Job CCXXIX

 Between the “nothing is as it seems crowd” and the “everything is exactly as it seems crowd”, there are those blessed few who understand that some things are not as they seem, some are, and some will remain a mystery no matter how much they dwell on it. From doctors who can’t explain the miraculous recovery of a terminal patient, to why your wife’s smile is broader when you do the dishes without being asked than when you bring her flowers, some things just can’t be understood, no matter how hard we try to understand them.

As far as the sudden recoveries go, the doctors who don’t view themselves as something akin to a god possessing the power of life and death will allow for the possibility of a miracle and concede that some things are beyond their understanding. As far as the reason for the wife’s broader smile, that’s a mystery unlikely to ever be solved.

Job was attempting to show his friends that not everything was black and white, that some things don’t fit neatly into one box or the other, but in order for them to concede the point, they would have to admit that they had erred, and that would mean swallowing their pride. Better to accuse an innocent man of wickedness than to admit your conclusion was in error. They were, after all, learned men, men who understood patterns and historical precedent, and that was enough for them to keep doubling down.

Recent events and disclosures prove that sometimes the most despicable among us continue to prosper for a season, even when the best they deserve for the rest of their existence is a damp, windowless dungeon with the resident rats and mice as their only company and source of sustenance. Some of the most notable names and richest men on the planet have been exposed as being monsters wearing human flesh, and if Zophar’s conclusions had been true of every wicked man, they would have been served justice decades ago.

That’s what Job was trying to point out. From the outside looking in, at least some percentage of the time, the wicked did not suffer the consequences of their actions but enjoyed lives filled with mirth and abundance.

The thing Job’s friends failed to understand is that for those walking in the Spirit, for those wholly submitted to God, there are no longer qualifiers for the things occurring in their lives. They don’t live out their days dividing the good and the bad that occurred in a given week, weighing and measuring if more good than bad took place, but receive it all as God’s plan and purpose, trusting that even what seems bad in the moment will work together for good at some point in the future.

My grandfather’s passing was hard on me. To be fair, hard doesn’t even begin to describe it. I pleaded with God, begged with Him, tried to bargain with Him, all in the hope that God would extend his days. It turned out it was his time, God took him home, he went to his reward, and for the briefest of moments, I was bitter, broken, disillusioned, and bereft.

This was the man who’d taught me how to fish, ride a bike, shoot a slingshot, a man whose faithfulness I’d witnessed my whole life, who did his duty even when the pain would have felled any other, who sacrificed everything to preach an unpopular message to an indifferent church, and for all that he would return to the earth from which he came while others whose only concern was for themselves lived on to ripe old ages.

Yes, I thought as a child, and in my defense, I was still a child, comparatively speaking. I could not see God’s plan in taking him home as anything positive, as something good, and I wrestled with God over this matter because I wanted an answer. I needed a resolution, closure, something that would make it make sense.

I was my grandfather’s interpreter. I traveled with him not because God gave me the message for America, but because he needed someone to translate his words into English and deliver them to the people in a way they could understand. I had no aspiration for ministry beyond my grandfather’s need for my being his translator. In the back of my mind, there was always a plan for after; I just never imagined the after would come so soon.

I didn’t have a clear plan for what I would do with my life after my duty to my grandfather ended, but I had an outline. I was going to go back to school, become an archeologist, and spend the rest of my days digging in the dirt in hard-to-reach places far away from the hustle and bustle of big cities, alone with God, with a chisel and a trowel. That was the dream. That was all I wanted, and it did not seem unattainable.

There’s the adage that if you want to make God laugh, all you have to do is tell Him your plans. I told God my plans, and He didn’t laugh; He just said no. I tried explaining it again, with more context and detail this time, and He still said no. Having never been one given to petulance, stomping my feet and holding my breath until God saw it my way, I offered up all the reasons why this would be the best course for my life, harkening back to the decade-plus I’d faithfully served without groaning or demands for remuneration, and once again I was denied.

Sometimes it takes more than once for God to say no before you resign yourself and submit to His will. Perhaps it’s just me. Perhaps everyone else takes having their life’s trajectory derailed and their plans turned to ash in stride, but I wasn’t as smart as all that.

When God finally revealed what He wanted me to do, it was the one thing I prayed He would never ask of me: to continue the work my grandfather had started. I’d lived it since I was twelve, and I knew the sacrifices it required, the hardships that would have to be endured, and if I’d had a choice in the matter, I would have gladly passed it off to another without a second thought.

I didn’t have a choice, though, not really. The one choice afforded to me was no choice at all, which was to disobey God, and that was something I would not, and could not do. Would I have been as content digging in the dirt instead of doing what I’m doing? Perhaps, perhaps not, but I would have been in rebellion had I chosen the path not taken, and that would have been detrimental to my spiritual man.

When God changes the plans you’ve made for yourself, it’s for a purpose. It’s not because He doesn’t want you to be happy, or fulfilled, it’s not because He doesn’t want you to live your dream, but because He has a different path in mind for you, a different calling, a different journey, a different purpose, one that you may not see in the moment as greater than your own plans, but that will be exceedingly more rewarding if you choose to pick up your cross and follow after Him.       

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.