CHAPTER THREE OF THE BOOK OF JOB finds him in the initial throes of grief as a result of a series of calamities in his fortunes, his family, and his person. Previously, messengers of ill fortune came, one after another: “The fire of God fell from the sky and burned up the sheep;” (Job 2:16) “Your sons and daughters—a mighty wind struck the four corners of the house, and they are dead; (Job 2:18-19 ) “Job tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell to the ground in worship: ‘Naked I came, naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.’ In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.” (Job 2:20-22)
Loss of this magnitude changes people. It changes their circumstances, changes their relationships, and, in fact, changes their identity. The loss of finances, wherein sufficiency becomes insufficiency, changes in very real ways the capacity to control life; with that loss of control comes the inability to control how time is now spent—consider someone who has lost a business of their own, as an example, and who now has to work for someone else on their schedule and for the wages they are willing to pay. The loss of close relationships also changes the way time is now used, and the reasons for which it is used; the former social interactions are now guided by different and unfamiliar motivations.
Many people have their identity defined by the actions that are consistent within these and other sets of boundaries; that is, they define themselves, and are defined by others, by what they do. This was the case for Job’s three friends, who “set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads.” (Job 2:11-12)
There is a sharp bitterness to the kind of grief that comes in response to identity-shattering circumstances, and it is with this inconsolable sense of loss that Job first begins to respond to his new circumstances. “May the day of my birth perish. May it turn to darkness. May no light shine upon it. May thick darkness seize it. May that night be barren; may no shout of joy be heard in it.” (Job 3:3-7) He is wallowing in self-pity, a not-uncommon reaction commensurate, so he believes, with his sudden low estate. He questions the fairness of life. “Why is light given to those in misery, and life to the bitter of soul?” he asks, followed by extremely dark thoughts about “longing for death that does not come.” (cf. Job 3:3-7) Thus begins the next of thirty-five chapters in which Job and his friends discuss the issues that surface when humans are subjected to deep and prolonged suffering and grief.
One thing common to all of us in such times is the exposure to the crippling wounds of the psyche that incapacitate us for a while, and, for some, a lifetime. Assuming a comparable level of wounding and depth of grief, what is it that makes the difference between those who recover from such deep wounds, and those who do not? There is no formulaic answer, or set of answers, that can provide a solution; however, the answer undeniably lies in the realm of establishment or restoration of hope—the belief that ‘things will get better.’
If there were an easy cure, a one-two-three way for responding to such life issues, psychologists and psychiatrists in first-world countries might go out of business; but then, talk therapy is not unique to first-world countries. In fact, talk therapy is what the three friends of Job engage in with him to ‘help’ him through his time of pain. And, while Job both listens and engages with these men, he finds no solace for his deepest of questions, which, though he does not state it in these words, might be phrased, “God, why did you let this happen to me?” Another way of phrasing this is, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Yet another question, more profound than these two, is “How can a good God let bad things happen to good people?”
An argument that generates even more emotion, and oft-times comes in refutation of the very existence of God when an innocent is the object of suffering, is “How can a good God let something bad happen to an innocent person?” This question is one that resonates with the human experience that seeks to hold on to hope and uphold standards of moral good in conflict with unexplainable but undeniable evil. It is a question Job attempts to resolve without allowing his mind to form the negative questions we so readily entertain.
The conundrum for Job is this: he is a righteous man, and he knows it—even God knows this of him: “Then the Lord said to Satan, ‘Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil. And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason.’” (Job 2:3) And he maintains his integrity in spite of his calamities: “In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.” (Job 2:11) Job simply wants to explain his ‘case,’ and hear from God; certainly, his just cause will be vindicated!
It is Elihu, the youngest of Job’s friends, who points out not only to Job, but to the others, the hubris in Job: although he is blameless in observing the requirements of his relationship with God, there is this fact about him: he knows it, and accredits himself with the integrity with which he carries himself. Elihu asks, “If you are righteous, what do you give to him, or what does he receive from your hand?” ((Job 35:7) And in following verses, he charges Job with having demanded an answer from God: “How much less, then, will he listen when you say that you do not see him, that your case is before him and you must wait for him.” (Job 35:14)
God ‘finally’ answers Job, “out of the storm. He said, ‘Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.’” (Job 38:1-3) God then proceeds to ask Job a long series of questions that Job cannot possibly answer, beginning with “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!” (Job 38:4-5) After five chapters of humiliation, Job is finally able to respond, but his understanding, and his tone, have changed. “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42:5-6)
Isaiah reminds us, “’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.’” (Isa. 55:8-9) And we are well advised by Paul, “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.” (Rom. 12:3)
Q. Am I humble before God, or must I be humbled?
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