Can We Justify God?

February 17, 2013

Joshua, my son, you would have been 28 today.  I miss you, and yearn to hold you again.  One day….yes, one day.  Till then, rest peacefully.

 Joshua died  at the age of sixteen. I offer this chapter out of my ebook on The Shack and spiritual recovery in his honor.

********

Oh, the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
“Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?”

Romans 11:33-34 (NIV)

The death of a child, especially the brutal murder of Missy, raises passionate questions about God’s handling of the world. Mack’s “last comment” to the Triune God around the breakfast table on that first morning was something we have all thought at one time or another: “I just can’t imagine any final outcome that would justify all this” (p. 127).

There it is. Bold. In God’s face. It is almost a gauntlet challenging God’s own imagination, his own resources—his wisdom and knowledge. Can anything justify the evil in the world?

This is the problem of theodicy, that is, the justification of God. Why does God create a world in which evil is so pervasive, strong and unruly? Why does he give evil this space to grow? When a cyclone kills over 130,000 in Myanmar, an earthquake snuffs out the lives of 80,000 more in China, and a tsunami kills about 20,000 in Japan, I have little interest in defending or justifying God.

When my son dies of a genetic disorder after watching him slowly degenerate over ten years and I learn of the tragic death of a friend’s son (John Robert Dobbs)—both dying on the same date, May 21—I have little interest in defending or justifying God.

How could I possibly defend any of that? I suppose I could remove God from responsibility by disconnecting him from his creation but I would then still have a God who decided to be a Deist. That’s no comfort—it renders God malevolent or at least disinterested. I prefer to say God is involved and he decides to permit (even cause–though I would have no way of knowing which is the case in any particular circumstance) suffering. I would prefer to hold God responsible for the world he created and how the world proceeds.

I’m tired of defending him. Does God really need my feeble, finite, and fallible arguments in his defense? Perhaps some need to hear a defense—maybe it would help, but I also know it is woefully inadequate at many levels. God does not need my defense as much as God needs to encounter people in their crises. My arguments will not make the difference; only God’s presence will.

I know the theodices and I have attempted them myself. Young utilizes a few of them. A free-will theodicy that roots evil in the free choices of human beings does not help me with earthquakes, genetics and cyclones. It certainly does not explain why God does not answer the prayers of his people with compassionate protection from such. A soul-making theodicy that says God permits evil to develop our characters does not explain the quantity and quality of suffering in the world. Suffering sometimes breaks souls rather than making them. There are other theodicies and combinations, but I find them all pastorally inadequate and rationally unsatisfying.

My rationalizations have all shipwrecked on the rocks of experience in a hurting and painful world. The way I most often approach God in the midst of suffering is now protest, a form of lament.

Does God have a good reason for the pervasive and seemingly gratuitous nature of suffering in the world? I hope he does—I even believe he does, but I don’t know what the reasons are nor do I know anyone who does. My hope is not the conclusion of a well-reasoned, solid inductive/deductive argument but is rather the desperate cry of the sufferer who trusts that the Creator has good intentions and purposes for his creation. I believe there is a Grand Purpose that overcomes the Great Sadness.

Lament is not exactly a theodicy, but it is my response to suffering. It contains my complaint that God is not doing more (Psalm 74:11), my questions about “how long?” (Psalm 13:1), my demand to have my “Why?” questions answered (Psalm 44:24), and my disillusionment with God’s handling of the world (Job 21, 23-24). It is what I feel; it is my only “rational” response to suffering.

I realize that I am a lowly creature whose limitations should relativize my protest (as when God came to Job). But, as with Job and the Psalmists, I continue to lament—I continue because I have divine permission to do so! Of all “people,” I must be honest with God, right? I recognize that my feeble laments cannot grasp the transcendent glory of the one who created the world and I realize that were God to speak he would say to me something of what he told Job. But until he speaks….until he comforts…until he transforms the world, I will continue to speak, lament and protest.

But that response is itself insufficient. I protest, but I must also act.

As one who believes the story of Jesus, I trust that God intends to redeem, heal and renew this world. As a disciple of Jesus, I am committed to imitate his compassion for the hurting, participate in the healing, and sacrifice for redemption. I am, however, at this point an impatient disciple.

Does this mean that there are no comforting “words” for the sufferer? No, I think the story itself is a comfort; we have a story to tell but we must tell it without rationalizing or minimizing creation’s pain. We have a story to tell about God, Israel and Jesus. God loves us despite the seeming evidence to the contrary. God listens to our protests despite our anger and disillusionment. God empathizes with our suffering through the incarnation despite our sense that no one has suffered like we have. God reigns over his world despite the seeming chaos. God will defeat suffering and renew his creation despite its current tragic condition. The story carries hope in its bosom and it is with hope that we grieve.

Mack could not “imagine any final outcome that would justify” all the evil in the world. This is something that Mack says before he sits on the judgment seat before Sophia, but it is a function of the judgment seat to decide what would justify evil and would not. If humans can’t imagine it, then it can’t be possible, right? And that is the crux of the problem—human imagination has become the norm rather than trusting God’s wisdom and knowledge that is beyond searching out, plotting or understanding.

Human imagination or trust in divine wisdom? Which shall we choose? The former, as a criterion, excludes the latter. The latter is patient with the former’s limitations.

But trust is the fundamental problem. At the root of distrust is the suspicion, as Papa tells Mack, “that you don’t think that I am good” (p. 126). We humans tend to trust our own imagination (or rationality) more than we trust God’s goodness. We doubt that “everything—the means, the ends, and all the processes of individual lives—is all covered by [God’s] goodness” (p. 126).

In one of the most powerful scenes in The Shack Papa acknowledges that he could “have prevented what happened to Missy.” He “could have chosen to actively interfere in her circumstance,” but he decided not to do it (p. 222). Only love enabled Mack to trust God with that decision.

We can’t imagine what could possibly justify evil? But, at one level, that is the wrong question. God’s purpose is not to justify it, but to redeem it (p. 127).

My favorite scene in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of Christ is when Jesus, carrying the cross, falls to his knees under its weight. His mother runs to him and their eyes lock. With blood streaming down his cheeks and holding the symbol of Roman power and violence, Jesus says, “Behold, mother, I make all things new.”

This is the promise of God—a new creation, new heavens and a new earth in a new Jerusalem. There the old order will pass away and the voice of God will declare: “I am making everything new” (Revelation 21:5a).

A day is coming when there will be “no more curse” (Revelation 22:3). There will be no more darkness–the glory of God will fill the earth with light. There will be no more violence–the nations will receive healing and walk by its light. There will be no more death, mourning or tears–the Tree of Life and the Water of Life will nourish the people of God forever.

That renewal, however, is not simply future but is already present. Hope saves us even now. As the Father pours out his love into our hearts by his Spirit, includes us in the Triune fellowship at his breakfast table, and walks with us in our suffering, we can experience the joy of relationship, the peace of love and the hope of renewal.

Mack discovered it when he learned to trust. We will too.


“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.


Malachi 3:13-18 — Faithful and Unfaithful Lament

August 29, 2012

Everyone who has heard my story or has read much of what I have written knows that I encourage lament. The Psalms invite us to lament before God in the midst of our storms. Several days ago my Psalms class discussed Psalm 88–which is one of the most profound laments in the Psalms, and some raised the question of whether the Psalmist crossed a line with God. Did the Psalmist say too much or go too far?

Lament is encouraged and modeled in Scripture, but there is a boundary. Israel complained in the wilderness in a way that God rebuffed. They complained in a way that demonstrated a lack of faith. They pursued unfaithful lament. Malachi, in this text, confronts just that kind of lament.  It is quite appropriate for believers to lament their circumstances when they are enduing famine, sword or oppression. Believers lament, but Malachi addresses those whose complaints subverted faith.

Initially, Yahweh says through Malachi, “Your words have been hard against me!” “Hard”–in the Hebrew sentence–has the emphatic position. The words mean “strong” or perhaps “binding.” It puts a “hold” on God; it binds God. Israel’s response indicates that “hard” was understood as an attack against God; it is to say something “against” God.

What did they say? Malachi is quite specific.  They say…

  • There is no profit in lament or serving God.
  • The arrogant are blessed.
  • Evildoers prosper and escape judgment.

There is something about this that Yahweh regards as “hard.” What is at the heart of these three accusations “against” God? It seems the root is an assumed quid pro quo relationship with God. If I scratch God’s back, he will scratch mine. If I serve God, he will bless me. The language binds God to a mechanical process by which the good are blessed and the evil are judged. It is a legal approach to God that binds God to a particular behavior when I behave or misbehave. God has to bless me (e.g., remove suffering from my life and give me stuff that makes me happy?) if I follow him. God has no freedom; God has no room to maneuver. God is locked in by our obedience and lament.

Consequently, this lament subverts the freedom of God and thus fundamentally assumes that humans are the center of the universe rather than God. The sovereignty of God gives way to human obedience. When, in the eyes of this lamenter, human obedience is not blessed or human disobedience is blessed, then God is no longer just and there is no profit in serving God. One might as well simply give up on God.

Unfaithful lament asserts that there is no profit in serving God and this arises out of a motive to serve God for profit. This is exactly the question the satan asked Yahweh in Job 1. Does Job serve you for nothing? “Job is only interested in profit” is the implied accusation. But Job rejects the profit motive (cf. Job 21:16) and never curses God.

But did Job question God about the prosperity of the wicked? Indeed, he did (Job 21:1), as did Jeremiah (Jeremiah 12:1) among others (Psalms 37, 73). Why is that not unfaithful lament since Malachi’s audience  does something similar?  One key lies in the fundamental assumption of the sovereignty of God.

Job (as well as Jeremiah, for example) believed in the freedom of God. What Job confessed in Job 1:21 and 2:10 is that God is sovereign and he may “give” and he may “take away.” This is the divine prerogative. Job does not question that reality though he does ask why God does what he does. While he confesses that the “hand of God” has done everything to him (Job 12:9-10), he asks why. But he does not question God’s sovereignty (that is, God is God) and neither does he take the side of those who say that serving God is unprofitable.

Malachi contains this same contrast.  There are those, who like Job, “fear Yahweh.” And they speak with each other. They did not speak “hard” words against God but rather spoke out of faith (fear). They are a community of believers (or fearers). According Malachi, God responds to their conversation with each other.

  • Yahweh paid attention.
  • Yahweh listened.
  • Yahweh wrote it down in a “book of remembrance.”

This does not mean that people did not lament, but rather they talked with each other about their laments in the context of trust and esteem for the name of Yahweh. They may question God’s rationale and ask “why?” But they, nevertheless, trust (Psalm 13).

The “book of remembrance” is a metaphor that arises out of the Persian setting of the book. One might remember how the Persian Emperor Xerxes was reminded of how Mordecai saved his life when the “book of remembrance” was read to him one evening when he could not sleep. The book is a permanent record of events. When God listens to his people, it is permanently recorded in his heart and mind. God remembers his people.

I often suggest to my bible classes that we need not repeat every name in a prayer after we have asked for prayer requests. When the people of God talk with each other about their hurts, problems, praises, etc., they do not need to repeat every specific item to God in a formal prayer. Rather, God is present and listening to their conversation. He pays attention, hears and writes it down. God overhears his people talking and acts in response. Prayer requests are prayers since God is listening!

Most importantly, the charge against  God is unfounded. There is a deep contrast between God’s people and the wicked. God’s people are his “treasured possession” which is the language of Exodus 19:5-6 (also 2 Peter 2:9; Ephesians 1:14). God loves Israel as his own child and will “spare” them.

But it is a different story for the wicked. God knows the difference between the righteous and the wicked. It may not appear to many that he does, but God knows who serves him and who does not. And God will clarify this difference in no uncertain terms when the “day of the Lord” comes.

So, how do we lament? We lament in faith, trusting in the sovereignty of God. Faith is shattered when we permit present circumstances to subvert divine sovereignty. Faith does not live for profit and neither does it bind God to some kind of mechanistic, legal principle (such as quid pro quo). Rather, faith trusts that God’s righteousness and goodness will reveal itself and demonstrate the justness of God’s grand project to reconcile with the human race.

We lament, but we trust (Psalm 13), just like Jesus on the cross whose words “My God, My God, why have your forsaken me” were also laid beside “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”


God and Evil: Can God Be Justified?

May 21, 2012

May 21 is a dark day in my own history. Joshua died eleven years ago today at the age of sixteen. I offer this chapter out of my ebook on The Shack and spiritual recovery in his honor.

********

Oh, the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
“Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?”

Romans 11:33-34 (NIV)

The death of a child, especially the brutal murder of Missy, raises passionate questions about God’s handling of the world. Mack’s “last comment” to the Triune God around the breakfast table on that first morning was something we have all thought at one time or another: “I just can’t imagine any final outcome that would justify all this” (p. 127).

There it is. Bold. In God’s face. It is almost a gauntlet challenging God’s own imagination, his own resources—his wisdom and knowledge. Can anything justify the evil in the world?

This is the problem of theodicy, that is, the justification of God. Why does God create a world in which evil is so pervasive, strong and unruly? Why does he give evil this space to grow? When a cyclone kills over 130,000 in Myanmar, an earthquake snuffs out the lives of 80,000 more in China, and a tsunami kills about 20,000 in Japan, I have little interest in defending or justifying God.

When my son dies of a genetic disorder after watching him slowly degenerate over ten years and I learn of the tragic death of a friend’s son (John Robert Dobbs)—both dying on the same date, May 21—I have little interest in defending or justifying God.

How could I possibly defend any of that? I suppose I could remove God from responsibility by disconnecting him from his creation but I would then still have a God who decided to be a Deist. That’s no comfort—it renders God malevolent or at least disinterested. I prefer to say God is involved and he decides to permit (even cause–though I would have no way of knowing which is the case in any particular circumstance) suffering. I would prefer to hold God responsible for the world he created and how the world proceeds.

I’m tired of defending him. Does God really need my feeble, finite, and fallible arguments in his defense? Perhaps some need to hear a defense—maybe it would help, but I also know it is woefully inadequate at many levels. God does not need my defense as much as God needs to encounter people in their crises. My arguments will not make the difference; only God’s presence will.

I know the theodices and I have attempted them myself. Young utilizes a few of them. A free-will theodicy that roots evil in the free choices of human beings does not help me with earthquakes, genetics and cyclones. It certainly does not explain why God does not answer the prayers of his people with compassionate protection from such. A soul-making theodicy that says God permits evil to develop our characters does not explain the quantity and quality of suffering in the world. Suffering sometimes breaks souls rather than making them. There are other theodicies and combinations, but I find them all pastorally inadequate and rationally unsatisfying.

My rationalizations have all shipwrecked on the rocks of experience in a hurting and painful world. The way I most often approach God in the midst of suffering is now protest, a form of lament.

Does God have a good reason for the pervasive and seemingly gratuitous nature of suffering in the world? I hope he does—I even believe he does, but I don’t know what the reasons are nor do I know anyone who does. My hope is not the conclusion of a well-reasoned, solid inductive/deductive argument but is rather the desperate cry of the sufferer who trusts that the Creator has good intentions and purposes for his creation. I believe there is a Grand Purpose that overcomes the Great Sadness.

Lament is not exactly a theodicy, but it is my response to suffering. It contains my complaint that God is not doing more (Psalm 74:11), my questions about “how long?” (Psalm 13:1), my demand to have my “Why?” questions answered (Psalm 44:24), and my disillusionment with God’s handling of the world (Job 21, 23-24). It is what I feel; it is my only “rational” response to suffering.

I realize that I am a lowly creature whose limitations should relativize my protest (as when God came to Job). But, as with Job and the Psalmists, I continue to lament—I continue because I have divine permission to do so! Of all “people,” I must be honest with God, right? I recognize that my feeble laments cannot grasp the transcendent glory of the one who created the world and I realize that were God to speak he would say to me something of what he told Job. But until he speaks….until he comforts…until he transforms the world, I will continue to speak, lament and protest.

But that response is itself insufficient. I protest, but I must also act.

As one who believes the story of Jesus, I trust that God intends to redeem, heal and renew this world. As a disciple of Jesus, I am committed to imitate his compassion for the hurting, participate in the healing, and sacrifice for redemption. I am, however, at this point an impatient disciple.

Does this mean that there are no comforting “words” for the sufferer? No, I think the story itself is a comfort; we have a story to tell but we must tell it without rationalizing or minimizing creation’s pain. We have a story to tell about God, Israel and Jesus. God loves us despite the seeming evidence to the contrary. God listens to our protests despite our anger and disillusionment. God empathizes with our suffering through the incarnation despite our sense that no one has suffered like we have. God reigns over his world despite the seeming chaos. God will defeat suffering and renew his creation despite its current tragic condition. The story carries hope in its bosom and it is with hope that we grieve.

Mack could not “imagine any final outcome that would justify” all the evil in the world. This is something that Mack says before he sits on the judgment seat before Sophia, but it is a function of the judgment seat to decide what would justify evil and would not. If humans can’t imagine it, then it can’t be possible, right? And that is the crux of the problem—human imagination has become the norm rather than trusting God’s wisdom and knowledge that is beyond searching out, plotting or understanding.

Human imagination or trust in divine wisdom? Which shall we choose? The former, as a criterion, excludes the latter. The latter is patient with the former’s limitations.

But trust is the fundamental problem. At the root of distrust is the suspicion, as Papa tells Mack, “that you don’t think that I am good” (p. 126). We humans tend to trust our own imagination (or rationality) more than we trust God’s goodness. We doubt that “everything—the means, the ends, and all the processes of individual lives—is all covered by [God’s] goodness” (p. 126).

In one of the most powerful scenes in The Shack Papa acknowledges that he could “have prevented what happened to Missy.” He “could have chosen to actively interfere in her circumstance,” but he decided not to do it (p. 222). Only love enabled Mack to trust God with that decision.

We can’t imagine what could possibly justify evil? But, at one level, that is the wrong question. God’s purpose is not to justify it, but to redeem it (p. 127).

My favorite scene in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of Christ is when Jesus, carrying the cross, falls to his knees under its weight. His mother runs to him and their eyes lock. With blood streaming down his cheeks and holding the symbol of Roman power and violence, Jesus says, “Behold, mother, I make all things new.”

This is the promise of God—a new creation, new heavens and a new earth in a new Jerusalem. There the old order will pass away and the voice of God will declare: “I am making everything new” (Revelation 21:5a).

A day is coming when there will be “no more curse” (Revelation 22:3). There will be no more darkness–the glory of God will fill the earth with light. There will be no more violence–the nations will receive healing and walk by its light. There will be no more death, mourning or tears–the Tree of Life and the Water of Life will nourish the people of God forever.

That renewal, however, is not simply future but is already present. Hope saves us even now. As the Father pours out his love into our hearts by his Spirit, includes us in the Triune fellowship at his breakfast table, and walks with us in our suffering, we can experience the joy of relationship, the peace of love and the hope of renewal.

Mack discovered it when he learned to trust. We will too.


Job 15-21 — The Second Cycle of Speeches

September 21, 2011

[Given time constraints in class--we will also cover Ecclesiastes this semester--the second (Job 15-21) and third speech (Job 22-27) cycles are only allotted one class period each.  Hopefully, at some point in the future, I will have opportunity to expand my posts on the these two cycles. But for now...this is what I have time to write.]

The friends continue their accusations. Job’s frustration with his friend’s lack of sympathy increases. The friends built their case on divine transcendence and fair play. Job does not even speak to God in the second cycle of speeches and he questions their theology.

The friends have at least three recurring themes.

1.  Job has misspoken. Each of the friends begin their response to Job with allusion to his “words”; they are scandalized by how he speaks about God.  Eliphaz stresses that Job’s language testifies against him and generated by the evil in his heart (15:5-6; cf. 15:12-13). “How long,” Bildad asks, “will you hunt for words?” (18:2). Zophar appears the most restless–he rushes to answer “because of the agitation within me” (20:2). The term “agitation” literally means “hasty, rushed.” Zophar pounces on Job because he feels insulted by Job’s “censure” (20:3).

The friends perceive several problems, as I will indicate below.  But, at bottom, they don’t believe Job is honest. Job is not confessing the sin that the wisdom of the ages tells them must be present to explain his calamity. To them Job belongs in the category of “godless” (15:34; 18:21; 20:5) and “wicked” (15:20; 18:5; 20:5). Eliphaz is the most direct. He accuses Job of “doing away with the fear of God” (15:4) and questions “why does [his] heart carry [him] away…so that” Job’s “spirit” turns “against God” (15:12-13). Job’s words and spirit epitomizes the “wicked” who stretch “out their hands against God and bid defiance to the Almighty” (5:25).  For Bildad, Job “does not know God” (18:21). According to Zophar, Job shares the lot of the wicked, and the wicked are those who “have crushed and abandoned the poor” (20:19)–something Job adamantly denies in Job 31.

Job needs to repent, but, more importantly at this point, he needs to shut up and stop talking. Job needs to stop lamenting, complaining and contending with God. Anybody ever heard that advice before? I have.

2.  God is so transcendent that humanity is viewed as nothing.  Theologically, I think one of the key problems with the friends is that their understanding of divine transcendence guts human dignity. Eliphaz illustrates this–and this the second time that he has raised the point. Previously Eliphaz noted that God does not trust his angelic host much lest those who belong to the dust (4:17-19). Here he goes further. Most certainly, he denies, since “God puts no trust even in his holy ones…how much less one who is abominable and corrupt, one who drinks iniquity like water!” (15:15-16). If God will not trust his angelic host, he certainly will not trust Job who drinks sin like water.

It appears that the friends have no sense of the sort of trust God can place in human beings that the Prologue evidences. God trusted Job. God invested in human beings. He created them from the dust but he also crowned them with glory and honor; he gave them a vocation. He gave them meaning and significance. Eliphaz’s heightened sense of transcendence undermines that human dignity. Humanity matters to God; and human actions are important to God. He is not so “other” that God is disinterested in the other. Surely God is “wholly other” but God is also immanently invested in the creation, particularly human beings, and specifically–in this case–Job.

3.  The wicked are always punished. Each friend emphasizes this point in lengthy, detailed–almost hymnic–poetry. Eliphaz begins with the announcement that the “wicked writhe in pain all their days” (15:20-35); Bildad begins with the confidence that “the light of the wicked is put out” (18:5-21); and Zophar begins with the traditional wisdom that “the exulting of the wicked is short” (20:5-19).  Most of their speeches are a third-person praise of God for his judgment of the wicked and an indirect application of the destiny to Job.  Well, maybe it is not so indirect.

The friends use language that points to Job’s own circumstance. The effect is: “This is what happens to the wicked, and we all know this is what happened to Job.” According to Eliphaz, “the destroyer” comes upon them “in [their] prosperity” (15:21b), they “despair of returning from darkness” (15:22a), “distress and anguish terrify them (15:24a), and “their wealth will not endure” (15:29a).Bildad even talks about skin disease as part of calamity of the wicked (18:12-13) and, insensitivily–as he did before in 8:4–calls attention to the fact that the wicked “have no offspring or descendant among their people” (18:19). Zophar alludes to Job’s loss of property:  ”The possessions of their house will be carried away, dragged off in the day of God’s wrath” (20: 28). Job must be wicked because what happened to him happens to the wicked, right?

Job’s response to these points is fervent, painful and unyielding.

1.  Job must speak.  Job does not follow their advice. He continues to speak; he continues to complain about his circumstance and argue with the friend’s points. Their words are unhelpful, worse they are “empty nothings;” their “answers [are] but falsehood” (21:34). So, Job must speak since they will not speak for him or sit with him in his hurt. Job has every right to continue his complaint, and his complaint is not ultimately directed at the friends but to God (21:4).

But speaking does not alleviate the “pain”–it never leaves him (16:6).  He sits with his tears and his flesh is a sackcloth for mourning (16:25-16). His complaint goes unanswered. Instead, God continues to oppress him (16:7-14), even target him (16:12-13), and specifically God has given him “up to the ungodly” and cast him “into the hands of the wicked” (16:11). He has no community–no friends, no family, no relatives (19:14-19).  He shares the lot of the wicked even though his “prayer is pure” and “there is no violence on [his] hands” (16:17).

Job wants comfort or pity from his friends (cf. 19:21), but they do not have those resources within them. They are “miserable comforters” (16:2).

2.  If humanity is nothing, why is Job a target? Why does God pursue Job? Why does God keep up the pressure.  The litany in Job’s response to Bildad identifies the multiple ways in which God assaulted him (19:8-13) and pleads with the friends to recognize that “God has put me in the wrong and closed his net around me” (19:6).

Theologically, the question is why did God pursue this agenda and why does God continue it? How can Job be this important to God? Why is Job a “target” (16:12)? “Why” does God “pursue me, never satisfied with my flesh” (19:22)? For Job this is confusing, bewildering and disheartening. It sucks his life dry. He has no energy except to continue his lament. He has no other option.  The theological question is important but it has no answers.  If God is so transcendent and so beyond, why does God even bother (cf. 7:17-21)?

There must be some meaning or significance to this? Does Job suffer for no reason, for no purpose? That is the question of every sufferer whether voiced or not. And it is the question that few, if any, sufferers can ever answer.

3.  The wicked are not always punished; sometimes they die in peace and prosperity.  While there are hints in previous speeches, Job goes for the jugular on the central point of the friends in his response to Zophar (Job 21). Practically the whole speech is dedicated to the question “why do the wicked live on, reach old age, and grow mighty in power?” (21:7). It is a question many believers have asked, including Jeremiah (12:1) and the Psalmist (37 and 73). Job is not the first to notice this even though traditional wisdom seeks to rationalize it. Indeed, Job responds to one such rationalization: “their children will suffer if he does not.” But this makes no sense to Job as it is the wicked, not the children, who must suffer for their evil (21:19-22).

As far as Job can see, the wicked  ”spend their days in prosperity and in peace they go down to Sheol” (21:13).  Their homes are “safe from fear” and their children dance and rejoice (21:8-9, 11). There appears no rhyme or reason to the prosperity or the loss the wicked or righteous experience.  One lives in prosperity and dies in peace and another dies in the bitterness of soul (like Job?), but they both end up as dust (21:23-26). What’s the point? What is the meaning of this?

Whatever it may mean, the simplistic traditional wisdom of the friends does not pass the test of experience. They cannot lean on this point because it simply is not true since “the wicked are spared in the day of calamity and are rescued in the day of wrath” (21:30). What supposedly was Job’s lot because of his wickedness (divine wrath expressed in calamity, cf. 18:12; 20:28) does not happen to the wicked!

Nevertheless, Job maintains his ground.

1.  His prayer is pure and his ethics are authentic. Job continues to maintain his innocence–his prayer is pure (16:17). In one of the most poignant texts in the dialogues, Job expresses his commitment to God. Even though the wicked are safe and prosperous, he will not side with the wicked. The wicked, according to Job, say to God “Leave us alone! We do not desire to know your ways!” (21:14). In fact, they question the “profit” in serving God. “What profit do we get if we pray to him?” (21:15). In this moment the wicked echo the question of the satan in 1:9–doesn’t everyone, even Job, serve God for profit?

Job’s answer is a statements of Job’s integrity and dedication to God.  Will Job join the wicked in their mocking now? Will he join their chorus? No, he will not.  He answers (21:16): “But their prosperity is not in their own hands, so I stand aloof from the counsel of the wicked” (NIV). Interestingly, the language of “stand aloof” or “far from me” (ESV) or “repugnant to me” (NRSV) has been used by Job previously.  God, he says, had put his brothers “far from me” (19:13) and asked God to withdraw his hand “far from me.”

Though Job wants God to let him die (withdraw his hand), Job does not buy into the wisdom (counsel or designs) of the wicked. Job remains committed to God even though he laments his circumstance and has no explanation for his troubles.

2.  He knows his Redeemer, his witness, lives. Twice in this cycle Job alludes to some sort of resolution, some kind of hope. In both contexts he uses oath language, the language of a courtroom or a lawsuit (16:18; 19:23). He wants his trouble noted and his complaint registered. Job wants, as we all want, to be heard; to know that God is listening. Job wants to understand. Job wants his case heard. Job wants vindication.  He “pours out tears to God” in the hope that God “would maintain the right of a mortal with God, as one does for a neighbor” (16:21).

Job, however, recognizes that he has a “witness in heaven” (16:19) and a “redeemer” (19:25). Both express a wishful hope, perhaps a shaky confidence, that Job does not voice his complaint for nothing. God does have a response, and Job has a redeemer and a witness. Job has someone who will stand with him and stand up for him.

Reading canonically, perhaps we can see some Christological allusions here, but within the context of the narrative this person seems to be God.  Ultimately, Job believes (hopes against hope) that God will hear him, speak with him, and vindicate him.

Knowing the end of the book, we know that Job’s hopes are realized. And that is our hope as well.


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 938 other followers

%d bloggers like this: