I said before that I’m no theologian; I’m just a word nerd with a keyboard, and I see the world through stories. I said before that in the story world, we say, “Plot reveals character.” I can’t sit here behind my safe little keyboard and judge the justice of Job’s situation or determine the value of his suffering. That’s God’s business, and I won’t attempt it. But this is a story, so what I will attempt to do is find the arc.

Stories and characters follow a pattern; they progress toward a goal, a growth, a change, an ending. We call this progression their arc. Though we often simplify it to say “plot reveals character,” I would also add, “plot refines character.” Something grows or changes or clarifies in the character along the way. No character should come out of the story the way they went in. In the story way, I see Job revealed, clarified, and refined through his suffering.

Consider where Job began: he was so afraid of offending God, so determined to never put a foot wrong and to do everything so perfectly right, he used to make extra offerings just in case his children sinned.

When these celebrations ended—sometimes after several days—Job would purify his children. He would get up early in the morning and offer a burnt offering for each of them. For Job said to himself, “Perhaps my children have sinned and have cursed God in their hearts.” This was Job’s regular practice. (Job 1:5)

Now I’m not here to tell you what he did was right or wrong. God already made that judgment – he said there was no one on earth as good as Job. He claimed Job as his own. Whether not it was necessary, whether not we too should adopt the practice – all of that is beside the point. The point is Job went from so scared to offend God in chapter one that he was making extra unnecessary sacrifices to wailing this in chapter 7:

Why won’t you leave me alone,
    at least long enough for me to swallow!
If I have sinned, what have I done to you,
    O watcher of all humanity?
Why make me your target?
    Am I a burden to you?^[b]
Why not just forgive my sin
    and take away my guilt?
For soon I will lie down in the dust and die.
    When you look for me, I will be gone. (Job 7:19-21)

It seems to me, story lover that I am, something has just been revealed in Job’s heart. It took breaking it open to find it, but I think it’s what I think it is: avoidance.

All my life, I, too, have been a careful rule-follower. Can’t say I was nearly as successful as Job, but I gave it my best. I thought I had clear motives: I wanted to be good, truly I did. It was not until years later that it occurred to me there might have been a little more to it. See, as long as I obeyed the rules, the teacher never talked to me. As long as I obeyed the rules, I never made the center of attention. As long as I obeyed the rules, the eyes of the crowd would fix firmly somewhere else. As a child who was painfully shy and scared of everything, invisibility was my armor, and the best way to be invisible was to play by the rules.

But God is not easily fooled. And his goal, believe it or not, is not to avoid relationship with us. It is not the rules he wants us to obey; it’s him. Personal obedience, rather than rule obedience, requires, in fact, relationship. When I carried my rule-following avoidance technique into my relationship with God, he put his foot down so hard on my invisible armor it cracked like an egg. I was a teenager when I prayed, “Lord, tell me what rules to follow and I will follow them!” and he said, so clearly, “No. Follow ME.”

So is it possible that Job, for all his goodness, for all his integrity, for all his righteousness – still fell short of God’s heart for humankind? Is it possible he wants us to be something more than merely righteous? Is it possible… he wants us to know him?

At least I can take comfort in this:
    Despite the pain,
    I have not denied the words of the Holy One. (Job 6:10)

Job was satisfied with his transactional relationship with God. This was strictly professional: a product or service was requested, a product or service was rendered, a payment was expected. No need to interact beyond the transaction. You asked me to do this, I did it, I get my reward. He’d done all the right things and gone on about his merry way, satisfied that God would accept his gifts and sacrifices, that God would be appeased. But was God satisfied with only that, and no more? Since when has the real God only asked to be appeased? Was that his goal in making mankind in his image? Do we only want our children to appease us, or do we hope to enjoy something more from them than that? Don’t we want to know and be known by our children? Doesn’t it bring us joy to know them, to guide them, to watch them grow into themselves? Does God maybe want the same?

God had given Job so many good things, and Job had been content. But I think God wanted Job to have more. I think God wanted Job to see there was more. I think God was getting Job pruned and ready to grow in ways Job never even imagined he could. Because God’s idea of good is bigger than our idea of good. Why wouldn’t God just leave Job alone like Job had asked?

Maybe because he still had more to give.

But patience. All we see in chapter 7 is the foreshadowing of growth to come, the beginning of a character arc with the stone pulled backward in the slingshot, ready to fly – the question: why won’t you just leave me alone?

Job’s friends, though, have not finished. Shh, it’s Bildad’s turn with the mic.