Job CCLXXXIX

 Job 30:16-23, “And now my soul is poured out because of my plight; the days of affliction take hold of me. My bones are pierced in me at night, and my gnawing pains take no rest. By great force my garment is disfigured; it binds me about as the collar of my coat. He has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes. I cry out to You, but You do not answer me; I stand up, and You regard me. But You have become cruel to me; with the strength of Your hand You oppose me. You lift me up to the wind and cause me to ride on it; You spoil my success. For I know that You will bring me to death and to the house appointed for all living.”

If Job had counted on his friends, neighbors, or acquaintances to be there for him rather than on God, his story would have ended far differently than it did. He was now a man who saw himself as discarded, written off, a cautionary tale for anyone who knew of him, of the prominence he’d once held, and the things he’d once possessed.

The world has changed, but man hasn’t. Deep down, we’re still petty, judgmental, and vindictive, just as those of Job’s day, and for many, dissecting and then reveling in the fall of once prominent men has become a hobby all on its own. I’m not referring so much to those once in spiritual authority who allowed sin to take root, then destroyed their lives, but whether it’s athletes, Wall Street tycoons, or once esteemed trailblazers of some sort that aren’t quite as popular, sought after, or well regarded as they once were, it’s astounding to see men relish their downfall as though their descent was the one thing keeping them from ascending to new heights.

Your contentment ought not to be based on the success or failure of another. Relishing someone’s downfall doesn’t make you the better person, or the bigger person; it just makes you petty and small, not realizing that any one of us, no matter how certain we are of future success, is one calamity away from being looked upon by our contemporaries as Job was by his.

No matter how intuitive, forward-thinking, or perceptive he might have been, he couldn’t have seen this coming, not in his wildest, most dreadful imaginings. It wasn’t just one thing, or two, that went sideways; it was everything.

Every single thing that could have gone wrong in Job’s life did so, and at an accelerated rate. From the outside looking in, we understand the devil had a hand in it and was the cause of Job’s demise, but it was not something Job ever imagined as being a possible future for himself.

This is why foundation matters. Whether your house is built upon shifting sand or the Rock becomes relevant, and all-important during the storm, not during fair weather. Whether you know God as Father, and He knows you as son or daughter, is the determining factor between whether you will stand or fall when the storms arrive. If you belong to Him, even if you are shattered into a million pieces, He will put you back together. If not, then one hairline crack will be enough to cause you to crumble into the dust because standing in our strength is no strength at all, and the slightest disturbance will send shockwaves through our well-sorted lives.        

By his own assessment, his soul had been poured out because of his plight, and the days of his affliction had taken their toll. This was not hyperbole or exaggeration on Job’s part, nor did he try to put on airs pretending to be stronger than he was.

We all have some version of a dream scenario when it comes to this present life, and rarely does the dream scenario play out. We can either put one foot in front of the other and press on, or sit in the dust and reminisce about what could have been, might have been, and in our moments of hubris, what we think should have been.

Job’s consternation wasn’t about what he could have done differently to avoid the situation he was in. His lament was that though he cried out to the God he served, He did not answer. He remained silent, and His silence was, to Job, the worst he had to contend with, even though he lay in the dust and ashes of his former life, scratching at his boils with a potsherd.

Job wasn’t lamenting the loss of his health or his wealth; he was acknowledging them. He wasn’t pretending that he wasn’t going through what he was going through, but what affected him more than any of those things was God’s silence. He missed the fellowship most of all, and though his bones pierced him in the night, and his gnawing pains knew no rest, God’s absence is what caused his consternation and unease.

When God speaks, it is with a purpose. When God is silent, it is likewise with a purpose. These things we know to be true, yet when we’re in the midst of the threshing, when we are being sifted, when the walls seem to be caving in, and there seems to be no way out of our current predicament, we sometimes lose sight of these realities.

Job had concluded that God had become cruel to him, and opposed him with the strength of His hand, not because he hadn’t known the goodness of God throughout his life, nor because he was unaware of His character, but because it’s hard to see the light when you’re at the bottom of a well, and Job had been at the bottom for some time now.

The self-righteous among us will be quick to declare that Job should have known better, that he shouldn’t have accused God of casting him into the mire, but neither you nor I were ever in Job’s position. We haven’t had to walk a mile in his shoes, nor can we come close to understanding all that he had endured up to this point. Blameless and upright he might have been, but Job was not perfect. None of us is. Throughout history, whether recorded or otherwise, there has been only one who was perfect: the Christ.

If anyone claims perfection, they’re either deceiving themselves or knowingly attempting to deceive others. Every one of us needs God’s grace. Every one of us needs God’s mercy, and as any good father would, when we lash out and say things we later regret, if we repent, He is faithful and just to forgive us.  

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.