Job CCCXXXV

 If you claim to be a chef, you must know how to cook. If you claim to be a carpenter, you must know how to build a house. If you claim to be a woodsman, you must know how to chop down a tree. Not only must you know how to do these things, but you must also be able to follow through and actually do them. Theoretical knowledge of something isn’t practical application. Saying you’re a little god yet not being able to do godlike things only proves you’re a liar, and your pride and arrogance have compelled your tongue to speak things that are wholly fabricated, untrue, and worthy of scorn.

Job never claimed to be a little god, as so many have taken to doing today, but in his pain and despair he wondered out loud why all these things had happened to him. God’s first question to Job is one that those of us who have suffered loss, or the untimely death of a loved one, have likewise had to contend with: Would you indeed annul my judgment?

It’s an easy question to ask but a hard question to answer due to the duality with which all of us must contend. I was heartbroken when my mother died, as well as when my grandfather and most recently my father, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I wished we had more time together. Part of me rejoiced that they had gone to their reward, that they had run their races and now had received their crowns, but another part of me felt sorrow for their departure.

Especially when it came to my grandfather’s passing, I was tempted to do as Job did, and ask why, contend with God, and insist that there was still work to be done had He allowed him to live, but in the end, all I could do was submit to God’s authority and say, “Your will be done!”

To those who have been taught an erroneous dynamic of who God is and who man is, insisting that we are on equal footing with Him, and that He must bend to our will whenever we pout or hold our breath, accepting the trials of life is the hardest thing of all.

I spoke life, yet death has come. I spoke joy, yet I am shrouded in mourning. I spoke prosperity, but I could barely pay my bills. Why is this happening? I did what the preacher on TV said I should: I spoke all these things, yet none have come to pass. Why? Because you’re not God! You may have been talked into believing you are a little god, but you have neither the power nor the authority to make the claim, for there is only one God, and His plan and purpose are known to Him.

Our duty is neither to annul God’s judgment, nor is it to condemn Him that we may be justified, but to submit ourselves to Him. I know you are a good Father; I know you are a gracious God; I know you are faithful even when I am faithless; and I know you have a plan. I may not see it, especially in the valley, but you know the way I must go and what I must endure to reach the destination You have in mind for me, and so I submit willingly, wholeheartedly, completely, without exception or exemption.  

If you feel you are entitled to play God, to question, to disagree, to challenge, or override Him, then do what only God can do such as adorn yourself with majesty and splendor, array yourself with glory and beauty, look on the proud and humble him, and if you are able to do those things, God said, then I will confess to you that your own right hand can save you.

Anyone can claim to be a brain surgeon until they’re staring down at a brain pan and asked to remove a tumor. In their hubris, some might attempt it, inevitably killing the patient, but unless you possess the authority and attributes exclusive to the one true God, stop claiming that you are one.

Job already knew the dynamic between himself and God, but God nevertheless reminded him of it, setting up the framework for the rest of their conversation.

There is one thought that I can’t shake as I read this chapter, and that is, if a man whom God deemed blameless and upright could be taken to task for questioning God, whether in his heart, or with his words, how many times have we fallen short of the mark given that none of us have been singled out as one in a generation when it comes to uprightness and blamelessness.

If you think you can save yourself, have at it. If you believe you do not require the grace, mercy, and redemptive, atoning power of the blood of Jesus, and that by your will alone you will accomplish only what He can, I can’t twist your arm into changing your mind. The only thing I can do is tell you what the Word says, and encourage you to consider that even one such as Job could not save himself.

Job did not rebel; he did not sin against God, nor did he charge God with wrong. He did, however, perhaps in his heart, wish that things had been different, that he hadn’t had to go through what he had, and even that small, seemingly insignificant action was enough for God to call him to task and ask a series of questions that would reacquaint Job with the sovereignty of the God he served.

So what is the practical application for us today, when considering the conversation between Job and God thus far? Simply put, what Isaiah would later declare so succinctly: our righteousnesses are as filthy rags. By God’s own words, Job was a righteous man, blameless and upright, yet even his righteousness fell short of the holiness of God and required His grace and mercy.

Walk humbly with your Lord. Lean on Him, depend on Him, understand that no matter how righteous you may see yourself, you still require His grace to carry on, press forward, and reach the finish line.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.