Betrayed by Blood

Read

Genesis 37:18–28 “But they saw him in the distance, and before he reached them, they plotted to kill him… When the Midianite merchants came by, his brothers pulled Joseph up out of the cistern and sold him for twenty shekels of silver to the Ishmaelites, who took him to Egypt.”

Think

There’s no pain quite like betrayal. And often, the deepest wounds don’t come from strangers. They come from the people who were supposed to protect us. Friends. Mentors. Family.

That’s what makes Joseph’s story so heartbreaking. He wasn’t betrayed by enemies on a battlefield. He was betrayed by his own brothers in broad daylight. Joseph was seventeen. Obedient. Faithful. A little naïve, maybe, but sincere. He wasn’t perfect, but he had a genuine heart and a dream from God. He believed it. He shared it. And that dream put a target on his back.

His brothers saw him coming from a distance. Before he could even say a word, they were already plotting to get rid of him. The robe he wore, a gift from their father, had become a symbol of everything they resented. His words had annoyed them. His favor had provoked them. And now, here was their chance to erase him.

They ripped off his robe, threw him in a pit, and argued over whether to kill him. Eventually, they settled for silver. Twenty shekels. The going rate for a slave. That was their brother’s price.

Joseph’s entire world was upended in a single afternoon. He had walked toward them expecting a normal day. He walked away from them in chains, sold to strangers, unsure if he would ever see home again.

Some of you know exactly how that feels.

Maybe your betrayal wasn’t physical, but it was emotional. Maybe it came through a divorce or a bitter falling out. Maybe someone who said, “I’ll always have your back,” turned around and left you in the pit. And maybe, like Joseph, you didn’t see it coming. You were just living your life. Showing up. Trying to be faithful.

Betrayal always creates disorientation. We start asking, “Was any of that real? Did I miss the signs? How could they do this to me?” It makes us question what we thought was solid. And even worse, it tempts us to close our hearts, so it never happens again.

But here is the good news. You are not alone.

God saw Joseph in the pit. He saw the rope that pulled him out. He saw the silver changing hands. He saw the stunned silence as Joseph looked around and realized his own brothers had done this.

And God sees you now.

Jesus knows the pain of betrayal too. One of his closest friends sold him out with a kiss. He was arrested, abandoned, and condemned by the very people he came to save. But the cross was not the end. And neither is your pit.

God does not always explain why betrayal happens, but he always promises to be near, in the midst of it. The pit does not cancel the promise. If anything, it becomes the starting place of refinement.

There’s an old story about a sculptor who was asked how he created such a lifelike lion from a block of marble. He smiled and said, “I just chipped away everything that didn’t look like a lion.” Sometimes, that is what betrayal feels like. Like God is allowing pieces of us to be chipped away. But in the process, he is forming something stronger. Something clearer. Something more like Christ.

Joseph didn’t understand his pain right away. We won’t either. But if we trust the one who sees the end from the beginning, we can know that betrayal will not have the final word.

Joseph’s journey didn’t end in a pit. And neither will yours. Your value is not determined by the people who walked away. It is defined by the God who stays. What others meant to discard you, God can use to position you. And what they thought was the end of your story may turn out to be the first chapter of something far greater.

Apply

Write down the name of someone who hurt you. Pray for them today—not with bitterness, but with honesty. Ask God to begin healing that wound, even if the other person never apologizes. Then take a moment to ask, “God, how can you use this pain for something redemptive?”

Pray

Father, you see everything that has been done to me. You know the sting of betrayal, the ache of being thrown aside, the fear of being forgotten. Help me not to carry this hurt alone. Teach me to release those who have hurt me, not because they deserve it, but because you are still writing my story. I trust that you are with me—even in the pit. Use this pain to shape me, not to harden me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.