Job 23 | Wayfarer

“If only I knew where to find him;
if only I could go to his dwelling!”
Job 23:3 (NIV)

It’s been a lovely and lazy Labor Day weekend for Wendy and me. For years, we’ve had a standing date with some of our favorite peeps at the lake. After years of doing it together, it’s has become an annual waypoint to mark both the change of seasons and as well as another year on this life journey. It’s always a joy.

As I had kind of switched off from my normal routine, one of the things I allowed myself to do was to explore a little more deeply into social media. I read things people were posting and tweeting, and then read replies. I read things from “influencers” on both sides of the political spectrum. It didn’t take long for me to back out and walk away. I was appalled at what I read. All of it.

One of the things that stood out to me on my brief sojourn into the medium was the projections individuals make about those with whom they disagree. It’s not just the name calling, the demonizing, and what is ass-u-med about others that struck me (though that’s bad enough). It was also the simplistic projection of motives that amazed me. How easily we follow media into reducing complex issues and individuals into simple binaries in which we feel justified judging, hating, and dismissing.

One of the things that I’ve always loved about Jesus’ choice of The Twelve was the fact that He chose both a liberal Roman sympathizer (Matthew) and a militant ultra-conservative (Simon the Zealot). There’s a brilliant scene in The Chosen in which Jesus sends out The Twelve on assignment. The whole scene is brilliant and worth 15 minutes of your time, but around the 11:30 mark in the clip Jesus pairs Matthew and Simon together for the journey. It’s classic:

This all came to mind this morning as I read Job’s response to his friend, Eli’s, latest discourse. What struck me about Job’s commentary were the projections Job was casting on God. The most stark projection was that God was somehow in hiding from Job:

“But if I go to the east, he is not there;
if I go to the west, I do not find him.
When he is at work in the north, I do not see him;
when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.”

This is such a stark contrast to the lyrics of David’s psalm 139:

Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.

All of the Great Story sides with David on this one. In his letter to Jesus’ followers in Colossae, Paul reveals Jesus as the force that holds all matter in the universe together (Col 1:17). In short, there is no where that one can hide from God. God is omnipresent. Asking for God to be present is sort of like asking oxygen to be present. The very request ignores an obvious reality.

ln view of this, it seems that Job’s suffering and his tragic circumstances have created in him a case of acute spiritual myopia. I can see the symptoms throughout the chapter. Not only does Job project that God is somehow in hiding, but he also projects that God has it out for him (vs. 14), that God wants to cause more bad things to happen to him (vs. 14).

Not that I blame Job for this. The Great Story also reveals that trials and sufferings are part of the process of spiritual formation and maturation. Job’s acute spiritual myopia is simply a symptom of this process. Struggle is a natural part of the growth process.

In the quiet this morning, I think back to this weekend with our peeps. Ten years ago our friends were struggling through pregnancies, babies, and young children. The establishing of careers and settling of homes. They are now struggling through the parenting of teenagers and preteens, mid-course career choices, and the impending realities of kids in college and aging parents. What I observed, however, was just how much each of our friends have grown, matured, and changed in that time. Each is more self-aware. Wisdom has been gained. Perseverance, patience, faith, and hope are present in each of them in greater measure. Perhaps most important, love is present in greater measure. I observe that we more intimately know both one another’s strengths and weaknesses. In this knowledge, we are able to serve one another out of our strengths, and shore up one another in their weaknesses.

I contrast this with Job and his three amigos. When it comes to my struggles in life, I’m glad we have great friends. Instead of pointing fingers, casting blame, and projecting assumptions, they reach out with gracious and generous helping hands.

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

Creative Commons photo by James Wheeler via Flickr

But if I go to the east, he is not there;
if I go to the west, I do not find him.
When he is at work in the north, I do not see him;
when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.
Job 23:8-9 (NIV)

This, I have come to know: Children see in part, and they know in part. A child’s understanding of the adult world is incomplete. A child’s perception of reality is innocently askew. Children see bogey-men in the shadows, yet their fear is real. A child in an empty room may feel utterly alone in the universe, even when the house around them is fully occupied. For a parent, a child’s warped perception of reality can be alternately endearing and maddening.

We reach a point in adulthood, if we are fortunate and wise, when truth catches up with honest misperception. Having ventured out on our own road to waypoints on the broader horizon, we glance back to find that our vision has expanded with our experiences. What we once saw, as children, in black and white we now see in full Technicolor. When we were young we never saw those details in the background of our child-like perceptions, but now we look back and they suddenly appear to us in high-definition.

I have also observed along my journey that when we experience suffering as adults our reactions are often very child-like. Adult pain unconsciously brings out the screaming, fearful, lonely child in all of us. We want to be embraced. We desire to be comforted. We want to hear a confident whisper in our ear letting us know that everything will be alright. I wonder if, in those moments of pain, we don’t also regress back to our childish misperceptions.

I thought of this as I read Job’s words today. He feels utter isolation from the omnipresent God. It seems to me that his perceptions are askew, yet his feelings are real. Maybe that is the point. Job is on a journey, too. He is progressing through his pain and his feelings and perceptions are working themselves out amidst the mind-bending, spirit quenching realities of his suffering. Like an innocent child suddenly thrust into the harsh realities of an adult world, Job is desperately seeking his spiritual bearing. He will find his way. He will look back from that way-point on the horizon and see this stretch of road with greater clarity. But that’s not where he is in this moment. And, that’s okay.