Walking With Job

In recent weeks our Daily Office has been taking us through the story of Job, the Everyman of Scripture.  While the Old Testament gives us plenty of historical data by which we can date many of its characters, such as David or Solomon, we have no such data for Job.  His story is timeless.  We're all familiar with "the patience of Job."  We all hear Job's story as one of never-failing faithfulness to God. 

Yet this week we read of Job's pain, his agony, his cries of lament.  In chapter 29 Job longs for the life that he once had, the days when it seemed God was watching and blessing him.  In 29: 6 Job cries out, "...when my steps were washed with milk, and the rock poured out for me streams of oil!"  These are images of blessing, for which Job longs. We speak of Job's patience, his love of God, but what of his longing, his pain?

To some extent we all know what it is like to feel like Job, to long for a time when things made sense, times when loved ones were still with us, times when God seemed much more present.  We, like Job, are often told by people that God has a plan, that we should not be upset.  But to deny our sadness or anger is to deny the very humanity that God has given us.  To bury our sadness deep down eventually poisons our souls.  Job is, in many ways, the most human figure in Scripture.  He cries and shouts at God in his anguish, knowing fully that God can take those cries and shouts.  

While at an Evensong in July I was surprised to hear a passage from this book introduced as "A reading from the prophet Job."  Never had I considered Job a prophet.  But perhaps he is.  For Job challenges us to be fully human, to give all of our emotions to God.  So wherever you are at this moment, whether mad, sad, glad, or scared, offer it up to God.  Offer your joy, but also offer your anger, your pain, your disappointment.  God wants all of you, even the parts we would rather bury.  Offer it up.  God can take it.