In yesterday’s meditation on Joseph, we saw how the gift of a coat and the less-than-diplomatic sharing of a dream led to a sense of pride in Joseph, jealousy in his brothers, and, ultimately, the downfall of them all. Joseph ended up in slavery in Egypt, his father was devastated by his loss, and the brothers were engulfed in feelings of guilt and shame.
By this point in Joseph’s story, things have gone from bad to worse. It turns out that slavery in Egypt wasn’t as low as he could go. He’s gone from favorite son to favored slave to falsely accused felon.
After earning trust in Potiphar’s house, Joseph is suddenly framed by Potiphar’s wife for something he didn’t do. One moment, he’s managing an estate; the next, he’s thrown into prison.
“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….” (Genesis 39:20–21)
That’s a phrase worth underlining: “The Lord was with him.”
If we’re honest, we like the idea of God being with us when life is going well—when we’re wearing the “coat of many colors,” enjoying success, feeling good, and things are clicking into place. But in prison? Prison represents all of our disappointments, pain, grief, doubt, and human failings. Is God really with us then? That’s harder to believe.
Yet prison is where Joseph’s faith quietly blossoms. He doesn’t stage a revolt or wallow in bitterness. He doesn’t give up on God or give in to despair, thinking that God has given up on him. Instead, he works. He earns trust. He serves others. In a place meant to crush his spirit, he keeps blooming. He also keeps trusting.
It’s the paradox of faith behind “bars”: when we can’t control our circumstances, we can still cultivate our souls.
Prisons come in many forms—sometimes literal, but more often made up of routines, loneliness, expectations or needs of others, and chronic frustration. Sometimes our “cells” are places we didn’t choose and can’t change, and sometimes they are self-imposed. But like Joseph, we can still choose faithfulness.
Maybe that means just getting up one more morning and trusting that God’s favor can find us, even here.
There’s something deeply freeing about that kind of faith—the kind that says, “I may not be where I want to be, but I’m still God’s child, and God is still at work.”
When circumstances try to cage you in, let your faith be the thing that refuses to be locked down.
Prayer: Lord, when I feel trapped by circumstances, help me remember that you are still with me. Teach me to trust, serve, and grow right where I am, even in the unlikely places. Let my faith bloom behind whatever bars are trying to keep me from you. Amen.
