Sorrow and Suffering Job Style

For my sighing comes instead of my bread, and my groanings are poured out like water.  For the thing that I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me.  I am not at ease, nor am I quiet; I have no rest, but trouble comes. (Job 3:24-26, ESV)

 In a very short time they were over the bridge, and had come to the foot of the mountains, where the path began the ascent of the lower slopes. Here great boulders were scattered all around, and suddenly Much-Afraid saw the figures of two veiled women seated on one of the rocks at the side of the path. As the Shepherd and she came up to that place, the two rose and bowed silently to him. 

“Here are the two guides which I promised,” said the Shepherd quietly. “From now on until you are over the steep and difficult places, they will be your companions and helpers.”

Much-Afraid looked at them fearfully. Certainly they were tall and appeared to be very strong, but why were they veiled? For what reason did they hide their faces? The longer and closer she looked at them, the more she began to dread them. They were so silent, so strong, and so mysterious. Why did they not speak? Why give her no friendly word of greeting? 

“Who are they?” she whispered to the Shepherd. “Will you tell me their names, and why don’t they speak to me? Are they dumb?” 

“No, they are not dumb,” said the Shepherd very quietly, “but they speak a new language, Much-Afraid, a dialect of the mountains which you have not yet learned. But as you travel with them, little by little, you will learn to understand their words. “They are good teachers; indeed, I have few better. As for their names, I will tell you them in your own language, and later you will learn what they are called in their own tongue. This,” said he, motioning toward the first of the silent figures, “is named Sorrow. And the other is her twin sister, Suffering.” (Hurnard, Hannah. Hinds Feet on High Places)

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.” (Matthew 7:24-27, ESV)

I see that Job had found that sighing and groaning were his bread and water in the days of his suffering.  He spoke these words in distress, wishing he'd never been born.  And yet, what other sustenance can one hope for in the darkest valley of suffering?  Perhaps sorrow becomes the only one who can feed you in these times.

Such times are brought on by fear.  Job admits his suffering consists of the very things he fears and dreads.  Perhaps suffering serves as a mirror to show us our fears.  In such times we face fear as more than an idea or feeling.  It becomes the very reflection of ourselves.  Who am I?  Am I made of fears?

Such times are full of turmoil.  No ease, quiet, or rest.  Most often sleep suffers.  I wake up in the early morning with my heart beating fast and I don't know why.  Trouble comes.  Yet I know that not all sleep is good and not all peace rests on hope.  Sometimes I need to wake up, especially if the house is on fire.

These early morning conversations with God take two forms.  "Curse God and die!"  or "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."  Curse or bless.  Pour out my poison and vindictiveness against him and his servants or cling thankfully to him and whatever help he sends.  He remains the same.  He is the unmovable, un-climbable mountain.  I can pound on it and scream, or hide in it and cry.

I see people falling around me.  "Curse God and die" has become the only voice they can hear.  The anger burns.  It points outward in rage or inward in depression.  Either way they are consumed and consume other people, too.  I am afraid of this.  More than any suffering I am afraid of this.  This fear reigns above all others: I fear losing my One True Friend.

"Blessed be the name of the Lord."  It seems impossible.  It must be insincere.  Can I really bless the One who let this happen?  Can I really kiss the scourge that tears at me?  For my own sake, no.  I cannot be happy with suffering in the middle of it.  Instead I think of my Lord.  I think of his Way out of suffering.  He did not turn around.  He did not go around.  He went through.  Sometimes it's the only way.  Where he goes, I follow.  With his company, I am safe.  That is the blessing.  It is well with him so it is well for me.  He's that good.

Suffering has no handbook.  No instructions.  No magic words that make it easy.  This house, this life will face the storm.  It's not an "if," but a "when."  In the end what will save me is not what I know, but Who I know.

Both the wise and the foolish build.  Will I build for life or will I build for desire?  Life-building digs down deep and clings to the Rock.  Desire-building spreads itself out thin, replacing digging with distraction.  Jesus's words are for building a life on Life.

I do not write as one who has suffered much, but as one who knows he may suffer much.  I see that the best preparation is not presuming that I won't suffer or pretending that I will somehow be above sorrow.  Trials are dangerous.  I stand before them with fear.  With Job as a companion and the Lord as my Rock and my Guide, such fear will become fuel for my joy, a bed for my peace, and a light for my hope.