Outward

Footsteps we follow-- there is a pattern in pain in the Bible: turning upward, outward. The journey of pilgrims from ancient times who have felt the same heart pain, pressures, suffering, and questions we have. Their feet climb upward, their voices raised upward, their eyes lifted upward. It is not the psychoanalysis or “finding the inner child,” or mediating to get into a state of inner peace. We turn upward, outward to God. We need an outside voice, an outside perspective—and the One Who Spoke Creation Into Existence still speaks into our circumstances.

This outward turn is the gasping breath of Job that still echoes in wavering power today through the ages. Pain. Loss. The only natural human under-the-sun apart-from-God answer was given by his wife, “Curse God and die” (Job 2:9). Yet, Job turns to that very God who seems to be striking him.

Job, how is God treating you? “He hunts me like a lion stalks his prey. He is against me. He is killing me. His heavy hand is on me, he terrifies me with his awesome presence, he turns away from me, treats me as his enemy, he condemns me, puts my feet in stocks. The Almighty torments me, breaks me down, traps me, attacks me, turns all against me” (paraphrase of Job 10:16; 13:15, 24-27; Job 19:1-13). 

Job, do you have hope? “I loathe my life. Why did you, God, bring me out of the womb? Leave me alone, God, that I may find a little cheer before I go to the land of darkness, deep shadow. Life is darkness; it covers my face, there is no hope. I’m nothing more than a windblown leaf, dry dead chaff, prisoner, a rotten thing, a moth-eaten worthless garment, shadowy nothing and useless” (paraphrase of Job 10:1, 21-22; 19:8; 13:25-28).

Yet, Job, who are you talking to? “God! You! I’m talking to you! I will say to God, do not condemn me. Remember that you made me just like a potter and clay, so will you forsake me now? You gave me life and love, your care preserved me—for what? For this hurt and pain? Though you kill me, I will hope in him, I will argue to him, present my case. For I know that my Redeemer, my Advocate, lives and he will come and I will yet see God!” (paraphrase of Job 10:2, 8-13; 13:15; 19:25-26).

In, not after he had survived, but IN his deepest pain and the most terrible accusations against God Job also makes his most enduring statements of hope and faith.  He takes his pain and instead of wrapping himself in it and focusing on self, he throws it back at God, “God, what are you going to do with this? How are you going to respond?”

Turning out to God. Spirit-supplied strength based on the knowledge of God’s character that God was a God of justice and a God of response, a God who made him, and a God who redeemed. Gritted teeth. Lashing pain. But directed out.

Job’s painful sweat of agonizing question and searing doubt were etched in ridges in another pain-twisted face thousands of years later. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane. Job’s same blood-sweating pain ran down this man’s cheeks as well. Jesus, too, turned to his Father, “Father, I trust. Any, any other way! But I trust. Your will.”

We walk in this same pattern. With our bills, pains, questions, doubts, broken relationships, more-than-I-can-bear, the-straw-that-broke-the-camel’s-back things, we go to God. The Creator stepped into our shoes. He turned downward, turned to us. So we can turn to him.