introduced in verse 6, named — which itself is significant — and already by verse 10 she has been widowed twice through no fault of her own. She is a woman caught inside a system she cannot control, wronged first by Er, then exploited by Onan, who used her while deliberately denying her the protection and future she was owed. She could not expose him. She had no recourse. But her story is not over, and God has not forgotten her.

God sees everything. We don’t know why Er died, except that he had done something wicked. We know why Onan died. No one else did except Tamar, and she would not expose him. But God knew why. The hidden deception, God saw it all. God sees everything.

This passage is saturated with pain, and yet we read a word that changes everything: meanwhile. What looks like a tragedy is, in reality, an incomplete picture. Meanwhile. It’s a word you will see in the last verse. A beautiful word. It means when you’re not looking or unaware, God is still working. At the same time as you are doing what you are doing, whether you are in success or struggling, when perhaps the centre stage is the whole stage, and you see no one else or nothing changing, remember this word: Meanwhile.

“When Reuben returned to the cistern and saw that Joseph was not there, he tore his clothes. ³⁰ He went back to his brothers and said, “The boy isn’t there! Where can I turn now?” ³¹ Then they got Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a goat and dipped the robe in the blood. ³² They took the ornate robe back to their father and said, “We found this. Examine it to see whether it is your son’s robe.” ³³ He recognised it and said, “It is my son’s robe! Some ferocious animal has devoured him. Joseph has surely been torn to pieces.” ³⁴ Then Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and mourned for his son many days. ³⁵ All his sons and daughters came to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted. “No,” he said, “I will continue to mourn until I join my son in the grave.” So his father wept for him. ³⁶ Meanwhile, the Midianitessold Joseph in Egypt to Potiphar, one of Pharaoh’s officials, the captain of the guard.” (Genesis 37 v 29-36)

While the father is inconsolable, Joseph is still alive. He may not know what the future holds, but he is very much alive. The truth is there, but the pain of a report hides it.

I see three things this morning:

• We can do the same as Jacob. We react to what we think is reality, when it is often an incomplete story. We react to what is in front of us or what we assume isn’t. Yet behind the scenes, there may well be many things taking place that we simply do not know.
• We can be like the brothers. We can often overlook the weight of our actions. The brothers may have rid themselves of Joseph, but they could not escape the consequences of their deception, their father’s prolonged suffering, and the burden of a lie they must carry.
• We can lose perspective so easily. We can mistake appearance for truth, and how deeply that mistake can shape our emotions, our decisions, and our lives. Sometimes, what looks like an ending is only a chapter unfolding out of sight.

Jacob mourned for a son who was still alive. He was handed the blood-stained robe. It told one story, but God was writing another. You may be holding something today that tells you that something is over, but nothing could be further from the truth. Whatever your pit, whatever your bloodstained robe, whatever feels final and closed — remember the last word of this story isn’t grief. It isn’t betrayal. It isn’t even the grave. It’s meanwhile. And meanwhile, God is working.