Show Don't Tell: Genesis 47:1-12

In the heart of Egypt, the air thick with the scent of spices and the murmur of bustling life, five brothers approach the throne of Pharaoh, the most powerful ruler in all the land. Their hands are calloused, their clothes worn and dusty—the garb of humble shepherds. “We are shepherds,” they declare, their voices trembling slightly, as if the very act of addressing this god-king could shatter their world. Pharaoh grants them Goshen, a fertile land, a gesture of generosity that seems to align with the expectations of this great empire.

But then Jacob, their father, steps forward. At 130 years old, he is a shadow of his former self, bent with the weight of famine and heartache, his eyes clouded with the memories of loss and longing. As he approaches the throne, the grandeur of the palace surrounds him, with gold and marble reflecting the unyielding power of Pharaoh. Yet, in this moment, it is not Pharaoh who holds dominion; it is Jacob who speaks a blessing over this earthly ruler.

“May you be well,” Jacob intones, his voice steady but soft, twice invoking this blessing as if to remind both himself and Pharaoh that true power lies not in wealth but in the richness of the heart. The air thickens with a holy tension; a mere shepherd stands before the emperor, and in God’s economy, the lesser blesses the greater.

When Pharaoh asks Jacob his age, the question hangs in the air like a heavy fog. “My years have been few and difficult,” Jacob replies, the weight of his words echoing in the silence. One hundred thirty years of struggle, yet he calls them few. This humble sojourner, with a spirit unbroken, blesses the emperor and is led to dwell in the best of the land—an unexpected turn of events that illustrates the profound truth of God’s grace and the mysterious ways in which His kingdom operates. In the unlikeliest of encounters, the broken find their voice, and blessings flow from the most unexpected places.