Job CCII

 Job 19:21-29, “Have pity on me, have pity on me, o you my friends, for the hand of God has struck me! Why do you persecute me as God does, and are not satisfied with my flesh? Oh, that my words were written! Oh, that they were inscribed in a book! That they were engraved on a rock with an iron pen and lead, forever! For I know that my Redeemer lives, and He shall stand at last on the earth; And after my skin is destroyed, this I know, that in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. How my heart yearns within me! If you should say, ‘How shall we persecute him?’ – Since the root of the matter is found in me, be afraid of the sword for yourselves; for wrath brings the punishment of the sword, that you may know there is a judgment.”

Mercy, pity, or compassion are not about deserving. If every time we had the opportunity to extend compassion, to extend pity, or mercy, we did an exhaustive dive into whether the individual in question was deserving of it, we never would. If one is not predisposed to being compassionate, they will always find a reason to withhold their compassion. It can be as arbitrary a reason as the color of the shirt they chose to wear that day, or because they drive an import rather than a domestic car, even though the car is a twenty-year-old, had me down from an aunt they barely knew. They’re not really needy, they’re just pretending to be. They’re not really grieving; they’re just looking for attention.

Man will always find a way to excuse his behavior. He will always find a way to justify his callousness because it’s easier to justify one’s hard heart than admit to being hard-hearted. My pretending not to see the old lady scrounging in the dumpster for a crust of bread does not define me! I’m a good person! Plus, I left my phone in my car, so I couldn’t take a picture of me giving her a dollar, then post it on the Book of Face so I could get thumbs-ups and smiley-face emojis. I mean, if an act of kindness is done in secret and no one ever knows about it except the individual in question and me, does it even matter? Does it even count? It’s like the age-old philosophical question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?

I know I’m a good person because, unlike you, I am concerned about all the things I have no way of controlling or affecting that the people with clipboards and petitions tell me are an existential threat. I signed sixteen just last week. How many did you sign? Well, yes, some of them contradicted each other, and a couple of them would require every person on the planet to live in a cave and cook their meager meals over open flames, but it’s the thought that counts.

Every time I go to the store, I even round up for charity if the amount is less than a quarter. I recycle, drive an EV that costs more to charge than my monthly electric bill for the entire house, and even have a “Save the Polar Bears” bumper sticker on my car that’s more than you can point to.

Genuine compassion, mercy, or pity, as was the case with Job, in that it was what he needed desperately, are not performative acts, or something by which we get others to cheer us on or applaud our altruism. They are not meant to feed our ego or elevate our status in the eyes of others. Likewise, they’re not about the other person; they’re about ourselves and how we respond to those around us when we see them suffering, going through trials, or enduring hardships, not when everyone is watching, but when no one is.

After one last plea for pity from his friends, Job speaks some of the most profound words ever recorded, words to rival the wisdom of Solomon or the soul-searching introspection of David: I know that my Redeemer lives!

There was no plurality in his declaration. There was no guessing in his statement, nor were they tethered to an idea, or the hope that God was real, but an implacable certainty that left no room for doubt. I know! I don’t hope, I don’t presume, I don’t take the preacher’s words on faith, I know that my Redeemer lives, personally, intimately, experientially, I know. I have felt His touch, I have known His presence, I have been in fellowship with Him, I know that my Redeemer lives.

It matters not what I am currently going through, how challenging the climb is, how frail my flesh is, how hopeless others might see my situation, I know He lives, and that’s all that matters. Everything else is noise. Everything else is temporary. Everything else is fleeting and passing and irrelevant to that singular truth. He lives, and He shall stand at last on the earth.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine, and I am His, and one day I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. Even in his condition, that was Job’s singular desire. It wasn’t for his health to be restored, it wasn’t for his strength to return, but to see the God he served, stand before Him, and be welcomed into His kingdom.

What is it that you yearn for? What is the desire of your heart? Is it wealth, riches, fame, prominence, or is it to know Him, walk with Him, feel His presence, and know that He lives? There is one Redeemer. He is a singularity. It’s not like picking a name out of a hat and concluding that any old god will do. There is one God, there is one Redeemer, there is only one who can reconcile us to the Father, and His name is Jesus.     

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.