Ancient kings did too. And sometimes, they needed a little help deciphering them. Take Pharaoh, for example.

He was troubled by dreams, unsettling visions that seemed to hold the fate of his kingdom. He called upon all the wise men of Egypt, the magicians, the enchanters… but none could unlock the meaning behind the strange images.

Then, someone remembered Joseph.

You know the story – sold into slavery by his brothers, imprisoned on false charges. But even in chains, Joseph had a gift: an uncanny ability to interpret dreams. Word reached Pharaoh, and Joseph was summoned.

Now, imagine the scene. Joseph, a young Hebrew, brought before the most powerful ruler in the world. He doesn't cower. He doesn't beg. Instead, according to Legends of the Jews (Ginzberg), when Joseph came before the king, "he bowed down to the ground, and he ascended to the third step, while the king sat upon the fourth from the top." It's a subtle detail, but it speaks volumes about the respect and protocol demanded by the court.

Pharaoh, anxious and perhaps a little desperate, addresses Joseph directly. "O young man, my servant beareth witness concerning thee, that thou art the best and most discerning person I can consult with."

He's laying it on thick, right? But there's more.

He continues, "I pray thee, vouchsafe unto me the same favors which thou didst bestow on this servant of mine, and tell me what events they are which the visions of my dreams foreshow." Pharaoh is acknowledging Joseph’s past success, the very thing that got him out of prison. He's banking on it happening again.

And then comes the kicker, the part that reveals Pharaoh's true fear and his need for honest counsel. He says, "I desire thee to suppress naught out of fear, nor shalt thou flatter me with lying words, or with words that please me. Tell me the truth, though it be sad and alarming."

Think about the weight of that request. Pharaoh is giving Joseph permission to speak truth to power, even if that truth is terrifying. He’s essentially saying, “I need to know what’s coming, no matter how bad it is.”

It’s a powerful moment. It sets the stage for the unfolding drama, the interpretation of the dreams, and the events that will ultimately save Egypt from famine.

But it also makes you wonder: how often do we truly ask for the unvarnished truth, even when we suspect it might be "sad and alarming?" And how often are we brave enough to deliver it?