7th Day of Lent

Wednesday, March 12th, 2025

Job 1:1, 18-20, 2:11-13, NIV

In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil… One day a messenger came and said “Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the older brother’s house, when suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them and they are dead!” … At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground, on his knees. … When Job’s friends heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together to go and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud and they tour their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. They sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.

Reflection - Pastor Taylor Walker, Zion Lutheran Church, Spring City

In the very first verse of the book of Job, we learn that Job is blameless and pure, a righteous man of God. Not only that, he has been wildly successful in life, with a beautiful family, servants to staff his palatial estate, and fields of every kind of animal. He is a good man, genuinely good, and life has rewarded him. But the next few verses of the chapter describe greater and greater horrors: a wildfire burns Job’s sheep alive, a band of marauders steals the oxen, a foreign army sweeps up the camels. The most awful thing of all is when all ten of Job’s children are killed when their house collapses in a windstorm.

If Job were among us, we might be tempted to say all kinds of terrible things to him. Things like “everything happens for a reason” or “God doesn’t make mistakes” or “God only gives you what you can handle.”

That’s absolutely garbage. Nothing could be more wrong – or feel more wrong, in the moment.

We say those things, instinctively, because we want to cure pain. We want it to go away, right now. We habitually avoid things that cause pain, we seek after comfort. But it’s clear: this method, the instant-reassurance method? It doesn’t really help. Certainly it doesn’t help people like Job.

So what do we do?

I think we do what Job’s friends do… those miraculous people who appear there in chapter two. We find the one who is suffering, sit alongside them, and cry with them. We don’t tell them it’s not a big deal… we don’t try to change their minds. We find them, sit next to them, and weep with them.

God of the suffering, show me the people who need love right now. Show me the one who is lonely and needs care, so I can be with them. (And show me, too, if that person is me.) Amen.