When God Is Gone
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle B
Object:
Job is a fascinating character with a fascinating story. Scholars tell us it is one of the oldest in scripture. And it wrestles with one of the oldest questions encountered by people of faith: Why? Why me? Why my kids? Why my marriage? Why six million Jews in the Holocaust? Or even those poignant words of Jesus from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34).
For the benefit of those who missed that day in Sunday school, the book of Job comprises 42 chapters in the Old Testament, much of which is an epic Hebrew poem to which there is a prose introduction to set the scene. Job is presented to us as the richest man in the Middle East, deeply religious, "blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil" (Job 1:1). As the story opens, Job is the subject of a conversation between God and Satan (not the Satan of pop theology with horns, a pitchfork, and a tail, but this one tantamount to a celestial prosecuting attorney). God says to Satan, "Where have you been?" and Satan responds that he has been checking things out on the earth.
God asks if he had noticed Job and his unfailing faithfulness. Satan replies, "No wonder -- Job has it made!" "Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. But stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face" (Job 1:10-11). So God and Satan strike this strange deal with poor Job in the middle -- Satan gets to give Job the shaft just to prove the point. In six short verses, the man loses everything -- children, barns, livestock. Despite it all, Job is philosophical. "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 1:21). Cheer up, Job, things could be worse ... and, sure enough, things got worse -- Job is struck down by a hideous skin disease. In utter misery, Mrs. Job advises, "Curse God and die" (2:9). Not Job. He kept the faith. He was miserable ... but faithful.
Meanwhile, our hero's friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, hear about the horror story Job is living through, and just as you and I would probably do, they come to the house to offer assistance. "Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"
To their credit, they did not come in with pious platitudes or explanations about how this would somehow be "all for the best." As the scripture reports it, "They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great" (Job 2:13). They just sat with him.
Sitting in silence soon proved to be more than even the ancients could bear and the legendary "patience of Job," which has become a cliché in our culture we find is a bit overstated. Job is very unhappy, and he says he regrets that he was ever born.
Have you ever felt that way? Probably. If you did, I hope you had friends who offered comfort and counsel, but I hope they did a better job than Job's pals. First, Eliphaz courteously suggests, "Consider now: Who, being innocent, has ever perished? Where were the upright ever destroyed? As I have observed, those who plow evil and those who sow trouble reap it" (Job 4:7-8). In other words, "Job, you must have brought this on yourself." Then Bildad suggests that perhaps Job is suffering because of the sin of his children; if Job will only pray, the almighty will intervene and make everything right. Friend Zophar finally says this misery is simply the sentence after a guilty verdict. In their own ways, each tries to explain Job's suffering on the grounds of the justice and righteousness of God and the orderliness of the universe. This could not have just "happened"; Job had to have done something or someone near and dear had to have done something for him to deserve his pain.
We understand that thinking. Some kinds of suffering can be explained. Lifelong smokers get lung cancer, people who drink to excess get cirrhosis of the liver, folks who work long hours in the sun unprotected get skin cancer, deaths on the highway are caused by drunk drivers.
There is another side to that coin. People who have never smoked get lung cancer, people who have never touched alcohol get liver disease, drunk drivers kill the innocent along with themselves, and natural disasters take their toll on all of us.
For his part, Job is not satisfied with his friends' explanation. At this point in the story, Job is just as much convinced of the justice of God as his friends. In his own situation, he is convinced that God has made a mistake, that's all. What he wants is his day in court. He wants to brief his case before this righteous judge and get the sentence overturned. But the problem is this: as the text has it, "If I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him" (vv. 8-9). God is gone -- east, west, north, south, look where you want -- God is gone. How can you present your case when the judge is nowhere to be found?
Did Jesus feel that way on the cross when he cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" It is the ultimate abandonment ... but wait. Those words were as well known in Jesus' day as "Mary had a little lamb" is in ours -- they were a part of the ritual of the day of atonement, the opening lines of Psalm 22, a psalm that is anything but a song of doom and despair. No, a psalm of victory and deliverance even from the most powerful of enemies. Listen to the way it ends:
You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you descendants of Jacob, honor him! Revere him, all you descendants of Israel! For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help ... The poor will eat and be satisfied; they who seek the Lord will praise him ... Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord. They will proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn -- for he has done it.
-- Psalm 22:23-31
Forsaken? Abandoned? Hardly!
Without question, the cross of Jesus has become the most common image in the Christian faith. That cross is proof that God cares about our suffering and pain. Christ died on it. Today the image of that ancient executioner's rack is coated with gold and worn around the necks of beautiful girls, or is polished bright and worn on the chest of preachers, a symbol, not only of our faith, but also of how far we can stray from reality. Perhaps that is where our problem lies -- we wonder where God is in our pain, but we might wonder less when we recall that, in the midst of ultimate pain, God was right there ... hanging on that tree -- for you -- for me.
When God is gone, and yes, there are indeed times when that seems to be the case -- for Job -- for you and me as well, all the "Why?" questions remain. But the good news is more -- because of the cross, God knows and understands pain and suffering. The good news is that the cross is not the last word. Remember, after the cross, there is resurrection and new life.
For the benefit of those who missed that day in Sunday school, the book of Job comprises 42 chapters in the Old Testament, much of which is an epic Hebrew poem to which there is a prose introduction to set the scene. Job is presented to us as the richest man in the Middle East, deeply religious, "blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil" (Job 1:1). As the story opens, Job is the subject of a conversation between God and Satan (not the Satan of pop theology with horns, a pitchfork, and a tail, but this one tantamount to a celestial prosecuting attorney). God says to Satan, "Where have you been?" and Satan responds that he has been checking things out on the earth.
God asks if he had noticed Job and his unfailing faithfulness. Satan replies, "No wonder -- Job has it made!" "Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. But stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face" (Job 1:10-11). So God and Satan strike this strange deal with poor Job in the middle -- Satan gets to give Job the shaft just to prove the point. In six short verses, the man loses everything -- children, barns, livestock. Despite it all, Job is philosophical. "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 1:21). Cheer up, Job, things could be worse ... and, sure enough, things got worse -- Job is struck down by a hideous skin disease. In utter misery, Mrs. Job advises, "Curse God and die" (2:9). Not Job. He kept the faith. He was miserable ... but faithful.
Meanwhile, our hero's friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, hear about the horror story Job is living through, and just as you and I would probably do, they come to the house to offer assistance. "Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"
To their credit, they did not come in with pious platitudes or explanations about how this would somehow be "all for the best." As the scripture reports it, "They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great" (Job 2:13). They just sat with him.
Sitting in silence soon proved to be more than even the ancients could bear and the legendary "patience of Job," which has become a cliché in our culture we find is a bit overstated. Job is very unhappy, and he says he regrets that he was ever born.
Have you ever felt that way? Probably. If you did, I hope you had friends who offered comfort and counsel, but I hope they did a better job than Job's pals. First, Eliphaz courteously suggests, "Consider now: Who, being innocent, has ever perished? Where were the upright ever destroyed? As I have observed, those who plow evil and those who sow trouble reap it" (Job 4:7-8). In other words, "Job, you must have brought this on yourself." Then Bildad suggests that perhaps Job is suffering because of the sin of his children; if Job will only pray, the almighty will intervene and make everything right. Friend Zophar finally says this misery is simply the sentence after a guilty verdict. In their own ways, each tries to explain Job's suffering on the grounds of the justice and righteousness of God and the orderliness of the universe. This could not have just "happened"; Job had to have done something or someone near and dear had to have done something for him to deserve his pain.
We understand that thinking. Some kinds of suffering can be explained. Lifelong smokers get lung cancer, people who drink to excess get cirrhosis of the liver, folks who work long hours in the sun unprotected get skin cancer, deaths on the highway are caused by drunk drivers.
There is another side to that coin. People who have never smoked get lung cancer, people who have never touched alcohol get liver disease, drunk drivers kill the innocent along with themselves, and natural disasters take their toll on all of us.
For his part, Job is not satisfied with his friends' explanation. At this point in the story, Job is just as much convinced of the justice of God as his friends. In his own situation, he is convinced that God has made a mistake, that's all. What he wants is his day in court. He wants to brief his case before this righteous judge and get the sentence overturned. But the problem is this: as the text has it, "If I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him" (vv. 8-9). God is gone -- east, west, north, south, look where you want -- God is gone. How can you present your case when the judge is nowhere to be found?
Did Jesus feel that way on the cross when he cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" It is the ultimate abandonment ... but wait. Those words were as well known in Jesus' day as "Mary had a little lamb" is in ours -- they were a part of the ritual of the day of atonement, the opening lines of Psalm 22, a psalm that is anything but a song of doom and despair. No, a psalm of victory and deliverance even from the most powerful of enemies. Listen to the way it ends:
You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you descendants of Jacob, honor him! Revere him, all you descendants of Israel! For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help ... The poor will eat and be satisfied; they who seek the Lord will praise him ... Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord. They will proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn -- for he has done it.
-- Psalm 22:23-31
Forsaken? Abandoned? Hardly!
Without question, the cross of Jesus has become the most common image in the Christian faith. That cross is proof that God cares about our suffering and pain. Christ died on it. Today the image of that ancient executioner's rack is coated with gold and worn around the necks of beautiful girls, or is polished bright and worn on the chest of preachers, a symbol, not only of our faith, but also of how far we can stray from reality. Perhaps that is where our problem lies -- we wonder where God is in our pain, but we might wonder less when we recall that, in the midst of ultimate pain, God was right there ... hanging on that tree -- for you -- for me.
When God is gone, and yes, there are indeed times when that seems to be the case -- for Job -- for you and me as well, all the "Why?" questions remain. But the good news is more -- because of the cross, God knows and understands pain and suffering. The good news is that the cross is not the last word. Remember, after the cross, there is resurrection and new life.
