Joseph, Part 1: The Coat and the Pit | Bible Stories Retold

The sieve, any abundant said. This is how he ended up at the bottom of a hole. Out in the hills of Canaan, there was an old man named Jacob. Twelve sons, and everybody knew who his favourite was. Joseph, seventeen years old, the son Jacob had late in life, and Jacob made him a coat, long sleeves, all the colours, the kind of coat that says, "This one doesn't have to work like the rest of you." The Bible puts it plain. His brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, and they hated him, and couldn't speak peaceably to him. They couldn't even tell him good morning. And Joseph? He didn't make it any easier. He'd go back and tell his dad everything his brothers did wrong. The Joseph had spryzed, papying again. Heting was through, subscribed from the under-hiled, planned, and his ready-nut-heard town will gather, rather, to in three-celled. In a family like that, everybody's keeping score. Then the dream started. In one, his brothers' bundles of grain bowed down to his. In another, the sun, the moon, and eleven stars bowed down to him. And he told them, both times, "Will you indeed reign over us?" they said. Even his father checked him on it. But Jacob didn't forget what he heard. One day, Jacob sent Joseph to check on his brothers. They were way out with the flocks, miles from home. Joseph went looking for them. They saw him first. You could see that coat coming from a mile away. Behold, this dreamer comes.

Come now, therefore, and let's kill him and cast him into one of the pits and fun-hundredth temper of Bintai-sipping mother from Mansid-Kissen-Foo-out artist Wortek and Storz, darting food arm-momented. And we will see what will become of his dreams. Ruben, the oldest, stepped in. Don't kill him. Just throw him in the pit. He was planning to come back later and get him out. They ripped the coat off his back and threw him in an empty system. No water, just stone, and dark, and a little circle of sky. Repoint sports and clates sightiest plants tuck. Then they sat down and ate lunch. A caravan rolled by, traders headed down to Egypt. And Judah had an idea. "What profit is it if we kill our brother?" Asked, the Eders' tippin-ped and Judah wail. They had film hounds in red. Two-street cutting-flee-gounter-quickard-timby-flee-head. So they sold him instead, twenty pieces of silver. Joseph got walked off with a rope on his wrists, looking back at the only family he had. On the fine-nineteen, had not Illusment laid, would be maimed for livet of tended by the yose-of-done ship. Not one of them looked up. When Reuben came back, the pit was empty. Chit-turt, Brembai, said, "Arrethed people in my first us-gone-from-a-go." So the brothers killed a goat, soaked Joseph's coat in the blood, and carried it home to their father. Jacob knew that coat.

It is my sons. Tunic, an evil animal, has devoured him. His kids tried to comfort him. He wouldn't have it. He said he'd grieve his son until the day he died. Seventeen, sold out by his own brothers, bought like property in a country where he didn't even speak the language. Everybody who loved him thought he was dead. That could have been the end of the story. It wasn't, because the very next thing the Bible says is this. God was with Joseph. Joseph lost his family, his name, and his freedom in one day. What did you lose that nobody saw? God saw it. Joseph's about to find that out. you