Tag Archives: Sympathy

Slimy Sympathy

Slimy Sympathy (CaD Job 5) Wayfarer

“We have examined this, and it is true.
    So hear it and apply it to yourself.”

Job 5:27 (NIV)

I once had the opportunity to sit under the teaching of a popular speaker and author at a weekend conference. This was probably twenty or more years ago. At the time, he was around the same age that I am now. At. one point, this gentleman has been on the “it” persons in popular Christian culture. I sold a lot of his books over the years when I worked in a bookstore in my high school and college days. His name was instantly recognizable. He was popular. He was influential. He had fame in his circles of influence.

Then, he disappeared.

He was gone from the bestseller lists. He was gone from the Christian publishing circuit. He was no longer part of the conversation. There were no scandals. There were no sensational headlines. He simply checked himself out of the game.

So, when he appeared as an instructor that weekend, I was intrigued. There was one thing he said that weekend that has stuck with me all these years. I’ve never forgotten it. I paraphrase from memory:

“I’d like to share with you some of the things I’ve been thinking about. Things I’ve been learning. You may disagree with me on some of the things. That’s okay. Go right ahead. I no longer feel the need to be right all the time.”

I loved the simple humility with which he said this. I appreciated his experience driven life-and-faith lessons.

The further I get in my journey, the more I’ve embraced life’s mysteries. The more content I am to shrug my shoulders. The less I feel the need to have an explanation for every thing that fits neatly inside a theological world-view.

In reading the last half of Job’s friend, Eli’s, first discourse, it felt kind of slimy from a relational human perspective. I suspect I’m going to be feeling that a lot as Job’s friends try to comfort Job by explaining his suffering.

Eli tries to be encouraging. He points out that God works miracles and wonders. God provides rain for the crops and blesses the lowly. If Job will be make an appeal to the Almighty, God will restore him. But, Eli also passive aggressively accuses Job of being secretly to blame for his sufferings:

“Resentment kills a fool, and envy slays the simple.”
(You must have resentment hidden in your heart!)

“Hardship does not spring from the soil, nor trouble from the ground.”
(You must have done something to bring this trouble on yourself!)

“Blessed is the one whom God corrects, so don’t despise His discipline.”
(Your suffering is clearly God’s “correction” and “discipline!”)

To make matters worse, Eli’s assured promises make light of the harsh reality of his present sufferings, his lost wealth, and his ten dead children:

You will know that your tent is secure;
    you will take stock of your property and find nothing missing.
You will know that your children will be many,
    and your descendants like the grass of the earth.

To add the proverbial cherry on top, Eli ends his discourse by assuring Job of his rightness, even taking the plural form to make his personal arguments sound like corporate, agreed upon truth:

“We have examined this, and it is true.
    So hear it and apply it to yourself.”

It felt slimy. Under the guise of encouragement and promises are passive aggressive accusations and self-righteous assurances that Job’s suffering fits neatly into the box of Eli the apologist’s theological wisdom and understanding.

How fascinating that as I read Eli’s discourse the Holy Spirit brought to mind the reappearance of the disappearing teacher some twenty years ago. The humble acknowledgement that he doesn’t know everything. The shrug and the admission that he’s simply not going to bother trying to prove his rightness to some guy from Kokomo, Indiana whom he’s never met and who wants to challenge his theology.

Some things simply defy easy explanation in this life.

Life gets messy.

It is what it is.

“I don’t know, Job. I can’t imagine. Nor can I make sense of what you’re going through right now. I won’t pretend to understand. I’m so sorry. I can assure of one thing, however. I love you. And, I’m going to sit right here with you as long as you’d like me to do so.”

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

“That Story Is My Story”

That Story Is My Story (CaD Ps 66) Wayfarer

Come and hear, all you who fear God;
    let me tell you what he has done for me.

Psalm 66:16 (NIV)

It’s been a number of years since I’ve been on stage. Other than a bit part in a friends movie short in which I played a creepy figure in some guys sub-conscious, I have to tax my memory to recall the last part I played that required me to do the work of character analysis. The process of character analysis is, for me, where all the fun is.

Character analysis is a process of peeling back the character you are embodying layer by layer. The playwright gave you the words and the story. Now you begin to dig into who this person really is. This character may have been played a thousand times by the best actors in the world, but not by me. I don’t want to mimic what other actors have done. I want to understand the character myself. What does he look like? How does he walk? How does his voice sound? What is it he wants, and that is it that drives him? How does he feel about every other character in the play?

In the process of character development, I find connections of both sympathy and empathy with my character. The character is going through a divorce. Oh yeah, I sympathize with that because I’ve been through it. It’s not going to be hard for me to feel those feelings on stage. I’ve been there. I’ve never murdered another person, however, so I have no clue what that kind of remorse feels like. So, maybe I need to read different stories or confessions of actual murderers so that I can begin to empathize and cognitively identify with those feelings.

As I read through and identify with the Great Story, one of the things I’ve learned is that God uses story because we find a connection to ourselves, our lives, and our stories in the story. A couple of years ago I gave a message during the season of Lent predicated on the James Bond movie, Skyfall. I know. It was a bold choice. I wasn’t sure I would ever be asked back! The message was really about where we find ourselves in the story of Jesus’ final week on earth. I asked people to make a connection between our life and a character in the story. Am I…

the betrayer?
the denier?
the grieving mother?
the religious rule-keeper?
the crowd member shouting “Crucify him!”?
the fearful follower running for cover?
the doubter demanding evidence?

One of the most important things in reading and studying the Great Story is finding the personal connections to my story.

In today’s chapter, Psalm 66, the songwriter does something very interesting in the lyrics. At the beginning of the song he writes, “Come and see what God has done” and then references the Hebrew story of God leading them out of slavery, through the trials of the wilderness, and into the Promise Land. In the last stanza, the songwriter then says, “Come and hear what God has done for me.” He then describes God hearing his prayer and answering it, ending with words of praise. He found a connection between what God had done for him and what God had done for the Hebrews in the exodus.

Been there. Done that. That story is my story.

In the quiet this morning, this song of thanksgiving for answered prayer, guidance, and provision is connecting with me as my heart and mind prepare for the Thanksgiving holiday coming up. In a year filled with so many trials, I have so much with which I can be thankful; there’s so much, in faith, I have to look forward to.

That’s a good thought for a Monday morning heading into the workweek. I find myself mindful of God’s goodness to me on the road I’ve traveled, thankful for where God has me on this day, and hopeful of where God is leading me in the journey ahead.

I Get it Now

pregnancy test - negative
pregnancy test – negative (Photo credit: Konstantin Lazorkin)

Chapter-a-Day Genesis 16

So Sarai said to Abram, “The Lord  has prevented me from having children. Go and sleep with my servant. Perhaps I can have children through her.” And Abram agreed with Sarai’s proposal. Genesis 16:2 (NLT)

My sojourn through God’s Message does not end. God’s Book is not a one-and-done proposition. I go back to it again and again and it has something new for me. This is not because the Message has changed, but because I have changed and am at a different place on life’s road.

I have read the story of Abram and Sarai countless times in the past 30 years. I have heard it shared, I’ve listened to any number of sermons and lectures on this chapter. I’m sure I’ve even given a few messages of my own from this text along the way. This time, however, the story is different. After several long years of Wendy and me trying and failing to bring a child into the world,  I’m reading it, seeing it, feeling it as if for the first time. The waiting. The questioning. The endless monthly roller coaster of expectation and despair. The alone-ness and isolation. The desperation. The grief. The depression. The hopelessness. The grasping with futility for something, anything to hasten the realization of some kind of positive resolution.

Sarai shouldn’t have…. Abram should have…. Why on earth didn’t they just…?

They did what they did. It doesn’t make it right, but I get it now.

Why is the answer always “no?”

And still, God is good.