Sermon for March 9th, 2025
Job 16:1-22 (OT p. 465) (Neal's Translation)
1 Job replied, and righteously said: 2 Often have I heard you, and all your hype; horrible comforters are you all. 3 Will these windy words ever wind to an end? And what spurs you so, that you speak on and on? 4 I could preach like you, were you in my place; string syllables together, shaking my head. 5 Or I could strengthen you with the words of my mouth, assuage your sorrow with movement of lips. 6 But if I speak, my suffering is not relieved; If I remain silent, how much runs away? 7 Surely now he has left me depleted; all my people, God, you have destroyed. 8 As a witness against me, you have withered my face--a witness confirmed in leanness and waste. 9 In his righteous wrath, he rips and tears me; with grimacing teeth he grinds me up; the gaze of my enemy sharpens against me. 10 Gaping, they mock me, open-mouthed; shamefully, they strike me upon the cheek; together, my challengers gather and wait. 11 To fools, my God has turned me over, and tossed me into the hands of the wicked. 12 I was at peace, but he broke me to pieces; he seized my neck and shook me to bits; he made me his bullseye, 13 surrounded by archers; pierced my heart with no pity, spilled my blood on the earth. 14 Wound upon wound, he rains down upon me; like a mighty warrior, he runs me aground. 15 I have donned the sackcloth to hide my skin; I have lowered my horns down to the dust. 16 My face is flushed with desperate weeping; my eyes are filled with the shadow of death. 17 All this, although my hands have not sinned; all this, although my prayer remains pure. 18 Do not conceal my blood, O Earth; don't let my cries fall to the ground. 19 Even now--For God's sake!--my witness is in heaven, Even now--for God's sake!--my record is on high. 20 Lying words, my friends levy against me, while tears leave my eyes in search of God. 21 If only some savior, appealing to God's mercy, could intercede on behalf of a man, as a man intercedes on behalf of his neighbor, as a man intercedes on behalf of a friend. 22 For when a few more years have passed, so too, my own path must come to its end.
The Book of Job: Innocent, Part I
After that scripture reading, I suppose we could all use a little bit of humor. I found this somewhere on the internet:
If you can start the day without caffeine or pills, If you can understand when loved ones are too busy to give you time, If you can take criticism and blame without resentment, If you can face the world without lies and deceit, If you can relax without liquor, If you can sleep without the aid of drugs, If you can do all these things, Then you are probably the family dog.
It has been said that "into every life, a little rain must fall." For some people, like those fortunate enough to live in El Paso, it's truly only a little bit of rain. For others, like Job in our scripture passage, it's a whole lot of rain. The Book of Job is most likely an extended parable, written long ago as a counter-argument to the Book of Proverbs, which suggests that good things happen to people who are good, and bad things happen to people who are, well...bad. There is, of course, some truth to this, but as with all simplistic platitudes, there are also limits. Whoever wrote the Book of Job was very interested in exploring those limits.
The opening chapters of the story describe how a man who is blameless and upright in all respects (God even says so himself!) is painfully afflicted by God. Yes, I realize it is the character of "Satan" who does most of the afflicting in the story, but it is unquestionably God who authorizes the affliction, and God who actually suggests Job as the ideal target. None of this is lost on Job, who--in today's scripture passage--clearly (and correctly) attributes all of his suffering to God, over and over again in vivid language. Throughout the story, Job also steadfastly maintains his innocence--and that's what I want to explore with you over the course of the next four weeks. What does it mean to be innocent? What does it mean to be guilty? And why do people who are clearly guilty sometimes prosper, while people who are clearly innocent often suffer? Spoiler alert: There's not a good, happy, clearcut answer to that question--in the Book of Job, in the Bible, or in life. But wrestling with these questions does, in my opinion, strengthen our faith and DOES help us be more compassionate to those who suffer, and more resilient in our own suffering.
So...with all that said, let's jump into the text.
By the time we catch up with Job in chapter 16, he has lost just about everything (his possessions, his livelihood, his health, and his children) and he has been engaged in a passionate debate with his three friends (Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar) who have come to comfort him in his time of need. In previous years, I have preached about Job's friends, and I have noted that they aren't really as bad as Job makes them out to be--they show up and sit with Job in silence for three whole days and three nights before they finally begin to speak, and when they do, nothing they say is theologically incorrect, or spoken with ill-intent. In fact, they're doing what men often do: They are trouble-shooting, problem solving, trying to help Job figure out what went wrong and how he can prevent it in the future.
But that's not what Job needs, and so after listening to them for 13 chapters...Job finally cuts them off and lights into them: Miserable comforters are you all! Just shut up already! I could do a better job comforting YOU (which is perhaps doubtful) but at the end of the day, your words, OR my words OR even silence doesn't matter--none of it is going to change my situation.
And then Job launches into a bunch of words, alternately talking to God, talking about God, talking about his enemies (possibly meaning his friends) and talking about how God and his friends/enemies are all treating him. He doesn't hold back. He describes God as a destroyer, ripping him to pieces, chewing him up and spitting him out. He describes his enemies (or friends) as archers who--at God's direction--have shot him full of arrows, spilling his guts all over the ground.
But then in verse 15, Job says something surprising: He says that he has put on "sackcloth" and lowered his horns to the dust. Sackcloth, in the Bible, is coarse, scratchy clothing (think burlap bag) that you put on in order to punish yourself, to repent of your... sins. And the horns lowered to the dust--this is a metaphor: A goat or a bull lowering its horns to the ground is a sign of submission. Taken together, it would seem like Job is saying, "I was wrong; I'm sorry; I repent." But not so fast--just two verses later, in verse 17, he says, "I've done all this EVEN THOUGH there is no wickedness in my hands, and my prayers are pure." Which, again, according to the story and according to God in the story, is absolutely true. Job is saying, in effect, I've apologized even though I haven't done anything wrong!"
In the last five verses, Job shifts his focus and makes a remarkable argument. He appeals (metaphorically) to the earth and says, "Don't cover all this up; don't hide my blood or let my cries go unanswered. I know that I'm right, and I know that God (in heaven) knows the truth." And then comes one of my favorite verses in the Book of Job. Verse 21: If only someone--some hero, some savior--could plead cases like this before God in Heaven, like an expert lawyer arguing in front of the judge, or like a good neighbor standing up for his fellow man, even at his own peril.
That should send chills down the spine of any Christian reading this passage, because we believe that's exactly what happens hundreds of years later, in the New Testament. God sends his son, Jesus (the other perfect and blameless man in the Bible, and this time not a parable) and Jesus--through his life, his death, his resurrection, his love for mankind--intercedes with God on our behalf, whether we are innocent, guilty, or anywhere in between. And so we are vindicated, we are lifted up into God's embrace for all eternity. I believe that this was God's plan all along, but sometimes I like to think that maybe, just maybe, God listened to Job's desperate cry in this desperate moment and said, "Yes, Job. I heard you. THAT's what we're going to do."
Alright, so what are the key takeaways for us, here and now? There are several, but today I want to highlight three:
First--Job was perhaps a little bit wrong (not sinfully wrong, but just misguided wrong) in saying that words don't matter. I'm not talking about the words of his friends. Clearly, his own words--the angry words, the bitter words, the defiant words--are part of his grieving process, part of his healing process. Remember that when you comfort someone who is suffering, and remember that when you yourself are suffering: It's okay to be mad at God. It's okay to express those feelings, to vent your spleen to heaven above. God can take it. And you (or the person you are comforting) probably need it, too.
Second--Per Job's excellent example, it's okay to apologize (to God or to your fellow human beings), EVEN if you don't think you did anything wrong. If you're correct, and you didn't in fact do anything wrong, in apologizing you have simply demonstrated kindness and humility, extending an olive branch to another person, which may have desperately been needed and might be reciprocated. Even if it isn't reciprocated, that's okay. You never lose anything in being kind and humble. And, in case you actually happen to be wrong, in apologizing you have done the right thing, even before you may have realized it. By the way, I have done this many, many times throughout the course of my life--mostly because I never THINK I'm wrong (even though I know I often am). And I have never--not once--regretted it. Sometimes (many times?) apologizing has saved a relationship that was well worth saving, regardless of whether I was right OR wrong.
Third (and this is perhaps the hardest one to bear)--As was the case with Job, sometimes justice, vindication, or salvation comes too late, long after we wanted it, needed it, or even after our lives are over. But it does come. Our lives on this earth are finite, but God's plans and purposes for his people are infinite. And our scriptures teach us that all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purposes--in this life, or in eternity.
I started the sermon with a poem of my own--I'd like to end it with a poem from one of my favorite poets, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
