Vulnerability is a scary word. It sounds risky, costly, dangerous, reckless—a liability, especially in Egypt. Our first instinct is to see vulnerability through the lens of potential betrayal or the shame of exposure. So, by nature, we avoid it. We protect ourselves. We build walls. We convince ourselves that vulnerability is weakness. But that’s because human eyes struggle to see the benefits of vulnerability—not only to us, but to others. True vulnerability is an intimate expression of respect, love, and service. It’s one of the most Christlike things we can offer to another human being. And the truth is this: if the church refuses to be vulnerable, we don’t stand a chance of surviving in Egypt. Egypt will eat us alive. Because a lack of vulnerability leaves us suffering alone, discouraged, isolated, and spiritually malnourished. We become a collection of people hiding behind strength instead of a community strengthened by honesty. Over the next two weeks, we’re going to study one of the most fascinating and unexpected relationships in Scripture—the relationship between Pharaoh and Joseph. Their friendship changed the course of human history. And at the center of it is something we rarely talk about, mutual vulnerability. A king willing to admit his limits. A servant willing to speak truth. Two men stepping into honesty—and God using it to alter the destiny of nations.
