Descending to Ascend: The Goshen Incubation Text: Genesis 46:1-34
Introduction: God's Strategic Retreats
We come now to a pivotal moment in the history of redemption. Jacob, now called Israel, is on the move. He is leaving the Promised Land, the land covenanted to Abraham, Isaac, and himself. On the surface, this looks like a retreat. It looks like a failure. The great patriarch, driven by famine, is abandoning the inheritance to go down into the great pagan superpower of the age, Egypt. To our modern, sentimental eyes, this might seem like a tragic necessity, a sad detour from the main story. But this is to read the Scriptures with carnal eyes. God's providence is not a straight line drawn by a ruler; it is a grand tapestry woven with threads of every color, including the dark threads of famine, fear, and exile.
What we are witnessing here is not an abandonment of the promise, but a peculiar and necessary fulfillment of it. This is a strategic retreat orchestrated by the sovereign God. God is moving His people into what we might call the Goshen incubator. He is taking this small, vulnerable clan of seventy souls and placing them in a protected environment where they can grow into a great nation, shielded for a time from the Canaanite depravity they were not yet strong enough to displace. God often leads His people into Egypt, into Babylon, into places that seem hostile and alien, in order to preserve them, purify them, and prepare them for the next stage of His plan. He is not afraid to use the wagons of a pagan king to transport His covenant people.
This chapter is a profound lesson in the nature of faith. Faith does not always mean standing your ground; sometimes it means packing up and following God's call into a strange land. Faith is not about geography; it is about obedience to the God who is Lord of all geography. Jacob is old, he is weary, and he is afraid. But he is also a man who has learned, through a long life of wrestling, to trust the voice of his God. And so, as we walk through this chapter, we will see a fearful saint receive divine reassurance, a covenantal accounting of God's people, a tearful reunion that fulfills a lifetime of longing, and a shrewd strategy for surviving as pilgrims in a foreign land.
The Text
So Israel set out with all that he had and came to Beersheba and offered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac. And God spoke to Israel in visions of the night and said, "Jacob, Jacob." And he said, "Here I am." And He said, "I am God, a great nation there. I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you up again; and Joseph will close your eyes with his hand." Then Jacob arose from Beersheba; and the sons of Israel carried their father Jacob and their little ones and their wives in the wagons which Pharaoh had sent to carry him... all the persons of the house of Jacob, who came to Egypt, were seventy. Now he sent Judah before him to Joseph, to point out the way before him to Goshen; and they came into the land of Goshen. And Joseph harnessed his chariot and went up to Goshen to meet his father Israel; as soon as he appeared before him, he fell on his neck and wept on his neck a long time. Then Israel said to Joseph, "Now I can die, since I have seen your face, that you are still alive."... And Joseph said to his brothers and to his father's household... "you shall say, 'Your servants have been keepers of livestock from our youth and until now, both we and our fathers,' that you may live in the land of Goshen; for every shepherd is an abomination to the Egyptians."
(Genesis 46:1-34 LSB)
Do Not Be Afraid (vv. 1-4)
The journey begins not with a frantic rush, but with worship.
"So Israel set out with all that he had and came to Beersheba and offered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac. And God spoke to Israel in visions of the night and said, 'Jacob, Jacob.' And he said, 'Here I am.' And He said, 'I am God, the God of your father; do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make you a great nation there. I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you up again; and Joseph will close your eyes with his hand.'" (Genesis 46:1-4)
Jacob goes to Beersheba, the southern edge of the Promised Land. This was a place saturated with covenant history. It was here that Abraham called on the name of the Lord (Gen. 21:33) and where God appeared to Isaac and reaffirmed the promise (Gen. 26:23-24). Jacob is pausing at the threshold, looking back at the land of promise and forward to the uncertainty of Egypt. And what does he do? He offers sacrifices. Before he takes this monumental step, he worships. This is the posture of faith. He is acknowledging his dependence on the God of his fathers.
And God meets him there. In a vision of the night, God calls him by his old name, "Jacob, Jacob." The double call signifies intimacy and urgency. God is getting his full attention. And Jacob's response is that of a ready servant: "Here I am." God's first words address the fear that was undoubtedly gripping Jacob's heart. "Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt." God never minimizes our fears; He meets us in them and gives us His Word against them. Isaac had been forbidden to go down to Egypt during a famine (Gen. 26:2), so Jacob had every reason to be hesitant. But God's will is not a set of static rules; it is a living relationship.
God then gives him a threefold promise that is the gospel in miniature. First, "I will make you a great nation there." The promise will not be thwarted by a change of address; in fact, this move is the very means by which God will fulfill it. Second, "I Myself will go down with you." This is the heart of the covenant: God's presence. He is Immanuel, God with us. He will not send Jacob into the pagan darkness alone. Third, "I Myself will also bring you up again." This is a promise of a future exodus, a resurrection. Though Jacob himself will die in Egypt, God promises to bring his people, his seed, back up to the land. And then, a final, tender mercy: "Joseph will close your eyes." God cares not only for the grand sweep of redemptive history but also for the personal sorrows and longings of an old man. He promises Jacob a peaceful death in the presence of his long-lost son.
The Covenantal Accounting (vv. 5-27)
What follows is a long list of names, a genealogy. Our modern, narrative-addicted minds are tempted to skim such passages. We want to get back to the action. But to do so is to miss the point entirely.
"All the persons belonging to Jacob, who came to Egypt, who came out of his loins, excluding the wives of Jacob's sons, were sixty-six persons in all, and the sons of Joseph, who were born to him in Egypt were two; all the persons of the house of Jacob, who came to Egypt, were seventy." (Genesis 46:26-27 LSB)
This is not a telephone directory; this is covenantal accounting. God is taking inventory. Each name represents a fulfillment of the promise made to Abraham, that his descendants would be as numerous as the stars. These are the foundational stones of the nation of Israel. God knows His people by name. The modern bureaucratic state counts people to tax and control them. God counts His people to bless and preserve them.
The number itself is significant. Seventy. This number echoes the seventy nations listed in the table of nations in Genesis 10. Israel is being set up as a nation in miniature, a new humanity that will one day be a blessing to all those other nations. Later, Moses will appoint seventy elders. Jesus will send out seventy disciples. This is the seed of the kingdom.
And notice the gritty reality. The list includes "Shaul the son of a Canaanite woman." It includes the sons of Judah, whose line was scarred by incest and tragedy. The covenant family is not a collection of perfect specimens. It is a motley crew, held together not by their own virtue but by the grace of a promise-keeping God. God is not ashamed to build His kingdom with crooked timber, which ought to be a profound encouragement to all of us.
Reunion and Contentment (vv. 28-30)
After the accounting, we have the reunion. The emotional climax of the entire Joseph narrative.
"And Joseph harnessed his chariot and went up to Goshen to meet his father Israel; as soon as he appeared before him, he fell on his neck and wept on his neck a long time. Then Israel said to Joseph, 'Now I can die, since I have seen your face, that you are still alive.'" (Genesis 46:29-30 LSB)
Jacob sends Judah ahead. This is significant. Judah, the one who suggested selling Joseph into slavery, is now the emissary of reconciliation. He leads the family to the one he wronged. This is a quiet picture of repentance bearing fruit. Joseph, the second most powerful man in the world, does not wait for his father to come to him. He goes out to meet him. He, the ruler, humbles himself and falls on his father's neck, weeping for a long time. This is not just a family reunion; it is a type, a foreshadowing of a greater reunion.
And Jacob's response is one of the most poignant statements in all of Scripture: "Now I can die." This is not a death wish born of despair. This is the deep sigh of contentment. It is his Nunc Dimittis. The gaping wound that has defined the last two decades of his life has been healed. He has seen the face of his son, whom he thought was dead. The promise of God has been vindicated in the most unexpected and glorious way. He is ready to go. He has seen God's salvation.
A Shrewd Separation (vv. 31-34)
The chapter concludes with Joseph's practical and wise instructions to his family. This is not an afterthought; it is a crucial strategy for covenantal survival.
"And it will be when Pharaoh calls you and says, 'What is your occupation?' then you shall say, 'Your servants have been keepers of livestock from our youth and until now, both we and our fathers,' that you may live in the land of Goshen; for every shepherd is an abomination to the Egyptians." (Genesis 46:33-34 LSB)
Joseph tells them to be honest about their occupation. They are shepherds. This is their identity, reaching back to Abel. But this identity is also "an abomination to the Egyptians." Joseph uses the world's contempt to his family's advantage. Their offensive occupation will ensure their separation. Pharaoh will grant them the fertile land of Goshen, a prime piece of real estate, precisely to keep them at arm's length from polite Egyptian society.
This is the Goshen principle. God's people are to be in the world, but not of the world. This separation was not geographical isolationism; it was cultural and religious antithesis. By being separate, they could grow into a distinct people without being assimilated into the idolatry and immorality of Egypt. They were not to melt into the Egyptian pot. They were to be a holy nation. This is a permanent lesson for the church. We are not called to be liked by the world. We are not called to be respectable in the eyes of the Pharaohs of our age. Our identity in Christ, our work as shepherds of His flock, will often be an "abomination" to the world. And we should not be surprised by this. In fact, like Joseph, we should see it as a providential protection, a means by which God keeps His people pure.
The Gospel in Goshen
This entire narrative is shot through with the gospel. Jacob's journey is our journey. We too are called to leave a place of familiarity and journey toward a promise, often through a world that is hostile to our faith. And God's promise to Jacob is His promise to us in Christ: "Do not be afraid... I will go down with you... and I will bring you up again."
Jesus Christ Himself made the ultimate descent. He went down into the Egypt of our sin and death. He became an abomination to the world and was crucified. He went down into the grave, but God brought Him up again. And because He has gone down and come up, He is with us in all our descents. He is with us in our personal Egypts, in our times of famine and fear.
The reunion of Jacob and Joseph is a foretaste of the great reunion to come. One day, we will see the face of our elder brother, Jesus, and all the sorrows of this life will fade away. In that day, we too will be able to say, with ultimate contentment, "Now I can die," only to find that in seeing His face, we have just begun to truly live.
And until that day, we are to live in Goshen. We are to live as a separate people, nourished by the provision of a King we serve, unashamed of our identity as the sheep of His pasture, even when that identity is an abomination to the Egyptians. For this world is not our home. We are being incubated for an inheritance, and the one who promised to go down with us has also promised to bring us up again.