Encouragement

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They come, from time to time, those moments of clarity, epiphanies of understanding, glimpses of the bigger stage life lives itself out on.

Man’s entire being lies within the embrace of Job 1 and Job 2. No other stage exists … its framework contains it all. Joys and sorrows. Ease and despair. Servant and master. Sovereign and self. Temporal blessing, readily eclipsed by the more difficult yet ever richer eternal blessings. Faith’s ongoing battle with sight. And two realms, each invested heavily in me, and my response to living out life on every plain.

The remainder of Job simply fleshes out what living looks like for each of us as we individually walk the sod of Job 1 and 2. It reveals where we turn, reveals who holds our heart, lies bare the transparency of a life lived well, and a life … not quite in the grip of Truth, yet.

As hard as Job 1 and 2 are to read, the transparency of Job 3 onward tolls a disconcerting note, yet strangely comforts my heart as well.

Job’s honesty moves me. I’ve known his thoughts … as my own, known pain so deep, I despaired, not of God, but of the purpose of my own existence. I’ve questioned the reason I ever drew breath, or even continue to do so. Job walks my sod, or I his.

Human frailty, human weakness, human suffering. We all know them, have known them, and will know them again … this sod where we’re reminded of something, something we easily forget. God leads the psalmist to pen words to help us see, help us remember.

For He remembered that they were but flesh; a wind that passeth away, and cometh not again. (Psalm 78:39)

Other cries finds birth in these moments, moments of recognition. Cries that turn temporal truth into eternal blessings.

My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever. (Psa 73:26)

Though the words aren’t penned by Job’s reality, nonetheless, the psalmist captures Job’s heart, and mine … a knowing birthed and given voice on frailties sod, where in weakness we discover strength.

My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the LORD: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God (Psalm 84:2)

Paul had learn, Job learned, and I, too learn a hard truth, a blessed truth: Therefore I take pleasure in my infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong. (2 Corinthians 12:10)

Powerfully this truth spills from Job’s own lips, despite, no, because of this sod. It is here Job realizes he can truthfully say, though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him. It is here, where I, too, learn to make that same truth mine.

The LORD is Spirit, and to worship Him, I must worship Him in spirit, and in truth. Suffering stirs our indifference, reveals the bare bones of our truth, wakes us up to where our faith really lies.

If my faith has no deeper roots than my sight, then despair becomes my resting place each time circumstances strips away ‘my life.’

Job’s transparency in chapter three reveals truth. Suffering hurts. Feelings boil to the surface. Job neither denied them, nor suppressed them. Neither should I. Being created in God’s image gave me feelings, just like Job. While suffering stirs them up, suffering also works much like a refiner’s fire, revealing where my heart has focused on self.

God never intended feelings to direct my life, to dictate my living. Yet feelings help me recognize the sight at work in my life, freeing me to choose. Surrender to sight or surrender my feelings to the Sovereign Writer of my story, and trust Him with all I do not understand.

I live in Job 1 and 2; you live there. May the living fleshed out within them continue to do its refining work, that with my last utterance I can be heard to proclaim – though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.







© 10 March 2006
DeAnna L. Brooks

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