SERMON 9th August 2026 “Reuben”

We’ve been following Jacob’s story together. Now the story in Genesis turns naturally to his son Joseph. We know this story well. Joseph and his richly ornamented robe, the colour of a father’s favour, displayed for all his brothers to see. Hated by his brothers, thrown into a pit, and finally sold into Egypt. So our attention naturally settles on Joseph. But today, I’d like us to look somewhere else. Not at Joseph, but at his eldest brother, Reuben.

Reuben was Jacob’s firstborn, the eldest of all the brothers. When his brothers talked about killing Joseph, Reuben was the only one who spoke up. He said, “Let us not take his life.” Then he said, “Shed no blood.” And finally, “Lay no hand on him.”  Scripture doesn’t record Reuben’s words just once. It repeats them three times. Then it quietly tells us why. Reuben intended to rescue Joseph out of their hands and restore him to his father.

The background is familiar to us. Joseph was his father’s favourite. His brothers knew it, and so did Joseph. Then came the dreams. From the brothers’ point of view, those dreams were hardly innocent. They meant that one day they would bow down before their younger brother. And Joseph told those dreams in front of his father and all his brothers, seemingly unaware of how they would sound. Their anger did not come out of nowhere.

As I kept reading this passage, though, I found myself drawn back to Reuben. There was something about him I couldn’t easily pass over.

I have two sons myself. We never raised our eldest to think he carried special privilege or responsibility because he was the firstborn. At least, that was what we thought. And yet, every now and then, I see him quietly stepping into the role of an older brother. When we’re not around, he looks out for his younger brother. No one tells him to do it. He just does.

A few years ago, my older brother passed away after an illness. Without anyone saying so, I suddenly found myself becoming the eldest in my family. No one asked me to take that place, but somehow I was already standing in it. Perhaps that’s why I began to read this story through Reuben’s eyes.

“Let us not take his life.”

If Reuben had said it once, it might have been a spontaneous reaction. If he had said it twice, perhaps it would have been for emphasis. But Scripture records his words three times. That alone tells us something. Reuben could not accept what his brothers were about to do.

Let’s look at what happens next. The brothers throw Joseph into the pit. Then they sit down to eat. Their younger brother is down in the pit. At that very moment, some Ishmaelite traders come by. Judah makes a suggestion. “What profit is there if we kill our brother? … Come, let us sell him.” The brothers agree, and Joseph is sold for twenty pieces of silver.

But there is one person missing from the scene. Reuben. Scripture never explains his absence. It just tells us that while he was away, the most important decision was made.

Later, Reuben comes back to the pit. But Joseph is gone. He tears his clothes and cries out, “The boy is gone, and I, where can I turn?” In that moment, he lost more than just his younger brother.

When we hear Reuben’s cry, we begin to wonder what was going through his mind. Was he grieving the loss of Joseph? Or was he carrying the weight of responsibility as the eldest son? Or was it both?

Whatever the answer, it’s difficult to dismiss Reuben. We know he meant what he said. We know he wanted to save Joseph. And yet, when it mattered most, he wasn’t there. That’s why Reuben’s story stays with us.

The truth is, we’re not all that different from Reuben. We’ve all had moments when something needed to be done. But knowing what is right and standing where it matters are not the same thing.

We know what’s right. We can even speak up for what’s right. But when it matters most, where are we? That is the question this passage leaves with us.

Reuben wasn’t the only one. We find something similar in the Gospel reading.

It was the middle of the night. The disciples were battling the wind and the waves. Then Jesus came to them, walking on the sea. Peter said, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus replied, “Come.” Peter stepped out of the boat and began walking on the water. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened and began to sink. Then he cried out, “Lord, save me!”

The one who stepped out in faith was Peter. The one who cried, “Lord, save me!” was Peter too. The same is true of us. We know where we long to stand. Yet we do not always find ourselves there. Peter, Reuben and we are not so different after all.

As we continue reading the story, we begin to notice something. In Abraham’s story, God spoke. In Jacob’s story, God wrestled. But here, God does not say a single word.

Beside the pit, as the Ishmaelite traders passed by, as twenty pieces of silver changed hands, God seems absent. All we see are people. Joseph, proudly telling his dreams. His brothers, consumed by jealousy. Reuben, who spoke the right words but was not there when it mattered most.

Yet neither the brothers’ hatred, nor Reuben’s hesitation, nor Judah’s calculation could bring God’s story to an end. Why God remained silent, the passage never tells us. It simply leaves us with this truth: even in that silence, the story kept moving forward.

We may find ourselves in Reuben’s place. We may find ourselves in Peter’s place. We may say the right thing and still not be there when it matters. We may step out in faith and still be overwhelmed by fear.

But here is the good news. The story was never resting on us. Reuben’s absence did not bring God’s story to an end. Peter’s sinking did not bring God’s story to an end. God’s story does not depend on us getting it right every time.

Perhaps every one of us carries a place we’d rather not revisit. A place where we wish we had stayed. But the gospel does not end in that empty place. God still calls us. And he sets us once again within his story, a story greater than the places where we fell short.

Let us pray….