Job 7
God does not hide from us the fact of misery which is a
part of this life. He does not ask us to lie to Him and to say that
our lives are perfectly easy. Throughout this book, as we consider
the complaint of Job, we must remember that at the conclusion of this
difficult ordeal, the Lord corrects those who were Job’s critics
with these words: “You have not spoken of me what is right, as my
servant Job has.” Because this is, at least on some level, the
Lord’s assessment of Job, we should be looking for what is right in
Job’s words before we rush to discover what might be wrong.
Man’s service on earth is hard. His days here are like
those of an indentured servant. He counts them, waiting for the time
when he will be free. Job was despised, rejected, distressed, and
afflicted. Every moment was like a month of emptiness at best, or
like a night of misery and sickness when someone looks for the dawn
to come. Yet help did not come with the day, and the troubles of his
waking hours were not solved when the sun went down. There was no
escape for him on earth.
Job found it very difficult to have any sense of hope in
the world where we live under the Lord’s heavens. It was hard even
to imagine that there would be hope for him beyond the earth, though
he would stretch forth his soul toward an eternal resurrection hope
in a later speech. For now he simply acknowledges the problem of the
human condition, not as a mere observer of the sufferings of others,
but as a righteous servant of the Lord, participating in the most
horrific afflictions.
At least for the moment it does not seem to him that his
eye will ever again see good. This perspective is easy to correct
from the sidelines, but Job is not on the sidelines; he is very much
in the thick of the brutality of a life fully lived. Though the span
of mortal life is truly a breath, there is a way to live it fully,
and that way takes a man through suffering and loss.
Rejoicing in suffering is not today’s story for this
great hero of the Scriptures. Our word for Job is not encouragement,
but the silence of one who mourns with the man who mourns. He has a
correct assessment of the futility of his existence. He speaks to the
One who holds the key to all life, the great God of providence who
does all things well, all that pleases Him. Job has a question for
this God in His depression and anguish: “What are You doing to me?
What kind of man am I that You feel like You need to treat me this
way? Am I some dangerous sea monster who must be stopped? Is that
it?” There is no answer to this kind of forthright inquiry. It is
important that we not supply one.
Job has more to ask the Lord. Let him speak for now.
Later he may despise his words, but that is between him and God. For
now it is apparently the plan of the Almighty that we should hear his
cry to God. He says, “Isn’t it enough that I have suffered these
losses in my real life? Is it necessary that you scare me with
dreams and terrify me with visions in the night?” Again, no answer.
Job has not changed his mind about life. He longs to be
done with it. He does not ask for length of days today. He simply
asks that the Lord leave him alone. No heroic measures to extend life
are desired by this man. Only that God would look away from him so
that his life could be over. Job feels the battle and he knows who it
is who raises these weapons against him. He does not make a reviling
accusation against any fallen angel who cannot be seen. He speaks to
God.
“Yes, man sins,” he says, “but how have I hurt you
so badly that you have made me your mark? Why do you seem to be
fighting against me? Why am I not simply pardoned? I am ready to
die.”
Centuries later, the perfectly righteous Servant of the
Lord would come. He would live without sin, yet with an awareness of
sin, since He was willing to be a sin offering for us so that we
might be pardoned forever. He became God’s mark, a target for His
wrath. He did this so that we would be released from bondage to our
iniquity and to the divine judgment that we deserve. He is our
answer, and He has become our freedom and our hope.
Because of His suffering in our place it has become
possible for us, not only to have the expectation of a resurrection
life in heaven and beyond, but even to rejoice in our sufferings.
This does not preclude our honest assessment of the miseries of this
life, and it does not prohibit our complaint to our benevolent Father
in heaven concerning the intensity of His decrees touching our own
bodies and souls. Yet because of the cross of Jesus Christ, and
because of His resurrection, we do not ultimately grieve as those who
are without hope, though it may take us some time in the midst of
struggle to remember what we know and believe.
Until then the Lord hears the cries of His afflicted
servants, and the One who sits at the right hand of the Father is
able to sympathize with us in our suffering and to help us in our
time of questioning. As we search for what we might say to the one
who suffers, it might be best for us simply to agree with him in his
despair. Have we been permitted to watch this confusing drama of
difficulty as outside observers? Let us maintain quiet hearts of
sympathy with a silent expectation that the Lord will surely rescue
His suffering servants, so many of whom are more righteous than we
are.
Prayer
from A
Book of Prayers
Our Father, our
lives on this earth are portioned out for us by You. There is much
that is unpleasant in even a normal stay of seventy years. In a day
of unusual trouble and grief, normalcy seems far away from us. The
trial is so deep for the man who is in anguish of soul. Father God,
what are You doing? Where are You? We do not know. How can we
stand this, O God? Even to see friends go through this kind of
difficulty is so hard. What if we are the ones in the center of the
storm? Lord, help us. The life of Your servant seems strangely
empty. Remind us again of the cross. Grant us ears to hear the
message of Your love.
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