How Do you Trust God When You Can't?
Hebrew Scripture Reading: Job 38:1-11
Charissa Clark Howe 2018
Gospel Reading: Mark 4:35-41
Questions instead of answers
Job cannot see beyond his narrow worldview. All he can perceive in his situation is injustice. He still thinks of the world in legal terms of right and wrong, even though this legal theory has failed him. Job’s framework has proven inadequate, but it is the only thing left standing between him and the chaos of the world. Job is desperate for justice, not chaos, to prevail. So when this legal framework fails him, Job seeks a legal solution—a trial. In desperation, Job challenges God to a legal hearing, convinced that if only he has a chance to plead his case in court, then surely he will be vindicated. Surely justice will prevail and the chaos will be tamed. Job demands to know why he must suffer despite his innocence: “Let the Almighty answer me!” (31:35).
Don’t you care that we’re about to die?
The last chapters of Job remind us that it is not so much God who must answer to humanity, as humanity that must answer to God.
“We think and worship as if the only question was whether God loves us, instead of whether His love has absolute power to give itself eternal and righteous effect.”2
Why are you so afraid?
Have you still no faith?
Reading Job, some may be tempted to wave the white flag to God and give up the struggle.
Many faith journeys stumble at this place. Sometimes those journeys are stymied with the encouragement of the church. Like Job’s friend, Eliphaz (Job 22), the church prefers to share what it knows from its cherished truisms: “God is good all the time”; “God’s will is sometimes hard for us to understand”; “God will not give us more than we can handle.” Like Eliphaz, we do not enjoy puzzling over mysteries that we cannot easily explain.
But that is what the church does when it is at its best—it summons mysteries that are not easily explained; it invites people into these mysteries, never in control of where those mysteries will lead or of what will happen to the people caught up in them. The church introduces people to the living God, as unpredictable and volatile as the sea bursting from its womb (38:8), or the clouds, unfurling a thick darkness too expansive for us to handle (vv. 9–10). This kind of encounter is not for the fainthearted. Job must “gird up [his] loins like a man” (v. 3), prepare himself for a physically taxing encounter. Perhaps this is part of the role of the church—to prepare the questioning faithful for what can be a demanding encounter with our God.
Who is this that even the wind and the sea obey?
Who is this that even the wind and the sea obey?
But mystery, according to Job, is located primarily not in what is exceptional, but in what is natural, regular, and known—the morning stars, the sea, the womb, the clouds. They invite Job, and us, to ponder the breadth of the depth of this God with whom we must struggle.
Far from the judge who levies charges or defends a victim, God responds as a poet. God does not correct Job or teach him a lesson, but dazzles him with the divine glory. God stretches Job’s imagination to ponder the majestic panorama of creation. The text is vivid. Job is taken on a whirlwind tour to wonder at space and time, at science and nature. The language is invitatory (“let me share with you what I have done”). This is the kind of thing to “make one gasp and stretch one’s eyes,” not so much in analysis as in awe. As G. K. Chesterton put it, “The riddles of God are more satisfying than the solutions of man.” But riddles are hard to understand, and it is doubtful Job feels satisfied. At the end of the first divine speech, Job is invited to respond, but has nothing to say (40:1–5).
More Questions than Answers
Like Job, the people of God ask for explanation, for an accounting. More often than not, what we are given are moments of mystery. The church’s role is to support people in the midst of this encounter, to teach them the interpretive tasks of recognizing God’s work, not just in the exceptional moments of our lives, but in the regular moments of every human life, where God can be known but never finally explained.