Dying Faith, Living Promise Text: Genesis 47:27-31
Introduction: The Geography of Faith
We live in a pragmatic and materialistic age. For modern man, land is just dirt, a place is just a location, and a body is just a collection of molecules that will one day be recycled. Home is wherever the Wi-Fi connects automatically. But for the people of God, geography has a grammar, and place has a purpose. Where you live matters. Where you are buried matters. This is because our lives are not a series of disconnected events, but rather a story, written by God, that is heading somewhere. And for the patriarchs, that somewhere was a specific plot of ground promised to them by the Almighty.
As we come to the end of Jacob's life, we find him in Egypt. By all external measures, he and his family are flourishing. They have been rescued from a devastating famine, they have been given the best of the land in Goshen, and they have multiplied exceedingly. Egypt has been good to them. It has been a safe harbor, a place of provision and prosperity. It would be very easy, very natural, for them to settle in, get comfortable, and forget the promises that brought their grandfather Abraham out of Ur of the Chaldees. It would be easy to assimilate, to let the rich, black soil of the Nile bury the promises concerning the rocky soil of Canaan.
But Jacob, now on his deathbed, has not forgotten. His body is failing, his eyes are dim, but his faith is sharp. He knows that Egypt is a temporary mercy, not a final destination. It is a waiting room, not the promised inheritance. And so, with his last breaths, he is not concerned with the disposition of his wealth, but with the disposition of his bones. He binds his powerful son Joseph with a solemn, unbreakable oath. This is not the sentimental wish of an old man wanting to be buried with his ancestors. This is a robust act of faith. It is a theological declaration. It is a stake driven into the ground of God's covenant promises, a claim made on a future he would not live to see. Jacob's final act is a sermon to his children, and to us, about where our ultimate loyalties must lie.
The Text
Now Israel lived in the land of Egypt, in Goshen, and they took possession of property in it and were fruitful and became very numerous. And Jacob lived in the land of Egypt seventeen years; so the days of Jacob, the years of his life, were 147 years. Then the days for Israel to die drew near, and he called his son Joseph and said to him, "Please, if I have found favor in your sight, place now your hand under my thigh and deal with me in lovingkindness and truth. Please do not bury me in Egypt. But I will lie down with my fathers, and you will carry me out of Egypt and bury me in their burial place." And he said, "I will do as you have said." Then he said, "Swear to me." So he swore to him. Then Israel bowed in worship at the head of the bed.
(Genesis 47:27-31 LSB)
Temporary Blessing, Lasting Covenant (v. 27-28)
We begin with the setting for this final act.
"Now Israel lived in the land of Egypt, in Goshen, and they took possession of property in it and were fruitful and became very numerous. And Jacob lived in the land of Egypt seventeen years; so the days of Jacob, the years of his life, were 147 years." (Genesis 47:27-28)
Here we see the blessing of God on His people, even in a foreign land. God is fulfilling His promise to Abraham that his descendants would be numerous. They are fruitful, they multiply, and they acquire possessions. Goshen is a little outpost of covenant blessing in the midst of a pagan empire. This is a picture of the church in the world. We are aliens and sojourners, and yet God commands us to be fruitful, to take dominion, and to prosper in the places He has put us. This is not the prosperity gospel of health and wealth; it is the dominion mandate of being faithful stewards who see God's blessing on their labors.
Notice the subtle danger here. When things are going well, when you are comfortable and prosperous in Egypt, the temptation is to start thinking of Egypt as home. The temptation is to forget that you are a pilgrim. This prosperity could have easily become a spiritual sedative. Why would anyone want to leave the lush fields of Goshen for the arid hills of Canaan, a land still occupied by giants? Because God had spoken. God had made a promise. And Jacob knew that God's promise was more valuable than all the granaries of Egypt.
Jacob lived in Egypt for seventeen years. This is a significant period of time, long enough to put down deep roots. But for Jacob, these were the final years of a long pilgrimage. His life was 147 years, and as he had told Pharaoh, they had been "few and evil." But they were years lived inside the covenant of God, and that is what gave them meaning.
A Solemn and Bodily Oath (v. 29)
As Jacob's death approaches, he summons the most powerful man in Egypt, who also happens to be his son.
"Then the days for Israel to die drew near, and he called his son Joseph and said to him, 'Please, if I have found favor in your sight, place now your hand under my thigh and deal with me in lovingkindness and truth. Please do not bury me in Egypt.'" (Genesis 47:29)
Jacob is not making a casual request. He is initiating a formal, binding oath. The phrase "place now your hand under my thigh" sounds strange to our modern ears, but it was a solemn practice in that culture. Abraham required the same oath of his servant when he sent him to find a wife for Isaac. The thigh is a euphemism for the loins, the source of procreation and descendants. This was a "generations" oath. By placing his hand there, Joseph was swearing by the God of the covenant, the God who had promised to bring a seed, a descendant, through the line of Abraham and Jacob. He was swearing on the promise of future generations and, ultimately, on the promise of the Messiah who would come from this very lineage. This was as serious as it gets.
Jacob asks Joseph to deal with him in "lovingkindness and truth." This is the great covenantal phrase, hesed we emet. Hesed is covenant loyalty, steadfast love, and faithfulness. Emet is truth, reliability, and firmness. Jacob is not just appealing to Joseph's filial affection. He is calling on him to act as a covenant man, to be faithful to the promises of the covenant God. This is not about sentiment; it is about objective, covenantal obligation.
And the substance of the oath is a negative command: "Please do not bury me in Egypt." This is a profound rejection of the world system that Egypt represents. Egypt was the superpower of the day, a place of immense wealth, power, and cultural achievement. But it was also a land of idols, a place of bondage. To be buried in Egypt would be to make a statement that his story, and Israel's story, ended there. It would be an act of assimilation, an admission that the gods and the future of Egypt were his own. Jacob refuses this. His citizenship is elsewhere.
The Destination of Faith (v. 30-31a)
Jacob's negative command is followed by a positive one, defining the destination of his hope.
"But I will lie down with my fathers, and you will carry me out of Egypt and bury me in their burial place." And he said, "I will do as you have said." Then he said, "Swear to me." So he swore to him." (Genesis 47:30-31a)
Jacob wants to be buried in the cave of Machpelah, the only piece of the Promised Land that his grandfather Abraham actually owned. Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, and Leah were all buried there. This was not about family reunion in the dirt. It was a tangible claim on the promise. Burying their dead in Canaan was how the patriarchs took possession of the land in faith, long before their descendants would take it by conquest. It was a down payment. It was a declaration to the Canaanites, to the Egyptians, and to their own children that this land belonged to them by divine grant, and they were coming back to claim all of it.
This act of faith is a powerful sermon. It preaches that the promises of God are more real than the circumstances you can see. Jacob's reality was Egypt. The power, the food, the safety, it was all in Egypt. The promise was a piece of real estate in a hostile foreign land. Jacob chose to stake his entire legacy on the promise. He was looking forward. The author of Hebrews tells us that by faith, Joseph, when he was dying, "made mention of the exodus of the sons of Israel, and gave orders concerning his bones" (Hebrews 11:22). This faith started here, with his father Jacob.
Joseph agrees immediately, but Jacob presses the point. "Swear to me." He wants the unbreakable bond of a formal oath. He is leaving nothing to chance. Joseph, the prime minister of Egypt, a man accustomed to giving orders, humbly submits to his father's authority and swears the oath. This demonstrates Joseph's own faith. He understands what is at stake. He too sees beyond the glories of Egypt to the covenant promises of God.
The Final Act of Worship (v. 31b)
Once the oath is secured, Jacob's response is simple and profound.
"Then Israel bowed in worship at the head of the bed." (Genesis 47:31b)
His final business on earth is settled. The future of his line, and the trajectory of his people, has been secured by a covenantal oath. And what is his response? Worship. Frail and dying, confined to his bed, he bows. The name used here is "Israel," his covenant name, the name given to him after he wrestled with God. It is Israel, the prince with God, who worships. He has wrestled with God, with men, and with his own sin his entire life, and now, at the end, he rests in the faithfulness of his God. He worships.
The Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, renders this as "worshipped, leaning on the top of his staff," which is how the author of Hebrews quotes it (Hebrews 11:21). Whether it was the bed or the staff, the point is the same. A weak, dying man, having secured the future promise through an act of faith, turns all his remaining energy to the worship of the God who makes and keeps those promises. His work is done. He can die in peace, knowing that his bones will rest in the land of promise, a silent testimony to the faithfulness of God.
Conclusion: Where Will You Be Buried?
This story forces a question upon us. Where are your ultimate loyalties? Are you settling down in Egypt? Have the comforts and securities of this world become your ultimate hope? Or are you, like Jacob, a pilgrim, looking for a city whose builder and maker is God?
For us, the Promised Land is not a geographical location in the Middle East. The writer to the Hebrews makes it clear that the patriarchs "confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth... they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one" (Hebrews 11:13, 16). The earthly Canaan was a type, a shadow, of the true inheritance which is the renewed creation, the new heavens and the new earth. Our hope is not in a plot of ground, but in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.
Jacob's demand to be buried in Canaan was an act of faith in a future earthly inheritance that pointed to the ultimate inheritance. Our practice of Christian burial is a similar act of faith. We do not bury our dead because we are sentimental. We bury them because we are planting seeds. We are laying our loved ones to rest in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection. Like Jacob, we are making a claim. We are declaring that this world, this created order, belongs to Christ, and He is coming back to claim it all. We are declaring that death does not get the last word. The body that is sown in corruption will be raised in incorruption.
Jacob bound Joseph with an oath based on the promised seed. That Seed has now come. Jesus Christ, the ultimate descendant of Jacob, has conquered death. He lay in a borrowed tomb for three days and then rose again, securing our inheritance forever. Because He was carried out of that tomb, we have a promise that is far greater than Jacob's. Our bodies will not simply be moved to a better location; they will be raised and glorified, made like His glorious body.
Therefore, live like a pilgrim. Do not let your heart take root in Egypt. Use the blessings God gives you here for His glory, but never forget that this is not your home. And when your time comes, die like a patriarch. Die with your faith fixed on the promises of God, giving orders concerning your bones, and bowing in worship, confident that the one who made the promise is faithful to perform it.