Day 8: Good Grief

You yourself have recorded my wanderings. Put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? Then my enemies will retreat on the day when I call. This I know: God is for me. Psalm 56:8–9

Imagine if a really good, godly guy was just ambling along, minding his own well-behaved business when he fell into a deep pit of pain, loss, and suffering. Then, when he was buried up to his neck in misery at the bottom of that horrible hole, he found out God had supervised his terrible tumble! Surely that dude would renounce his faith in a compassionate Creator-Redeemer, right? Maybe get a huge, “God is dead or at least asleep at the wheel” tattoo across his back and choose Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” as his go-to karaoke song for the rest of his post-pit life.

Well, that brow-raising scenario actually happened to a guy named Job and while history is blurry about the tattoo and karaoke bar parts (oftentimes the color commentary that runs through my brain is not biblically defensible!), it’s crystal clear that Job didn’t only retain his faith but his faith in the goodness of God grew exponentially.

A few of the top pit-takeaways from the Old Testament book of Job are:

• More often than not, the pain God allows into our lives isn’t punitive but rather a promotion
• God’s providence will never take us to a place where His grace won’t sustain us
• We don’t have to edit our emotions but can instead bring all of us to all of Him
• Grief is not the opposite of hope but rather proof of it

I resisted when God’s Spirit initially prompted me to peruse the life of Job several years ago. Even though I’m a Bible teacher by passion and vocation, I’ve done my best to avoid exegeting Job and assumed that to actually delve deeply into the text would be akin to sticking my hand in a blender. Or getting bamboo slivers jammed under my toenails. Or having my eyelashes pulled out one by one. Or listening to a telemarketer’s entire spiel about the all-inclusive European vacation I’d won and simply needed to relay my credit card information to “reserve” the fabulous prize. You get the picture.

Anyway, after God’s insistence that I befriend Job got too loud to ignore, I reluctantly began wading into his story and by the end of the first chapter, I was hooked. In fact, Job 1:20, which says: “Then Job stood up, tore his robe, and shaved his head. He fell to the ground and worshiped” has been a life-changer for me. Because the socio-historical context of Job tearing his robe and shaving his head means that he wasn’t faking it—he wasn’t wearing a happy face and pretending to be fine when his heart was eviscerated. He was honest with God about his ache. But he was also able to worship Him while he wept. This means that contrary to popular belief, confessing pain and expressing praise are not opposite ends of the “appropriate” behavioral scale for Christ-followers. Sometimes a hallelujah that’s punctuated by a sob is actually sacred.

• Have you ever experienced a broken heart and raised hands in worship at the same time?
• If not, are you comfortable “letting” God see you cry?
• In what ways do you “fake it” before God? What could it look like—and feel like—to approach Him in total honesty instead?