the misery and faith of job

a month or two ago, I began the process of reading through the book of Job. T suggested it and so we did it together, reading a chapter each day. I had read Job before and even pondered it in relation to missions thanks to some other blog thoughts written by missionaries with greater insight than me.

but I had never sat down with Job and read it day in and day out for 42-some days.

my prayer journal from those days are filled with verses and reflections, scribbles of where Job and his friends met my own thoughts and challenged me.

it's been almost a month since I finished reading Job and yet I have still found myself tossing and turning over the verses, picking them up again to reflect and examine and toss them back.

the thing that surprised me the most about returning to Job was that his words pointed out flaws in my own understanding of God. Job, the proverbial man who kept his faith, made it clear to me that contrary to Sunday School teaching, he wrestled and struggled and cried out and had a lot of angry conversations with his friends.

And he did it because he knew God to be faithful.

Period. End of Story. There is No Other Option.

Job believed that God was faithful. And so when faced with immeasurable loss and despair and general horrible-ness, he sat on that ground and he fought- internally, verbally (with his many friends who thought they had it figured out) and physically (lots of sackcloth wearing).

I, in my many and frequent moments of fear and doubt and holy-crapola-what-am-I-doing-with-my-life, am unconvinced that I can hope and dream of good things. And that is not simply a crack in my self-identity or self-esteem- that is a crack in my theology and my understanding of God.

Job dared to believe that God was faithful and would grant him good things. He dared to look at the rubble of his life and declare that God was God- our Maker and our Provider- and that He would be Job's sustenance.

Job looked at all that was bad, all that had been stricken, all that was wounded, all that was broken and still he had hope in who God is.

His friends wanted to argue theology, to explain why things fell apart at the seams and Job just kept saying, "Yes, I may want to die right now. Yes, I may wish I had never been born. Yes, I may be mourning like I have never mourned before. But that doesn't change the fact that God is faithful."

After all of the death, destruction and anguish that falls upon him:

"At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship" -Job 1:20

The beauty of Job to me is that while he got 500 steps ahead of me by responding to devastating loss with worshipping our Lord, he also is honest about those losses and the pain they have caused him. He does not glibly talk about how faithful God must be and how he feels no hurt because God will provide.

He looks at this pain, names it and then claims the fact that he is going to cling to the hope of what he knows to be true- God's faithfulness. And that that clinging is going to be enough for him in the midst of all else. He is not pretending to be superman. He is clinging for his life and he's owning it.

"Then I would still have this consolation- my joy in unrelenting pain- that I had not denied the words of the Holy One. What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient?"-Job 6:10-11

Faced with the words of his friends, which vary from condemnation to misunderstanding to just plain mean, Job brings it back to what it's really about for himself. He doesn't let his friends' agendas muddle what he sees this season of his life to be- a time of introspection, grieving and trying to reconcile his understanding of God with what's happening to him.

His friend Bildad:

"He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy."- Job 8:21

Job:

"Indeed, I know that this is true. But how can a mortal be righteous before God?" -Job 9:2

He had every reason to throw down his beliefs and pick up the mantle of bitterness and a cynical theology of believing that God is out to punish, destroy and harm. Yet he looks at all that has happened in his life and he sees the power of who God is and he chooses to believe that that power is beyond his comprehension, that his understanding of God's faithfulness must be held in the context of knowing we understand only a whisper of what awaits.

"And these are but the outer fringe of his works; how faint the whisper we hear of him! Who then can understand the thunder of his power?" - Job 26:14

But perhaps my very favorite part of Job comes in chapter 38. After chapters of Job wondering and questioning and claiming faithfulness in spite of what everyone else is shouting at him, this happens:

"Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm. He said:" - Job 38:1

The storm is not over. The storm is still going on and on and on. He's got friends who want to debate God's faithfulness until they've used up all of the words in the universe.

But God answers him out of the storm. And he gives him two chapters worth of examples of his power and might and wisdom.

Job dared to believe in a God who is faithful even when his life looked a lot more like ruins than castles.

Job dared to believe in a God who provides when he had nothing.

Job dared to believe in faithfulness even when everyone around him told him how foolish and ridiculous he was being.

Job dared to be honest about his pain and the struggles he had reconciling his experiences with his theology.

And God answered him out of the storm.

Job revealed to me the fault lines of my own concepts of faithfulness.

Perhaps thinking we understand is more of a risk than choosing to know we don't.

Perhaps hopes and dreams are less about who we believe ourselves to be and more about who we believe God to be.

And perhaps fears reveal less about ourselves and more about how we understand God.

here's to Job. The man who wept the tears of loss and clung to the corners of hope and knew they went together.