How to Suffer - Job 3:11-26; Job 13:13-19; Job 19: 25-27; Job 23:8-12

Introduction

I don’t remember a lot from when I was six, but I do remember learning how to ride a bicycle without training wheels. I remember my dad pushing me and letting go, and I remember feeling like a complete boss when I realized it. But, what I remember most is crashing. Now, there are two things you need to know about me. I don’t like hurting, and I don’t like failing. And, this is the earliest memory I have of those two character traits colliding with one another. Of course, my dad did what dads do. He dusted me off, and he told me that crashing was part of it. But, he also tried to help me see that the pain and failures were worth the risk. He wanted me to understand that it would be hard at first, and I’d probably fail and crash again, but one day, that bicycle would be my ticket of freedom down Red Road 55. Stubborn as I am, I parked that bicycle in the back corner of our carport, and I didn’t touch it for months.

I’ve never been very good a failing, and my suspicion is that I’m not alone. Each of us, especially those of us who are millennials and younger, have been well-trained on how to succeed. There have been math tutors and ACT tutors and hitting coaches and golf lessons teaching you how to overcome any deficiency you might have. We have enough certificates and banners to wallpaper all of Calhoun County. But, perhaps the bigger question, perhaps the question that’s more important to your ability to thrive over the course of your life is not how well-trained you are to succeed but how well-prepared you are to fail. For failure and disappointment and suffering are inevitable experiences, and if you don’t know how, if the muscles of disappointment have not be well-trained in you character, you may find yourself without the ability to cope with reality.

God’s Word

Job helps us to understand that, I think. It’s seems that Job had known very little hardship and suffering over his life. He’d been well-trained in how to succeed and well-disciplined in the pursuit. But, the inevitability of failure and suffering ran him down like a stalker in the night.

This morning, I want us to examine more closely Job’s reaction to the grief he experiences. And, I want us to look at it so that we might prepare ourselves for the hard days when they come. Job is teaching us “How to Suffer to the Glory of God: (Headline)”

Allow yourself to “grieve.”

Job 3:20-26 ““Why is light given to him who is in misery, and life to the bitter in soul, who long for death, but it comes not, and dig for it more than for hidden treasures, who rejoice exceedingly and are glad when they find the grave? Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in? 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.””

How Job grieves

Time is a gift, and a time is a curse. That’s the paradox of living in a place where death reigns. If you live long enough, you’ll know what it is to experience loss, failure, and disappointment. Eric Clapton says it rightly: “Time can bring you down/Time can bend your knees/Time can break your heart/Have you begging please.” Job certainly understands that. Job 3 is one of the saddest and most gut-wrenching chapters found in the Bible because Job lets us into the midst of the messiness and ugliness of his grief. And, though everyone grieves in ways as unique as they are, we some common denominators in how Job grieves that can help us process our own grief.

Grieving is “feeling.”

Notice how deeply Job feels what’s happened to him. Job describes himself as being in “misery”, “bitter in soul”, and “long(ing) for death.” He says that he feels “hidden/forgotten”, and “hedged in/attacked by God himself”. It’s interesting, isn’t it? In chapter one Satan says that Job loves God because God had formed a “hedge” around him to protect him, but now in chapter 3, Job says that it feels like those forces have stopped defending him and started attacking him. But, what’s important to note is that Job is really allowing himself to feel the sting of what he’s facing. No self-medication. No attempts to escape to a land of gaming or pornography or drunkenness. Just feeling it. That’s different than many of us. We’d rather escape it than feel it. But, escapism makes you a fugitive. An unwillingness to feel leads to a life on the run where you’ll go anywhere and try anything so long as it keeps you from feeling. You just have to stay ahead of it. You know if you stop, you’ll feel it. Have you allowed yourself to really feel the pain of your loss? Have you allowed yourself to acknowledge how angry you are with your dad or how depressed you are with your health or how sad you are that you haven’t married? Or, are you running? Are you trying to escape and stay one step ahead?

Grieving is “questioning.”

Six times in chapter three the ESV puts the question of “Why?” on Job’s lips. You can see some of those in these few verses. The questions that Job has are difficult ones, aren’t they? “Why did you create me just to hurt like this?” “Why did you allow me to born if you knew I was going to have more tears than bread to eat?” Loss brings about hard questions, questions so hard that you may feel guilty to ask them. But, you have to ask them. Grief demands it, but so does faith. You see, only people of faith, people who believe there is a Sovereign King over the universe are allowed the privilege of asking “Why?” That very question is an expression of faith that you believe there is a God who is there with a reason. Nothing is more destructive to faith than the inability to ask hard questions. That’s why parents must embrace the difficult questions of their teenager or college student, rather than run from them. The inability to ask “why?” hints at a faith that is fragile, shallow, and insecure. Even if you can’t find a specific answer, you must ask and explore the question. It is by asking the hardest questions that you discover the deepest truths — as Job will discover. Don’t ignore your questions; ask them!

Grieving is “expressing.”

What we’re looking at in Job 3 is a specific genre of poetic literature known as a lament. A lament is the raw expression of how grief feels and looks. It’s the ability to express as Job does: “God, the one thing I most wanted to avoid has become my reality.” The Jewish people didn’t carry unhealthy misnomers about manhood and feelings, and they’re much better equipped to express their grief than many of us today. Notice what Job says: “I am not at ease, nor am I quiet.” In other words, I have to get out what’s inside of me. He has to express it. (Draw container or graphic of container and draw lines gradually filling) A counselor helped me to understand that God created us all as limited containers. We experience suffering, hardship, disappointment, and “stuff”, but we pack it in. It’s like pouring water into a container. Eventually, if that water is not poured out as more it coming in, it spills out everywhere. It makes a mess. We begin to unravel. God didn’t design you to hold onto everything. He designed you as an expressive being made to relate with him and with others. Is your container full? You may have to go back in time to pour out some old grief. Counselor. Friend. Journaling. Praying. Pour it out!

Focus yourself upon “hope.”

Job 13:13-19 ““Let me have silence, and I will speak, and let come on me what may. Why should I take my flesh in my teeth and put my life in my hand? Though he slay me, I will hope in him; yet I will argue my ways to his face. This will be my salvation, that the godless shall not come before him. Keep listening to my words, and let my declaration be in your ears. Behold, I have prepared my case; I know that I shall be in the right. Who is there who will contend with me? For then I would be silent and die.”

More than self-pity.

Ministry will teach you that there are times when a husband will die of a heart attack and then his wife will die from a broken heart. And, those are two different things. So, you must allow yourself to grieve. It’s healthy and important. But, as people of faith, we must not allow ourselves to wallow in self-pity as though there is no way forward. Why? That’s hopelessness, and we are fundamentally people of hope.

Hope is more than “positive thinking”.

But, hope can be hard for us to understand because of how distorted and watered down it has become today. I think many of us hear the word “hope” and think “positive thinking/positive vibes.” The problem with positive thinking is that it’s like trying to hide an elephant behind a sheet. The sheet is too thin and too small. You still know the elephant is there. That is not what Job is doing here. He shows us what real hope looks like. Hope is clear-eyed. Job says, “though he slay me.” “Though he may kill me.” “Though my life is in ruins.” That is, Job isn’t trying to make his situation into something it isn’t. We know when we’re lying to ourselves, and attempts at self-deception are sure ways to extinguish hope. But, hope isn’t just clear-eyed; real hope is substantial. Positive thinking is superficial. It’s lipstick on a pig. Hope isn’t wishful thinking; it’s focusing your eyes on the only reality truer than the pain you’re facing: God is trustworthy. That’s Job’s point. The justice and character of God are dependable. It appears as though God is crushing Him, but the truer reality is that God can be trusted with his life to ultimately vindicate him.

Give up on the positive thinking. Stop trying to hide an elephant behind a sheet. It’s superficial. No, real hope, substantial hope that will firm up the ground beneath you like bedrock is the character of God, character that was both displayed and proven in Christ himself.

Hope is more than “right now”.

Job 19:25-27 “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me!”

In fact, you can see this even clearer in chapter 19. What Job realized is what we must realize: Hope is about more than right now. Hope is, by definition, future oriented. Hope is seeing through the grief and pain of right now to a future that is brighter and better. So, Job says, “I may die. My skin may be destroyed. But, my Redeemer lives. And, because my Redeemer lives, my life will be vindicated, my suffering will be alleviated, my heart will be renewed even if it is in the life to come.” Do you see it? His hope is in the future when “shall see for (himself).”

It’s a reminder of what Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 4. We grieve, but we don’t despair. We grieve as those with hope. Job knew that his Redeemer lived, but, our vision is even clearer. We know that our Redeemer has been raised, and his resurrection is the firstfruits of our very own. Death has already lost. Suffering has already been overcome. So, hard as this is, and difficult as it is to see, our hope has been substantiated by the resurrection of Jesus. So, feel what you feel. Ask the questions that you have. Express what’s going on inside of you. But, don’t take your eyes off of hope.

Remind yourself to “endure.”

Job 23:8-12 ““Behold, I go forward, but he is not there, and backward, but I do not perceive him; on the left hand when he is working, I do not behold him; he turns to the right hand, but I do not see him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold. My foot has held fast to his steps; I have kept his way and have not turned aside. I have not departed from the commandment of his lips; I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my portion of food.”

Grieving, Hoping, Enduring

Suffering is messy work. We saw last week how difficult that was for Job’s friends to understand, and we see this week how difficult it is for Job to make it through. Notice how these verses summarize what we’ve seen today about suffering. In verses 8-9, Job looks everywhere for God, but God is nowhere to be found. He’s reminded of the loneliness of grief. Then, in verse 10, he says that all of the fires in his life will only be used by God to refine and purify him as God. He’s focuses himself on the hope of God’s working through suffering, even if he can’t see or hear him. So, he lands in verses 11-12 with, “So, I just remind myself to keep going. I keep walking. I keep pressing on. I don’t depart from the Lord. I remind myself of what He’s said.” So much of suffering boils down to enduring.

Grief isn’t “linear.”

(Show by drawing “grief/hope/endure” in a line and then in a circle) And, if you’re going to endure, you need to know what to expect. You see, cycles like this again and again through Job. Grief. Hope. Endure. And, then it starts over again. And, it reminds us that hope is not in the place of grief; hope is in the midst of grief. We want grief to be linear, but it’s cyclical instead. We don’t move on from grief to hope to endurance. We cycle through them.

C.S. Lewis describes his experience grieving his wife like this: “Tonight all the hells of young grief have opened again; the mad words, the bitter resentment, the fluttering in the stomach, the nightmare unreality, the wallowed-in tears. For in grief, nothing ‘stays put.’ One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral? But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?” (A Grief Observed).

Fan the flame of “hope”.

If we’re to suffer well, over time, the hope must mature so that it’s bigger and the grief smaller. That’s moving from enduring to enjoying. My favorite show right now is Alone. These survival experts are dropped on to some piece of frozen ground alone and whoever can outlast the others wins $500,000. But, if you hope to survive, you better keep your fire going. Their fire becomes their full-time job. They stoke it and feed and fan it. And, that’s how we must treat hope in the midst of our grief. We must stoke the fire of hope and fan its flame. We must fan the flame of hope so that it becomes even greater than the grief and suffering we know.