The Sermon in the Bones
Introduction: A Coffin in Egypt
The book of Genesis begins in a garden, with God and man walking in fellowship. It ends here, with the greatest man of his generation in a coffin in Egypt. From the creation of the heavens and the earth to a box of bones in a foreign land. If you do not understand the story that comes between, this ending would be the bleakest sort of tragedy. But because we know the God of the story, this coffin is not a symbol of despair but rather a defiant anchor of hope, cast into the future.
We live in a shallow age, an age that is pathologically obsessed with the present moment. Our tyrants want us to have short memories, and our advertisers want us to have short-term desires. The past is to be forgotten or rewritten, and the future is a hazy abstraction. What matters is the now. How do you feel right now? What do you want right now? This is the spirit of Egypt, a spirit of comfortable bondage that offers you leeks and onions today in exchange for your birthright tomorrow.
Joseph stands as a towering rebuke to this entire mindset. He was a man who lived a long and prosperous life in Egypt. He was, by any worldly measure, the ultimate success story. He rose from the pit to the pinnacle of power. He had wealth, authority, and the respect of the most powerful nation on earth. And yet, his dying breath is not about his accomplishments in Egypt, but about God's promises for a land he would never see. Joseph knew that a long obedience in the same direction is worth more than a short, comfortable detour. His final act is a sermon, preached by his own bones, and the text of that sermon is that this world is not our home. We are pilgrims, and we are heading for a better country.
The final verses of Genesis are not an ending. They are a cliffhanger. They are a tightly coiled spring, preparing to launch the people of God into the story of Exodus. And in the middle of it all is a coffin, a silent, persistent, prophetic witness that God keeps His promises.
The Text
Now Joseph stayed in Egypt, he and his father’s household, and Joseph lived 110 years.
And Joseph saw the third generation of Ephraim’s sons; also the sons of Machir, the son of Manasseh, were born on Joseph’s knees.
And Joseph said to his brothers, “I am about to die, but God will surely take care of you and bring you up from this land to the land which He swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.”
Then Joseph made the sons of Israel swear, saying, “God will surely take care of you, and you shall carry my bones up from here.”
So Joseph died at the age of 110 years; and they embalmed him, and he was placed in a coffin in Egypt.
(Genesis 50:22-26 LSB)
A Blessed Sojourn (v. 22-23)
First, we see the context of Joseph's final days.
"Now Joseph stayed in Egypt, he and his father’s household, and Joseph lived 110 years. And Joseph saw the third generation of Ephraim’s sons; also the sons of Machir, the son of Manasseh, were born on Joseph’s knees." (Genesis 50:22-23)
Joseph lived a full life, 110 years. In the economy of the Old Testament, a long life is a sign of God's blessing. And the blessing is compounded by the fact that he saw his great-grandchildren. The promise of multiplication, given to Abraham, is visibly taking root. The phrase "born on Joseph's knees" is a beautiful picture of patriarchal adoption and blessing. He is embracing the future of his people, acknowledging these children as his own, and as heirs of the covenant. He is a faithful patriarch to the very end.
But we must not miss the central tension. All this blessing is happening in Egypt. Joseph is a prince of Egypt, but he is a prince in exile. He has not "gone native." He has not assimilated. He has not forgotten the promises of God. It is possible to be blessed by God in a foreign land without making that foreign land your home. God caused Joseph to prosper in Egypt for the sake of his people, not so that they would become Egyptians. This is a crucial lesson for us. We are to be faithful in our various callings in this world, to work hard, to build, to prosper. But we must never forget that we are sojourners here. Our citizenship is in heaven, and our ultimate loyalty is to another king.
The Unwavering Promise (v. 24)
In his final moments, Joseph directs his family's attention away from himself and toward God's covenant faithfulness.
"And Joseph said to his brothers, “I am about to die, but God will surely take care of you and bring you up from this land to the land which He swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.”" (Genesis 50:24)
Notice the magnificent pivot of faith. "I am about to die, but God..." Joseph's death is a certainty, but it is a footnote. The main clause, the foundational reality, is God's unwavering promise. Joseph is not the hero of this story; God is. Joseph's life was a testament to God's providence, and his death is a testament to God's promises. He is dying, but the covenant is not.
He explicitly grounds this promise in the oath God swore to the patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This is not some new idea or personal wish. This is the bedrock of their entire identity as a people. God swore an oath, and because God cannot lie, the fulfillment of that oath is more certain than the ground under their feet. Joseph's faith is not in his own legacy, his own accomplishments, or the stability of the Egyptian government. His faith is in the sworn word of the living God.
And the promise is one of exodus. "God will surely take care of you and bring you up from this land." The Hebrew for "take care of" is pakad, which means to visit, to attend to, to muster. It is a word of divine intervention. God is not going to just watch from a distance; He is going to come down and get them. Joseph, on his deathbed, is prophesying the Exodus. He knows that no matter how comfortable they get in Goshen, Egypt is a temporary arrangement. Home is elsewhere.
The Prophetic Oath (v. 25)
Joseph then translates his faith into a tangible, binding action.
"Then Joseph made the sons of Israel swear, saying, “God will surely take care of you, and you shall carry my bones up from here.”" (Genesis 50:25)
This is the central command. This is the sermon in the bones. Joseph requires an oath, a solemn, binding promise from the entire nation. Why? Because he knows how easy it is to forget. He knows the allure of Egypt, the temptation to settle down and get comfortable. He knows that in a few generations, his memory might fade, and the promise might seem like a distant fairytale. So he gives them a physical reminder that they cannot ignore.
His coffin will become a silent monument to the promise. For the next several centuries, as Israel languishes in slavery, the bones of Joseph will be a mute but powerful preacher. Every time they looked at that sarcophagus, they would be reminded: "We don't belong here. God has promised us another country. We are waiting for our marching orders." It was a physical anchor holding them to the covenant. This is precisely what the author of Hebrews highlights: "By faith Joseph, at the end of his life, made mention of the exodus of the sons of Israel and gave directions concerning his bones" (Hebrews 11:22). His faith was not a vague sentiment; it was a concrete, forward-looking action.
A Coffin of Hope (v. 26)
The book of Genesis concludes with this stark, yet profoundly hopeful, image.
"So Joseph died at the age of 110 years; and they embalmed him, and he was placed in a coffin in Egypt." (Genesis 50:26)
He is embalmed like an Egyptian notable. He is placed in a coffin, a sarcophagus, in Egypt. The book that began with the sovereign God creating the cosmos out of nothing ends with the chosen people in a foreign land, and their great leader in a box. From a human perspective, this looks like failure. The story has fizzled out.
But from the perspective of faith, that coffin is a powder keg. It is a seed planted in faith, awaiting the resurrection of the nation. It is a down payment on the promised land. It is a declaration of war against the permanence of Egypt and the finality of death. Joseph's body is in that coffin, but his hope is not. His hope is in the God who raises the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.
The Greater Joseph
The story of Joseph is a glorious foreshadowing of an even greater story. Joseph, the beloved son, was betrayed by his brothers, sold for silver, and cast into a pit. He was falsely accused and imprisoned. Yet God raised him up from that pit and exalted him to the right hand of power, and from that position, he saved his people and the world from famine. He forgave those who betrayed him and brought about a great reconciliation.
But Joseph died, and his bones had to be carried by others to the promised land. Centuries later, the greater Joseph, Jesus Christ, the beloved Son of the Father, was betrayed by His own people, sold for silver, and cast into the pit of death. He was laid in a tomb, a coffin of rock, in the land of His enemies. For three days, it looked like the story had ended in the bleakest tragedy.
But God visited Him. God the Father, by the power of the Spirit, raised Him from the dead. And unlike Joseph, Jesus did not need anyone to carry His bones out of the tomb. He walked out Himself, victorious over sin, death, and Egypt, and all that Egypt represents. He is the firstfruits of the ultimate exodus.
Because of His resurrection, we have a promise far greater than the land of Canaan. We have the promise of a new heavens and a new earth, the true promised land. And like the Israelites, we are sojourners in a foreign land. This world is our Egypt. It is not our home. And we too have been given tangible reminders to anchor our faith. In baptism, we are buried with Christ, and in the Lord's Supper, we proclaim His death until He comes. These are our sermon in the bones. They remind us that we do not belong here, that our King is coming to get us, and that when He does, He will bring us up from this land into the glorious inheritance He has sworn to us. Joseph's bones made it to Shechem. But because of Christ, we are headed for the New Jerusalem, and we will not just carry our bones there; we will go with new, glorious, resurrected bodies, to dwell with our God forever.