Text: Job 23
Quote: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Winston Churchill
So, let me tell you about my week. I’ve been here one week, and this is what I’ve seen: a life threatening illness, a financial cry for help, widows and widowers smiling through the pain of their recent loss, families struggling to put the pieces back together after a divorce, homebound elders in need of care, and friends grieving over formerly active members who just aren’t involved any more. One week!
Some of you are feeling a little anxious right now. “Is he feeling overwhelmed already? Is he going to leave?” No way. This week was awesome! You know why? Because you’re still talking. You’re still here. You’re just as messed up as the rest of the world, but you’re talking about it with each other instead of hiding. You’re here working on it, instead of sleeping it off. You are a wonderful church!
Look at our reading today, from the 23rd chapter of Job. You all know Job, right? The story goes that Devil challenged God to a bet. The Devil claimed that the only reason Job loved God was because God had blessed him with wealth. So God gave permission to take Job’s wealth away. The Devil took everything, even Job’s children, but Job didn’t crack. He grieved, but he didn’t turn against God. That wasn’t enough for the Devil. He claimed that the only reason Job loved God was because God had protected his health. So God gave permission to take Job’s health away. But Job still didn’t crack.
He sat on a pile of ash, scraping at the sores that covered his body, and didn’t say a word. Even when his wife left him, he said nothing. Finally, after 7 days of silence, he opens his mouth, and what comes out is something between a complaint and an argument. He starts by wishing he had never been born, and then uses that as the foundation for his argument. Why does God allow suffering? If life is so horrible, if the pain is so great that you just want to die, why would God force us to keep living?
Up until this point, Job’s friends have been amazing. They hear the news right away, which means they keep in touch. They all arrive together, so that caring for Job doesn’t become a burden. They sit in the dust with him, get right down at his level. They set aside their pride and their comfort for the sake of their friend. And they don’t say anything. For seven days they don’t say a word. When Job is finally ready to speak, they listen. They let him get it all out, and they don’t interrupt. Job’s friends are amazing! And then they ruin it.
Brothers and sisters, when someone’s life is such a broken mess that they ask, “Why won’t God just let me die?” They don’t want answers. They want less pain. You don’t just wake up one day and say, “Hey, how about I commit suicide!” Suicide is what happens when the amount of pain in your life exceeds your ability to cope. In religious circles, we call it despair, and it is the root of half the pain we see on TV every night. When one of your friends cries out in despair, they don’t want simplistic answers.
“I feel horrible about my life, but when I eat I don’t feel so bad. When I’m drunk I can’t think about it. When I have sex, I feel good, at least for a little while.” It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. I’ve known guys who use hunting as an escape, or their boat, or exercise, or reading a book. In all of these situations, the one thing they don’t want is a lecture. The behavior is just a symptom of the deeper problem. “I hate myself. I hate my life.” But far too often we ignore the problem, because it’s too hard, and it hits way too close to home. So we give easy answers instead instead. That’s what Job’s friends did. They let him have his say, and then they opened their mouths.
What follows is 20 chapters of back and forth, a biblical argument that could serve as a template for every useless theological discussion in the history of the world. They start out friendly, then get superior, then resort to sarcasm. They use straw man arguments and personal attacks. They blame the victim. But by far their favorite tactic is to say exactly what they said before just using more words and more volume. Sound familiar?
Finally, God has to interrupt and shout them all down. But God doesn’t address the friends. He yells at Job. That hardly seems fair. Job’s the victim here. God made a bet, so Job has to suffer, and he can’t even know why? Well, Job isn’t exactly faultless. Let’s go back and hear his words again.
“Even today my complaint is bitter; God’s hand is heavy in spite of my groaning. If only I knew where to find him. If only I could go to his dwelling! I would state my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments. I would find out what he would answer me, and consider what he would say.”
Do you hear the touch of arrogance there? Job has been arguing for 20 chapters so far, and he’s getting heated. His friends just keep pushing him and pushing him until he’s saying, “I wish I could go knock on God’s door. I’d tell him, and he’d answer me.” In the course of 20 chapters, we’ve gone from despair to pride. It’s interesting to me that those two are never far apart. They’re two sides of the same coin. Despair rejects God’s act of creation. I hate myself. I hate my life. I wish I had never been born. But pride rejects our place in creation. If I were in charge, things would be different. Things would be better. They’re both ultimately a rejection of God.
Job’s only faults are despair and pride, but they are enough to divide him from God. That’s what the Devil really wanted all along. God and Job loved each other, and so he came up with a bet, a trick, a lie. Do you think the Devil cares about the theological conundrum of suffering? He just saw a relationship and wanted to break it. And it almost worked. First Job falls into despair, and then into pride. Toward the end of the argument, he’s not really talking to God any more. He’s yelling at a caricature of God that he’s created in his mind. The relationship is nearly gone, when God does the one thing no one expected he would ever do.
God speaks. Up until this point in the story, God has been in heaven and Job has been on earth and only the Devil has walked in both places. But now God breaks through into Job’s world and his voice rings out a challenge. “Who is this that questions my wisdom? Brace yourself, and answer me. Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?” And so begins a pounding torrent of questions. “Have you ever called the morning? Can you hold back the stars?” Question after question. You see, God has to break the pride before he can heal the despair.
You can hear it in Job’s reply, “I am nothing. How could I ever find the answers?” You hear that? That’s despair speaking. Pride was just the symptom, masking the real problem. Once again God speaks from the whirlwind. But this time he points toward the two greatest beasts of creation, behemoth and leviathan. Job has rejected creation, so God holds creation in front of his eyes in all its might and beauty.
And Job replies, “You ask, ‘Who is this that questions my wisdom with ignorance?’ It is I. And I was talking about things I did not understand, things far too wonderful for me.” Did you hear that? “It is I.” “Things far too wonderful for me.” He’s back. He’s still sad. He’s still confused. But he doesn’t hate himself and he doesn’t hate God. And then at the very end comes the verse, so small that for years I missed it, chapter 42 verse 7. “After the Lord had finished speaking to Job…”
Did you get that? After Job replies and the relationship is restored, God speaks again to Job, and this time we don’t have any record of the words, because they’re not for us. Those words are only for God and Job. Who knows? Maybe Job got his answers. Maybe he didn’t. But he got his faith back. He got his life back. Because God did the one thing no one ever expected. God entered the story.
Christians, we are so blessed. Because what Job longed for, we see clearly. Because once again, God entered the story. When we look at Jesus, we see God as God truly is. Vulnerable. Despised and rejected. Hung on a cross where he cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” This is God. God is not the puppet master, portioning out pain according to some secret purpose. God is not our enemy. To those trapped in despair, God says, “Look, I suffer too. I’m on your side.” To those trapped in pride he says, “Look at me, I’m no threat to you.”
Maybe you’re hurting today. Then follow Job’s example and complain to God. Maybe you’re angry. Then yell at God. Even an argument is still communication. How many of you have seen Fiddler on the Roof? Remember Tevya? Talked to God, complained to God, laughed with God, and when his whole life fell apart and he didn’t have words to describe his pain, what did he do? He turned his eyes toward God and asked, “Why? Why? Why?” Even that is a prayer. And he didn’t ask those questions alone. Just like Job, he asked his questions in the middle of a community.
Look around you. This is your community. These are your friends. This is the place where it’s safe to ask the questions no one can really answer. I’ve only been here a week, and I already see it in you. When it’s time to pass the peace, we have to start signing a hymn to get you to sit back down. When it’s time to share joys and concerns, you make yourselves vulnerable to each other. Even when it’s hard, you don’t give up, and you don’t walk alone.
My friend the counselor tells me that the single greatest success factor for those who are trying to put their lives back together is their support network. No surprise, there. We are made in the image of God, and the heart of God is a triune community of freely given love. We were made for relationship, with God and with each other.
It’s ok to argue with someone you love, as long as you make up afterward. It’s even ok to argue in front of children as long as they see you resolve the conflict positively. Tears can be honest. Complaints can be honest. Even rage can be honest. A relationship can survive those things, because the opposite of love isn’t anger, or even hate. The opposite of love is indifference.
Benediction: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Did you catch that word? Through. I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Not set a tent and camp out there. Not lay down and die there. Walk through, and out the other side. With God in our hearts and our friends at our side, we can do all things through God who strengthens us.
The Opposite of Love isn’t Hate by Rev. R.J. Brink is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
