(I know—we’ve been dragging this part of the story out. “Get to the good part, Joe!” But there’s so much here we need to learn.) For the most part, I hate waiting. Waiting is simply not getting what I want because something or someone is slowing it down. Ask my wife how I react when people who arrived after us get their dinner before we do. Clearly the kitchen has lost our order. They’ve forgotten us. We’ll be here for hours. I need to remind them! She tries to calm me, but waiting is not my spiritual gift. A huge part of living in Egypt is waiting—and everything about waiting goes against human nature. Now imagine waiting for justice in a place where you see no evidence of it. That’s even worse. And imagine waiting without any hope that anything good will come after the wait—just waiting for nothing. Then add to that the pain, the burden, the injustice, the exhaustion Egypt piles on top of you. But what if waiting isn’t meant to be empty? What if waiting is something we could passionately embrace as part of our purpose, our duty, our calling? What if waiting is supposed to be a hopeful, meaningful expectation—something that deepens our joy in salvation and grows our love for God? This week we look at Joseph’s two‑year wait in prison, two years of silence, two years of being forgotten, two years of nothing changing. And yet, those two years were crucial to God’s sovereign plan of redemption for His people. Joseph wasn’t waiting for nothing. He was waiting for God. And so are we.
