When Evil Happens

The story of Joseph and his brothers isn't just an ancient tale—it's a mirror reflecting the painful realities of family dysfunction, betrayal, and the mysterious ways God works through our darkest moments.

Picture a young man, maybe seventeen years old, walking seventy-five miles over dusty roads to check on his brothers. He's obedient to his father's request, innocent of what's about to unfold. As he travels from Hebron to Shechem and finally to the Valley of Dothan, he has no idea that his brothers have been nurturing a hatred so intense that it will change his life forever.

Joseph's brothers saw him from a distance—that hated coat of many colors visible even from afar. Within thirty minutes of spotting him, they had plotted his murder. Thirty minutes. That's all it took for jealousy to transform into a death sentence.

"Here comes that dreamer," they sneered, their words dripping with contempt. The Hebrew phrase literally means "dream master"—a mocking title for someone they considered good for nothing.

This story reveals a profound truth about how evil operates in human hearts. James 1:13-15 describes it perfectly: desire conceives, gives birth to sin, and when sin is full-grown, it produces death. The brothers' jealousy didn't appear overnight. It festered, grew, and finally erupted into violence.

These were the same brothers who had used deception and murder to avenge their sister's rape in Shechem. Violence had become their default solution. When circumstances aligned and opportunity presented itself, their hidden hatred manifested in horrific action.

It's a sobering reminder: be sure your sin will find you out. The anger, bitterness, and resentment we harbor in our hearts won't stay hidden forever. If we don't deal with it, we'll be shocked at what we're capable of doing when the moment is right.

They stripped him of that coat—violently tearing it from his body—and hurled him into an empty cistern. Joseph cried out for mercy. He pleaded with them not to hurt him. They didn't listen.

Imagine the shock. The confusion. The terror. One moment you're traveling to see your family; the next, you're at the bottom of a pit, staring up at the faces of your brothers who want you dead.
Where were those dreams now? The visions of sheaves bowing down, of stars and sun and moon paying homage—they seemed like cruel jokes from the bottom of that waterless pit.

Then came the merchants—Ishmaelites and Midianites traveling together toward Egypt. And Judah, from whose line Christ would eventually come, had an idea: "Why kill him when we can profit from him?"

Twenty shekels of silver. That's what they got for their brother. They congratulated themselves—at least they hadn't shed his blood. They had gotten rid of their stupid, dreaming, proud little brother without becoming murderers. Or so they thought.

But their "solution" created a prison of its own making. They had to maintain the deception. Every time their father Jacob mourned his lost son, every time he wept and refused to be comforted, they had to keep quiet. For twenty-two years, they lived this lie, the guilt eating away at them day after day.

Bitterness is like drinking poison to kill your enemy—it only destroys you.

The chapter ends with a simple word: "Meanwhile." Meanwhile, Joseph was sold to Potiphar, the captain of Pharaoh's guard. Hundreds of miles from home, speaking a foreign language, enslaved in a strange land.

What must he have thought? Where was God in all this? Why would the Almighty allow such injustice?

The text doesn't tell us Joseph's thoughts, but we can imagine the questions that must have haunted him in those early days. The dreams seemed dead. His future looked like slavery and suffering, not sovereignty and salvation.

Joseph's story mirrors another story—one that would unfold thousands of years later. Like Joseph, Jesus was specially loved by His Father. Like Joseph, Jesus came in innocence to His wayward brothers. Like Joseph, Jesus was rejected, betrayed for silver, and cast down into death.

But the story didn't end in the pit or the tomb.

Joseph would one day stand before his brothers as the second most powerful man in Egypt, the savior who would preserve their lives during famine. Jesus would rise from the grave as the Savior of the world, the one before whom every knee would bow.

The question isn't whether you'll bow to Jesus—it's when. You can bow now, in faith and surrender, accepting His sacrifice for your sins. Or you can bow later, at the great white throne judgment, when it will be too late for salvation.

Here's the transformative truth buried in this painful story: God uses horrible things for His purposes.

He doesn't cause the evil. He doesn't orchestrate the betrayal. But in His mysterious providence, He works through it, transforming tragedy into triumph, suffering into salvation.
Romans 8:28 promises that "all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose." Notice it doesn't say all things are good—it says they work together for good.

The bad thing that happened to you wasn't good. The abuse, the betrayal, the injustice—none of it was good. But God can use it. He can redeem it. He can bring beauty from ashes and purpose from pain.

Maybe you're in a pit right now. Maybe you've been thrown there by people who should have loved you. Maybe you're staring up at darkness, wondering where God is and why He's allowed this.

Don't reject in the dark what will make sense in the light.

The difficulties you're facing might be preparing you to comfort someone else who will face the same struggle. The injustice you've suffered might give you a compassion that changes lives. The pit might be the pathway to your purpose.

Joseph couldn't see it from the bottom of that cistern, but God was working. Every step—from pit to slavery to prison to palace—was part of a plan to save nations and preserve the line through which the Messiah would come.

Your story isn't finished. The pit isn't the end.

Wait patiently. Ask God to teach you what He wants you to learn. Trust that He can use even this for His glory and your good.

And if you're the one who threw someone into a pit—if you've been the abuser, the betrayer, the one who caused harm—know that forgiveness is available. Not cheap grace that ignores the wrong, but deep forgiveness that acknowledges the sin and washes it clean through Christ.

Life is too short to spend it fighting over wrongs done in the past. Choose forgiveness. Choose freedom. Choose to believe that God's purposes are bigger than our pain.
The dreamer wasn't destroyed in the pit. He was being prepared for a throne.

Your pit might be preparing you for purposes you can't yet imagine.