Wrestling With God—The Story of Joseph
Robe and Rivalry - Part 1
Once, when one of my sons was in trouble, I retold the story of David and Bathsheba for him—with all its lust, intrigue, and recovery. He loved it. It changed his life. Now, I’m doing it again, this time with the story of Joseph, told in eight weekly chapters right here, a great tale rooted in real history (the Bible), brought to life for you, my dear reader.
— an 8-minute read —
Thin-faced Simeon led the taunting as he and eight brothers danced in a weaving figure-eight line. Their arms extended like soaring hawks navigating the thermals as their voices chanted a mocking hymn:
“Jo-Jo-Joseph in his rainbow coat,
Jo-Jo-Joseph thinks he’s father’s hope,
Jo-Jo-Joseph such a bragging goat.”
Joseph’s hot face matched the ruby red in the ornamental robe he was wearing. He wanted so badly to rip it off and throw it in the thorny bushes, but Simeon had ordered him not to move during their little ‘celebration.’
Joseph inched toward Reuben, the oldest of his twelve brothers. He was the one who could provide a barrier between the brothers’ taunting and his own missteps. Once the two were shoulder to shoulder, Reuben let the spectacle run its course and then raised a hand, “That’s enough. Let’s get back to work, the sheep aren’t going to shepherd themselves.”
After the last brother had dispersed, Reuben turned to Joseph, “Come on brother, you know better than to wear that in front of them.”
Even though he was now nearly as tall as Reuben and just as broad in the shoulders, Joseph felt like a boy again. “I know, I know. It was just so cold this morning … and I needed layers … and I forgot … and … yeah, I messed up.”
In most families, the accidental wearing of a special coat would be quickly forgiven. But this was no ordinary family. The stew of Jacob’s household was made bitter by jealousy, seasoned with rivalry, and simmered in the tangled roots of their family tree: Twelve brothers born of four different mothers. And one of those mothers was Jacob's first love and strikingly beautiful—Rachel. The same Rachel who had given birth to Joseph.
No wonder their family goulash had such a sharp, acrid edge. The ingredients were too much, too volatile, too overwhelming, causing the pot to bubble over and release an odor that hung in the air. What was that scent? Could it be... might it be... a Cain-and-Abel-level rivalry?
This latest robe fiasco had begun in Jacob's tent a month before. When Joseph entered, a small fire crackled in the center casting dancing shadows on the sheep-skin walls. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the earthy aroma of sheepskin and wafted up through a hole in the top. Jacob stood opposite the fire, hugging his only daughter, Dinah, dwarfing her small frame with his thick arms, bushy wool robe, and long silvery beard.
Jacob said, "Son, I heard what you did out there.”
Joseph stiffened, fearing his dad might be angry with the bad report he’d given about his brothers.
“No, it’s not that, I told you to be honest,” Jacob said. “I’m talking about what you did out there this past winter—how well you did growing the herd.”
In early winter, after the grasses near their village had dried, Jacob divided the family’s herd of 500 sheep and goats among his twelve sons. He sent them out in groups of three to pasture-rich canyons scattered throughout the hill country of Canaan. The goal, at least on the surface, was to fatten up the animals. But there was something else at work: He seemed to find an odd satisfaction in pitting his sons against one another. Was it to make them better and stronger? Perhaps. Or maybe it was just a peculiar quirk of his, one that seemed destined to sow trouble among twelve growing men.
Whatever Jacob's motive, Joseph stood out among his sons.
Joseph had been paired with Reuben, age 32, and the youngest, Benjamin, age 10. During the first winter downpour, Joseph noticed a natural depression near the creek bed. Working with Reuben, he built a low stone embankment to trap the runoff. The result was perfect: A still pond where even the most skittish ewes could drink safely. He and Benjamin spent evenings crafting reed-and-stone mobiles to keep wolves at bay, their simple designs swaying and clinking in the wind. In spring, Dinah arrived unexpectedly. Together they learned to recognize the low, distinct moan of ewes in labor distress. No matter the hour, if that sound reached their ears, they rushed to help. Dinah proved a natural—her slender hands and steady focus making her an expert lamb midwife. She could skillfully reach into the birth canal, untangling twisted legs to ensure safe deliveries.
"It wasn't just me," Joseph said, shifting uncomfortably at his father’s compliment. "Dinah! She was the magician with her hands."
"No, no, I know that. But you showed that special quality I've talked to you about—that ability to see what needs to be done and making it happen."
Normally, Joseph would have turned away—embarrassed, or maybe even annoyed—whenever his father talked about him having some special skill. But now, at seventeen, he stood steady under the weight of the words.
His lanky frame of youth had filled out—chest broader, shoulders wider. Gone was the boyish cuteness, replaced by the striking handsomeness of a young man. His thick, dark hair fell to his shoulders, framing his slender face. He squinted slightly, drumming his fingers against his leg, showing his father that this time he wasn't just hearing the words—he was taking them in.
In a gravelly voice Jacob said, “I've waited thirty years to see this quality in one of my sons.”
A chill ran down Joseph's spine.
The flickering fire revealed deep crevasses in Jacob's sun-carved face, his beard shimmering like a waterfall. "You have a special something, Joseph, it's a gift from God. And it's not necessarily something you earned or worked for ... or really, even developed. He blessed you with an ability to lead."
Dinah nodded. But Joseph wrestled. A leader? At his age?
Jacob lifted his gaze toward a dark corner of the tent, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "For thirty years, I’ve carried this burden," he said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. "I’ve wondered who the next patriarch of our family would be. My grandfather, Abraham, was the first to receive the promise—descendants as numerous as the stars. Then there was my father, Isaac. And now, me. But even with twelve sons, I’ve spent years asking myself: Who will take my place?"
His question hung in the air like smoke. Out of the corner of his eye Joseph could see his dad staring at him. Don't say it. Don't say it's me.
"And Joseph, I think it's you. I think you will become the next patriarch of our family."
“But, but … how can I lead the family when my brothers hate me?”
Earlier in the day, Joseph's group had returned from their winter valley with a flock full of happy shrieking goats and contented bleating sheep. When they moved their herd past the other brother's scrawny flocks, Simeon had ruthlessly chided him, “Father sure looks out for you, giving you the richest pasture and the fullest creek.”
Jacob dropped his head. "I know, I know. It's hard with brothers. My brother, Esau, and I were at odds for years."
Dinah spoke up, "Joseph, no leader is accepted in his own home. Your family knows you too well. They knew you as a kid and all the stupid things you did."
Joseph’s face lit up at his sister’s words. Though only a few years older, she was his mirror—a female version of himself. Her thick, dark hair, now shoulder-length, framed her face beautifully, having been shaved three years ago in mourning. Her cheeks sat high and round on her face, colored with a natural cherry bloom, while her bronze eyes sparkled with youthful vitality despite what they’d seen.
"But I agree with father," she continued. "You really are a leader, Joseph, you just are. You solve problems and your brain never stops.” Her eyes twinkled. "The sapling dad has always talked about is turning into an oak."
"And because of this," Jacob said, "I have something for you, something that Dinah and I searched far and wide for."
Jacob walked over to his bedroll and pulled something out, letting it unfold before Joseph's eyes. It was a beautiful, ornamental robe, its colors shimmering in the firelight like a rainbow behind a waterfall.
Joseph's eyes widened as he drank in the colorful stripes running up and down the plush robe. Some were thin, others wide. Rich blue stripes were dyed from the secretions of Murex shellfish. Rusty red ones - so prized they were used in Egyptian temples - had been painstakingly derived from crushed female Kermes insects. Yellows and greens were woven throughout.
"This is my gift to you," Jacob said as he laid it over Joseph's outstretched arms.
Joseph tried it on and it fit perfectly.
"It's amazing," Dinah whispered.
With all the bright colors and heavy words, Joseph's head was spinning.
"I know this is a lot to lay on you tonight, but this is the night I recognize you as the patriarch of this family—with Dinah here because I know what she means to you.”
Joseph's eyes met Dinah's and she gave him a You-can-do-this nod.
“But it’s not just about the number of descendants, Joseph. Years ago, I dreamed of a stairway reaching to heaven, with angels moving up and down its steps. At the top stood the Lord, and he added to his numbers promise with this: ‘And all peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring.’”
The word ‘blessed’ lingered in the air, weighty and full of meaning. Joseph repeated in his mind, ‘all peoples blessed by us.’
“Yes,” Jacob whispered, as if hearing his thoughts. “Exactly what I thought.” He gestured westward. “That includes the mighty Egyptians.” Then eastward. “And the powerful Babylonians.”
Joseph stood in stunned silence, the robe shimmering in the firelight. They were simple shepherds, his family was, tending flocks, reading the moods of the land, and learning the ways of the clouds. But for the first time, he felt a rumbling of nobility deep in his soul—an inkling that he and his family were special. Not because of themselves or their work, but because of their God and the unique relationship he wanted to have with them.
Jacob placed his thick, hot hand on Joseph's forehead, bowed his head and rumbled, "El Shaddai, father of Abraham, strengthen this young man, make him yours. Help him never forget, no matter how dark the nights get or how lonely he feels, that you are with him."
Joseph prayed along with Dinah and his dad, turning over the words 'dark nights and lonely feelings' in his mind. He also wondered how he could lead the family if he couldn't remember to hide a rainbow-colored target on his back.
Genesis 37 contains all the history for this chapter. Genesis 34 is the Dinah story.