Talk About Trouble: Chapter 23

If only I knew where to find God,
I would go to his court. (Job 23:3)

I go east, but he is not there.
I go west, but I cannot find him. (Job 23:8)

A quick, oversimplified, poorly explained lesson in Hebrew poetical structure:

Hebrew poetry is generally structured with a technique called parallelism. Parallelism is not a lyrical structure, meaning it is not about the sounds or cadence of words like most English poetical structures. It is a conceptual structure, so it has more to do with the ideas being expressed. The way I think about it is a rhyming of thoughts rather than a rhyming of words.

Hebrew poetry is often written in couplets that contain these “thought rhymes” directly. These “thought rhymes” can be two ideas that are synonymous but reworded, like these: “For I have stayed on God’s paths;/ I have followed his ways and not turned aside.” (v. 11) Stayed, followed, and not turned aside are all synonymous in meaning; God’s paths and his ways are likewise synonyms. They can be two ideas that mean the same expressed in opposite ways, like these: “But once he has made his decision, who can change his mind?/ Whatever he wants to do, he does.” (v. 13) No one can change his mind and he does what he wants to do mean the same thing, but they have opposite subjects (no one/he), opposite verbs (change, does what he wants), and yet mean the same conceptually . Or they can be a foundational idea and one that builds on top of it, like these: “If only I knew where to find God, I would go to his court.” (v. 3) The first idea directly leads to the next, and the second idea is only the natural progression of the first.

But the best Hebrew poetry carries this structure farther. The couplets themselves become single units in a larger rhyming of thought; the structure grows and grows, building on itself, to a peak that expresses the main idea of the poem. I think of it like switchbacks, or a spiral trail up a mountain. Mountains have tremendous spiritual significance to the Semitic peoples. Noah’s ark came to rest on the top of Mount Ararat when God’s judgment had passed; Abraham climbed a mountain to sacrifice Isaac and receive the substitute sacrifice; Moses climbed a mountain to commune with God and receive his commands. The spiritual significance of mountains was not limited to the Jews in ancient religion, either. When the Bible refers to “tearing down their high places,” in regards to idol worship, it means that literally. Many temples and alters were constructed on top of mountains in that part of the world and several others. The gods were said to dwell on top of mountains, most famously like Mount Olympus of the Greeks. Wherever there were mountains, it seems, people found some kind of meaning in them. I would even argue we still do.

The ancient peoples, too, saw symbolic significance in ascension: a person began at the bottom too close their ideas, beliefs, questions, or problems to see clearly, and as they rose higher and higher on the proverbial mountain side of contemplation and gained distance from those things, they could see the lay of the land better and better, if you will. Sometimes distance is needed to see the full picture. Up the mountain of thought, the poets went, to gain perspective and spiritual clarity, and then back down into their real life to put into practice whatever revelation they received at the top.

If we apply this structure to the book of Job, Job is just beginning to descend from that peak of revelation that will change how he approaches his life from now on. He has contemplated the failure of his own efforts to achieve a peaceful and prosperous life, despite his flawless actions, and has climbed through the realization that he needs someone stronger than himself to mediate between him and God. He has reached the absolute peak of revelation with his declaration that he will see his Redeemer stand upon the earth, and now, he begins his descent back into his life with this changed spiritual mindset and repaired and refined theology. In other words, now that Job understands his own efforts are not enough and he needs someone to save him, the question is –

What now?

Or, in the words of Francis Schaeffer, How Then Shall We Live?

Job’s friends have made it clear what they believe. They very much represent what the people down in the valley on the other side, who have not climbed this mountain, still believe. Literarily, they provide a contrast to show the extent of his spiritual growth and change.

Physically, literally, they present an insurmountable obstacle. At this point, Job is in an impossible rhetorical position: even though all evidence is on his side, and even though he is telling the truth, he cannot win this argument because of the prejudice of his opponents. Their preconceived beliefs about how the world should be, how they want it to be, prevent them from seeing this situation for what it is. Their own arguments are circular and self-perpetuating: because you are suffering, you are sinful, and because you are sinful, you are untrustworthy, and because you are untrustworthy, your self-defense is sinful, and because you are sinful, you are suffering. They have fallen into the fallacy of presumed guilt. Job cannot reason with them because they don’t believe a word he says. They don’t believe a word he says because of who they believe he is. They believe he is someone he is not, but because of what that is, he cannot even defend himself. He is entirely bound and gagged, and though they tied the gag themselves, they condemn him for not answering.

In frustration, Job wishes for a more reasonable audience: God.

Would he use his great power to argue with me?
No, he would give me a fair hearing.
Honest people can reason with him,
so I would be forever acquitted by my judge. (Job 23:6-7)

I can just imagine Job rolling his eyes, throwing up his hands and saying, “I wish I could talk to God and settle this!” He has no doubt that the God who sees all and knows all truth would at least acknowledge what he is saying as true, unlike his “friends”!

This is where Job has arrived on his spiritual journey: he has realized that what he really needs to do, since no human can offer him the right solution, since no human can offer him hope, is to go straight to the source.

But he knows where I am going.
And when he tests me, I will come out as pure as gold. (Job 23:10)

He needs to talk to God. He does not think it will change anything –

But once he has made his decision, who can change his mind?
    Whatever he wants to do, he does.
So he will do to me whatever he has planned.
    He controls my destiny.
No wonder I am so terrified in his presence.
    When I think of it, terror grips me. (Job 23:13-15)

But it is the only consolation he has left to him, to be acquitted by God. So he wants to talk to God.

Small hiccup: Where is God?

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 22

Then you will take delight in the Almighty
    and look up to God.
You will pray to him, and he will hear you,
    and you will fulfill your vows to him.
You will succeed in whatever you choose to do,
    and light will shine on the road ahead of you. (Job 22:26-28)

If you could summarize almost every major world religion, it would sound like Job 22:26-28. 1) If you make this deity, ideal, being, or force your focus and 2) follow all these rules – pray in this way, follow these precepts, etc. 3) then you will get everything you want (or, sometimes, everything we tell you you *should* want). That’s it. That’s the basic premise of *almost* every religion that has ever existed. Do what we tell you and you’ll get what you came for. Even exchange. What a bargain.

So Eliphaz refuses to concede Job’s point, then. He won’t budge. The more Job insists he is innocent, the more blatantly Eliphaz accuses him.

Is it because you’re so pious that he accuses you
and brings judgment against you?
No, it’s because of your wickedness!
There’s no limit to your sins. (Job 22:4-5)

Since Job won’t tell them what he’s done, he begins to invent accusations, in case maybe Job doesn’t understand what sin is. He gives him examples of things he may have done without even realizing it –

For example, you must have lent money to your friend
    and demanded clothing as security.
    Yes, you stripped him to the bone.
You must have refused water for the thirsty
    and food for the hungry.
You probably think the land belongs to the powerful
    and only the privileged have a right to it!
You must have sent widows away empty-handed
    and crushed the hopes of orphans. (Job 22:6-9)

There is a glaring problem with this argument, of course. 1) Job has already told them he has done nothing but take care of the weak and the poor and 2) they’ve seen it for themselves! His reputation is untainted by scandal, people have nothing but good things to say about him, and no one will testify against him. There is no foundation for these accusations. Poorly reasoned, Professor.

Submit to God, and you will have peace;
then things will go well for you. (Job 22:21)

In verse 21 Eliphaz reaches the culmination and conclusion of his argument. You can solve this problem by just repenting and doing what God said, Job. Just get it over with already so we can all go home. Eliphaz, splash! in the water saving his drowning buddy Job.

One small problem, of course. He has not been listening. Job has nothing to apologize for!

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 21

“How can your empty clichés comfort me?
All your explanations are lies!” (Job 21:34)

When our children are little and we want them to stop crying, we say, “You’re okay. It’s okay. Everything is okay.” Sometimes it’s true. But more often it’s dismissive. And what are we really saying except, “Your suffering is bothering me. Please stop expressing it!”

We never grow out of this discomfort with others’ suffering. Pain is a shared experience, whether we mean it to be or not. We have many ways of shaming the hurting into silence; we tell them it’s not as bad as they say, others have it worse, they should be grateful that it isn’t worse. Stop whining. Put your big girl pants on. Everyone has to do it. It’s temporary. You can handle it. This is what you get for [fill in the blank]. Deal with it. What we’re really saying is: I am powerless to help you, and it hurts, so if you could please stop hurting me that’d be great. Who, I ask, are we actually trying to help?

Job called his friends out. He said you know what’s really unhelpful right now guys? Lies. Telling me that what’s right in front of my face is not right in front of my face. Telling me it’s not so bad, it’s okay, everything is going to be okay when my skin is *literally* falling off, my children are dead, I’ve been robbed and wrecked and reduced to my final breath – not helpful. You’re supposed to be comforting me, and all you’re really worried about is you.

I said it before, and I’ll say it again: humans are miserable comforters. The fact of the matter is most of the time we don’t have the emotional capacity to carry others’ suffering, and though we want the best for the people we love, we’re too arrogant – or too scared – to admit we’re not it. So we try. And we lie. And we drown ourselves beside them.

When I was a little girl, my grandparents had a pool. I was out swimming one day with some of my cousins when the younger sister went too far into the deep end and started to drown. I remember watching her flail and scream, “HELP!” and panicking because I had no idea what to do. Of course I would have pulled her out if I could have, but I was smaller than she was and could not swim! But her older sister yelled, “I’ll save you!” and dove in after her. I remember watching the younger sister almost pull her under in her panic, and I watched them both struggle back to the side of the pool.

I have never seen my grandfather angrier than he was that day. He came tearing out of the house, ripped the life ring off the fence, and shouted, “Do you see THIS! NEVER THROW YOURSELF IN TO SAVE SOMEONE WHO IS DROWNING! You throw THIS!” and he threw the life ring down on the ground so hard the smack terrified us all.

I feel his rebuke to the corners of my spherical soul.

My cousin had meant to be brave and valiant. She did all she could think to do in the moment. But she had relied too much on herself, and my grandfather was right. She could have gotten them both drowned.

In the book of Job, Job is drowning in disillusionment, and he’s going to drown them all.

Why do the wicked prosper,
    growing old and powerful?
They live to see their children grow up and settle down,
    and they enjoy their grandchildren.
Their homes are safe from every fear,
    and God does not punish them. (Job 21:7-9)

Job confronts them with the truth: not everyone gets what we believe they deserve. Of all the facts of life, this one is the hardest to reconcile with a good God. Life. Is. Not. Fair. His friends have done what most do; clung to the belief that cheaters, thieves, liars, the greedy and selfish and cruel, will eventually get what’s coming to them. They have clung to the belief that their own prosperity is the direct result of God’s favorable opinion of their righteousness. They have lived in denial, and Job is making them face what they do not want to face: LIFE. IS. NOT. FAIR.

They spend their days in prosperity,
    then go down to the grave in peace.
And yet they say to God, ‘Go away.
    We want no part of you and your ways.
Who is the Almighty, and why should we obey him?
    What good will it do us to pray?’
(They think their prosperity is of their own doing,
    but I will have nothing to do with that kind of thinking.) (Job 21:13-14)

When I was teaching, a colleague of mine told me one day, “Don’t worry too much about cheaters. The honest kids will call them out. It bothers them when someone else gets the credit they worked for without doing the work.” And you know what? It was true. I didn’t have to police the cheaters because their hard-working peers were angry enough to turn them in. Job has seen too many people get the blessings he got without putting in the work. He’s angry. They cheated, and he didn’t. No one hates a cheater as much as the cheated! But he’s angry because he knows God already knows, God has the power to do something about it, and he appears to have done nothing to stop them or punish them for it. It is God Job accuses. And even he cannot believe his wrath’s audacity.

My complaint is with God, not with people.
    I have good reason to be so impatient.
Look at me and be stunned.
    Put your hand over your mouth in shock.
When I think about what I am saying, I shudder.
    My body trembles. (Job 21:4-6)

It’s not like Job wants this to be true. That is what his friends don’t understand. He’s not saying any of this to justify or excuse his own actions. He is just in a position where he cannot deny it any longer. I can hear weariness in him when he says,

Look, I know what you’re thinking.
    I know the schemes you plot against me.
You will tell me of rich and wicked people
    whose houses have vanished because of their sins.
But ask those who have been around,
    and they will tell you the truth.
Evil people are spared in times of calamity
    and are allowed to escape disaster.
No one criticizes them openly
    or pays them back for what they have done.
When they are carried to the grave,
    an honor guard keeps watch at their tomb.
A great funeral procession goes to the cemetery.
    Many pay their respects as the body is laid to rest,
    and the earth gives sweet repose. (Job 21:27-33)

I can hear him saying, “Guys, I can’t pretend anymore. I am tired of pretending!” Grief has a way of making us crave something real.

The question is – will Job’s friends finally throw him a life ring? Or are they going to keep throwing themselves in instead?

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 19

Job 19 contains one of the most quoted passages in the Bible. It is certainly the most quoted from the book of Job, the one we can really sink our teeth into and feel good about it, the one we like, the moment of hope and redemption in the midst of despair:

But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives,
    and he will stand upon the earth at last.
And after my body has decayed,
    yet in my body I will see God!
I will see him for myself.
    Yes, I will see him with my own eyes.
    I am overwhelmed at the thought! (Job 19:25-27)

These verses are beautiful, a true anthem for all who are suffering. This is the sturdier hope, the eternal hope that carries us through our worst moments! But we’ll come back to that. Job 19 is more than just these three verses, and there is a verse here that has haunted me for days. I have meditated on it, troubled over the errors I have found in my own heart at different points along the way, wondered if maybe we don’t talk about it enough.

What is so wrong about the argument made by Job’s three friends?

Remember when I said sometimes I wonder? Well, I think I’m starting to figure it out.

You think you’re better than I am,
using my humiliation as evidence of my sin. (Job 19:5)

If we view suffering or punishment – humiliation, as Job puts it, or in other versions disgrace, reproach, troubles, problems, shame – as our sole evidence of sin — if we reject Job’s plea of innocence as the deceit of a guilty man — then who else will we accuse of the same? Who else will we not believe suffered though he was innocent? Who else endured punishment, the full weight of God’s wrath, though he himself did nothing wrong? If we take the side of Job’s three friends, we will look right over Jesus.

I don’t know if I said that loud enough.

IF WE VIEW SUFFERING AS EVIDENCE OF WRONGDOING, WE ARE BLIND TO THE MESSIAH.

In some small way, it reminds me of the doctors and other medical professionals who were so bent on fixing me, the young mom who clearly didn’t know what she was doing, and what I was doing “wrong” that they almost missed the heart defects in my babies. They were blind to the real problem because they had fixated on an assumed problem: me. What if we are blind to the real solution (Jesus!) because we are fixated on something else? What if we are trying so hard to do everything right to save ourselves that we don’t even see the humble, homeless, hungry and exhausted traveling tradesman who says things we don’t like and gets himself arrested and crucified? What if we let our own self-righteousness blind us to God’s greatest gift of mercy and grace?

What if Job had gotten everything he believed he deserved, what if he’d been allowed to keep it, and what if he’d died believing he’d been strong enough to save himself? What if he’d stood before the God of the universe and found, at the end, his own righteousness compared to God’s – what if he’d seen how short he fell, not because he was not the best he could be, but because he was just too small? What if God had let him believe he, in his own mere human power, could compare with God? Would that have been just? Is it just to let a toddler arm wrestle an adult for his salvation? What if the justice of God considers knowledge of things greater than our minds can hold – what if God’s justice is full and complete, based on things we can’t even know. Are we arrogant enough to say such things do not exist?

Throughout this conversation, because he has suddenly become aware of his own vulnerability, Job has repeatedly cried out for a mediator, someone to stand between him and God and turn away God’s wrath from him. He knows he has done all that he knows to do to earn God’s favor and blessing, and still it has been ripped from his hands. He knows there is nothing more he can do on this earth than what he has already done! He knows he needs someone with more oomph than he has to stand up for him. And it took coming to the absolute end of his own power and ability and failing to gain what he’d tried to gain – security – for Job to realize his need for a Savior, for someone stronger and wiser and more powerful. And it took suffering “unjustly” by his understanding for Job to understand that suffering is not only a direct punishment for the sufferer’s sin. It took all of this for him to be able to see and understand clearly the Savior who was coming. It took all of this for him to be able to recognize Jesus.

And when he finally sees clearly, that is when he cries:

But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives,
    and he will stand upon the earth at last.
And after my body has decayed,
    yet in my body I will see God!
I will see him for myself.
    Yes, I will see him with my own eyes.
    I am overwhelmed at the thought! (Job 19:25-27)

I know on the front cover of this book, I know in the prologue, the first two chapters, I KNOW it looks like what the Lord has allowed done to Job is completely and entirely unfair. The Lord doesn’t even like doing it – it’s not the sort of thing that brings him pleasure. But we know he is faithful and just and accomplishes his own purposes in his own ways, so how does these two truths reconcile? I don’t know the mind of the Lord, and I can’t see all he accomplished by allowing this to happen to Job. But I do see this: God, who loved Job with a love we cannot even fathom, faithfully corrected Job’s vision so that Job could see a hope that would outlast his own life. God, who loved Job with a love that has no boundaries, stripped Job of the belief that he could save himself, so that he could see what his friends could not – so that Job could see Jesus, plain and clear as day, thousands of years before he walked on this earth.

God looked at Job and said, “I love him so much, I will give him more than the earth. I will give him myself.”

Let that knock your brains around a bit. Thousands of years before Job’s Redeemer walked on the earth, Job said,

Oh, that my words could be recorded.
Oh, that they could be inscribed on a monument,
carved with an iron chisel and filled with lead,
engraved forever in the rock. (Job 19: 23-24)

And then he said –

I know that my Redeemer lives,
and he will stand upon the earth at last. (Job 19:25)

…I will see God! I will see him for myself. (Job 19:26-27)

Of all the words Job wanted to save for us to hear, it was these. Of all the knowledge he had, it was this knowledge that he wanted to ring like a town bell through the ages for all to hear! That though even he, Job, with all his goodness and power and righteousness, was not enough to save himself from the hand of God should God decide against him, there is an even greater hope than self-sufficiency. There IS someone who stands between men and God, and there IS someone who turns God’s wrath from us all.

There IS A SAVIOR.

It is God himself, the Word made flesh.

There is a Jesus. ❤

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 18

Oh, boy. Bildad’s back, and he’s changing his tack. For a refresher because it’s hard to keep straight which friend said what, remember: Bildad’s first argument was that Job’s kids must’ve sinned and brought on this punishment, but that it would all get better if Job would just say he’s sorry for his kids’ sins and move on. Those naughty kids are to blame! Definitely the right thing to tell a grieving parent, Bildad. Good job. How’s that foot taste?

How long before you stop talking?
    Speak sense if you want us to answer!
Do you think we are mere animals?
    Do you think we are stupid?
You may tear out your hair in anger,
    but will that destroy the earth?
    Will it make the rocks tremble? (Job 18:2-4)

Oh, wow, that good, huh? I don’t know about you, but that whole “you can rip your hair out, but it won’t change anything” sounds kinda like something you might say to a tantrum-throwing toddler. And then! And then Bildad tosses his whole “it was your kids’ fault” right out the window and comes straight for Job:

Terrors surround the wicked
    and trouble them at every step.
Hunger depletes their strength,
    and calamity waits for them to stumble.
Disease eats their skin;
    death devours their limbs. (Job 18:11-13)

Hmmm quick context refresher:

So Satan left the Lord’s presence, and he struck Job with terrible boils from head to foot. (Job 2:7)

And another jab:

The homes of the wicked will burn down;
burning sulfur rains on their houses. (Job 18:15)

And some more context review:

While he was still speaking, another messenger arrived with this news: “The fire of God has fallen from heaven and burned up your sheep and all the shepherds. I am the only one who escaped to tell you.” (Job 1:16)

And let’s make the last blow really drive the point home:

They will have neither children nor grandchildren,
    nor any survivor in the place where they lived.
People in the west are appalled at their fate;
    people in the east are horrified.
They will say, ‘This was the home of a wicked person,
    the place of one who rejected God.’” (Job 18:19-21)

While he was still speaking, another messenger arrived with this news: “Your sons and daughters were feasting in their oldest brother’s home. Suddenly, a powerful wind swept in from the wilderness and hit the house on all sides. The house collapsed, and all your children are dead. I am the only one who escaped to tell you.” (Job 1:18-19)

Oh, Bildad. Never one to pull your punches, were you. If this is comfort and consolation, I’ll pass. First – “your tantrum is childish” then – “you big sinner.” Wow. I hope I’ve never sounded quite like Bildad. I am afraid I may have, once or twice. Or more <wince>. Eesh. Not a pretty picture in that mirror.

I suppose this is what we all look like when we start expressing opinions we don’t have enough information to support. When we think we know things we don’t actually know. When we start trying to to make ourselves right rather than trying to seek the real right. God’s right.

I used to work at the writing center in college, and so often I would have students come in with a paper they had written entirely without evidence. I would watch them pick out quotes from whatever source supported their arguments best, and I would get to thinking how poorly we humans reason. Over and over I taught people to start from the evidence as the foundation, build main points from the ground up, and put the thesis on like the roof to cover it all. I would tell them, again and again, that if you build the roof first it’s going to collapse.

Again and again, I am guilty of forming opinions about others that are not supported by the evidence. I build my roofs with nothing underneath them, like Bildad. Without support, a roof is just a pile of sticks in the mud. A useless waste of space and resources. How many of my opinions are the same?

Lord, shut my mouth to any but your words!

And in response to this barefaced attack, when the false is exposed for what it is and the truth shines out with its real light – then Job sees what’s been there all along.

The best part is coming. Job is about to find his eternal hope. ❤

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 17

My spirit is crushed,
and my life is nearly snuffed out.
The grave is ready to receive me. (Job 17:1)

I have been stuck on Job 17 for days. I have been grieving it with Job, feeling the poignancy of his lament. There are questions here, real questions, that are worth asking.

Where then is my hope?
Can anyone find it? (Job 17:15)

Job 17 is the tree our American Christianity kite gets so wrapped up in: misery, the kind of misery that makes death look friendlier than life. The yearning for a quick end, the fear of lingering on for no purpose but to suffer. If you’ve ever heard someone you love express a desire to die, if you’ve ever had to consider the choice between suffering and death for a loved one, if you’ve ever questioned which is better for yourself, you know – Job’s words tear down a veil we have constructed for a reason. It covers the picture of Dorian Gray; it wraps the ghost of Christmas future; it disguises the shadow of death. We are afraid to look behind it; we are afraid to become what’s behind it.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4, NKJV)

There are things we teach our children: we don’t touch fire, we don’t look at the sun, and we don’t greet death like he’s welcome here – like he’s one of us, like he’s part of us. These things are dangerous. They damage.

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

– Dylan Thomas, Do not go gentle into that good night

What do we know of death but its cold shoulder? What should it know of us but ours. Right? And yet, death lurks over us; it is written into our cells and seasons and natural world, and though we try to ignore its presence, it blocks the light and warmth of the sun. It casts a shadow. And we live in it.

When someone like Job – someone who we admired, revered even – falls into this level of despair, of yearning for death – it calls into question everything we live for. It makes us look at death, and most of us would rather ignore that face. American Christians especially shy away from it. Life. Jesus brings life. We talk about life.

The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life. (John 10:10)

Sometimes, I think we talk about life so much that we have forgotten what it means to live in death’s shadow. We live as if we will go on living forever, when in fact, we are made to live as those who are dying. We build the wrong things, invest our time and energy in the temporal while neglecting the eternal. We trade the eternal joy of heaven for the fleeting pleasures of earth. This is the danger of forgetting death: we wish, we hope, we desire poorly.

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased. – C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, and Other Addresses

Job’s depression is hard to sit beside, hard to read, hard to face because it lurks within us all. In our deep places that we keep shut off from our waking mind, the places where our fears reside, the question floats atop an answer few of us have the courage to test: what will I do when my hope is gone? What will happen when there’s nothing left I want?

My days are over.
My hopes have disappeared.
My heart’s desires are broken. (Job 17:11)

By this point, Job has given up trying to convince his friends of his innocence with his arguments. For that, he appeals to God, who alone knows the state of his heart. His anger is running thin, an energy that he has exhausted, and all that is left under it is sorrow. His anger has left him depleted. He’s tired.

What if I go to the grave^[a]
    and make my bed in darkness?
What if I call the grave my father,
    and the maggot my mother or my sister?
Where then is my hope?
    Can anyone find it?
No, my hope will go down with me to the grave.
    We will rest together in the dust! (Job 17:13-16)

Look at his language. I realize this is a translation, that it can only convey his meaning so well because different cultures embed their own beliefs into their language, but in English, the language around death rings similar to the language around sleep, and in some ways, one is a parallel, symbolic of the other. I believe from the translations I have read – how Jesus had to clarify that Lazarus was dead because the disciples thought he really meant sleeping, how “he rested with his fathers” is the way of saying a man died – that the same connotations are embedded in Job’s language, too. I don’t know that. But I suspect. I suspect what translates as “make my bed in darkness” and “we will rest together in the dust” are both fairly straight translations. The Strong’s Hebrew concordance supports this. Job is tired, and the language he uses is language of rest. He craves satisfying rest; he finds none left in life, and since his exhaustion seems so permanent, he seeks a rest more permanent.

And this is why I think the book is Job is not actually about suffering, as is commonly believed. I think the book of Job is about hope. Because hope is our reason for carrying on through pain and suffering and exhaustion. Job, in chapter 17, could find no more reason to carry on – because he’d misplaced his hope. Like so many of us, his hope was in the temporal. Like so many of us, his hope was flimsy. Like so many of us, his hope snapped under the weight – of death.

No, my hope will go down with me to the grave.
We will rest together in the dust! (Job 17:16)

Job needs better hope. His life depends on it. Job needs a Savior – the same Savior who is foreshadowed in his own feelings, words, circumstances:

My spirit is crushed,
and my life is nearly snuffed out.
The grave is ready to receive me. (Job 17:1)

He took Peter, James, and John with him, and he became deeply troubled and distressed. He told them, “My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.” (Mark 14:33-34)

I am surrounded by mockers.
I watch how bitterly they taunt me. (Job 17:2)

God has made a mockery of me among the people;
they spit in my face. (Job 17:6)

The soldiers took Jesus into the courtyard of the governor’s headquarters (called the Praetorium) and called out the entire regiment. They dressed him in a purple robe, and they wove thorn branches into a crown and put it on his head. Then they saluted him and taunted, “Hail! King of the Jews!” And they struck him on the head with a reed stick, spit on him, and dropped to their knees in mock worship. (Mark 15:16-19)

You must defend my innocence, O God,
since no one else will stand up for me.
You have closed their minds to understanding,
but do not let them triumph. (Job 17:3-4)

Inside, the leading priests and the entire high council were trying to find evidence against Jesus, so they could put him to death. But they couldn’t find any. Many false witnesses spoke against him, but they contradicted each other. (Mark 14:55-56)

They betray their friends for their own advantage,
so let their children faint with hunger. (Job 17:5)

Then Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve disciples, went to the leading priests to arrange to betray Jesus to them. (Mark 14:10)

My eyes are swollen with weeping,
and I am but a shadow of my former self. (Job 17:7)

Then Jesus wept. (John 11:35)

The virtuous are horrified when they see me.
The innocent rise up against the ungodly. (Job 17:8)

A large crowd trailed behind, including many grief-stricken women. But Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, don’t weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. (Luke 23:27-28)

When the Roman officer overseeing the execution saw what had happened, he worshiped God and said, “Surely this man was innocent.” And when all the crowd that came to see the crucifixion saw what had happened, they went home in deep sorrow. (Luke 23:47-48)

Even as Job cried out for better hope, his life prophesied his coming: the sturdy hope who can bear the weight of even death and loss and suffering. Messiah. Hold on, Job. He’s coming! Better hope has come at last!

Job wants Jesus. ❤

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 16

So we’re back to this: Eliphaz is, again, insisting Job must have sinned because everybody sins and *obviously* God is punishing him, so, please just admit it already and let’s move on! And he hands to mic back to Job to catch this historic confession: how the mighty Really Great Guy Job has (finally) fallen! Over to you, Job.

I have heard all this before.
What miserable comforters you are! (Job 16:2)

All right, so he’s got to warm up a little more. No biggie, we’ll give him a minute to get into the swing of things. Sidebar – remind me why these guys came all that way probably on foot or maybe worse, on donkey, again? To force a confession out of him, right?

When three of Job’s friends heard of the tragedy he had suffered, they got together and traveled from their homes to comfort and console him. (Job 2:11a)

Oh, that’s right. Well. This is awkward. Somewhere along the way that “comfort and console” bit seems to have turned to “criticize and condemn.” What a catastrophe.

I could say the same things if you were in my place.
I could spout off criticism and shake my head at you. (Job 16:4)

So to paraphrase, Job’s not happy with the “comfort and consolation” he has received. Return to sender, thank you but no thank you. Now, I know it’s tempting at this moment to get all uppity and self-righteous about how differently we would have handled it if we were these three friends, how we would have done better and been more understanding and actually comforted him – oh, look, Job does that!

But if it were me, I would encourage you.
I would try to take away your grief. (Job 16:5)

– and yeah, I believe him, since he’s got God’s endorsement as a Really Great Guy, but I’ve gotta be honest, I’ve been on Job’s side of this “comfort” and I’ve been on his friends’ side of this “comfort” and yeah, most of us stink just as bad as Job’s friends at this. Most of us, famously in fact, rush in to try to “fix” our friends problems, don’t we? “Well, of course something bad happened. You’re just doing it wrong.” I told you I identify with these three friends, right? I’ve tried that line, too, verily I say to you. A lot, in fact. It’s kind of a compulsion. (I’m working on it, all right?) But I’ve got to be honest – like I said, I’ve been on Job’s side, too. I know I’m not alone. We humans are miserable comforters.

We all want to be the wise one, the one with the answers, the one who swoops in and saves the day with our superior wisdom and right answers. It’s a rush, isn’t it, when you say something and it actually helps someone. When you’re the one who finds the answer everyone else missed. When you’re right.

Small problem. We don’t have a clue what the heck we’re talking about most of the time. We waffle back and forth and talk in circles and backpedal and course correct along the way to try to prove we’re right, rather than trying to actually be right. I had a communication professor who used to put it like this: “humans are not rational beings; we are rationalizing beings.” At the end of our argument, we usually sound something like this: “I’m right and you’re wrong no matter who says what.” Job notices.

Instead, I suffer if I defend myself,
and I suffer no less if I refuse to speak. (Job 16:6)

Job is like guys, you’re already so sure you’re right, there’s *literally* nothing I can say that will change your opinions. We call this a presumption of guilt: because his friends assume he is guilty, anything he says in defense of his innocence they will assume is a lie. They won’t consider evidence that contradicts their opinion as anything but fabrication, they won’t listen to someone they’ve already decided is untrustworthy, and they won’t even ask God about it because they’re so sure he’s on their side. There is no way to correct those who deny any chance of being wrong.

I have to admit, I HATE being wrong. You might not know it by how often I open my mouth when I shouldn’t, but I do, I really do hate being wrong. Being human means I can’t always escape it; I have to try to do things every day that I don’t actually know how to do because life’s classroom operates a little backwards and often puts the test before the lesson. Learning by doing is great and effective and all, except for that part where you have to mess up a bunch and hope nobody gets hurt. Buckle up, everybody!

But as much as I hate being wrong, I have to stay open to the possibility or I’m going to become something worse: incorrigible. Unable to be corrected. Wrong without the possibility of ever being made right. Unsalvageable. Being wrong even momentarily is a miserable thought, but when I think of being wrong permanently – I shudder. Humility becomes a necessity.

So back to the story – Job has determined his friends are operating on a presumption of guilt, which in this case is reliant on a correct belief – that God is never wrong – and a fallacy – that because suffering is a punishment for a crime, all suffering is punishment for a crime.

O God, you have ground me down
and devastated my family.
As if to prove I have sinned, you’ve reduced me to skin and bones.
My gaunt flesh testifies against me. (Job 16:7-8)

The proof is in the pudding, as they say. In Job’s life, the proof is in the illness. There is no other evidence. But, as his friends keep saying, what else do we need?

These are murky waters. Sometimes what sounds so right to our ears ends in dangerous places. We must be careful who we presume guilty by their punishment:

People jeer and laugh at me.
    They slap my cheek in contempt.
    A mob gathers against me.
God has handed me over to sinners.
    He has tossed me into the hands of the wicked.

I didn’t put the reference on the verse above on purpose. Without it – can you tell where it’s from? Who it’s talking about? Is it from the prophets, or the Psalms? Is it something Jesus uttered on the cross? It could be.

Quick refresher: “People jeer and laugh at me. They slap my cheek in contempt.”

Then they began to spit in Jesus’ face and beat him with their fists. And some slapped him, jeering, “Prophesy to us, you Messiah! Who hit you that time?” (Matthew 26:67-68)

Quick refresher, part 2: “A mob gathers against me.”

“Why?” Pilate demanded. “What crime has he committed?”

But the mob roared even louder, “Crucify him!” (Matthew 27:23)

Quick refresher, part 3: “God has handed me over to sinners. He has tossed me into the hands of the wicked.”

So Pilate released Barabbas to them. He ordered Jesus flogged with a lead-tipped whip, then turned him over to the Roman soldiers to be crucified. (Matthew 27:26)

But it’s not in the prophets or the psalms. It’s not in the gospels. It’s right here, in Job. Job 16:10-11. We must be careful who we presume guilty by their punishment. If we fall into the trap of believing the punished are guilty because the guilty are punished, we will miss the one who took our punishment. We will not recognize the Messiah when he comes. What seems like a logical, reasonable argument – if you are suffering, God is punishing you, and if God is punishing you, you are guilty – ends in overlooking the Son of God himself.

The stone that the builders rejected
has now become the cornerstone. (Psalm 118:22)

This is what narrows the narrow gate. We must believe Job when he says:

I wear burlap to show my grief.
    My pride lies in the dust.
My eyes are red with weeping;
    dark shadows circle my eyes.
Yet I have done no wrong,
    and my prayer is pure. (Job 16:15-17)

Though he knows they do not believe him, though he may not see a point in defending himself to them, Job cannot bring himself to admit guilt that doesn’t belong to him, either. So whether or not they believe it, he tells them, point blank, the truth: I am suffering, and I have done no wrong. And in this one statement, he is saying to them, “Everything you believe is wrong.” That is no small declaration to make.

So… if we can’t save ourselves… what, then? Are we all doomed? Is that what Job is preaching, now, that there is no hope and all will come to ruin no matter what we do? “Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless?” Nihilism – life has no meaning and there’s nothing we can do about it. This is what his friends hear him saying, and they can’t stand to believe it. Because if we can’t save ourselves, who else is going to do it, Job?

Even now my witness is in heaven.
    My advocate is there on high.
My friends scorn me,
    but I pour out my tears to God.
I need someone to mediate between God and me,
    as a person mediates between friends. (Job 16:19-21)

Who indeed.

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 15

Oh, wait. Professor Eliphaz isn’t finished. <shh>

What do you know that we don’t?
What do you understand that we do not?
On our side are aged, gray-haired men
much older than your father! (Job 15:9-10)

Okay. Remember when Eliphaz was all gentle and like, “Hey, it’s okay buddy, we all mess up, God will forgive you because you’ve always been so good”? Well. He’s done with that “gentle” condescension bit now. Enter: “openly hostile” condescension. This happens when you correct professors.

Your sins are telling your mouth what to say.
Your words are based on clever deception.
Your own mouth condemns you, not I.
Your own lips testify against you. (Job 15:4-6)

Basically, what this accusation amounts to is this: “Dude, you’re sitting there in God’s handcuffs. We know you messed up. Knock off the foolish bravado. Give it up already!” As far as how they know he’s guilty, he reiterates his first argument, the “I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes so I know it’s true” argument, then picks up Bildad’s argument – “old people say so” – and finally caps it off with, “everybody says so.”

And it is confirmed by the reports of wise men
who have heard the same thing from their fathers—
from those to whom the land was given
long before any foreigners arrived. (Job 15:18-19)

Oh, well. If everybody says so, it must be true! Majority rules, and as we know, the majority is always right, right? So, as a refresher, Eliphaz reminds us what everybody says:

These wicked people are heavy and prosperous;
    their waists bulge with fat.
But their cities will be ruined.
    They will live in abandoned houses
    that are ready to tumble down.
Their riches will not last,
    and their wealth will not endure.
    Their possessions will no longer spread across the horizon. (Job 15:27-29)

Okay. Let’s refresh what happened to Job at the beginning of the book: 1) he started out “heavy and prosperous,” shall we say (it doesn’t say his “waist bulged with fat,” but it does say he was rich); 2) the house his kids were all feasting in collapsed on top of them (“ready to tumble down” much?); 3) all his stuff was stolen and his “riches [did] not last.” What could Eliphaz possibly be insinuating? Surely he’s not suggesting Job is one of these “wicked people.” He’s a good friend. He wouldn’t accuse his best buddy of such a thing.

Let them no longer fool themselves by trusting in empty riches,
for emptiness will be their only reward. (Job 15:31)

He would never.

It’s interesting to note here that all the people he calls as his witnesses that this is the way God works are humans, not God himself. This is interesting because Job has already responded to this in chapter 12.

Wisdom belongs to the aged,
and understanding to the old.

But true wisdom and power are found in God;
counsel and understanding are his. (Job 12:12-13)

He’s already suggested to them that he is done talking to people about God and is ready to hear it straight from God’s own mouth! Human wisdom has failed him; he’s after something sturdier. He’s told his friends, “Listen, I know it’s crazy to approach this omnipotent being as the fragile, foolish human that I am, but I’ve already lost everything, so why not? I’m gonna do it,” and Eliphaz is, once again, trying to talk him down off that self-destructive ledge: “We already know about God! Other people told us! You can’t just go walk up to GOD and just talk to him like you’re good enough! Don’t be STUPID! Don’t you know who that guy IS, Job??”

The wise don’t engage in empty chatter.
What good are such words?
Have you no fear of God,
no reverence for him? (Job 15:2-3)

And Job, again, has a choice. He can take the plea deal, as his friends are suggesting, and try to get back on God’s good side by offering a bunch of sacrifices, maybe? Do a bunch of extra good deeds? And continue the transactional, avoidant relationship he’s always had with God, even though he knows that didn’t work the first time, or he can reassert his innocence and reiterate that actually, what he really wants is a way to restore and enjoy fellowship with his Creator, and take his chances with God. What will he choose? This is the question that keeps us reading, the question that always keeps us reading! What will he choose?!

As a post-Messiah believer who knows it was always God’s desire and plan to restore and enjoy fellowship with us, I’m beginning to see a reason God may have allowed things to go down the way they did. I am not God; I lack his depth of wisdom and understanding, and I’m sure my reasoning only begins to scratch the surface of his. But I am beginning to recognize the same God who pursues me relentlessly, who wants me to come to him with my questions, with my needs, with my knots and tangles, with my successes, with my delights, with my everything – I am beginning to recognize, in Job’s response, the Voice that is calling to him.

And I’m beginning to recognize the same traps that keep people apart from God, too: the safety of self-reliance, the fear of God’s rejection, the temptation to strike the “I won’t bother you if you won’t bother me!” deal. Approaching God to ask for more of him is scary. I mean, do you know who that guy is???

So the question remains: what will Job choose? Will he be brave enough to approach the God he’s been warned away from? Will his desire win over his fear? Or will he run back to the safety of avoidance, the safety of trying to control God from a distance, the safety of trying to earn God’s rewards by doing as many good things as he can think of to do. What will Job choose?

And it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him. (Hebrews 11:6)

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matthew 6:33, NIV)

Glory in his holy name;
    let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
Look to the Lord and his strength;
    seek his face always. (1 Chronicles 16:10, NIV)

God looks down from heaven
    on the entire human race;
he looks to see if anyone is truly wise,
    if anyone seeks God. (Psalm 53:2)

Talk About Trouble: Chapters 12-14

You people really know everything, don’t you?
    And when you die, wisdom will die with you!
Well, I know a few things myself—
    and you’re no better than I am.
    Who doesn’t know these things you’ve been saying?
Yet my friends laugh at me,
    for I call on God and expect an answer.
I am a just and blameless man,
    yet they laugh at me. (Job 12:2-4)

Uh-oh. Job’s losing it, people. Cue meltdown in 5-4-3-2-

As for you, you smear me with lies.
As physicians, you are worthless quacks.
If only you could be silent!
That’s the wisest thing you could do. (Job 13:4-5)

“Oh, SHUT UP, you idiots!” – Job, to his friends, when they tried to “comfort and console” him.

A lot of chapters 12-14 is dedicated to Job elegantly insulting his friends. May no smack down be crude; this is high literature. He waxes poetically about how even the animals are smart enough to know Job is innocent, about how true wisdom comes from God, presumably unlike theirs, and makes sly underhanded insinuations like –

He leads counselors away, stripped of good judgment;
wise judges become fools. (Job 12:17)

But in the face of his friends’ failure to provide him with the wise counsel he has maybe always depended on from them, he comes to a moment of clarity: his friends, great as they are and useful as they want to be, cannot actually help him. <gasp!> They are just human, like him! “The blind leading the blind,” Jesus called it. They don’t understand what is going on in his life any better than he does. Worse, maybe. But definitely no better.

Look, I have seen all this with my own eyes
    and heard it with my own ears, and now I understand.
I know as much as you do.
    You are no better than I am.
As for me, I would speak directly to the Almighty.
    I want to argue my case with God himself. (Job 13:1-3)

From this sudden revelation of the limitations of his heroes and role models, then, arises a huge moment of character growth. As the framework and support system Job has always relied on collapses, he is forced to seek something new, something more dependable, in which to place his trust. He is left with only one viable source for answers. “That’s it,” he says. “I’m going to God.”

God might kill me, but I have no other hope.
I am going to argue my case with him. (Job 13:15)

The loss of everything else he could have relied on – his family, his wealth, his counselors’ wisdom, his own understanding, his own body – pushes him toward facing his biggest fear. Job is afraid of God. It says in Proverbs that the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. He’s a wise man; he understands his size, power, and importance relative to God’s. He is a creature entirely within God’s power to utterly destroy, not just in body, but also in soul. What God has created, he also can uncreate. Job is, currently, deeply aware of how easily God can take away. But at this point – what has he got to lose?

So without further ado, in verse 20, Job ceases to address his friends, who it is clear can no longer help him, and addresses his questions straight to God.

O God, grant me these two things,
    and then I will be able to face you.
Remove your heavy hand from me,
    and don’t terrify me with your awesome presence.
Now summon me, and I will answer!
    Or let me speak to you, and you reply.
Tell me, what have I done wrong?
    Show me my rebellion and my sin.
Why do you turn away from me?
    Why do you treat me as your enemy? (Job 13:20-24)

Job then poetically argues that God really doesn’t need to interfere – human lives are short enough as-is. “Just give it a little while, God, and I’ll be out of your hair soon enough anyway! You can just leave me alone.” But as Job pours out his heart to God, his real desire begins to take shape a little differently. He starts out repeating that wish to die, but then –

I wish you would hide me in the grave
    and forget me there until your anger has passed.
    But mark your calendar to think of me again!
Can the dead live again?
    If so, this would give me hope through all my years of struggle,
    and I would eagerly await the release of death.
You would call and I would answer,
    and you would yearn for me, your handiwork.
For then you would guard my steps,
    instead of watching for my sins.
My sins would be sealed in a pouch,
    and you would cover my guilt. (Job 14:13-17)

Job’s thoughts turn away from what he thinks is the only realistic solution to his problems and toward what he really wants – something he thinks is a useless dream, something impossible. “You would yearn for me, your handiwork.” Job, like a child with his father, really just wants to be wanted by God. He wants God to like him! He’s spent so many years of his life trying to gain God’s approval. He wants, more than anything, a peaceful, loving relationship with his Creator. When he believed he did not get it, when the circumstances of his life convinced him that God hated him, that was what broke Job’s will to live.

Job was a man who sincerely sought God. Here, in this moment, when he has been stripped of all his accoutrements and we see just the man himself before God, his heart is laid bare. And what he says is, “You would call and I would answer.” He says, “My sins would be sealed in a pouch, and you would cover over my guilt.”

Again, Job calls out for a Savior he can’t see. Like the rest of us, his vision is short and limited to the moment he’s in, a moment of pain, suffering, and hopelessness.

But instead, as mountains fall and crumble
    and as rocks fall from a cliff,
as water wears away the stones
    and floods wash away the soil,
    so you destroy people’s hope. (Job 14:18-19)

But because we are reading this thousands of years later, we can see what he could not. Job could not yet see Jesus coming, but what he could see was a great big Jesus-shaped hole in the world. He, millennia before Jesus would come, before any of the psalmists and the prophets prophesied, before redemption was written into the story of the Exodus and the Kings – he looked at his world, at his life, at his limits, and he saw the need. “If that hole were filled,” he said to his Creator, “you would call me, and I would come.” Little did he know what we know. And yet, with only that little to go on, he offered to drop his own proverbial nets and follow.

One day as Jesus was walking along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers—Simon, also called Peter, and Andrew—throwing a net into the water, for they fished for a living. Jesus called out to them, “Come, follow me, and I will show you how to fish for people!” And they left their nets at once and followed him.

A little farther up the shore he saw two other brothers, James and John, sitting in a boat with their father, Zebedee, repairing their nets. And he called them to come, too. They immediately followed him, leaving the boat and their father behind. (Matthew 4:18-22)

You would call and I would answer (Job 14:15a)

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 11

Shouldn’t someone answer this torrent of words?
    Is a person proved innocent just by a lot of talking?
Should I remain silent while you babble on?
    When you mock God, shouldn’t someone make you ashamed? (Job 11:2-3)

Listen! God is doubtless punishing you
    far less than you deserve! (Job 11:6b)

And in this way enters Zophar the Skeptic I mean Naamathite. Here are the current standings: Job claims he’s completely innocent. Eliphaz insists he messed up on the basis that no human can be perfect. Bildad is perfectly willing to blame Job’s obviously naughty dead children. And Zophar is – well – skeptical, to put it politely.

For he knows those who are false,
and he takes note of all their sins. (Job 11:11)

Color Zophar unconvinced. Eliphaz gently suggests accidental, ignorant sin, Bildad plays the blame game, and Zophar comes right out and says, “Job, man, give it up, we know you lyin’.” What, we ask, is his conclusive proof? Same as the other two. Input = output, therefore output = input. He’s not as generous as Eliphaz to think it’s an accident, not as loyal as Bildad to think it’s someone else’s fault. He mercilessly says, “This is your fault and you know it. Stop acting like this is an outrage.”

All right. Now. In Zophar’s defense, we humans do have a tendency to play dumb when we do something wrong. “I don’t know how the cookies vanished,” we say. “My dog ate my homework. Traffic was terrible. It wasn’t me! My brother did it.” Or, my three-year-old thieving self’s best try: “It just fell from the sky!” Yeah. Sure it did.

It made more sense to Zophar that Job would deviate from his character than that God would deviate from God’s. That’s honestly not bad reasoning. God is unchanging. You want us to believe now that he has done something totally unlike anything he’s ever done in the past so that we will believe you have not. <raised eyebrow> Yeah. Sure he did.

You want us to believe that he split open a sea and an entire nation walked through it on dry land.

You want us to believe a flour jar and an oil jar never ran dry while there was need.

You want us to believe a little boy came back from the dead.

You want us to believe the sun went backwards up the steps.

You want us to believe a pregnant teenage girl is a virgin.

You want us to believe the blind saw, the dead were raised, the lame leapt, and the storm was stilled.

You want us to believe in the resurrection.

Frankly, dear, faith requires us to believe some pretty wild things. And at the heart of them all is that God sometimes deviates from how he usually operates. That’s not to say he changes. It’s just to say sometimes more (or less) of him is revealed than we usually see, like with a rainbow. Did you know from an airplane a rainbow is a complete circle? Well. We usually only see an arch. Sometimes only a sliver. But that’s because our view is limited, not because the rainbow changes. When he has determined the time is right and the need is there, for his own purposes to be accomplished, God is fully capable of surprising us. How, then, are we supposed to know the difference between someone who is lying and someone who has seen God act out of the ordinary? These are muddy waters.

If only God would speak;
if only he would tell you what he thinks! (Job 11:5)

Ironically, Zophar wishes God would speak to Job what he thinks – but Zophar does not appear to have asked God first. If he would have only taken his own advice! Eesh, Zophar. Aren’t you an unflattering mirror. But the point! Back to the point. The point I’m trying to make is – if you’re not sure, ask.

If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking. (James 1:5)

And it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him. (Hebrews 11:6)

Believe it or not, Zophar, God does speak. God does tell us what he thinks. I can usually tell when God is speaking to me because what he thinks is nothing like what I think. I often, like Zophar, expect I know what God is going to say to me. I often, like Zophar, am immensely, entirely, devastatingly wrong! But God’s knowledge is solid, and mine is only vapors. He holds onto tangible truths, rocks of fact and reason; I reach out my hands for truth, but find only clouds. I guess; he knows. So if I want to know, my best hope is to ask him.

If only God would speak indeed, Zophar. Hold on to your hat, Sir. His turn is coming. But first, you’ve got to deal with Job.

Tag: trouble