A Sinless Response to Suffering

This week I began reading through the book of Job in my time with God, as I do at least once every year. It's amazing to me just how rich a book this is, and how often it gets overlooked by Christians who label it as one of the "hard" books, right up there with Leviticus and Ecclesiastes. I won't say it's necessarily easy to read 37 chapters of anguish of soul, but there is so much for us to learn about God and our own trials through this account of Job's experiences. 

This time, as I read through the first two chapters, I was struck by what God said about Job's response to suffering. 

God allowed Satan to test Job's faithfulness by taking away all he had: livestock, servants, wealth, and, worst of all, his children. He was left with just his wife and the three servants who had escaped to bring Job word of what had happened.

Think about the enormity of his loss.

Now look at his response:

"Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped, And said, Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." (1:20-21)

First, he acknowledged his grief. He rent his clothes and shaved his head, as was customary in the culture of the day. But then, in his grief, he fell down upon the ground and worshipped. 

He acknowledged God's right to take what He had given Job in the first place. He did not blame God, he did not even ask why. He just surrendered to God's will. 

And then he praised God. 

What a remarkable thing to do. I don't know if I would think to praise God in light of such grief and loss, but that is what Job did. And lest we think he was somehow harmfully repressing his emotions, look at God's view of Job's response:

"In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly." (1:22)

Job sinned not.

Right there, in the midst of a magnitude of loss most people will never even come close to experiencing, Job responded sinlessly. He did not blame God, he did not argue with God. He simply accepted what God had allowed and chose to praise Him in the midst of his grief. Though Job was a sinner, just like you and I, this was one thing God said he did right.

But Job's testing was not over: Satan again accused Job before God, this time citing Job's health as the source of his faithfulness to God. So God in His wisdom --and yes, in His goodness, too-- allowed Satan to bring upon Job an ailment that would cause constant and intense suffering. Then, in the midst of his physical and emotional agony, his own wife tells him to "curse God, and die." Supportive, huh?

This was Job's response to her:

"What? Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?" (2:10)

This response shows Job's unshakable commitment to the truth that God has the right to do whatever He deems best. How ungrateful we are to eagerly take His blessings, only to complain when He allows them to be removed, as if they were ours all along!

I'm reminded of a quote from Anne of Green Gables, where Marilla tells Anne, "God does not want you for a fair-weather friend". 

When suffering comes, it is easy to focus on the trial, seeing nothing but darkness around us, but Job's response shows us that when darkness surrounds us, when pain engulfs us from every direction, we can look up and find peace of heart in knowing that God is in control. 

God approves of this response as well: "In all this did not Job sin with his lips." (10)

The sinless response to suffering is to look up, acknowledge God's sovereignty, and trust His unchanging goodness. It is to surrender to God's will, and to praise Him, not just in spite of, but because of what He has given and taken away. In short, it is to trust Him.

 Fully. Completely. Stubbornly. 

Trust Him. 

"Behold, we count them happy which endure. Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy."

James 5:11

I Shall Yet Praise Him: Dealing with Disappointment

I got out my planner this week. --You know, those books we used to use to write down all the things we were going to do? I haven't looked at mine since March.

Filling the squares of the calendar for this next week were event after event, responsibility after responsibility. It would have been the busiest week of the school year for me, with something going on every night as well as a writing conference all day Saturday. I remember feeling overwhelmed as I wrote in all the things I needed to remember to do that week, taking a deep breath at the recollection of how exhausted I usually am by the end of that week each year.

Yet at the same time, I looked forward to the excitement of the school year drawing to a close, to the bustle of preparation for the graduations and for the festivities of the last week of school to follow. I looked forward to all the new things I would be teaching my students during each of those school days, even if I would be tired from the long string of late nights. All those happy and exciting things almost made up for the stress and exhaustion of the week.

But now, as I look at the busy days that were to signal the final push towards end of the school year and the beginning of a new focus on writing for the summer, There's a lot to be disappointed about. Added to all that was the news I received this week of the cancellation of the four-day writer's contest I was going to attend in August. That and the one-day spring conference which would have been this week were like the two bookends of my summer, and with both of them cancelled, the disappointment seems complete.

However...

Looking at that planner, I was reminded of the verses in James which say: "Go to, now, ye that say, Today or tomorrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain: Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that." (James 4:13-15)

It is natural to be disappointed when things we had so looked forward to are cancelled, opportunities are lost, or vacation time seemingly squandered by the necessity to stay home. I think everyone has at least one major thing they are mourning over right now, and it isn't wrong to feel disappointed.

It is wrong to stay there, though.

You have probably heard this example many times, but don't let familiarity rob you of its truth: While David was running from Saul (who was trying to kill him, even though he hadn't done anything wrong), he and his band of men had been living in the city of Ziklag with their wives and children. I won't belabor the background, but David's little army returned home to find that the city had been burned and all their wives and children had been taken captive.

Disappointing, right? Here they were, probably looking forward to some rest and time with their families, only to find that everything important had been taken away. This was even more devastating to David, because the men began to blame him, even to the point of wanting to kill him in revenge for what had happened!

So how did David deal with this mixture of disappointment, loss, and fear? he"encouraged himself in the Lord his God." (1 Sam. 30:6)

I don't know when Psalm 42 was written, or even if David was the one who penned it, but it expresses exactly how we should respond to disappointment, grief, and loss:

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance." (Psalm 42:11)

Throughout this psalm, the psalmist is honest with God about what he is feeling, even to the point of asking why God has forgotten him, but then he reminds himself of the wonderful truth "I shall yet praise Him". In the midst of sorrow, loss, and disappointment, the psalmist didn't lose track of the truth that now is not all there is. Even without Romans 8:28, he knew that God could be trusted, and that there would again be reason to praise Him, no matter how bleak he felt at that moment. That was the hope he clung to.


Whatever is happening, whatever you are missing, God knows. Invite Him into your disappointment, and see how He reminds you of the truth that it's not over, that He has good things planned for you that cannot be cancelled.   

Finding God to be Enough in Times of Grief

Grief is difficult to describe. I have heard it likened to drowning, and the adjective “overwhelming” has been among the most common I have heard used to describe the emotional turmoil of loss. But how can one adequately describe such a powerful feeling? 

I attended a memorial service for a beloved uncle last week, and I must admit, I couldn’t think of a better way of describing grief than the definition the pastor used: that grief is a hole in one’s heart that is carried with us for the rest of our lives. 

I cried at my uncle’s service, as I have cried over the loss of other relatives: not because of any sadness for them, (they are enjoying the glories of heaven!) but because a part of my heart is empty. 

I have found that grief is not the all-consuming pit of despair I had expected it to be when viewing it through the eyes of childhood. It is more like a flash flood. It comes powerfully, in waves. 

When my Gramma died (my first “real” experience with grief), I cried a great deal in the first few days, but even during that first intense period of grief, the waves would come and go. It was not a steady stream of sorrow; and even now there are times when I see a picture of her, or hear someone say something she often said, or smell the scent of the hairspray she used, and all at once I feel that emptiness acutely and the flood of grief washes over me anew. 

For me, these floods are usually caused by or at least strengthened or prolonged by “nevermore” thoughts. For example, the day my uncle was put on hospice, Mommy asked me to bake a small apple pie for my uncle. I was happy to do so, but as I prepared to bake, I found myself overwhelmed with grief as the same idea raced again and again through my mind:

His last pie. 

 The last pie I will ever make him.

The last pie he will ever get to eat.

As it turned out, he actually never got to eat the pie I made; he went to heaven the next morning before the pie could be delivered.  But I think God intended the making of the pie to benefit me more than my uncle anyway. It made me come to terms with the reality of the coming loss before it was upon me.

When my Gramma died, the “nevermore” thought that was on auto repeat through my head as I drove home from the hospital (and many times after that) was that she never got to see me in a wedding dress. Oh, how she would have loved to! She delighted to see her grandkids all dressed up, and I used to stop by to see her whenever there was an occasion to dress up for. Several times in the first year after she went to heaven, I had the thought as I got ready for some special occasion, “I should stop by to see Gramma afterwards” and was struck with the thought that I never could do that again.

But despite these oh-so-poignant “nevermores”, I have found that God is enough, even in grief. In every area of loss, whether it be loss of our dearest people or dreams or health or plans of how our lives “should” be, God’s character never changes, and Romans 8:28 still applies.

In my few sorrows, I have learned that dealing with grief and loss is just like dealing with any other area of aching emptiness: the answer is surrender.

Now, before you tune me out for being unfeeling, know that I do acknowledge that grief is real, raw, and powerful. To say that the answer is surrender in no way diminishes the reality of grief. But God is as His Word says, “a very present help in trouble”. In fact, Psalm 46, the first verse of which contains that wonderful truth of God’s presence and support in trouble, goes on to describe earthquakes and mountains melting into the ocean and angry waves shaking even the mountains. Yet, the very next thought is “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.” (v.4) There is comfort to be found, yes and even gladness in the midst of such turmoil. The way to such peace and joy is found in verse 10: “Be still, and know that I am God”

The problem with my “nevermore” thoughts is that they presume to pass judgement on how things “should have been”, instead of accepting how God has allowed them to be.

It has well been said that “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’”[i] But God is the Master of our reality. In times of grief, when the billows of sorrow and floods of “nevermores” overwhelm us, the choice to trust in God’s character and wisdom is crucial.

Think of Job. He suffered loss most of us will never come near to experiencing, but even in those first moments of grief and agony, he responded in a way God describes as being without sin.

Here is Job’s response: 

“Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21)

These words have been quoted and held up as an example to suffering people ever since Job’s story was first told, but I want you to notice God’s view of them. The very next verse clearly states why it was that Job’s response was right:

“In all this, Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.” (Job 1:22)

Here’s where it hits me the hardest: Those “nevermores” I so readily wallow in are nothing more than thinly veiled complaints about what God has allowed. In other words, I am foolishly charging God with incompetence or negligence at best, and malice at worse. After all it is God’s “good and perfect” will we are arguing with. (Romans 12:2)

Godly grief acknowledges sorrow and the feelings of loss, but chooses gratitude over complaint, humble trust over bitterness, and hope over despair.

God has designed us to feel those empty places. But the reason He wants us to notice them is so that He can fill them. When my heart feels hollow, I must choose to cry out to God, for Scripture promises: “draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you.” (James 4:8) When I yield my sorrow and hurt to Him, I never cease to find that He is enough.

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[i] John Greenleaf Whittier, “Maud Muller”