
As Passover approaches, we return again to a story that is not only ancient, but when you take the time to read it, it becomes harder to see it as something that only belongs to the past.
The story does not begin with slavery, it begins with Joseph. What stands out is how unexpected his path was. Rejected by his own brothers, sold into the hands of strangers, brought down to Egypt without control over his future, without position, without voice. And yet, through it all, one thing remains consistent. God was there.
Years later, standing before the very brothers who betrayed him, Joseph says something that changes how we understand everything that came before. God sent me before you to preserve life (Genesis 45:5). He does not deny what they did, but he sees beyond it. Pharaoh entrusted him with preparing the land for famine, and when the famine came, God brought provision through him, not only for Egypt but for others as well.
In time, Joseph’s family joined him. Scripture tells us that Israel settled in the land of Goshen, acquired property, and became fruitful and very numerous (Genesis 47:27). They did not arrive as a threat. They came in a time of need, into a land that had been preserved in part because of Joseph. Over time, they grew, multiplied, and became a visible part of the nation.
The shift did not come because of something they are recorded as doing wrong, but because of how they were seen. A new king arose who did not know Joseph. From that point, the people were no longer seen the same way. What had once been part of Egypt’s strength was now treated as a potential danger.
Across generations, the Jewish people have contributed far beyond their numbers to the societies in which they have lived. In medicine, science, technology, and thought, their impact is clear. And yet, time and again, that same presence becomes something that raises suspicion. What was once welcomed becomes something that is questioned, and at times feared.
Egypt was not only a place of physical bondage. Before that, something changed in how the people of Israel were seen. A new king arose who did not know Joseph, and from that point everything began to shift.
This is not new.
Passover tells the story of deliverance. But that is not where it begins. Before that, there was a long season where the reality became harder and harder to remain in.
My wife reminded me that fifteen years ago, when I was asked by a pastor’s wife what would cause Jewish people in the diaspora to move to Israel, I said that their lives would become so difficult that they would have nowhere else to go but to return to the land of our ancestors.
At the time, it was not something I said lightly. But when you look at what happened in Egypt, it is hard to ignore. What began as a place of provision did not remain that way. The shift did not happen overnight, and it did not begin with action, but with perception. Over time, the environment itself became something that could no longer be sustained.
The prophet Jeremiah speaks about a time when God will bring His people back from different lands to the land He gave them:
“Therefore behold, days are coming,” declares the Lord, “when it will no longer be said, ‘As the Lord lives, who brought up the sons of Israel out of the land of Egypt,’ but, ‘As the Lord lives, who brought up the sons of Israel from the land of the north and from all the countries where He had banished them.’ For I will restore them to their own land which I gave to their fathers.” (Jeremiah 16:14–15)
The Exodus from Egypt is not presented as the final reference point. It points forward to something that would happen again, in a different way and from many places. In Egypt, the people of Israel brought significant blessing to the land and to its people. Yet in time, that same presence was reinterpreted as a threat, and a system emerged that sought to suppress and control them.
Today, the Jewish people continue to contribute in extraordinary ways across the world. And yet, in many places, there is again a growing tendency to frame that presence with suspicion, and at times, something far more dangerous.
Out of the harsh reality in Egypt, redemption came. And ultimately, it led to a return to the land that had been promised long before the descent ever began. Sometimes what appears stable is not as permanent as it seems. Sometimes what feels secure begins to shift.
Redemption does not develop apart from reality. It unfolds within it.
In Egypt, redemption came first, and it led to the land of promise. This time, it may not look the same. It may begin with a return, and only then the redemption that God Himself will bring through His Son.

