Job CCLXXXV

 Job 29:13-17, “The blessing of a perishing man came upon me, and I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy. I put on righteousness, and it clothed me; my justice was like a robe and a turban. I was eyes to the blind, and I was feet to the lame. I was a father to the poor, and I searched out the case that I did not know. I broke the fangs of the wicked, and plucked the victim from his teeth.”

It’s the things that define you, that you value, that you see as worth remembering that reveal your character more than any words you can speak. Job didn’t say he had his name on a building, drove a Ferrari, or had the fastest camel in the city. Whatever possessions Job was blessed with were not the things that he valued, nor were they the things that defined him or gave him worth as a person.

He wasn’t remembering designer sandals, or that one time he bought a gold-etched, personalized chariot with cash, he wasn’t reminiscing about his walk-in closet full of linen tunics, or how the only drink to pass his lips was grass-fed, pasture-raised, organic goat’s milk. None of that pasteurized stuff, no sir, fresh from the source is the only way to go.

What he did remember, what he thought worthy of mention, was that he’d caused the widow's heart to sing for joy, and the blessings of a perishing man had come upon him. By the latter, Job did not mean that he received reciprocity from God for his generosity toward a perishing man, but that a perishing man showed gratitude and blessed him for not walking by, ignoring him, or pretending he wasn’t there, and actively doing what he could to keep him from perishing.

I’ve not yet reached the age when what I’ll be remembered for weighs on me, but I know that season is coming and well on its way. For now, I’m more in the camp of asking myself what I’d like to be remembered for rather than what I’ll be remembered for in truth, and I can’t think of anything better I’d rather be remembered for than what Job desired, which was that he heard the cries of the desperate and saw the needs of the widow. Not a jet, not a mansion, not a watch that costs more than an entire neighborhood, but that my heart was tender enough to be a help to the helpless and give of my bread to feed one hungrier than myself.

For the believer, it’s not about leaving behind a legacy but about leaving behind a testimony of what Jesus can do in a life wholly surrendered to Him.

Last year, my father went to his eternal reward. He never amassed a fortune, never had his name up in lights, never rubbed elbows with the elites, yet he left behind a testimony of service, of pouring love into the lives of those without, and of being about the Father’s business with the consistency of a Swiss timepiece.

What you do with your time, how you steward what God has given you, the things you prioritize in this life, all come down to individual choice. Men choose to be selfish or selfless, self-serving or sacrificial, givers or takers, and the testimony they leave behind will be reflected in the choices they made along the way.

It’s not a judgment on anyone. I don’t subscribe to the idea that I have the right to tell another who has earned their money with the sweat of their brow how to spend it, or decide when they’ve bought enough homes or enough cars. I can, however, say, based on the historical data available and what the Bible says, that while cars rust, and homes crumble and decay, causing the widow’s heart to sing for joy will be remembered beyond this life by the One whose memory does not deteriorate with time, and who keeps pristine accounting of all we do in His name.

Throughout his discourse, Job did not boast of his possessions but rather of what he did with the things God entrusted to him, and it is a beautiful synopsis of a life well lived in service to others, not to make a name for himself, not to rise higher in the eyes of his contemporaries, but to be eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, and a father to the poor.

Given what Job says, we can also deduce that there were those in his time who exploited the poor, abused them, and discarded them. Rather than being indifferent to their mistreatment of the widow, the orphan, the lame, and the poor, Job says he broke the fangs of the wicked and plucked the victim from his teeth.

Job was not passive in his defense of the helpless. He was not one to sit idly by and see the wicked devour the widow and the orphan, but actively sought to defend and protect them. For those inclined to imagery, Job breaking the fangs of the wicked is by no means something timid, gentle, or mild. He both made his feelings known regarding the wicked who victimized the weak, as well as the lengths to which he had gone, and would again if the need arose to pluck them from their teeth.

Indifference is by far worse than ignorance, because indifference presupposes that one knew of a situation and chose to do nothing about it, while ignorance implies that one was not aware of the situation at all. While some attempt to mask their indifference by claiming ignorance, God still knows the truth of it. Job saw the poor, the hurting, the widow, and the orphan; he saw the attempts of the wicked to exploit them, and neither flinched away from doing what he knew to be the right thing, nor did he feign ignorance of their plight.

If one’s steps are ordered by the Lord, as Scripture tells us they are, then that person needing comfort you ran into wasn’t by accident, nor was the person needing a meal, a coat, or some encouragement. The truth of it, uncomfortable as it might be, is that even many believers today are so self-absorbed that they can’t be bothered to show kindness to strangers. They are so myopic in their quest to amass, acquire, and squirrel away all that their eyes see that they fail to recognize the moments when God Himself arranged a divine appointment so that they might be a blessing, a comfort, and a helping hand.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.