God of Relentless Mercy,
You do not give up
when the journey is halfway done.
You wait patiently
at the edge of our return,
watching every step
and preparing the feast.
The famine pressed harder.
Grain had run out.
The brothers had no choice
they had to go back.
But not without Benjamin.
And Jacob trembled.
“Why did you tell them you had another brother?”
Fear clung to him
the kind that knows loss too well.
Lord, I know that fear.
The fear of losing again.
The fear of trusting again.
The fear of opening my hands
after grief has already stolen too much.
But Judah stepped forward
once a betrayer, now a protector.
“I will be a pledge for him.”
And suddenly,
redemption whispered through the family line.
Lord, let that be true of me.
Let me grow from selfishness to sacrifice.
Let my past sins not define my future faithfulness.
The brothers returned.
Benjamin stood before Joseph.
And Joseph
overwhelmed.
The brother he hadn’t seen in years.
The baby of the family,
now a man.
He ran out and wept.
God, You are not a cold judge.
You are the God who weeps
behind closed doors.
The God who feels deeply
even when the plan requires restraint.
Joseph washed his face,
came back,
and prepared a meal.
He sat them according to birth order
and they marveled.
He served Benjamin five times as much
grace multiplied,
favor extended,
love disguised as generosity.
They ate and drank
in a land they did not understand,
at a table they did not deserve.
Lord, how many times
have You seated me
at a table of grace
when I came expecting punishment?
How many times
have You blessed me quietly
while I thought I was still being tested?
You are the God
who prepares a feast in famine,
who restores family through fragile steps,
who tests not to harm,
but to heal.
So I trust You,
even when I don’t recognize You.
Even when kindness feels confusing.
Even when the road home is long.
Because You are the One
who brings brothers together,
who feeds the hungry soul,
and who waits until the perfect moment
to reveal Your mercy fully.
In the name of Jesus,
who prepares the table
even in the presence of our failures
Amen.