“I I should Die Before I Wake….” The Death of Children and the Story of Job

January 15, 2013

Leaven–a theological journal designed for ministers and “lay” leaders–is now available online. This is a significant resource. Various issues focus on biblical texts and theological topics. Every issue includes additional bibliographical and liturgical resources.  The most recent issue focuses on Romans 5-8. I encourage everyone to look into the various issues and use the search function to access different topics.

I have contributed five articles to Leaven over the years and am even now working on my sixth. I will use n occasional post to link this blog to those articles.

In my article, “‘If I Should Die Before I Wake….’ The Death of Children and the Story of Job” I reflect on my own experience with the terminal illness of my son Joshua as I intersect that with the story of Job.


Assembly, Presence and Comfort for the Grieving (Theological Hermeneutics Applied)

June 17, 2008

When I think of the dramatic story of Scripture in terms of divine presence (as I did in my previous post on theological hermeneutics), my mind always turns toward the absence of those whom I have loved and lost. This may seem a strange twist, but it is a natural flow for me because divine presence is God’s response to our experience of loss.

In Christ, grievers may experience this divine presence in several ways.

We experience the special providence of God who cares for us even in our darkness, even in our lament. We are encouraged to live one day at a time because not only is the trouble of that day sufficient but also because God cares for us just as he cares for the lillies of the field and the birds of the air (Matthew 6).

We experience the hope of the eschatological presence of God. This is an anchor for the soul as we trust in God’s ultimate victory. Death will not win; the graves will open. God will renew his cosmos, including our bodies and provide a place where we may see God’s face and dwell with the Triune God forever (Revelation 21-22).

We experience the comforting pneumatological presence of God. The indwelling Spirit groans with us in our laments, intercedes for us in our hurts, and gives peace to our hearts in the midst of our pains. This is no mere external word of promise but the internal work of God who fills us with “joy and peace” through faith by the “power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13). It is the daily presence of God in our lives to walk with us, at times carry us and at all times actively transforming us into the image of Christ.

We experience the presence of God in the heavenly sanctuary when we assemble with other disciples of Jesus to pray and praise God. This presence is, most significantly for those who grieve, a presence with not only God but with all those gathered around the throne of God.  We who are the earthly sanctuary of God by the indwelling Spirit join the all the saints in the heavenly sanctuary when we gather as a community. The earthly community is united with the heavenly community. This foretaste of the eschatological community–this foretaste of eschatological presence–is a communion with all the saints, including not only those from whom we are separated by geography here upon the earth but those from whom we are separated by death (Hebrews 12:22-24).

I find comfort in each of mode of divine presence, sometimes more one than another, and sometimes my lament forgets all of them and the fog only permits me to sense–and then protest–God’s absence.  But ultimately God is never absent; he is always present. And his presence is no mere passivity–it is an active, loving, communing, engaging, transforming presence.  God is no spectator; he is a participant. He loves me and is at work for me, in me and through me. This is what I trust and remembering these modes of presence helps me interpret the meaning and significance of my life. It provides a means by which I can understand my own participaton in the story of God.

At times the most important of these to me is the last one–the presence of God in the heavenly sanctuary when heaven and earth are joined in assembly. To experience assembly as the presence of God is one of the most comforting of all experiences for me.

Bobby, Johnny and I dedicated our book, A Gathered People, in this way:  “To those whom we love but cannot see except as we meet them around God’s throne every Lord’s Day.”

That is comforting to me.  This past Lord’s Day, as I worshipped with my community at Woodmont Hills with my wife and daughter, I again enjoyed with smiles and tears the presence of Sheila, Joshua, Barry, and Dad along with many others who crossed my mind. It was a deeply moving emotional experience as well as Spiritually (note the capital S!) therapeutic.

“Holy, Holy, Holy” (the sanctus) is sung not only by the saints upon the earth, but the angelic hosts and departed saints around the throne. In assembly, we become one voice–angelic, human and all creation–of praise to the one who created us and has loved us beyond our imagination.

 


Job’s “Miserable Comforters” II (Job 8-10)

June 10, 2008

In my first post, I enumerated Eliphaz’s pastoral mistakes (Job 4-5) and Job’s response to his “friend.” In this post Bildad responds to Job’s rejection of Eliphaz’s counsel (Job 8 ) and Job reacts to Bildad (Job 9-10).

Bildad’s “Counsel”

Whatever God does is just. God destroyed your life. Therefore, you deserved it.

With shocking pastoral insensitivity Bildad uses Job’s children as a case in point (8:4).

When your children sinned against him, he gave them over to the penalty of their sin.

As readers we know that the sins of the children had nothing–in terms of the prologue’s narrative–to do with their deaths. Yet, Bildad clearly sees the “justice” of God. It has to make sense to him; there must be a rational explanation for the death of children. That round peg has to fit into the square hole we have been given.

Yet, Bildad, like Eliphaz before him, holds out some hope for Job. 

If….if….if…you will do better, Job; if you will become more righteous; if you will repent; “if you will look to God and plead with the Almighty,” “if you are pure and upright,” then God, “even now,” will “restore you to your rightful place.” “Your beginnings,” Bildad promises, “will seem humble, so prosperous will your future be” (Job 8:5-7). Since God does not “reject a blameless man or strengthen the hands of evildoers” (an interesting statement in light of the narrator’s words that God put Job into the accuser’s hands in 1:12; 2:6; he strengthed the hands that attacked Job!), Job could possibly expect–if he repents–”laughter” and “joy” once again while the “tents of the wicked” disappear (Job 8:20-22).

Between the two exhortations to repent (8:5-7 and 8:20-22), our friendly theologian–based on the wisdom of the ages–points to the fragility of those who “forget God” (8:13). They are fragile because they trust in what is fragile. They whither and die like rootless plants.

So, there are two choices; there are only two scenarios. Bildad confirms God’s quid pro quo arrangement with humanity and encourages Job to embrace the profit of righteous living. Life is about equity and fairness–God will treat us just as we deserve. If we sin, he will condemn us. If we are pure, he will bless us. It is simple, right?

Job does not think so.

Job’s Reaction

His response to Bildad is not direct. As I read him, he basically replies to Bildad’s first question.  It is enough to set Job on fire–”How long will you say such things? Your words are a blustering wind” (8:2).  Job’s response is….”I know, I know, how can I dispute with God? But I will dispute anyway; my soul must speak!”

Some don’t like to listen to such speech.  They think it is demeaning to God, undermines faith, or is an expression of arrogance. Does questioning God–asking him “why” or complaining about how he has decided to conduct the world–mean we no longer believe in God’s transcendence, power or sovereignty? It doesn’t for Job. He begins his response to Bildad with an extended rehearsal of divine sovereignty over creation (9:4-13). He confeses God’s wisdom and power (9:4). His language sounds very similar to what Yahweh himself will say to Job in chapters 38-41.

On the one hand, Job knows it is futile to argue with God (9:3, 14-15). On the other hand, he must speak and declare his feelings (10:1). This is the tension of a lamenter. We know God is great but we still feel what we feel. To stuff our feelings will damage the soul, to numb our feelings denies what is real, and to escape our feelings is an illusion. We must speak!

We recognize that even if we were “blameless” (in the sense of integrity–as God declared Job to be in 1:1 and 2:3), we still do not have a case before God (9:19-20).  His power and justice overwhelm us and we know we cannot stand in his presence on our own two feet. But attempting to justify God–from the perspective of lament–is futile since he “destroys the blameless and the wicked,” and “if it is not he, then who is it?” (9:22, 24). Surely God will always be right! Who can dispute that? God is in control and responsible for his world!  To deny that is to remove God from his sovereign perch as Creator.  God is the one with whom we must dispute. And we know we can’t win.

Nevertheless, we speak. I could “forget my complaint” and “change my expression and smile,” but this would not change my feelings. “I still dread,” Job says, “all my sufferings” (9:27-28).  No!  Job will speak to God; he will not forget his complaint. He will question him….about why he “smile[s] on the schemes of the wicked”….why he “search[es] out my faults and probe[s] after my sin”…why he “oppress[es] me” (Job 10:3-6).

The lamenter will do both–recognize God’s power but complain about his use of it or neglect of it.

It doesn’t make any sense! Did not God create me?  Job asks. Did not God’s own “hands”–the hands that gave the accuser the power to destroy him in chapters 1-2–create Job (10:8)? Did not God tenderly knit Job together in the womb, give him life, show him kindness and watch over him in his providence (10:10-12)?

The God who cared for Job is the God who unleashed trying, if not hostile, powers against him. “Why then did you bring me out of the womb?” Job asks (10:18). Let me die, he pleads; let the misery end.

And the misery is compounded by God’s own plan. Is this “what you concealed in your heart,” O God? “I know,” Job says, that this was in your mind” all along (10:15). You set me up! You showered me with blessings and then you took them away. What kind of trickery is this? It feels like God has betrayed us. We got sucker punched.

You are powerful, God. You created me. You loved me. But I am suffering. This doesn’t make any sense.

Job does have a glimmer of hope, however.  Perhaps it is better to say it is a yearning, even a request, or a wish.  Maybe that is all it is.  He speaks (9:33-35):

If only there were someone to arbitrate between us, to lay his hand upon us both, someone to remove God’s rod from me, so that his terror would frighten me no more. Then I would speak up without fear of him, but as it now stands with me, I cannot.

Job needs someone who will give him the boldness to stand in God’s presence and speak his heart. He needs someone who will mediate, who will place a hand on both himself and God. What Job does not realize is that God is that person. God will come to Job in compasionate care and Job will no longer need to speak. Indeed, he will find comfort (42:6).

Historically, Christians have seen Christological meaning in Job’s wish. Perhaps. Surely Job did not know and he probably does not intend some kind of reconciling mediator.  Rather, he wants someone to mediate the conversation; someone to guarentee fairness in the court of justice, someone to embolden him.

But as I meditate on this yearning, it is a wish, a hope, experienced in Jesus. It is not that Jesus removed the terrors of the Father, but that the Father and Son compassionately came near to us. The Father who loved us sent his Son, and this is how we know love. This is how we know the Father is for us because he gave his Son for our sakes. And thus we boldly go to the throne of grace rather than to the bar of justice.

In the light of Jesus, fairness is not our ultimate concern (it wasn’t for Jesus!) though the questions raise their ugly heads from time to time (even for Jesus!). In the light of Jesus, we know the Father’s love, the grace of his Messiah and the fellowship of the Spirit. This comforts us–not the answers to the questions, but the presence of loving communion, the experience of love itself….with God, with others…and, yes, even learning to love ourselves as God loves himself.


Job’s “Miserable Comforters” I (Job 4-7)

June 9, 2008

Actually, I’m more interested in Job’s journey of faith than I am his “miserable comforters” (Job 16:2), but for the present I want to take a closer look at these “comforters.”  I have decided to do this as an exercise for my own spirituality over the next few weeks because sometimes, in the midst of my grief, I actually tell myself some of the things that friends told Job.  In other words, I end up beating myself up rather than lamenting and seeking God’s mercy.

I’m not quite sure how this will proceed. I’m doing this “on the fly” and I’ll see where it goes; where the Spirit might lead as I meditate on the Job’s dialogue with his friends. Depending on my own meditations, I will move back and forth between posts on hermeneutics and posts on Job’s dialogue with his friends

There are three cycles of dialogue. The first one is found in Job 4-14. [We could begin the cycle with Job 3 but I don't think Job intended any "response" from his friends. Rather, it is a "why" lament with God in the third person rather than as a direct address to God.] It is the longest cycle. Eliphaz speaks (4-5) then Job responds (6-7), then Bildad (8), then Job again (9-10), then Zophar (11) followed by Job’s final response (12-14). Job says more as the dialogue proceeds and the friends say less! [On the whole structure of the book see my notes on Job.]

I think the basic theme of this cycle is “Job, repent and God will return it all to you!”  Good advice to a sufferer, huh? Or, another way of putting it is, “get your life together and God will bless you again.” Or, “God does this on a quid pro quo basis–you do your part and God will reward you!” Here is a quick snapshot:

Eliphaz (4-5): Offers hope in discipline (5:17-27).
Job (6-7): Friends are dry streams (6:15-21).
Bildad (8): God will yet deliver you if you repent (8:6-20).
Job (9-10): Who am I, even if I am blameless (9:20).
Zophar (11): Job is self-righteous (11:4-5), so repent (11:13).
Job (12-14): You are telling me nothing new; just listen (13:1-2, 13).

For this post, I will concentrate on Eliphaz and Job’s response (Job 4-7).

 Eliphaz’s Mistakes

Eliphaz, to his credit, does attempt to be conciliatory, gentle and hopeful.  Apparently, however, Job did not think he tried very hard.  :-)   Despite the best of intentions and with even a small amount of insightful theology (e.g., 5:8-17), we can do more harm than good.

Mistake One.  The friends thought they had to speak. They could not bear to hear Job’s heart-rending lament in chapter 3 and stay silent. Eliphaz cautions Job about impatience, insinuates that perhaps he should just listen “but who can keep from speaking,” he says (4:2).

Lesson:  Be present and be silent; when in any doubt, choose silence. Don’t speak because the silence is uncomfortable.

Mistake Two.  The friends cautioned Job about his words. “Call if you will,” Eliphaz taunts Job, “but who will answer you?” (5:1) Job’s words are dangerous, edgy, and cross the line with God. Eliphaz thinks Job is insolent and impatient.

Lesson: Listen to their lament. Don’t judge it and don’t critique it. Let it flow and let it go. Listen, listen and then listen some more.

Mistake Three.  The friends reminded Job how God takes care of the righteous. “Consider now,” Eliphaz says, “who, being innocent, has ever perished? Where were the upright every destroyed?” (4:7). What is Job supposed to think about that? If Eliphaz is right, Job can’t be upright or innocent (but the reader knows that the Lord himself declared him such in Job 1-2).

Lesson: “Cheer up, my brother; live in the sunshine!”  “God will take care of you; trust him!” Such platitudes are meaningless when you’ve been crushed. They have an opposite effect than what is intended. Such words may turn the sufferer away from trust because now it appears that God has not considered them worthy of his protection.

Mistake Four.  The friends plead with Job to accept the Lord’s discipline for his sins. God will rescue him from his calamities and secure him against future ones (5:18-26) if only he will “not despise the discipline of the Almighty” (5:17). There may be a place for this if sins are the cause of the circumstances–which sufferers often need to recognize for themselves.  But in Job’s circumstances–tragic events unrelated to his actions, tragedies beyond his control–the advice rings hollow.

Lesson: “God is teaching you something; listen to him, repent and get your life straight.” Never, ever attribute the suffering to some defect in the sufferer. Sufferers may do that for themselves, but it is not the place of the comforter to connect the dots for them if there are any dots to connect.

Mistake Five.  The friends interpreted Job’s suffering and alluded to elements of his pain. Eliphaz does this twice in two sections in Job 5.  From one angle he describes the fool whose house was “suddenly…cursed” and whose children “are far from safety” (5:3-4) but from another angle describes how the Lord will protect the property and children of those who penitently accept his discipline. “You will know your tent is secure; you will take stock of your property and find nothing missing. You will know that your children are many, and your descendants like the grass of the earth” (5:24-25). Unmitigated gall!

Lesson: While the sufferer may talk about the tragedy and give any details that they may like–and we should listen to whatever they want to say about it, comforters never ever (1) interpret the meaning of the suffering, (2) compare past and present, or (3) use language that opens up the wounds (“children”).

Mistake Six.  Eliphaz projects a future for Job that is “rosy” and filled with blessing, healing and restoration. The condition of this future is Job’s repentance, but if he will repent, then God will give it all back tohim (5:18-26).  Eliphaz talks about the future with such certainty. I suspect he intends to build hope within Job.

Lesson: Don’t promise more than you know. “It will be okay; it will be for the best; everything will turn out alright”–and the almost infinite variations of those “nice” platitudes. We don’t know the future; we don’t know if it is for the best; we don’t know what good, if any, will arise out of the circumstances.

Mistake Seven.  The friends are so confident, so arrogant, so sure of their advice. “We have examined this,” Eliphaz says, “and it is true. So hear it and apply it to yourself” (5:27). Sufferers hate such egotistical, self-centered and self-promoting jibberish.

Lesson: Comforters need a strong sense of inadequacy, humility and powerlessness. Comforters cannot fix it.  They can only sit in it with the sufferer. They have no magic words, interpretations or explanations.

Job’s Despair

Is this how you react, Job asks, to a “despairing man”? (Job 6:14).

His Speech. How can I remain silent?  Of course my words are “impetuous”–”my anguish…my misery” weighs more than the “sands of the seas” (Job 6:2-3).  Why should I have patience–from whence does the hope arise that “that I should be patient” (Job 6:8).  His patience is finished; he has none. “Therefore, I will not keep silent” (Job 7:11).

His Powerlessness.  He must speak because words are all that are left him. He is neither made of “stone” or “bronze” that he would have “power” to help himself (6:12-13).

His Isolation.  “A despairing man,” Job announces, “should have the devotion of his friends, even though he forsakes the fear of the Almighty” (6:14).  Where’s their loyalty? Where is the compassion, the sympathy, the consolation? These friends are fair weather friends; they are like streams fed by “melting snow” in the Spring but are dry  beds “in the heat” of summer (6:16-17). Like an oasis that has dried up, Job’s friends are of “no help” (6:21). They treat Job like those who “cast lots for the fatherless;” they “barter” away his friendship (6:27). They make their deal with God to keep their own blessings and treat Job’s words like “wind” (6:28). 

His Lament. After responding to the friends, he addresses God beginning in 7:7.  He is hopeless; he has no future. His “days have no meaning” (7:16). His lament is filled with frustration–why is God so intent on picking on him, testing him. “Why have you,” O God, “made me your target?” (7:20).  How can human beings be so significant to God that he would busy himself with meddling in their lives? Why does not God just forgive and be done with the lot?

His Comfort.  Job has not denied the words of the Almighty. He speaks out of anguish but his “joy in unrelenting pain” (Job 6:10; see previous post) is his refusal to curse God and his commitment to trust the One who seems, at the moment, so much like an enemy.

***********

Sit with Job, my friends. Listen to him; listen with your heart as well as your mind. Meditate on them. Feel your way through them. If you are a sufferer and you empathize, make them your words. Hear in his words the pain of millions of others. His words are their words; his words are often my words. His words are my daily meditations and prayers for the next few weeks.

 


“My Days Have No Meaning” (Job 7:16d)

June 8, 2008

Was Job right?

He was, I have no doubt, right about his feelings. His losses seemed to have no meaning from his vantage point. Sitting on the trash pile, thinking about his children, his wife, his isolation, his “miserable comforters,” and his future prospects, it would be well-nigh impossible for him to find meaning in the tragic events of his life.

Most people can sit there with him. I know I can sit in, meditate on and lament the seeming meaninglessness of my own pain as well as the pain of others.

And it is appropriate to do so. To sit in our sadness is healthy; to pass through it too quickly is to put a bandaid on our wound rather than to find healing. I have done that at times in my life. Consequently, I have chosen–and have found it necessary–to pursue a season of deep grieving for the sake of some deep healing.

I am not clinically depressed (I have been tested for such :-) ) or suicidal. I am simply “casting it out”–privately, with my wife, in small groups and with my blogging community. I am processing my life at the age of 50, and I am doing so with both professional and spiritual guidance. It is healthy for me and I appreciate everyone’s kindness in prayers, notes, emails and comments on this blog. Thank you.

But I don’t believe Job was exactly correct in his exclamation of meaninglessness and neither do I think pain is ultimately meaningless, any pain. I understand his words–I’ve said them myself. It makes sense that he would feel that way and his friends should have listened to his lament rather than trying to “fix” him.

And yet I think his “days” of suffering had meaning, incalcuable meaning. One suggested meaning might be something like this.

  • His days, his laments, his endurance and his faith have encouraged many in their own struggles!

 

OK, I can go with that, but it rings rather hollow at some level.  This horizontal benefit is not worth the pain in the eyes of many sufferers.  In our calmer moments perhaps we can nod our head to this byproduct. But in our depths we protest and reject that our pain was necessary for any such good outcomes.

I think we have to go deeper than the horizontal meaning of mutual encouragement as important and significant as that is. Meaning, it seems to me, must be found in terms of divine relationality–the inter-communion of God and humanity.  This is something the story of Job illustrates.

In the story of Job the origin of Job’s “days” are found in a cosmic question posed by the accuser, the prosecutor. The accuser is a cosmic skeptic–he doubts whether any human being is capable of authentic relationship with God. “Does Job serve God for nothing?” he asks. Humans are driven by a profit (“what’s in it for me?”) and not by love.

I tend to think of this in terms of Marvin Gaye’s popular “Can I Get a Witness?”  Gaye’s song is about “love gone bad,” but the song title and its meaning is rooted in the African American church experience. “Can I get a witness?” is a question that one who was testifying to God’s saving movement in their lives would ask of the congregation. The questioner is seeking confirmation of his/her experience with God.

Job is a witness to the experience of God in the world. God himself needed a witness in the face of the skeptic’s accusations and called upon Job as his witness. Does Job serve God for profit? The answer in the story is a resounding “No!” Job is a witness of the authenticity of faith and love; a witness to the meaningfulness of God’s agenda in relation to the world. Job would rather die than deny his maker (Job 6:8-10).

Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for, that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose his hand and cut me off! Then I would still have this consolation–my joy in unrelenting pain–that I had not denied the words of the Holy One.

This is the answer to the accuser’s question–Job’s joy-yes even his comfort, even in the midst of his pain, is that he will not curse his God! This is authentic faith. This is what is really real.  This participates in the divine life itself–to commune with God despite the painful realities of this fallen creation. This is the joy of Jesus himself as he endured the shame for the sake of something larger, grander than himself.

As a theological story, the narrator/editor offers a paradigm for meaning in suffering. All believing sufferers are witnesses–they testify that their relationship with God is more important then their own “happiness.” Or, put another way, the greatest joy in the midst of unrelenting pain is communion with God. We do not serve God for profit but we serve God out of relationship, communion–we serve God because we love God.

That is my joy.  Despite my pain, despite my sins (and there are many), my relationship with God is my joy, my sustenance, my witness.


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