Job 14 | Wayfarer

“If only you would hide me in the grave
and conceal me till your anger has passed!”
Job 14:13 (NIV)

Our neighbor has a willow tree that sits the edge of our properties. I can see it from our patio door. A few summers ago he got out his trimmer and literally cut off every branch so that just the bare trunk was left. Then he walked away. It looked so strange, and I wondered why he didn’t cut the whole tree down as I thought he was doing. Lo and behold, the tree quickly sprouted new branches full of limb and life. It was fascinating to watch.

In today’s chapter, Job continues his discourse of despair. He feels hopeless in his pain and suffering. He can’t envision any end to his suffering other than death itself, which for Job has a depressing finality of its own. Job even uses the metaphor of my neighbor’s willow tree:

“At least there is hope for a tree:
    If it is cut down, it will sprout again,
    and its new shoots will not fail.
Its roots may grow old in the ground
    and its stump die in the soil,
yet at the scent of water it will bud
    and put forth shoots like a plant.”

One of the things that I’m observing about Job as I read his thoughts anew, is the fact that he is a binary thinker. God is the unjust perpetrator of his suffering, period, end of sentence. Things are black and white to Job and he sees no gradient in between. Along my life journey, I’ve observed that human beings like things simplified into binaries. Red or blue, right or left, for or against, black or white. I believe reducing complex issues into simple binaries is one of the reasons our culture is currently so polarized.

As I contemplated Job’s use of the tree metaphor in the quiet this morning, I remembered that Jesus riffed off the same metaphor:

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

In Job’s mind, he is a flower that quickly fades and is no more. In his hopelessness he dismisses the notion that he is like the tree. He wishes he was like the tree. “If only,” he says. Jesus’ words hearken back to Job. In his black-and-white thinking, Job is blinded to the spiritual gradient of growth that lies between. “You are the tree, Job. You just can’t see it.”

I have observed in my spiritual journey that suffering is, just as Jesus described, part of a spiritual pruning process that can lead to an abundant flourishing of wisdom and spiritual fruit. I have also observed that I, like Job, often respond to suffering with a “Can’t we just get this over with?” mentality. A third observation I’ve made is that, unlike the modern educational system, in God’s spiritual education system I don’t get to move up to the next grade until I’ve learned the lessons of the grade I’m in. I’ve known individuals who appear to have been in spiritual kindergarten their entire lives.

In the quiet this morning, my mind goes back to Job. His simple binary perspective blinds him from seeing that his struggle with his suffering is part of the process of spiritual maturity. The gentleman who designed the landscaping around our house told Wendy and me not to go overboard with watering our young shrubs, and not to be worried if they don’t look very healthy for a season. “They need to struggle,” he told us. “It’s the only way they will put down deep roots that are essential for life.”

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

You will call and I will answer you;
    you will long for the creature your hands have made.
Surely then you will count my steps
    but not keep track of my sin.
My offenses will be sealed up in a bag;
    you will cover over my sin.
Job 14:15-17 (NIV)

The book of Job is an epic poem (bookended with a prose prologue and epilogue). It was likely an ancient story and scholars suggest that the protagonist of the story lived sometime between 1000 and 2000 B.C. The story of Job and his three friends was likely shared through oral tradition for many generations before a Hebrew poet and scribe penned it in the form and structure we read today. The date is unknown, but historians place the books writing anywhere between the reign of Solomon and when the Babylonians conquered Jerusalem and forced the Hebrews into exile which would put it roughly 600-1000 years before Christ.

Realizing that we’re reading a poem penned so many centuries before Jesus was born, what struck me in today’s chapter was the foreshadowing of Jesus that came out in Job’s words:

You will call and I will answer you;

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” – Jesus

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Jesus

You will long for the creature your hands have made.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son…. John 3:16

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.” – Jesus

Surely then you will count my steps,

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” – Jesus

but not keep track of my sin.
My offenses will be sealed up in a bag;
you will cover over my sin.

“This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” – Jesus

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:9

God is telling a story, and it is woven through His Message. Job is a part of that story. His ancient words not only speak to me of my very present human condition, but also foreshadow a chapter of God’s story which would not unfold for many millennia.

This morning, I’m thankful for the rich layers of story and of meaning told through Job, and through the books of law, and history, and wisdom. I’m thankful for the ways I daily relate to them these thousands of years later, and the ways they richly reveal God’s story as it unfolds across time.