Unraveled: Seeking Understanding When Everything Falls Apart

But where can wisdom be found?

    Where does understanding dwell?

No mortal comprehends its worth;

    it cannot be found in the land of the living.

The deep says, “It is not in me”;

    the sea says, “It is not with me.”

It cannot be bought with the finest gold,

    nor can its price be weighed out in silver.

It cannot be bought with the gold of Ophir,

    with precious onyx or lapis lazuli.

Neither gold nor crystal can compare with it,

    nor can it be had for jewels of gold.

Coral and jasper are not worthy of mention;

    the price of wisdom is beyond rubies.

The topaz of Cush cannot compare with it;

    it cannot be bought with pure gold.

Where then does wisdom come from?

    Where does understanding dwell?

It is hidden from the eyes of every living thing,

    concealed even from the birds in the sky.

Destruction and Death say,

    “Only a rumor of it has reached our ears.”

God understands the way to it

    and he alone knows where it dwells,

for he views the ends of the earth

    and sees everything under the heavens.

When he established the force of the wind

    and measured out the waters,

when he made a decree for the rain

    and a path for the thunderstorm,

then he looked at wisdom and appraised it;

    he confirmed it and tested it.

And he said to the human race,

    “The fear of the Lord—that is wisdom,

    and to shun evil is understanding.” ---Job 28:12-28 (CEB)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from the Triune God who laid the earth's foundations, set its measurements, and to whom none on earth can compare. Amen.

Over the past year or two I’ve really begun to get into podcasts. My son started me on them - he listens all the time and will regularly share new ones with me that he thinks I might be interested in. One of my favorites is The Daily, which is a daily deep dive into something in the news, often digging deeper into politics here in this country or into events or situations happening in other countries. Throw in a little art and science, and that pretty much covers it. The exploration is usually about things that are happening now. The big and urgent questions of each day. 

But, this past Friday, they did something a little different. Instead of pursuing a current event, the entire podcast was focused on the topic of “cosmic questions.” Questions that often don’t have concrete answers. Big, dreamy existential questions that we don’t have the answers to. Like: “What’s a black hole and why do we care what happens inside?” Or “Is there other life in the universe? And, if so, why don’t we know about it.” One more. “Why do we remember the past and not the future?” You know, the questions at the center of your everyday dinner-time conversation.

Well, maybe not so much. 

But, it was a fascinating conversation that made me want to do more research and gain more understanding about one particular question they explored. And, as happens frequently, this particular podcast seemed to be perfectly timed with our text today from Job. Because the book of Job is also about a cosmic question. The question of suffering. Why there is suffering in this world? And, perhaps, more specifically, why do bad things happen to good people? 

We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Experienced something especially devastating. A diagnosis. A loss. Or maybe several. I doubt there's anyone here who hasn’t had something incredibly hard happen in their lives. And who hasn’t asked the question, “Why, God? Why?” 

That was Job’s experience, too. He - like you and I - was one of the faithful ones. But, as the story goes along he becomes the subject of a cynical bet between God and Satan. A bet to question - really, to test! -  how faithful Job would remain in the face of hardship. And devastation. 

When he loses everything, he, too, asks the question, “Why?” 

Then, his friends show up. They’re not particularly helpful. Maybe you’ve experienced “friends” like this. Who, in the face of deep loss come with platitudes. Like “It’s just God’s plan!” Or “It was for the best!” Or, one of the worst, “Maybe God is punishing you for something you did.” 

Then, after these so-called friends, another one shows up and speaks a poem to him, a poem about Wisdom. It's from this poem from which today's text comes. 

About Wisdom. 

Wisdom is a key figure in the Hebrew scriptures, always in the feminine. Proverbs 8 talks of Wisdom as the one created at the beginning. “I was formed long ages ago, at the very beginning, when the world came to be.” It would only be in the first century that the Church would make the connection between the person of Wisdom in the Hebrew scriptures with that of Christ in the New Testament - particularly, with the idea of logos in the first chapter of John. The Word made flesh. Wisdom embodied in the person of Jesus Christ; then, later, in Christ’s Spirit. One who captures the fullness of God. 

But, in the Hebrew scriptures, Wisdom is identified as a righteous woman, who walks in God’s ways, who seeks justice. Who is seen as both a playful child and a wise architect. A primordial being with the claim that, “whoever finds me finds life and obtains favor from the Lord.” It’s the claim in the last verse of our text today: “The fear of the Lord is wisdom; turning from evil is understanding.” The irony of this particular claim is that it points us exactly to Job and to who Job was. A righteous man. Faithful. A lover of God. 

Not that being righteous. Or faithful. Or a lover of God is a bad thing. But, if we expect that if we do these things or are a righteous person, we will escape hardship. Or difficulty. Or loss. Then, we, like Job, fail to understand. And, if we think, too, that we are experiencing hardship because we haven’t been good enough, we also fail to understand. Like Job, we fail to experience the bigger picture. Of who God is. Who asks Job, “Where were you? Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Where were you when I set its measurements? Where were you when I stretched a measuring tape? Where were you?” 

We try so hard to control everything. And when we no longer have control. When everything in our life has unraveled. We, then, finally - hopefully - begin to experience God. And God’s presence. With a sense of wonder of this God, at work at the beginning of our world. At work in the midst of our world in this very moment. God, who does not promise a perfect life or a life without struggle. But, God. Who promises to remain. To be. With us. 

That then is true wisdom. A breathless, awe-filled reverence for God’s mystery and God’s expansiveness. For God’s presence that is beyond what we can control. Or make sense of. Or fully understand. In this life. 

So, close your eyes for just a moment. 

Become aware of your breathing. Listen to its gentle rise and fall. Become aware of being in the presence of God. 

Allow the God of love to look at you. (What’s in that gaze? Acceptance of you as you are is a good start.) Adopt a position of receiving. Stay with that for a moment.

Now, think back over the week. Give thanks for something or someone that brought you light and life. 

Was there a time when you struggled? Bring that to God’s deep, compassionate listening. 

What do you need for the coming week? Let God know.

Then remember that God loves you. And that God will remain faithful. To you.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Preached August 21, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 11

Readings: Job 28:12-28; Psalm 42:1-3, 5, 9-11

Out of the Whirlwind: Finding Life

Last week, you heard Pastor Ron preach on the creation story of Job.  For four chapters, God responds to Job with this story of creation and the way in which God has ordered creation. Out of the whirlwind, God has finally responded to Job. Not with an answer to his question about why he is suffering. But about how God is a creator God. Who loves and nourishes creation each and every day. In the first part of our lesson today, God’s speech continues. 

Last week you were introduced to one particularly dangerous and wild creature. In this portion of today’s reading, you will meet a second. Leviathan - that huge sea-being created by God.

God speaks out of the whirlwind. 

“Can you pull in the sea beast, Leviathan, with a hook and tie his tongue with a rope? 

Can you put a cord through his nose or snap his jaw with an anchor? 

Will he beg you over and over for mercy, or flatter you with flowery speech? 

Will he make a pact with you to run errands and serve you the rest of your life? 

Will you play with him like a bird, or put a leash on him for your children? 

Will you display him in the marketplace so that shoppers can haggle over his price? 

Can you shoot him full of arrows or drive a fishing spear into his head? 

Should you lay your hand on him, you would never remember the battle - won’t live to tell the story. 

Any hope of controlling him would be delusional. 

The sight of him makes one stumble. 

If you can’t hold your own against this fierce creature, how can you stand before me? 

Who can confront me and get away with it? 

I am in charge of this - everything under heaven is mine. I run this universe!” --Job 41:1-8

If Job hasn’t been brought to his knees by the earlier part of God’s response, he can only fall to them now. “Who are you?” God asks him. “Who are you that you think you are in control of this world? The universe? The cosmos? Who are you?”

There is an ancient myth that this Leviathan represents chaos. Perhaps that’s an appropriate thought for the times we are in. But I wonder if, here, Leviathan isn’t better characterized by the Leviathan written about by Thomas Hobbes, the 17th century British philosopher. Hobbes challenges us to consider that the Leviathan - this great monster of chaos - is actually within us all. That when we begin to believe that we are in control of this universe, we have succumbed to it and to the chaos it brings with it. Perhaps, this is God’s purpose with these words. Not to condemn Job for his self-centeredness and his focus on his own suffering. Because isn’t that what suffering brings us to do - to curl in upon ourselves? To focus only on ourselves and our own pain? Perhaps God’s purpose with Job (and with us) is to break open his vision. To reframe his perspective. To say to him, “You think you know about the world and about my justice, but you don’t! You don’t!”

God is re-orienting Job to a new vision, a non-human centered vision of the world. Teaching him humility. To give him a new vision, a new perspective. To invite him to look around. To breathe. And to live.

How will Job respond? We hear his answer in chapter 42.

“I’m convinced. I know you can do anything; no plan of yours can be opposed successfully. You asked, “Who is this muddying the water, confusing the issue, second-guessing my purposes?’ I admit it. It was me. I have spoken about things I didn’t understand, wonders beyond my own comprehension. You said, ‘Listen and I will speak; Let me ask the questions and you give the answers.” I admit, my ears had heard about you, rumors of you. But now, my own eyes have seen you. Firsthand. Therefore, I relent. And find comfort on dust and ashes - in my own humanity.” --Job 42:1-6

At the beginning of the book of Job, Satan argued with God that God had created the world in such a way that the righteous were kept from all harm - that God had placed a fence around them to protect them. This was the same worldview that Job and his friends also held - that the world was ordered in such a way that the righteous are rewarded and the wicked are punished. It’s the picture we had of Job at the beginning - a “blameless and upright man who feared God and turned away from evil.” A man who made sacrifices for his children preemptively - just in case. His was a very ordered world, where one’s righteousness produced prosperity.

But that world was shattered and collapsed around him in ashes. And, eventually, Job reached a second and different conclusion about the order of the cosmos, accusing God of fencing him in. Of creating a protective hedge so tightly that it feels as though he is being suffocated. 

These two conclusions - these two worldviews - are spoken by Satan and Job in the earlier chapters of the book. But, when God speaks, beginning in chapter 38 and continuing to this morning, both perspectives are called into question. The created order is not what any of them thought or imagined. The world is not a perfectly safe place for humanity. But, it is an ordered place and it is a place of profound beauty and freedom. And, within it, there is a place for humanity. Not for dominion, but for humility and wonder. God invites Job into this world and into God’s vision, to see the world in a new way. To reorient himself. To understand that he is not the center of the cosmos. To see the world from God’s point of view and to understand in a new way his place in that world. 

Our reading continues in chapter 42.

After God had finished speaking to Job, he turned to Eliphaz the Temanite and said, “I’m angry at you and your two friends because you haven’t spoken about me correctly as did my servant Job. So now, take seven bulls and seven rams, go to my servant Job, and prepare an entirely burned offering for yourselves. Job my servant will pray for you, and I will act favorably by not making fools of you because you didn’t speak correctly, as did my servant Job.”

Eliphaz from Teman, Bildad from Shuah, and Zophar from naamah did what the Lord told them; and the Lord accepted Job’s prayer.

After Job had interceded for his friends, God restored his fortune. And then doubled it! All his brothers and sisters and friends came to him and ate food with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him for all the trouble God had brought him. Each one of gave him a qesitah and a gold ring. Then the Lord blessed Job’s latter days more than his former ones. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, one thousand yoke of oxen, and one thousand female donkeys. He also had seven sons and three daughters. He named one Jemimah (or Dove); a second, Keziah (or Cinnamon); and the third Keren-Happuch (or Darkeyes). No women in all the land were as beautiful as Job’s daughters; and their father gave an inheritance to them along with their brothers. After this, Job lived 140 years and saw four generations of his children. Then Job died, old and satisfied. --Job 42:7-17

Job gets it. And responds by praying for his friends. And by having more children, including three beautiful daughters to whom he gives names that reflect their beauty. And, then, in an act unheard of in ancient Israel, Job gives them an inheritance along with their brothers. We see a transformed Job. Transformed by his own suffering and led by God to open his eyes to the beauty and grace of the world around him. To have hope in it and in God’s ordering of it. To breathe. To live. And to give his children the same freedom that God gives all creation - freedom to be fully who they have been created to be. 

At the beginning of our lectionary year, I wondered if Job was right for us this summer. Who could have known then what we know now? We are witness to the truth that the world is not perfectly safe for humanity. 

Yet, we, like Job, are called to a new vision of our world. To open our eyes to the beauty and grace of the world that God has created. To view it and all that God has made from a place of humility and wonder. And to have hope in it and in God’s ordering of it. And, then, like Job to breathe. And to live into our humanity and the freedom given to us by God, won for us by Christ’s act on the cross. So that we might fully be the whole and gracious and loving people God has created us to be. And that we might live in a world that, even though sometimes doesn’t feel safe, trust that God orders it and is in control.

May this be our lesson and learning in this time from the book of Job. Amen.

Preached July 12, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 6

Readings: Psalm 150; Job 41:1-8; 42:1-17

Out of the Whirlwind: Speaking Our Pain

We are in week three of the Book of Job. In the first week, we met Job. And learned of the wager between God and The Satan - an act intended to set up the rest of this thought experiment. And to raise questions. Hard questions. Questions of faith. Such as why innocent people suffer or even why we believe. Last week, we moved into the dialogue between Job and his friends - friends who had started so well by simply sitting beside the suffering Job in silence. But, then who opened their mouths to speak their truths - truths that Job, too, had believed. That if one does something wrong, they will be punished. Or, conversely, that if one suffers it is because they have done something wrong. Yet, we are, along with Job, beginning to see these constructs - these truths - challenged. By Job’s own experience. By his innocent suffering. 

Today, in this third week, we continue in these chapters of dialogue between Job and his friends. Thirty-five chapters. Thirty-five long chapters of back-and-forth between Job and his friends as Job struggles to make sense of his suffering and as his friends try to hold onto their truths, even in the midst of the evidence that is right in front of them. 

As we pick up this morning in chapter 14, we find Job in deep despair.

“For there is hope for a tree,

    if it is cut down, that it will sprout again,

    and that its shoots will not cease.

Though its root grows old in the earth,

    and its stump dies in the ground,

yet at the scent of water it will bud

    and put forth branches like a young plant.

But mortals die, and are laid low;

    humans expire, and where are they?

As waters fail from a lake,

    and a river wastes away and dries up,

so mortals lie down and do not rise again;

    until the heavens are no more, they will not awake

    or be roused out of their sleep.

O that you would hide me in Sheol,

    that you would conceal me until your wrath is past,

    that you would appoint me a set time, and remember me!

If mortals die, will they live again?

    All the days of my service I would wait

    until my release should come.

You would call, and I would answer you;

    you would long for the work of your hands. --Job 14:7-15 (NRSV)

In the chapters that precede this text, Job has been unpersuaded by the arguments of his friends. He responds to them, even attacks them. And rejects their claims and their assumption that this idea of retributive justice - that punishment or suffering is a result of one’s sin - is not valid. And that isn’t valid because it. Is. Not. His. Own. Experience.

But, what Job really wants is to speak to God. To see God face-to-face. And to sort out with God this misunderstanding that has somehow strained their relationship. Job seeks reconciliation.

And, so, he turns to God to argue his case. He is beginning to come to terms with his situation. He claims to God his innocence. Pleads that God might remove God’s hand. That God would tell him what he has done to deserve this. That God would speak. And God would not be silent anymore.

Then, Job moves onto the destiny of humanity. The struggle of humanity. He draws comparisons from nature. That even a tree stump has hope. That at the scent of water it will live, will bud and grow and sprout. But this, according to Job, is not the human destiny. The human destiny is one of death. And so Job pleads that God might grant him temporary asylum in Sheol - in this Jewish idea of the underworld. A place regarded as a place of no return. Job asks God to hide him in this place until God relents and finally allows Job to make his case before God.

In the next several chapters, Job continues a powerful and even deeper lament to God. With his own struggle, there is a deepening understanding by Job of the struggle of other innocent people. “If I cry ‘Violence!’ I’m not answered,” Job says. “I shout—but there is no justice.” “There. Is. No. Justice.” How familiar those words sound to us today. “No justice. No peace!” The cry - the protest chant - of those who suffer innocently.

Ellen Davis in her book, Getting Involved With God, suggests that we are not accustomed to challenging God. To blaming God. And so, when we find ourselves doing it, we feel guilty and religiously confused. For some of us, the solution is to give up on God altogether. For others of us, it is to cover our confusion about God with a false sense of piety, a fake holiness. Appearing to be holy on the outside, but evil underneath. Pretending to bow to God but grasping for power and control for ourselves as we oppress others.   

The witness of Job for us, particularly in these times, is that rage and even blame that are directed at God are valid. That to cry out to God, “Why?” is honest and true. And even more, Job’s lament that extends over so many chapters gives us permission in our lives of faith to stay in the moment of lament for a very long time. 

We continue in chapter 19.

“O that my words were written down!

    O that they were inscribed in a book!

O that with an iron pen and with lead

    they were engraved on a rock forever!

For I know that my Redeemer lives,

    and that at the last he will stand upon the earth;

and after my skin has been thus destroyed,

    then in my flesh I shall see God,

whom I shall see on my side,

    and my eyes shall behold, and not another.

    My heart faints within me! --Job 19:23-27 (NRSV)

Well, this is surprising! Even as he is in the midst of deep despair, Job suddenly expresses hope. Unexpectedly. Our New Testament lens immediately suggests that the Redeemer mentioned is Jesus. But, if we are to understand this from Job’s perspective, we must look more deeply at the Hebrew. The word in Hebrew for Redeemer is go-el. In Jewish tradition, a go-el was a person who was obligated under family expectation to care for a member in need. In his words here, Job is affirming his hope that he will be vindicated by a redeemer of his own kin, who will be a witness on his behalf before God. And who will declare Job’s innocence before God. Job accepts his human destiny - that he will die. But at the same time, three times in this passage, he states his confidence that he will see God. That he - and not some stranger - will see God. And that, with his redeemer, he will be vindicated. Acquitted. Exonerated. Freed.

There is a witness in Job that teaches us that, because God is in relationship with us, we can freely and honestly speak to God and trust that God hears us and the pain we are experiencing, whether it is personal or that of our broader world.  

This, ultimately, is the paradox of Job. That it is this full admission of pain that eventually opens the door.  To hope. And for us, in particular, even in the midst of chaotic and uncertain and even painful times, we, who know this Redeemer in Christ, have all the more reason to hope. 

Amen.

Preached Sunday, June 28, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 4.

Readings: Job 14:7-15, 19:23-27; Psalm 121.

Out of the Whirlwind: Unveiling Truth

We continue our story today in the book of Job. Last week, we met Job. And we heard about the wager between God and The Satan - the setup of this fictional thought experiment that is the book of Job. A thought experiment that explores many different questions. Questions about suffering and especially about innocent suffering. Questions of faith. Hard questions that ask us about the nature of our own faith and why we believe.

Today, we tackle another question. A question concerning truth.

As a result of the wager between God and The Satan, Job has lost all his wealth. He has lost his children and their spouses. He has lost his health. Yet, he has not cursed God. Chapter 2 ended with Job in silence. With his friends. Silently sitting. Silently grieving for 7 long days. It is here where our story resumes, beginning, in chapter 3.

Afterward, Job spoke up and cursed the day he was born.

Job said:

Perish the day I was born,

    the night someone said,

    “A boy has been conceived.”

That day—let it be darkness;

    may God above ignore it,

    and light not shine on it.

May deepest darkness claim it

    and a cloud linger over it;

    may all that darkens the day terrify it.

May gloom seize that night;

    may it not be counted in the days of a year;

    may it not appear in the months.

May that night be childless;

    may no happy singing come in it.

May those who curse the day curse it,

    those with enough skill to awaken Leviathan.

May its evening stars stay dark;

    may it wait in vain for light;

    may it not see dawn’s gleam,

    because it didn’t close the doors of my mother’s womb,

    didn’t hide trouble from my eyes.  --Job 3:1-10 (CEB)

After seven long days of silence, Job speaks. The first words out of his mouth are a curse. Job curses the day of his birth. Lamenting that he was ever born. 

It is important for us to understand Job’s position in society. He had been at the top - a patriarch, enjoying great wealth, privileged, highly respected. Early on we are told at the beginning of the story that he was the greatest of all the people in the East. He has the most to lose. And this was a long way for him to fall.

So, he curses the day of his birth. And if we were to continue on for the rest of the chapter, we would notice that his lament does not stop with his birth. He begins to complain about God. Not to God. But about God to his friends. How far he has fallen! Innocently fallen! We can understand his grief and his anger, can’t we? Especially because all of the suffering he is experiencing is not his fault. Or is it?

Enter Job’s friends. We continue in chapter 4.

Then Eliphaz, a native of Teman, responded:

If one tries to answer you, will you be annoyed?

    But who can hold words back?

Look, you’ve instructed many

    and given strength to drooping hands.

Your words have raised up the falling;

    you’ve steadied failing knees.

But now it comes to you, and you are dismayed;

    it has struck you, and you are frightened.

Isn’t your religion the source of your confidence;

    the integrity of your conduct, the source of your hope?

Think! What innocent person has ever perished?

    When have those who do the right thing been destroyed?

As I’ve observed, those who plow sin

    and sow trouble will harvest it.

When God breathes deeply, they perish;

    by a breath of his nostril they are annihilated. --Job 4:1-9 (CEB)

Job’s friends had begun so well. Sitting with him in silence. The silence that finally allowed him to put words to his grief. But, then, they go so horribly wrong. Eliphaz, Job’s friend, opens his mouth to respond. And it is not good.

You see Eliphaz has created his own truth. A construction of his own reality. One that is based on two things. First, his reality is based on conventional wisdom. What we might call common sense. Or what everybody “knows.” 

Secondly, his truth is based on assumptions. Some of these assumptions arise out of his own experience. What he’s seen and learned along the way. Other assumptions come from more universally-agreed upon principles. Such as, if you do something wrong, you will be punished for it. These constructs are how Eliphaz views the world. It’s why he suggests at the end of the reading that maybe, just maybe, Job has done something wrong to deserve this. 

I grew up a redneck. I’m serious about this. My dad, for example, voted for George Wallace. He was a complex man. So I grew up with a certain construction of reality - a way of viewing the world. When I moved to Los Angeles at 19 and I began to experience living and working together with people from many different places, with many different beliefs, and of many different colors, you can imagine how that construct was challenged.

I recall a conversation with a couple of work colleagues, one Mexican, the other black. They were relating to me stories of being stopped without any cause by the police. DWB-ing they called it. Driving While Black. Or Driving While Brown. The construction of my own reality could not let me believe that this happened. Because, in my own experience, I was never stopped by the police without a reason. So, if it didn’t happen to me, certainly, it couldn’t happen to anyone else. And, certainly, not because of the color of their skin.

But, then, my son had an experience that blew this construct to pieces. Some of you have heard this story. He attended California Lutheran University, which was located in Thousand Oaks, northwest of Los Angeles in a very white, very wealthy suburb. We lived in the heart of Los Angeles. My son loved the urban wear look - you know, the pants hanging down, the hoodie. You get the picture. He also drove a 1966 Dodge Dart. A neighbor of ours had given it to him for free. Michael had spent some of his hard-earned money that summer before school on new rims. Rims that were really dope. And urban.

One Sunday night, after a weekend at home, he left to return to school. It was in the wintertime and it was pretty cold outside. The heater in his Dart didn’t work. So, he pulled up his hoodie, put on some gloves, and took off for school. About 45 minutes later, I received a call from him. He told me that he had been stopped by a sheriff’s deputy near school, just after he’d gotten off the freeway. There were no tail lights out in his car. He swore he wasn’t speeding. But, what was more curious was what happened when he pulled off to the side of the road and the officer approached his car. He shined his flashlight in my son’s face. And seemed surprised. “Oh! This was a mistake,” he said. “You can go!” My son didn’t understand what had happened. But, I did. Once the officer got beyond the hoodie and the gloves, the tricked out vehicle, he saw that my son was white. And he let him go. No warning. No ticket. Nothing. 

And the construct of my reality was expanded to accept the truth that my black and brown friends had told me all along. And I deeply regretted and grieved that I had not believed them in the first place. 

This is what is happening here. Both with Job and with Eliphaz. Their own constructs of reality are being expanded in the midst of Job’s suffering to include new experiences, new realities. But, along with that expanded reality, comes loss. Loss of dreams and expectations. Loss of hope. And, so, Job continues his lament. But, this time, it is directly to God.

We read in chapter 7.

But I won’t keep quiet;

    I will speak in the adversity of my spirit,

    groan in the bitterness of my life.

Am I Sea or the Sea Monster

    that you place me under guard?

If I say, “My couch will comfort me,”

    my bed will diminish my murmuring.

You scare me with dreams,

    frighten me with visions.

I would choose strangling

    and death instead of my bones.

I reject life; I don’t want to live long;

    leave me alone, for my days are empty.

What are human beings, that you exalt them,

    that you take note of them,

    visit them each morning,

    test them every moment?

Why not look away from me;

    let me alone until I swallow my spit?

If I sinned, what did I do to you,

    guardian of people?

Why have you made me your target

    so that I’m a burden to myself?

Why not forgive my sin,

    overlook my iniquity?

Then I would lie down in the dust;

    you would search hard for me,

    and I would not exist. --Job 7:11-21 (CEB)

We are in the midst of incredible times. Everything we know. Our own constructions of reality - like those of Job and Eliphaz - are being challenged, expanded, even blown completely apart. We lament this. We grieve the loss and suffering of it all. The loss of life from COVID-19. The loss of life from racism and racist acts. The economic loss. The loss of companionship and community. 

Everything we know is being challenged. What else is there to do but to sit in the midst of it - in the midst of our grief and lament - and to ask God why. Like Job. Why?

I’m sure you have heard it said that it feels as though we are in apocalyptic times. Perhaps, I’ve even said that. It may feel like that. But, I would remind you that the word apocalypse means unveiling. What if this time is an unveiling? An unveiling of the constructions of reality that are not true? That are not consistent with God’s truth? What if God is at work in the midst of our world, in the midst of the evil in which we find ourselves, in the midst of these times, working to unveil these untruths and to rebuild a world of truth? Of new truths? Of new constructions of reality that are God’s reality? God’s truths? Truths that are based in the saving acts of Christ and the renewing work of the Holy Spirit? That are about justice and peace? And wholeness and equity? Constructions of reality that are expansive enough for everyone - for all that God has created? 

Perhaps the question for Job - and for us - isn’t “Why?”. Perhaps the question is, “What if?”.

Preached Sunday, June 21, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 3

Readings: Job 3:1-10, 4:1-9, 7:11-21; Psalm 25:1-7

Out of the Whirlwind: Sitting in Silence

Today, we begin five weeks in the Book of Job. One of three Wisdom books in the Hebrew scriptures. Can you name the other two? Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. Proverbs shows us that God has ordered the world so that it is fair. Then, Ecclesiastes observes that this isn’t really so. And it makes us wonder whether God is wise and just. This is one of the questions that is explored in Job. Along with a couple of others, including whether God runs the world with justice and why people suffer, especially why innocent people suffer. These are the primary questions we will explore over these five weeks in Job, which is where we begin today.

There was once a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job. That man was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil. There were born to him seven sons and three daughters. He had seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred donkeys, and very many servants; so that this man was the greatest of all the people of the east. His sons used to go and hold feasts in one another’s houses in turn; and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. And when the feast days had run their course, Job would send and sanctify them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all; for Job said, “It may be that my children have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.” This is what Job always did.

One day the heavenly beings came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came among them. The Lord said to Satan, “Where have you come from?” Satan answered the Lord, “From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking up and down on it.” The Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man who fears God and turns away from evil.” Then Satan answered the Lord, “Does Job fear God for nothing? Have you not put a fence around him and his house and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. But stretch out your hand now, and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, all that he has is in your power; only do not stretch out your hand against him!” So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord.

One day when his sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in the eldest brother’s house, a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were feeding beside them, and the Sabeans fell on them and carried them off, and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was still speaking, another came and said, “The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants, and consumed them; I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was still speaking, another came and said, “The Chaldeans formed three columns, made a raid on the camels and carried them off, and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was still speaking, another came and said, “Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house, and suddenly a great wind came across the desert, struck the four corners of the house, and it fell on the young people, and they are dead; I alone have escaped to tell you.”

Then Job arose, tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell on the ground and worshiped. He said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrongdoing. --Job 1:1-22 (NRSV)

The story of Job opens in the make-believe land of Uz, an obscure land far away from Israel, in an unknown time. This seems to be on purpose so that our focus isn’t so much on the when and where, but on the who and the why. 

Job is a very wealthy man. Our story tells us that he was greater than all the people of the east. His wealth had not spoiled him, though. Job was a man of integrity - a sound and honest man, who feared God and shunned evil. He was so faithful in fact that he would proactively offer sacrifices for his children. Just in case they might sin and, in sinning, blaspheme God. 

Job’s integrity was noticed by God, which is where we move next. Into the heavens. 

And we see God surrounded by his team, his heavenly council.  Part of God’s team, too, was one called The Satan. This was more a job title than a name. A better translation of his title was, perhaps, The Accuser or The Adversary. He is like the chief prosecutor in the heavenly realm - the one who is to prevent any sentimentality from eroding the order of the cosmos. Including such sentimental things as faith or the love between God and humanity. The Satan thinks this idea of covenantal love - of sacrificial love - is a divine delusion. And so, when we hear this story in the context of the covenantal love between God and Israel, we understand that it is this that is at stake.

God, almost naively, points Job out to The Satan. "Isn’t he wonderful? Did you notice Job? What integrity! What a man of faith!" But The Satan won’t have any of it. “Do you really believe that? Do you think Job believes in you for no reason? Haven’t you blessed him with riches and wealth? Of course he would believe in you? But, take it away and see what happens? See then that he will curse you to your face.” And the experiment begins. And so, too, the destruction of all that belongs to Job.

He first loses his herds and his caretakers. Then it's his flocks and his shepherds. And, then, his sons and daughters.

We wait to hear Job curse God, but he doesn’t. He engages in acts of mourning, but, even in the midst of his grief, he does not curse God. In fact, he continues to worship God.

But, The Satan isn’t finished yet. The wager isn’t over. There’s another part. If we continue on into chapter 2, we see the heavenly scene repeated between God and The Satan. This time the wager is Job’s health. The Satan strikes his body with severe sores from head to foot. Even Job’s wife tells him to curse God. “Are you still clinging to your integrity?” she challenges him. “Curse God, and die.” But Job will not have any of it.

It’s a hard image for us, isn’t it? That God and Satan are up in heaven using us like pawns on a chessboard. Playing games with our lives. Or with our health. It feels like that at times, though, doesn’t it? We try to be good people. We worship regularly. We say we believe. But, do we? On what does our faith depend? On what we can get from God? “God, if I believe, you’ll give me that new job, right?” Or, “If I go to church faithfully, you’ll restore my health, won’t you?” Don’t we make the same kind of deals with God as in Job's story? Isn’t our faith often a transactional faith, believing in God only if God will give us what we want? Do we love God for what we get out of the relationship? Or do we love God for who God is?

After this has happened to Job - after he has lost everything, we read at the end of chapter two, that he simply sits in silence. But, he doesn’t sit alone. His three friends - Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar - come to console and comfort him. When they see Job they don’t recognize him - the sores have so engulfed his body. They weep for him. They tear their garments in mourning. And, then, they sit with him. Silently. Present with him in his suffering. 

Isn’t this what God does for us? What God does for us in Jesus? Who has entered into our own pain and suffering and that of the world. Who has taken it upon himself. Expecting nothing in return, no wager or transaction. All done in love. 

I recently watched a video of a young African-American woman - Kimberly Jones - who was in pain. Not physical pain per se, but the kind of anguished and angry pain that comes from a sense of hopelessness and despair. A young woman who recounted the pain of what it has been like to be black in America for 400 years. Shackled. Enslaved. Families broken apart and traumatized. And, every time her people try to move ahead, try to be free, they are again enslaved. Lynched. Massacred. Incarcerated. Shut out of systems of power. Traumatized over and over and over again. 

Perhaps the first step for us as people of privilege is to simply sit with our sisters and brothers of color. To enter silently into their grief with them. With no expectation of anything in return. No attempt to fly in and “save” them. But to simply sit with them. To be with them in their suffering and pain, in the way that Job’s friends did for him. The way we do it for each other. The way Jesus did for us, for everyone, and for all creation. To simply be with us. Out of love.

May we do this for our friends and family. May we do this for our community. May we do this for our sisters and brothers of color who have been in so much pain for so long. Amen.

Preached June 14, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY

Pentecost 2

Readings: Job 1:1-22, Psalm 17