Job 23: 1-9, 16-17
Hebrews 4:14-16
Common Biblical wisdom speaks of the patience of Job—as the model character of one who endures great hardship and yet remains steadfast in his faith in God.
But the term “patient” implies someone who suffers silently, who does not complain, who remains confident that this too shall pass. Job does endure. He does not give up on the existence of God. But he doesn’t do it gracefully, without complaint, without loosing hope. The fact that Job is alive at the end of the book with a new family and fortune does not mean that he was patient during the darkness.
Job is a righteous man. There are only so many of these men in the Bible. And God is having a conversation with the imperial court—God from time to time seems to have these conversations with others in the divine realm. And one called the Accuser steps forward, his name is Ha Satan, and he’s not our modern concept of Satan, he’s not evil, he’s on God’s side, but he’s more of a CIA operative in God’s service. And he questions how faithful and good the people really are to God. And God says, “See Job over there, he hasn’t given me any trouble, Job and I are just fine.” To which Ha Satan says, “Of course he loves you, you spoil him! You give him everything he wants, you give him the easy life, he’s never had any difficulty ever.” And so God and Ha Satan come up with a test, Ha Satan will take everything away from Job, except for his life, says God. Job must stay intact, but his family, his home, his livestock, his career, even his health—it all has to go, and all at once. And then, God will know what Job is made of and if he still believes and serves the almighty God.
And so, Sebeans kill Job’s oxen, fire falls from heaven and burns all his sheep and servants. Chaldeans run off with all of the camels and kill more servants, a great wind sweeps across the desert and collapses his eldest son’s house killing all of his sons and daughters inside.
In today’s passage, we get a glimpse of how Job is doing with all of that. After his friends blame him and are largely unhelpful, Job speaks of his desire to go to God himself, to plead his case, to discuss his plight with God, like two rational human beings, so that he might find relief. He would argue and God would listen.
Job is furious. He wishes he had never been born. He wishes he could disappear into the darkness.
When I think of anger at God, I always think of a scene from The West Wing
At the end of season two, in an episode called “Two Cathedrals,” we see President Bartlett’s life and presidency spiraling out of control. He’s just lost one of the most important people in his life to a senseless accident involving a drunk driver. He’s announced that he covered up the fact that he had MS, and he’s facing the usual array of national and global crises that a President faces.
The scene takes place in National Cathedral just after the funeral of his beloved secretary and advisor. Clearly agitated, he asks Secret Service to seal the door. As the door thumps shut, we see him turn toward the High Altar and begin to walk down the nave. As he goes along he starts cursing God in English and then in Latin.
He quotes Graham Greene: “You cannot conceive nor can I the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God,” but says the President, “I think you’re just vindictive.” He goes through the list of disasters: both natural and manmade. And then turns to his own confessions: “Yes,” he says, “I’ve committed many sins, have I displeased you, you feckless thug?”
He then runs through a list of all the good things he’s done for the country: creating jobs, setting aside land for conservation, to his personal triumph of raising 3 children. “That wasn’t good?” he asks, “That’s not enough to buy me out of the dog house?”
He stands at the entry to the high altar and continues to rail curses in Latin, telling God where he thinks God should go. He then lights a cigarette and stamps it out right there in the crossing.
Job assumes that God is reasonable. That he could sit down with God, and speak man to man with God, that if God would just listen he would grant mercy. The problem for Job is that he doesn’t know where to find God.
For President Bartlett, he knows where God is, at least metaphorically. He paces down the Cathedral nave like a Lion stalking his prey. If he could just get his hands on God, if God really were just a man like him, we get the impression that he’d let God have it—the stamped out cigarette on the floor is as close to physical assault as he can get, and he has to settle with a verbal rampage—and silence, because God doesn’t talk back.
Job believes God is reasonable and just, God’s just missing.
The psalmist cries out, my God, my God why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? Do not be far from me!
The Bible is full of accounts of God near and far, the promise that God is compassionate and ever-present, but these scriptures remind us that believers from long ago also felt distant from God just as we do sometimes—feel close or far, depending on where we are and what’s going on in our lives, not where God is.
Our Hebrews passage gives us further assurance. We have word on the character of God; fearsome, sharp, piercing, dividing, a fierce judge from whom no one can hide. But also a high priest, one who has great sympathy for us. This priest is Jesus, and he is not unsympathetic--he knows our weaknesses, because they are his weaknesses, he was tested and challenged.
And that means Jesus continues to work on our behalf—Jesus prays for us and is with us in our darkest times. We cannot vanish into darkness, into oblivion, because Jesus will always be with us and will not forsake us.
Even though God does not respond and act the way we want God to, or the way we imagine God should, we can still communicate our desperation and confusion to God.
In the end, Job is not punished for his words. God speaks to him and humbles him. Job repents and his livelihood is restored.
We can take the easy way out and reject God, or we can stand tall and engage the almight—to wrestle, to argue, to curse if we need to because God is big enough to handle our frustration and anger and will not reject us. Thanks be to God.
