Look at Me

The Bible's story of Job is an ancient one of a righteous man struggling through some serious losses.  He trusts God and yet has a hard time reconciling his experience with his understanding of God's nature.  When Job's friends Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar hear about his troubles, they come to sympathize with him and comfort him.  They weep and sit quietly with him, joining in his grief (Job 2:11-13).  They "mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12:15).

They weep for days.  Then, eventually, Job speaks.  He feels his losses deeply and cannot fathom why all those awful things have happened to him.  He begins to put words to his grief and wrestle with how God could possibly allow such things in his life.  Job doesn't curse God; he simply and honestly expresses being troubled by a very difficult situation.  After all, he says,

"Does a wild donkey bray when it has grass,

or an ox bellow when it has fodder?"  (Job 6:5)

Unfortunately, his friends, who had so patiently and sympathetically sat with him in his mourning, now feel compelled to argue, insisting that Job has somehow brought all of this trouble upon himself.  They try to explain away his grief by explaining away the situation.  Not surprisingly, this approach is not helpful.

So... why do Job's friends do that?  Why do all of them feel compelled to chime in?  Why all the extended speeches after their chatter-less compassion?  Perhaps, as Job suggests, they were afraid, for the challenge Job presented was not just to his own faith, but to theirs as well:

"Now you too have proved to be of no help;

you see something dreadful and are afraid."  (Job 6:21)

Perhaps, too, Job's friends have become so defensive that they lose sight of the reality of his pain.  Perhaps they have begun talking abstractly, talking to themselves more than to Job, speaking to theology more than to a human being.  Perhaps.


Job's words early in this conversation catch my attention:

"But now be so kind as to look at me..."
(Job 6:28)

Job does not need information in this time nearly so much as he needs consolation.  He can be consoled first not by doctrine but by the empathetic presence of friends willing to acknowledge that life is sometimes horribly unfair, and Job naturally has an awfully hard time with that.

Sometimes a quiet, gentle presence is the most difficult gift to give, and the most important one we can offer.

Called Out, Called Into

"Do not mistreat an alien [also translated "foreigner" or "stranger" or "sojourner"] or oppress him, for you were aliens in Egypt." (Exodus 22:21)

It is pretty natural to respond to injustice with similar injustice, hurting others as we have been hurt.  Now that they were out of slavery, it would have been pretty natural for the Israelites to have mistreated or oppressed the aliens among them.  But God called them to a different standard, to a new way of life.  He called them out of the established order of things and into His design.

God calls us to the same -- to a life of both experiencing His grace and extending it to others.

Little By Little

When I was young, perhaps five or six years old, we adopted a dog named Bear.  Bear was a mix of Samoyed and Great Pyrenees breeds -- all white, quite large, and very strong.  I was excited to have a dog again and, of course, wanted to be the one holding the leash as we walked to the car.  Somehow I talked my way into that, promising to hold on really, really tight and not let go.  And, true to my word, that is what I did.  The dog hadn't committed to anything, though, and took off down the street in an unfamiliar town, with me determinedly holding tight and desperately trying to keep up.  It became abundantly clear to me in those moments that I could handle a dog this size only if the dog agreed, and he clearly hadn't done that.

On a related note...

God had brought the Israelites out of Egyptian slavery after they had lived in Egypt for hundreds of years.  Now they were out on their own and needed to become established in ways that would help them to live and function together as a people.  There was much instruction given, and with many associated promises.  Among those were God's promises to guide them and to give them the land.  Unlike the escape from Egypt, though, this one would be more gradual, for "Little by little I will drive [the people living in the land] out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land" (Exodus 23:30).

Like a six-year-old girl with an unwieldy eighty-pound dog, the Israelites were not fully ready for the land that would be theirs.  They would need to work their way up to it, beginning with just a portion and expanding from there.  They needed to grow into it.

It reminds me of the biblical instruction to be faithful in the "little" things, for only those who are faithful with a little can be trusted with more.  This idea is common in talking about stewardship of material goods, but is relevant to far more.  I think today of relationships and of ministries, and of conversations.  When I desire greater depth in relationships, greater impact in ministries, greater authenticity in conversations, it is worth considering how I choose to respond in those I have already.

I don't want to settle for superficial relationships rather than doing the work of pursuing depth.  I don't want to settle for mediocre ministry rather than investing both wisely and wholeheartedly for greater impact.  I don't want to settle for lame conversations rather than showing up as myself and inviting others to do the same.

God has much in store.  Let's be faithful with what we have, and become ready for the rest.