Gospel and Cynicism Part 5

We’ll be in several places of Scripture this morning…the first of which will be Job 6.

I want to tell you about this man. He was the type of guy you absolutely loved to be around. You need help…he’s the guy there to help you. He had means…dude was crazy wealthy—but the kind of wealthy guy who uses those blessings of God to bring flourishing for others.

He’s a devoted family man. Has kids just like him. They too are successful…but again, he’s one of those successful guys that you love to cheer for. His family is thriving! Everything you’d want to be. He’s also a faithful religious man, devoted to God. He turns away from evil and is bent toward righteousness.

But then tragedy strikes in his life. A band of criminals decided today would be a great day to set fire to their warehouse. Employees died. All the inventory is gone. You’ve lost everything.

Now successful people rarely have all their eggs in one basket, right. Diversify that portfolio. Well…as that first messenger tells him about the one tragedy another comes and says…warehouse #2 is gone. More people have died. This is bad.

Then a third…oh my. The entire business is leveled. All of his source of income, his property, his devoted employees…everything…gone. He goes in one day from being wealthy to dirt poor.

But it’s the last message that is devastating. His kids were gathering together for a party…all of them in the same house…and a tornado came and leveled it. All of his children have died…all on the same day.

What was this good mans response to all this?

Job 1:20–22 ESV

Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrong.

That’s not all the tragedy that will befall him. He ends up getting sick himself. Painful sores. Not only is he emotionally wrecked—now physical catastrophe comes upon him. And you know the way we are wired—there is a reason why we say that you should HALT before making a big decision…are you hungry, angry, lonely, tired? Well…maybe wait a second before deciding to do that thing…why? Because when our bodies are crying out for attention it can entirely shut us down…and so what is happening to Job is that all around him everything is crumbling…and as we see in just a moment, he can’t even turn to his dear wife...

Job 2:9–10 ESV

Then his wife said to him, “Do you still hold fast your integrity? Curse God and die.” But he said to her, “You speak as one of the foolish women would speak. Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips.

Wow. What an amazing response of faith. Blessed be the name of the Lord. We can receive both good and ill from God. I’m not going to curse God.

Now in just a moment we’re going to read some from Job 3, but let me set it up for us.…let me connect this with something we often say...

Let’s imagine that you have suffering and hardship come into your life. What do we sometimes say? God is trying to teach me something…God is testing my faith…If I submit, if I surrender, if I get molded into what God is wanting from me, then things should start getting better. Blessings will come again.

Learn the lesson Job.

Alright, so I’ve got a question for you. Why doesn’t the story stop after Job 2. I mean Job has the right response. He is modeling for us what to do in the midst of suffering…why does the story keep going? Why do we have 40 chapters to go?

Listen now to Job 3…do you hear anything different from Job 1-2? What is happening here with Job?

Job 6:1–4 ESV

Then Job answered and said: “Oh that my vexation were weighed, and all my calamity laid in the balances! For then it would be heavier than the sand of the sea; therefore my words have been rash. For the arrows of the Almighty are in me; my spirit drinks their poison; the terrors of God are arrayed against me.

8-13

Job 6:8–13 ESV

“Oh that I might have my request, and that God would fulfill my hope, that it would please God to crush me, that he would let loose his hand and cut me off! This would be my comfort; I would even exult in pain unsparing, for I have not denied the words of the Holy One. What is my strength, that I should wait? And what is my end, that I should be patient? Is my strength the strength of stones, or is my flesh bronze? Have I any help in me, when resource is driven from me?

Sermon Introduction:

I’m not arguing here that Job is sinning in any of his questions, or even in how he is feeling. This is properly lament. He’s struggling with what is happening. Why do we have 42 chapters of Job and not 2?

Because Job isn’t about what happens when your world collapses. Job is about what happens when your worldview collapses.

You see we all have what might be called a core narrative. It’s probably got several parts to it—we’re complicated after all. But we have central elements to our story. Things we tell ourselves. Sometimes they are true. Sometimes they aren’t true.

For Job and his friends part of their core narrative was something like “good things happen to good people, bad things happen to bad people.” If you seem to be cursed…well…you probably did something to deserve it. Repent....or to say it how we did earlier…learn your lesson, adjust to God’s will and not your own…and blessings will fall upon your head again.

Now don’t hear me wrong here…I’m firmly going to agree with what the text says here…Job didn’t sin at all in his words in the first two chapters. Nor am I saying that Job isn’t being authentic.

But I think what is happening here is that Job is still kind of propped up by that old core narrative…have you ever had something awful happen to you and for the first few weeks or so…it seems as if you’re spiritually heightened. You feel like saying stuff like Job did. And you mean every bit of it.

But after a bit of time…things start weighing on you a little. You’re trying to make sense of it all…and you’re attempting to adjust to a new normal. Your body, your mind, everything moves away from that initial shock.

We see that lament from Job in Job 3. He curses the day he was born. He’s letting those feelings out. He is engaging the emotions. He’s not doing anything wrong at all.

But his friends can’t handle that. Because what is happening as Job articulates his suffering, as he shares his story....their core narrative…that story they tell themselves (good things happen to good people…bad things happen to bad people) starts to get challenged. And that’s uncomfortable. What happened to Job could happen to you…and you don’t have any control over that. That’s why Job says in 6:21

Job 6:21 ESV

For you have now become nothing; you see my calamity and are afraid.

By the time he gets to Job 6, he’s really wrestling with things. That core narrative is crumbling…but you can still hear it a little in the first 4 verses…God is against me, says Job. There is no way that I can stand. I don’t have the strength of community. It’s all collapsing around him.

And that is what we are going to look at today. What happens when your core narrative begins to crumble?

Are you tracking with me here? Do you know what I’m saying about core narrative? We all have some of these…many of them ingrained in us from childhood. Little stories or sayings that will tell ourselves—it’s how we view the world...

Be nice to people, you’ll have friends

You better be tough, or people will hurt you

People like THAT are always evil and wicked, you can’t trust THEM

You can be anything you want to be

You’re never going to live up to what is expected of you

The world is awful and only going to get worse. People are horrible.

All people are basically good.

Good things happen to good people, bad things happen to bad people.

But what happens when these get rattled…when reality doesn’t match up to these things? When our worldview can’t handle what is actually happening in the world…what do we do?

I’ve been arguing for the past few weeks that when we’re in these situations…on the borders of despair, like Job…we will hear the siren song of both cynicism and optimism.

Optimism is going to say something like—just say the right things, believe the right things, put on a happy face, charge ahead…God’s got something better for you Job. Repent…God is merciful. He’ll restore you.

And I guess that sounds okay for a moment until you realize that children aren’t replaceable like that. Such a view is divorced from truth and reality.

Cynicism is going to say something like, see I told you…this is why you shouldn’t get too excited about things, Job. People are wicked and evil—look at how those bad people did this to your business. Curse God and die Job. The world isn’t safe. God isn’t safe.

And I suppose there are some elements of truth in much of that…but it’s divorced from beauty. That’s no way to live. That’s no way to live in the world.

And so what do we do with this?

Scripture speaks of grieving as those who have hope—and grieving as those who do NOT have hope. What does this mean? What does this mean in a story like Job—it’s tragic, it’s horrible.

Okay…I think I can illustrate this.

Now, when we talk about hope, we mean different things.

On one hand I think we mean something like a finite hope. Those can be really small things like—I hope the Chiefs beat the Eagles on Monday night football. Or they can be big things like, I hope everything comes through and we’re able to move to this new house.

We’re also complex and so sometimes identity and emotions and all sorts of things get wrapped into these hopes as well. I hope I’m not alone. I hope I’m successful at this job. I hope that my parents don’t get a divorce.

But all of these are what I’d call a finite hope. They are little hopes. They are real. We feel them. We can even attach our identity to them. But they aren’t solid enough to bear the weight of our identity.

It’s like this box here. I can put a foot on it. Maybe even some of my weight. But if I put all of my weight on it…b/c the McRib is back…this thing is going to collapse.

These finite hopes aren’t solid enough for us.

A few weeks ago I defined hope as this: When truth and beauty merge to give us the happy confidence that the gospel gets the last word.

What gets the last word? If I’m saying… “Whether or not this job comes through, whether or not this relationship works out, whether or not the Chiefs win on Monday, whether or not my kids are healthy and do well in life…whatever it is...” If that thing gets the last word...

It can’t hold up. You’re putting infinite hope in a finite thing. But what happens if you put your hope, your identity, the “last word” on something that is solid....the gospel, the good news of Jesus?

Well it holds you up. No matter how many McRibs you eat. Because the gospel is big enough to anchor to. If you tether your hope to something that can hold it…that’s what we’re looking for. It doesn’t collapse…even if something else does.

But look at this. When we are properly anchored…look at what also happens with our finite hopes. We can use them as a bit of a footstool. Still there…still important…still matter, etc....but they aren’t holding our whole weight. They can’t…they weren’t meant to.

You can see all of this in Philippians 3. There Paul lists all these things…things which he put his confidence in…things which he thought got the last word.

I’m of the right people, I’m zealous for God, I’m following the Law, I’m a religious leader, I’m so dedicated to God that I’m willing to kill these blasphemous Christians…he put all his weight on his religious performance…that got the last word.

But then it collapsed. And Paul was left with nothing. And in that nothingness…when those finite hopes collapsed, what did he find?

Philippians 3:7–11 ESV

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

He found that which is solid. That which he could tether his hope, his identity, his “last word”. It was in Jesus Christ and Him crucified and risen. To be in Christ…to know that what happens to Jesus happens to those united to Christ…so that if He rises, we rise.

That is where we tether our hope. When that gets the last word it changes things...

But let’s make this practical here. And I’ll tell you this can be a little scary. That’s why Job’s friends were afraid—and why they gave him religious sounding jargon that was garbage and ultimately harmful.

When your hope is anchored in the gospel…when you believe this gets the last word…it allows you to grieve like Job. To grieve as one who has hope.

When boxes collapse it hurts. And friends, I have to say…I think it’s a form of the prosperity gospel to say and believe something like...”Oh, if that box collapses it’s just because God has something better for you.”

Yes…God has something better for me…but it’s not a different and more sturdy box. It’s Himself.

You lose that job. God’s got a better job for you…maybe, probably so, he’s good and kind and gracious, and wonderful and provides for us…BUT that’s not a guarantee that we’ll get a better box. That’s not what the story is all about. It’s not about giving us better boxes.

It’s about us not tethering our hope to these things…but to being firmly anchored in that which is sturdy.

But we DO grieve.

Let’s not dehumanize here and pretend like these hopes are just some tattered old box. These are spouses, children, deep loss, pain, and beautiful and good and wonderful things. Things which are truly beautiful.

If my hope…my last word…is tied to even these beautiful things…then we will not be able to grieve as those who have hope. Why? Because this thing has the last word for us...

This is how people get to the point of suicide. When the thing that gets “the last word” falls through…it seems and feels like there is no place to turn. Your core narrative is shattered. The way you view the world is wrecked. That box is all tore up...

Or you might not turn to despair. You might turn to optimism…God’s got a better box. And so you go through life looking for that better box…it’s gonna come…put on that smiley face…keep believing…keep hoping…keep trying to put my weight on something...

Or you might turn to cynicism…and kind of go through life like a zombie, refusing to put weight on anything because you know it might collapse....don’t trust these stupid boxes…and you don’t have any finite hopes. And you put some religious stamp on it…well, I’m not worldly. I’m above all that...

But you’re still not anchored.

OR you can put your weight on the good news of Jesus. The gospel gets the last word. This is where my hope is tethered. This hurts. This is painful. But this is secure.

That is what it means to grieve as one who has hope.

Your hope is anchored…the gospel gets the last word. It allows you to grieve like Job…but to know that there is another story over this one. I don’t understand it…but things will be better.

Not because I finally get the lesson.

Not because I was truthful about how unpredictable boxes are and God just had pity on my poor carcass…but because God is good and this is what He is doing in the world.

Anchor in Christ. That is the power of a hope that is tethered in the gospel. It never fades. It never fails. It never ultimately collapses.

What gets the last word for you?