Job 4 | Wayfarer

But now trouble comes to you, and you are discouraged;
it strikes you, and you are dismayed.
Should not your piety be your confidence
and your blameless ways your hope?
Job 4:5-6 (NIV)

Along my life journey, I have noticed that humanity has a certain base belief that is woven into the fabric of our DNA. We inherently believe that doing good is a good thing and doing bad is a bad thing. Pardon me for borrowing from a Hollywood movie title, but I often think of this as “The Santa Clause” because in Santa we boil it down to its pure form and feed it to our children. If you’re naughty you get coal in your stocking. If you’re good you get presents, or as comedian David Sedaris puts it, “if you’re good and live in America, you pretty much get whatever it is you want.”

As an adult, I’ve observed that the Santa Clause often gets hard-wired within us. If we live right and do good things then life should be filled with goodness and blessing. If we are selfish and a bad person then certainly we will reap the consequences of our self-centeredness and bad actions.

In today’s chapter, we hear from Eli, the first of Job’s three friends who have been sitting with him and contemplating the terrible suffering Job is experiencing. Eli begins and jumps right into Santa Clause world view. He recounts how Job, in his goodness, has encouraged and counseled others in their troubles, so Job should take a bit of his own advice not that he’s on the other side of the troubles. Cheer up!

Eli then recounts his observations of the Santa Clause principle at work. God blesses the upright and doesn’t kill them, while evil doers reap trouble and God wipes them out. As I read, I couldn’t help but wonder if Eli is trying to say: “You’re a good guy. God won’t let you die” while the subtext of his words is: “People don’t suffer like this unless they brought it on themselves.“

After this, Eli goes into the classic “I had a dream about you,” which I consider a variation of “God told me to tell you.” Dreams, visions, and words from the Spirit-realm carry an air of authority from beyond. The messenger isn’t responsible. Eli isn’t source. He is simply retelling what the “hushed voice” in his dream told him. I have written before about my thoughts on dealing with “God told me to tell you” statements. It’s not that I don’t believe in the prophetic, because I certainly do. I have a number of experiences with the prophetic that have been mind-blowing. I have also had experiences with those playing fast and loose with the “God told me” card. I have always found that a certain wisdom, discernment, and openness is required.

Today’s chapter are just the first half of Eli’s words for Job. Tomorrow’s chapter will contain the second half. Nevertheless, I can’t help but feel that he’s wading in the shallow end. Along my own life journey there have been stretches and experiences in which a Hallmark card poetry and “buck up li’l camper” platitudes feel like salt being rubbed into my wounds. While there is truth in the Santa Clause view of life (that’s why we use it with children), it certainly falls far short of addressing the messy circumstances we experience along this life journey.

In the quiet this morning, I can’t point the finger at Eli without three fingers pointing back at me. I am mindful of my own terrible Eli-like attempts at encouragement to others over the years. I’m embarrassed by some of the silly, shallow, and unhelpful things I know that I’ve said to people in the worst moments of their lives. The Sage of Ecclesiastes wrote that there is a time to speak and a time to be silent. The further I get in on this earthly journey, the more I embrace the latter. I wonder sometimes if simple, loving presence with open ears, an open heart, and a willing spirit aren’t the best thing for those suffering like Job. There are moments when keeping my mouth shut might just be the most gracious thing I do for others.

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

“Consider now: Who, being innocent, has ever perished?
Where were the upright ever destroyed?
As I have observed, those who plow evil
and those who sow trouble reap it.
Job 4:7-8 (NIV)

When I was young, I began to notice that men and women have very different sub-textual conversations. I became fascinated with a phenomenon I observed in my female friends. I would be in a social setting with a female when another female enters the room. My friend would suddenly turn and whisper some critical remark about the stranger. A few probing questions led me to the realization that within a nano-second my female companion had sized up the female who just entered the room and had filled out a complete mental dossier on her competition. She knew what the other female was wearing, her socio-economic status, what kind of person she was, and exactly where she was to be filed in the categorized file cabinet of her brain. The hi-speed, interpersonal judge, jury, and executioner from across the crowded room.

Along the journey I have continued to observe this non-verbal social world of women. I have, after all, spent much of my life in an estrogen wonderland surrounded by females. I find it fascinating. (Personal Note: I realize that I’m making a broad generalization here. I’m not picking on women. Men have similar unspoken judgments, but in my experience it just looks and behaves differently. That’s another blog post for another day.)

As Wendy and I were in the depths of our journey through infertility, I became aware of just how deep and strong women’s thoughts and core beliefs around pregnancy and motherhood can run. In this unspoken, invisible world of non-verbal female communication there exists a sub-culture in which fertility is spiritual currency. If you are a woman who gets pregnant at the drop of a hat and cranks out multiple children in succession, then you are a female all-star, blessed and living right. If you are a woman struggling to conceive then there are some serious question marks surrounding you and this curse you are experiencing. There must be some reason God is withholding this fundamental female blessing from you.

In yesterday’s chapter we left Job and his three friends on the ash heap. For seven days the four of them sat in silence when Job finally opened his mouth to speak. What poured out what was a highly emotional rant of despair that you might have expected from a man who had lost his children, his workforce, his wealth, and his livelihood before breaking out in painful sores all over his body.

Today, the first of his three friends opens his mouth to speak. His name is Eliphaz, and he comes from the ultra-religious wing of society for whom life is very simple. Everything in life fits neatly into their black and white box and it parallels the thinking I’ve observed around fertility in certain subsets of the female population. If you are visibly prospering you must be living upright and piously because God is blessing you. If you are visibly suffering then you must have done something to deserve God’s punishment. Plain and simple.

Too simple. Eliphaz asks, “Who, being innocent ever perished?” Stop right there, Eli. Let me give you a short list off the top of my head:

Still born and miscarried children
The millions who were marched into the Nazi gas chambers
Millions of civilian war victims throughout history
The journalists who were beheaded on video by ISIS to make a point
The Christian couple I read about in Pakistan who just last week were beaten to death by the Muslims in their village.
My friend who was hit by a drunk driver
My friends and loved ones whose lives were cut short by incurable diseases

Job has suffered incredible tragedy and the first thing he hears from his friend is a backhanded accusation that he must have done something to bring down God’s wrath upon himself. Eli’s words reveal his heart. He is less concerned with showing love, empathy, and compassion to his friend, and more concerned with trying to reconcile what he’s witnessed with the rose-colored glasses through which he sees a simple black and white world.

Today, I am thinking about those who suffer around me in ways I can’t comprehend. I am determined that I do not want to be a friend like Eliphaz. Trying to reconcile irreconcilable suffering within my personal world-view is less important than simply loving a suffering friend without reservation or judgment.