A Strange Kindness

Read

Genesis 43:16 “When Joseph saw Benjamin with them, he said to the steward of his house, ‘Take these men to my house, slaughter an animal and prepare a meal; they are to eat with me at noon.’”

Think

There’s a moment in nearly every great story when the expected outcome flips. The villain shows mercy. The wounded hero offers a gift. The tension starts to shift not because justice has been served, but because grace has been extended.

That’s what happens in Genesis 43. Joseph sees Benjamin, the youngest of his brothers—the only one who hadn’t taken part in his betrayal—and immediately makes plans for a feast. Not judgment. Not punishment. A meal.

This makes no sense to the brothers. They panic. They assume they’re in trouble. They think they’re being led into a trap. It’s not guiltless fear either. They are still carrying the weight of what they did decades earlier. Shame has trained them to expect retribution. So, when they are brought into Joseph’s house, their first instinct is suspicion, not celebration.

And who can blame them? Grace always feels strange when you think you don’t deserve it.

There’s an old story about Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War. After a major victory, someone asked him how he would treat the Confederate soldiers once the war was over. “I will treat them as if they had never been away,” Lincoln replied. That kind of mercy seems illogical. It sounds soft. But it came from strength. Not strength of arms—but of spirit.

Joseph had that kind of strength. Instead of demanding explanations or exposing their guilt, he invited them to lunch. The Hebrew word for this kind of meal implies more than just eating together. It suggests hospitality. Intimacy. A shared table. Joseph didn’t just extend provision. He extended belonging.

And in that moment, you see the beginning of healing. The brothers still don’t know who he is. They’re still unsure. But grace is already working. They are being softened by kindness. Not the sugary kind of kindness that ignores reality, but the kind that reflects God's heart.

The apostle Paul writes in Romans 2:4 that it’s God’s kindness that leads us to repentance. Not pressure. Not fear. Not manipulation. Kindness. Real change rarely happens in the presence of condemnation. It usually begins when we are seen, known, and loved anyway.

Joseph is modeling God’s heart here. He had every earthly right to stand above his brothers and make them grovel. But he didn’t. He didn’t minimize their sin, but he also didn’t weaponize it. He let grace create the space for truth to rise.

Did you notice that Joseph asked for the meal to be ready “at noon”? In ancient cultures, that would have been the warmest, brightest part of the day. There’s something beautiful about that detail. Grace doesn’t hide in shadows. It welcomes people into the light.

This isn’t about letting people off the hook. It’s about giving them a chance to come home.

God does the same with us. We walk into the room with baggage. With guilt. With fear. And what does he do? He sets the table. He prepares a meal. He calls us to sit down and rest in a love we cannot earn. It’s no wonder Jesus chose a meal—bread and wine—as the symbol of his ultimate act of mercy. The table reminds us who we are, and even more, who God is.

Grace always looks strange when you expect punishment. But it is in that strangeness that our hearts are changed.

Apply

Today, find one way to surprise someone with unexpected kindness. Maybe it’s someone who’s disappointed you. Maybe it’s a coworker who always seems guarded or critical. Offer encouragement. Pay for their lunch. Give without an explanation. You may never know what guilt or shame they carry—but your grace might help them believe restoration is possible.

Pray

Jesus, thank you for treating me better than I deserve. You welcome me into your presence, even with my mess and mistakes. Help me show that same kindness to others. Let my life be a table where grace can speak louder than judgment. In Jesus’ name. Amen.