Job 1 | Wayfarer

“Does Job fear God for nothing?” Satan replied.
Job 1:9 (NIV)

As a child, I remember my concept of God was that of a omnipotent source of all blessings and suffering in my life. The relationship was transactional in nature. Every strongly felt desire prompted an internal debate about what good I had to do, or what wrong I had to avoid or atone for, in order for God to grant my wish. Likewise, any experiential suffering in life was, of course, the result of my fatal flaws. Surely, I did something to warrant all four Vikings Super Bowl losses in the 1970s. My sins were just that bad.

I grew up. My relationship with God became very real, and I began to realize how foolish and vainglorious was my childish belief that I was solely responsible for every perceived fortune and misfortune in life. Nevertheless, there is a thread of wisdom throughout the Great Story that lays out a seemingly contractual system. Follow God’s ways and be blessed. Follow the path of evil and painful consequences will follow. While this is generally true, the human experience reveals that there are, and always have been, exceptions to the general rule. Good people suffer horrendous evils they don’t deserve. Evil people seemingly prosper and escape any earthly consequences for their actions. Both of these earthly realities are humanely unjust. How do we reconcile these exceptions?

That’s the question that Job grapples with.

The story of Job is one of the oldest and most difficult stories in all of the Great Story. The basic plot is well-known. A godly man who has done nothing wrong is allowed to suffer in what appears to be a spiritual test-case, to determine whether or not the man will lose his faith and curse God. My experience is that very few people have actually waded into the text itself which is an extensive exploration of human suffering and the theological arguments that ultimately fall short of explaining a justification for it.

The opening chapter is a prologue to the main story. The scene is set in God’s counsel chambers as God points out what a good man Job is. Satan then asks a pertinent question: “Does Job fear God for nothing?” It goes to the heart of my childish spiritual notions. Do we fear and serve God in exchange for security and blessing? The accuser even seems to implicate God in the question and give some credence to my perceptions of a tit-for-tat, quid pro quo relationship between faith and blessing: “Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land.“

God allows the adversary to put Job to the test, and Job experiences the worst day of his life. His wealth is stolen or destroyed and all ten of his children are killed when the house they were feasting in collapses from a derecho wind.

The result?

Job, in his sudden grief, utters his famous faith-filled lament:

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
and naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
may the name of the Lord be praised.”

In the quiet this morning, I find myself entering this latest trek through Job with mixed feelings. My previous journeys through Job reveal it to be a story that asks big, challenging life questions that test the human limitations of understanding. I have always found it both uncomfortable and humbling. At the same time, I have also found beauty in the struggle of wrestling with Job’s core questions, which I have found to be ironically consistent with the experience of suffering itself.

The first challenging question: Do I fear God for nothing?

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

One day when Job’s sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were grazing nearby, and the Sabeans attacked and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The fire of God fell from the heavens and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The Chaldeans formed three raiding parties and swept down on your camels and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

While he was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, “Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, when suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them and they are dead, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

Last night Wendy and I attended a special healing service at our church. The theme of the service was healing our losses. It was about facing those griefs that have us mired on life’s road, about processing them so we can spiritually move forward. There was a large crowd on hand, and a good portion of the night was spent in quiet worship. There were stations set up around the perimeter of the room for people to receive communion, prayer, holy water, or to symbolically surrender their losses. Wendy and I have both had our share of losses in life, and it was good to meditate, reflect, and have some personal conversations with God about those things.

What struck me most last night, however, was the tremendous compassion I felt for others. I was surprised how many people I knew. I was also surprised at the pieces of their stories I knew. The abused who became an abuser and whose life fell completely apart. The person who lost a spouse. The person whose marriage ended in terrible pain and whose life is out of control. The person with incurable disease that is wreaking havoc on the home front. On, and on, and on. My heart broke for friends and acquaintances. My own whining and petty complaints were silenced in relation to the pain I saw realized in the lives of others.

Job seemed an appropriate book to start this morning. I was struck by Job’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. We all fear getting “the call” telling us tragedy has struck, but Job gets four of them in rapid fire succession. Assets gone, employees gone, business gone, children gone. We all have our share of pain in this journey, but I imagine that precious few of us know the sheer terror of losing everything we own, and nearly everyone we hold dear in a matter of minutes.

Psalm 112 is a psalm that I’ve internalized as a foundational text for my life journey. It describes the kind of person I desire to be, and I found myself reciting it over and over in my heart last night at the service. It came to me again this morning as I read of Job’s unforeseen calamity:

“He has no fear of bad news,
His heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord.
His heart is secure, he will have no fear.
In the end he will look in triumph at his foes.”

I am going to have my share of tragedy in this journey. It’s inevitable. Worrying about it, fearing its arrival, and being anxious about what dark tidings the future may bring do nothing to make this day worthwhile. In fact, I’ve come to realize that the unholy trinity of worry, fear, and anxiety serve only to suck the life out of me and keep me from living this day fully and abundantly.

Today, I’m thinking and praying about those who are suffering tragedies and losses in life that I can scarcely imagine. At the same time, I’m trusting God with today, tomorrow, and each day of my journey so that I can be free to live this day fully. I will have my own share of grief and loss along the way, but I will also have God’s grace and provision in the moment(s) that I need them.