Job CCXII

Job 20:4-11, “Do you not know this of old, since man was placed on earth, that the triumphing of the wicked is short and the joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment? Though his haughtiness mounts up to the heavens, and his head reaches to the clouds, yet he will perish forever like his own refuse; Those who have seen him will say, ‘Where is he?’ He will fly away like a dream, and not be found. Yes, he will be chased away like a vision of the night. The eye that saw him will see him no more, nor will his place behold him anymore. His children will seek the favor of the poor, and his hands will restore his wealth. His bones are full of his youthful vigor, but it will lie down with him in the dust.”

Human reason always assumes causality. It’s the easiest basis upon which we can conclude a particular thing, and so, we tend to take the straightest path and see in the straightest line. We dare not allow for the notion of exceptions, or the idea that we may not see as clearly as we think we do because that would diminish our perceived understanding, and compel us to humility and the acknowledging that we don’t know it all, we don’t see it all, and only One who sits above, for whom the world is as a footstool is omniscient in the truest sense of the word.

When Jesus answered the disciples’ burning question of who would be greatest in the kingdom of heaven, He called a little child in the midst of them and said, “assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.” Thankfully, He did not call a teenager, because if He had, I’d have questions, but a little child, likely still dependent on his parents for their survival, innocent in their intent, and more importantly within the context of this discussion, self-aware enough to know they didn’t know everything, and eager to ask as many questions as needed in order to gain understanding.

We can either approach God, Scripture, or a given situation with a sense of superiority, assuming we already know all there is to know, how it’s going to play out, and how best to interpret a given text, or with the attitude of a little child, self-aware enough to know that we don’t know everything.

While one allows for teachability and even correction, the other is stiff-necked and brittle, ignoring, deflecting, and otherwise rejecting any attempt to see a given situation in a light different from the one they themselves had not considered.

If you’ve ever been around little children, you know they have questions about everything all the time. From the simplest questions, such as why is the sun bright, why is rain wet, or why do we have to take a bath more than once a week, to the more profound ones, like what happens when we die, or why do baby teeth have to fall out when they are perfectly fine. Little children are inquisitive. They always want to know why, and more often than not, they have follow-up questions.

The older we get, the more set in our ways we become, the more we grow so sure of ourselves and our assessment of a situation that merely the idea of something being other than what we’ve already concluded is anathema to us. It’s not just some of us; it’s all of us, me included, and I’ve seen this throughout the years in practical terms.

A couple of years ago, my youngest was complaining about her thumb hurting. I looked at it, saw nothing obvious, and told her as much, placating her by suggesting she might have hit her thumb while playing and not remembered it. She was adamant she hadn’t, I insisted she must have, and a day later she returned with the same complaint.

“It’s still hurting, daddy, and no, I didn’t bang my thumb on anything.” When I asked if a kiss would make it better, and she answered no, I put her on my lap and asked her to show me her thumb again. Other than a bit of redness, there was nothing there. Even though in my mind I was fully convinced that she’d somehow hit her thumb on something, because she was so adamant that she hadn’t, I turned her thumb every which way, looking at it from all sides. As I was about to give up because there was nothing there, I looked straight down, squinting at the space between her nail and the meat of her thumb, and noticed a discoloration. I gently pulled down on the fleshy part to get a better look, and sure enough, there was a splinter lodged between her nail and her thumb. It wasn’t big, I’d missed the first time, and what’s worse, because I’d already made up my mind about the cause, I’d doubted the extent of the pain she was in.

I grabbed a pair of tweezers, extracted the splinter, kissed the ouchie, and felt like the worst dad on the face of the earth for the rest of the day. I’d looked at the evidence available to me, only that which was in plain sight, and I’d come to the wrong conclusion by not giving more credence to her words.

Nothing Job had said compelled Zophar and his two other friends to view the situation in a new light, or from a fresh angle. Of all the words Job had spoken, the only thing that had gotten through to Zophar was Job’s rebuke, and he made sure to let Job know that it vexed him. Once that bit of housekeeping was done, he went right back to trying to convince Job that he had sinned, not based on any evidence, but based on the anecdotal history of past generations and how the wicked had fared in each of them.

Yes, most of the time your daughter’s thumb hurts because she banged it on something and doesn’t remember doing so, but once in a while she has a splinter that you will only see if you look closer, from a different angle, and in a new light. Not everything is as it seems to the naked eye. Not every situation has a clear explanation, neatly tied up with a bow. Mysteries abound to this day, even though there is nothing new under the sun. A wise man is humble enough to acknowledge he may not be seeing a situation as clearly as he ought, while the fool concludes no other explanation can exist besides his own.  

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.