Lent Day 7: Suffering with Job

"The Despair of Job," by William Blake (1757-1827)
Thanks to Art in the Christian Tradition, Vanderbilt University

Job said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD."
~Job 1:21

We meet Job after a series of losses that come at him quick and hard. All his herds and flocks, all but four of his many servants, and, most devastating, all ten of his children. The reason for all the losses is strange and disconcerting, and I don't want to muddy up this reflection by dwelling on it. I want to talk about what happens when we are suffering--whether due to losses, physical pain, or mental anguish of any kind. 

You can read Job's first response, the words that tumble out of his mouth after having torn and discarded his clothes, shaved his hair, and fallen on the ground to worship God.

On the page, Job sounds calm, almost philosophical. But we don't know how this character is supposed to have uttered these words. Was he screaming? Was he sobbing? Was he barely audible, so gutted he was to have lost all his wealth (and his children would have counted in that category, even aside from the love we can assume he had for them). 

(I would probably be screaming.)  

The text is interested in the fact that Job doesn't sin against God in his grief. I think the text has a pretty fragile/ shallow conception of the almighty. To rage against God would be understandable, even in God's eyes. (Don't ask me how I know this. I just do.) To hurl accusations at God would be understandable, too. 

Have you ever had the, let's say, opportunity to tell God how furious you were with them? I can think of times when we weren't on the best terms, based on unexpected, devastating events in my life. Have you been there? Did you tell God off? You could, you know. The Psalms are filled with accusations of God's absence, lack of care, falling down on their basic savior job. Do you think those writers sinned? I don't. I think they used their own experiences to name something pretty universal: the challenge of faith in a God whom scripture claims is Love, when that God falls silent, or seems to have dropped the ball in terms of our life, our hopes, our stability, our actual needs. What do we do when God is (or seems) silent?

Job doesn't break up with God. Job doesn't say, because this happened, either you're not there, or you're a real jerk and I don't want to know you. I don't believe in you any more.

How does he manage this?

One clue comes before the verse I quoted. Job is a pray-er. He's always praying for his children (in the manner of his era). He's always trying to make sure they stay right with God, which means (to me, anyway) that he feels he is in good and right relationship with God. (God agrees.) 

Another clue is this: Job is taking the time to grieve. When we experience loss, shock, when our world is turned upside down, we need to do this--maybe not in the same way Job does, but we need to stop for a moment (or a day or a week or more) and realize: This is grief. I am mourning. And, even if God seems to you to have been a player in your loss, invite them into your grieving process. Tell God your sorry. Know that God is weeping with you, that God doesn't want this for you any more than you do.

And we don't really see Job doing this, but I believe telling God how angry we are is essential. You would do it with a friend who'd hurt you, wouldn't you? You'd tell your spouse or parent or child or co-worker, right? Why wouldn't you tell God? I would try not to let my first move be, God is dead to me. If we don't do that with a friend or partner, why would we do it with God?

And... here comes the weird part. One question I would ask myself is, "Do I still want to believe in God?" 

I know that sounds weird, but I believe the answer to that question plays a role. I've known since I was very young that faith in God was something I wanted, badly. I remember a friend in high school teasing me about my early religiosity (think, 2nd grade, wearing a rosary on the belt to my school uniform). I remember my response as clear as day: Don't you want to have faith? I don't have a clear recollection of his response, but I sure remember mine.

If the answer is yes, then this is a relationship worth working on. If the answer is no, I wish you well, and I give you this reminder: you can always change your mind.

Job was a man of faith who suffered a series of grievous losses, and then had to endure his friends saying "but you must have done SOMETHING to deserve it." 

No. That's not how God works. (Don't ask me how I know. I just do.) When you are suffering, know that this isn't what God wants for you, any more than you want it. Know that God is in it with you, that God weeps when you are weeping just as God laughs with you when you are merry.

Blessed be the name of the LORD.