Joseph, Part 5 / Purpose in the Prison / Genesis 40:1-23
We love beginnings, and we love endings.
Listen to how we tell our stories: I started this job—and look how the door opened. We started dating—and then we got married. We bought the fixer-upper—and here's the finished remodel. We prayed—and look how God answered. We celebrate the answered prayer. We share the testimony once we already know how it ends.
Nobody posts, "Month 17. Still waiting. Nothing to report."
But that's actually where most of life happens. Not at the beginning, not at the breakthrough—somewhere in the middle. Between the prayer and the answer. Between what God promised and what we can actually see. Between where we've been and where we hope we're going.
And somewhere along the way, it's easy to start believing that if we're following God—if we're faithful, if we're obedient—then surely things should eventually start working out the way we hoped. So as the waiting stretches on, the questions creep in. Did I miss something? Am I doing something wrong? Is God doing anything at all? Has God forgotten me?
Joseph's story reminds us that faithfulness doesn't work like a transaction. Last week he did the right thing—he honored God and resisted temptation—and it landed him falsely accused and thrown in prison. Today we pick his story up right there, in the middle. He doesn't know what's coming next. He doesn't know how long he'll be there. He only knows this isn't where he thought his faithfulness would lead.
Faithfulness in the waiting isn't a transaction that forces God's hand—it's trusting the God who is with you in the middle, even when you feel completely forgotten.
Faithfulness in the waiting isn't a transaction that forces God's hand—it's trusting the God who is with you in the middle, even when you feel completely forgotten.
Refuse to Let Bitterness Steal Your God-Given Purpose
The danger of the in-between isn't only that we have to wait. It's what the waiting can start to do inside us. Disappointment can slowly curdle into resentment. Hurt can harden into bitterness. And if we're not careful, we get so focused on what hasn't happened for us that we stop seeing what God still wants to do through us.
Look at how Joseph handles it:
"Before long, the warden put Joseph in charge of all the other prisoners and over everything that happened in the prison. The warden had no more worries, because Joseph took care of everything. The Lord was with him and caused everything he did to succeed." (Genesis 39:22–23, NLT)
Joseph had every reason to be bitter. Betrayed by his own brothers. Sold into slavery. Falsely accused after doing the right thing. Now sitting in a prison cell because of somebody else's lie. If anyone had grounds to say, "I'm done—why should I keep trying? Look where being faithful got me," it was Joseph.
Instead, he's taking care of everything. Serving. Showing up. He refuses to let what happened to him determine what God could still do through him.
Because bitterness doesn't always look like shaking a fist at God and walking away. Often it's quieter than that. Sometimes bitterness just sounds like, "Why bother?" I tried. I prayed. I served. I did the right thing. I trusted God—and look where it got me. Little by little, we start withholding ourselves from the life God has actually put in front of us, because we're disappointed about the life we thought we'd have by now. We get so fixated on getting out of the in-between that we miss what God wants to do in it.
Then comes one small, easy-to-miss detail:
"While they were in prison, Pharaoh's cup-bearer and baker each had a dream one night. ... When Joseph saw them the next morning, he noticed that they both looked upset. 'Why do you look so worried today?' he asked them." (Genesis 40:5–7, NLT)
Joseph noticed. In the middle of his own hard season, he still had enough room in his heart to notice that someone else was having a bad day.
That's purpose in the middle. We tend to imagine our God-given purpose as some huge thing waiting for us someday, once we finally arrive. And yes—Joseph's eventual purpose would impact an entire nation. But his purpose that morning was simply noticing two hurting people. Waiting doesn't have to be wasted time. Your life isn't on pause just because you're in-between. There are still people to love here. Still people to notice. Still obedience here. Still purpose here.
Humbly Offer Your Gifts for God's Purposes
Joseph doesn't just notice their pain—he offers what God has given him.
"'We both had dreams last night,' they said, 'but no one can tell us what they mean.' 'Interpreting dreams is God's business,' Joseph replied. 'Go ahead and tell me your dreams.'" (Genesis 40:8, NLT)
Don't miss the courage in that. The last time Joseph interpreted dreams, it fueled his brothers' hatred and got him sold into slavery. It would have been completely understandable for him to think, Yeah, dreams haven't exactly worked out well for me. Because sometimes disappointment doesn't make us abandon God—it just quietly makes us stop using what God gave us. I tried serving and got burned out. I tried leading and everyone turned on me. I put myself out there and nobody noticed. I helped someone and never even got a thank-you. So somewhere along the way we decided: I'm not doing that again.
But Joseph keeps using his gift without any guarantee it will ever benefit him. He has no idea this interpretation is connected to where God is ultimately taking him. In this moment he simply knows God gave him something that could serve the person standing in front of him. He even makes a humble, honest request—please remember me and mention me to Pharaoh, so he might let me out of here (Genesis 40:14).
Most of the time, using what God has given us won't look as dramatic as interpreting a prophetic dream in an Egyptian prison. It looks like asking a much simpler question: What has God given me for right now? You're waiting for the job you really want—but there are still people to encourage in the job you have. You're waiting for a relationship—but your purpose isn't on hold until someone comes along. You're in an exhausting, repetitive season of parenting—but those ordinary moments of showing up, teaching, apologizing, and praying are shaping a person. You're waiting for clarity on a big decision—but you already know the next faithful thing He's asking of you.
In the waiting, we tend to ask, "God, when are You going to change this?" What if we made a different declaration instead? "God, I still want You to change this—but in the meantime, I'll keep being faithful with what You've given me for right now."
Trust That God Remembers You When Others Forget You
Here's the tension at the heart of this story: Joseph does all of it. He stays faithful. He serves. He notices people. He uses his gift. And he's still forgotten.
Three days later, everything unfolds exactly as Joseph said. The cupbearer is restored to his position at Pharaoh's side. And then this:
"Pharaoh's chief cup-bearer, however, forgot all about Joseph, never giving him another thought." (Genesis 40:23, NLT)
He forgot him. The cupbearer got his life back, his position back, his future back—and Joseph stayed in the same cell. Forgotten.
After enough time passes, the question starts to shift. It's no longer just, "God, when are You going to change this?" It becomes something deeper and more frightening: "God … have You forgotten me?"
But watch this—the end of the chapter says the cupbearer forgot Joseph, yet the beginning of the chapter already told us the truth that outlasts it:
"But the Lord was with Joseph in the prison and showed him his faithful love." (Genesis 39:21, NLT)
Joseph was forgotten by the person he helped. He was never forgotten by the God who loved him. And there is a world of difference between feeling forgotten and being forgotten.
You may still be in the waiting—but the Lord is with you. The door may still be closed—but the Lord is with you. The prayer may still be unanswered—but the Lord is with you. You may not understand what God is doing—but the Lord is with you. Your circumstances may not have changed, but neither has the presence, the character, or the faithful love of God.
Don't let the length of the wait convince you that God has left. His silence is not His absence. His timing is not His neglect. An unanswered prayer is not evidence of an uncaring God. And His promise is as tender as anything in Scripture:
"Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you!" (Isaiah 49:15, NLT)
The Bigger Story
The prison told Joseph, "You've been forgotten." The waiting may be telling you the same thing. So may the disappointment, the closed door, the silence. But God says something else entirely—the same thing He has said to His people from the very beginning.
He said it to Isaac: I am with you. To Jacob: I am with you, and I will protect you wherever you go. To Joshua: the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. To a frightened Israel: Don't be afraid, for I am with you. And finally, to the whole world, in a name—Immanuel, God with us.
From Genesis to Jesus, God keeps saying the same thing to His people. Not you'll never wait. Not you'll never hurt. Not you'll always understand what I'm doing. Just this: I am with you.
For many of us, that's the faith God is asking for today—not to pretend the waiting doesn't hurt, not to stop asking Him to change it, but to trust Him while we're still in it. So keep showing up. Keep using what He's given you. Keep believing there is real purpose right here. And when the waiting gets long enough that you catch yourself asking, "God, have You forgotten me?"—come back to the promise He's been making all along: I am with you.
Most of life is lived somewhere in the middle. But we don't live the middle alone.
Share this with someone this week.
Almost everyone you know is living in some kind of in-between—waiting on an answer, a door, a diagnosis, a relationship, a breakthrough that keeps not coming. Send this to a friend who's deep in the middle right now and feeling forgotten, and remind them of the difference between feeling forgotten and being forgotten. Or share it with someone who's grown quietly bitter or stopped using the gift God gave them because it once cost them, and let Joseph's example draw them back out. Sometimes the most encouraging thing you can hand a person in a long, silent season is the oldest promise in Scripture: I am with you.
What are you going to do about it?
Read Genesis 40 slowly this week — once a day if you can. Notice that the chapter opens with "the Lord was with Joseph" and closes with "forgot all about Joseph"—and that both are true at once. Then sit honestly with a couple of questions: Where has disappointment quietly turned into bitterness or a "why bother?" in me—and what has God actually put right in front of me to do? And: What gift, act of service, or step of obedience have I stopped offering because it once didn't work out the way I hoped? This week, pick one person to genuinely notice the way Joseph noticed, offer one thing God has given you without needing a guaranteed return, and when the "have You forgotten me?" thought comes, answer it with the promise He's made from Genesis to Jesus: I am with you.
About the Joseph Series
In The Story of Joseph, we’ll follow a journey marked by dreams and betrayal, temptation and waiting, purpose and restoration—and discover how God was at work through it all. From the pit to the prison to the palace, Joseph’s story reminds us that even when we can’t see what God is doing, He is still writing a bigger story. Join us for this nine-week series as we learn to trust God’s promises and see the bigger picture.