Trying to Make Sense of Our Suffering

At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:20-21).

“In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job.” And you could probably tell the rest of his story, at least parts of it. Everyone knows the name Job. Everyone knows something about him, even if they know little about the Bible. Job is the poster child of affliction. The phrase “the patience of Job” is widely known, although when we read his story, we discover that Job is not all that patient. 

We all know the story of Job. 

What you don’t know about Job, you can easily find out. Much has been written about this book. Scholars have plumbed its depths, shining the light of their knowledge into every nook and cranny of the text. The gaps in your knowledge would not be hard to fill. You could easily discover that there are two possible sites for the land of Uz, that several ideas have been proposed as to what the name “Job” means, that there is a definite article in Hebrew with the word Satan. It reads “the Satan” which means the accuser.

But my questions about Job are not really answered by the scholars and commentators. I guess those things are helpful. But when I read or hear or think about the story of Job, those are not the questions I ask.

Strategies of Avoidance or Management

This is a story about a man who lost everything – and when I hear about that kind of loss, I don’t care about where the land of Uz was. I’m not all that interested in the meaning of a man’s name. I don’t care about finer points of Hebrew grammar. I want to know one thing.

“What in the world is going on here?”

Maybe you’ve asked that question lately. Maybe you’re asking that question today. This is our effort to make sense of what happens to us and around us. We’re trying to understand.

It’s a little bit like being in interstate traffic that suddenly comes to a standstill; nothing but red brake lights in front of you; all lanes blocked; nobody is moving. We want to know what’s going on. If we can get a traffic report, understand what’s happening, maybe we can tolerate the problem.

We want to know what’s going on so we can either manage the situation or avoid it.

This question seems to be at the heart of the book of Job. Job experienced unspeakable suffering. Every part of his life that matters was touched by loss and grief.

Job lost his children; Job lost his wealth; Jobb lost his health. At the lowest moment we see him scaping his flesh, lancing the boils on his body with a piece of pottery. He is immersed in abject misery and anguish.

A Better Question

That we would ask “what’s going on?” is understandable. After all, Job is a good man: he is a man of highest character; he is a man of personal integrity; he is also a devout man, the spiritual leader of his family. Job’s suffering is undeserved suffering, and this is what we cannot understand.

Furthermore, this is the question that Job himself is wrestling with. Job wants to know what’s going on.  Job is trying hard to reconcile his own goodness with the goodness of God. The book is one long dialogue. Job’s friends offer words of counsel and Job answers back. All of it revolves around the question, what’s going on.

But at the end of the book the one question that never gets answered is the question of why. God never explains what’s going on. God never offers an apology. God never offers and explanation. We are not told why.

But “why” is not the only question the story of Job raises. There is in fact a better question, a more urgent question. We’ll turn our attention to that question next.

Prayer:     

Merciful God, every good gift in this life comes from your hand, and even in our lowest moments you are deserving of our praise. We confess that we find it hard to praise your name in our suffering. The troubles that work to test and deepen our faith often leave us questioning your goodness. The suffering that should draw us close to you can easily be a wedge that keeps us distant. Give us the grace we need to bless your name in both the giving and the taking away, we ask in Jesus’ name.    

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