God of the Long Story,
You held this moment in Your hand
long before Joseph ever dreamed.
Before the betrayal,
before the pit,
before the prison
You were planning preservation.
Joseph could not hold it in any longer.
He cleared the room.
He wept loud enough for Egypt to hear.
Then, trembling and tear soaked,
he said it
“I am Joseph.”
Lord, how often do You reveal Yourself
in moments we least expect?
Not with thunder,
but through tears.
Not in power,
but in grace.
The brothers were speechless.
Frozen.
Haunted by their sin.
But Joseph’s first words were not vengeance
they were mercy.
“Do not be distressed or angry with yourselves
for God sent me before you.”
What kind of love is that?
A love that sees purpose
even in pain.
A love that releases bitterness
and reclaims the narrative
under Your sovereignty.
Lord, teach me to forgive like that.
To weep and embrace
instead of accuse and expose.
To say, “God sent me,”
even when others meant evil.
Joseph kissed each brother.
He wept over them.
And reconciliation was no longer a hope
it was happening.
Lord, let that be true in my story.
Where relationships have fractured
breathe grace.
Where years have passed in silence
speak mercy.
Where guilt still grips
release it with love.
He told them,
“Go tell my father God has made me lord of all Egypt.”
Restoration didn’t just stay in that room
it overflowed into blessing.
Land. Provision.
A home for the whole family.
Because You are the God
who restores beyond survival.
You redeem in abundance.
So I bring You my long story
the chapters that hurt,
the years I thought were wasted,
the people I thought I’d never face again.
And I trust
You’re still writing.
You’re still weaving.
You’re still preparing a moment
where tears become testimony.
You are the God
who reveals Himself through forgiveness,
who turns famine into feasting,
and who says to the broken,
“Do not fear God sent me ahead of you.”
In the name of Jesus,
who also wept,
who also forgave,
and who went ahead to prepare a place
Amen.