What They Meant for Evil

Read

Genesis 50:15–21 “But Joseph said to them, ‘Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.’ And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them.”

Think

It could have ended differently. Joseph had every reason to walk away from his brothers. To expose them. To punish them. To give them a taste of the pain they caused. But instead, we get one of the most powerful lines in all of Scripture: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good.”

This moment is not a sentimental wrap-up. It is a hard-won declaration. After betrayal, slavery, false accusations, and years of silence, Joseph now stands as the rescuer of the very people who tried to ruin him. And when their father dies and they panic—assuming Joseph will finally take revenge—he reassures them. “Am I in the place of God?” In other words, justice is not mine to carry. What you meant for evil, God has already flipped.

This is where betrayal meets redemption. Not because it was easy. Not because Joseph forgot. But because he saw the hand of God even in the wound.

Forgiveness does not mean we erase the past. It means we entrust it to God. Joseph didn’t rewrite what happened. He reframed it. He could see that every loss, every injustice, every delay had been woven into something bigger. Not just for his sake, but for the salvation of others.

That’s what makes gospel-shaped forgiveness so powerful. It’s not blind. It’s not weak. It’s not dismissive. It is rooted in the deep belief that God wastes nothing. What others try to use against you, God can use to deliver others through you.

And sometimes that redemption doesn’t just bless others—it changes you. Joseph wasn't the same young man who once flaunted his coat and dreams. Suffering shaped his heart. Time deepened his character. In a strange way, the betrayal became the doorway to something larger, not because it was good, but because God is. He doesn’t remove every scar, but he turns those scars into signs of grace. And the same can be true for you.

There’s a kind of freedom that only comes on the other side of surrender. When we release our demand for repayment and say, “God, I trust you to deal with them,” we’re not letting someone off the hook—we’re taking our hearts out of the trap. Because as long as we hold on to bitterness, we stay tethered to the very thing we want to escape.

Joseph lived free. He didn’t deny what happened. But he refused to let it define him. Instead of choosing revenge, he chose restoration. He provided for his brothers. He comforted them. He broke the cycle. Forgiveness doesn’t mean justice goes out the window. But it means we stop playing judge, jury, and executioner in our own stories. It means trusting that God sees all, knows all, and will set everything right, whether now or in eternity.

Think of Jesus. He was betrayed too. By one of his own. For silver. With a kiss. And yet, from the cross, bleeding and mocked, he said, “Father, forgive them.” Not because they asked for it. Not because they deserved it. But because that’s who he is. And if we belong to him, then forgiveness is not optional. It is the fruit of his Spirit living in us.

Forgiveness is not weakness. It is strength that refuses to be poisoned. It is faith that believes God is bigger than what they did. And it is grace that says, even if they meant to hurt me, God has the final word.

Apply

If someone from your past has apologized, respond in a way that reflects God’s mercy, even if full reconciliation is still a process. If they haven’t apologized, ask God to help you release your right to revenge. Forgiveness does not mean trust is immediately restored, but it does mean you refuse to carry the weight of judgment. Show that freedom in how you speak about them, how you pray, and how you move forward. Let forgiveness be your protest against bitterness.

Pray

God, I have been hurt in ways that still echo in my heart, but I want to live free. Thank you for forgiving me more than I deserved. Help me forgive others not from my strength but from yours. Heal what still hurts, soften what’s still hard, and make me someone who can release the past and trust you with justice. Let redemption write the final word in my story. In Jesus’ name. Amen.