Genesis 39: 9-11, 16-17

So the chief cupbearer told his dream to Joseph and said to him, “In my dream there was a vine before me, and on the vine there were three branches. As soon as it budded, its blossoms shot forth, and the clusters ripened into grapes. Pharaoh’s cup was in my hand, and I took the grapes and pressed them into Pharaoh’s cup and placed the cup in Pharaoh’s hand.”

When the chief baker saw that the interpretation was favorable, he said to Joseph, “I also had a dream: there were three cake baskets on my head, and in the uppermost basket there were all sorts of baked food for Pharaoh, but the birds were eating it out of the basket on my head.”

Genesis 39: 9-11, 16-17

Every one of us has dreams.

Some fade before you wake up. Others linger with surprising clarity. Some are clearly the result of a late-night snack, while others unsettle us—or encourage us—in ways we can’t quite explain. For thousands of years, humanity has tried to make sense of dreams and nightmares alike, searching for meaning beyond the moment.

Joseph understood this well. He had experienced powerful dreams of his own, dreams that shaped his life in ways he never could have predicted. But Joseph also knew something deeper and wiser: “Do not interpretations belong to God?” He recognized that meaning doesn’t come from human insight alone—it comes from God.

In the prison, Joseph encounters two men with remarkably similar yet profoundly different dreams. Both had been imprisoned by Pharaoh. Both were anxious. Both wanted answers. And God, through Joseph, provided clarity. The cupbearer would be restored to Pharaoh’s favor in three days. The baker, however, would be executed within that same timeframe.

What confirmed the truth of the interpretations? Time. The dreams unfolded exactly as Joseph said they would.

We often linger on the cupbearer’s story because it ends with restoration and hope. The baker’s dream, on the other hand, makes us uncomfortable. The outcome wasn’t what he wanted—or what we’d hope for. And yet, even there, Joseph didn’t soften the truth or avoid it. He faithfully shared what God revealed, proving that truth still matters even when it’s hard to hear.

There’s something sobering—but also strangely clarifying—about that.

Like the baker, each of us lives under a death sentence. Scripture reminds us that life is fragile and brief, even when we’d rather not think about it. So here’s a question worth sitting with: How would you respond if you knew you had less than 72 hours to live?

That question isn’t meant to frighten us—it’s meant to wake us up.

Knowing that our time is limited gives our days meaning. It invites us to consider what truly matters, who we trust, and where our hope rests. The good news of the gospel is that death is not the end of the story. In Christ, even the hardest truths are wrapped in grace, and even the finality of death is met with resurrection hope.

Joseph’s faithfulness in prison reminds us that God is present in every circumstance—whether the news is joyful or devastating. And for us, it’s a reminder to live with open hearts, honest faith, and a hope that reaches beyond today.

Because when we understand the brevity of life, we’re finally free to live it well.