Satan has just made a deal with God. God has basically handed Job over to Satan to test, as God knows Job is a good and righteous man. In this first tormenting bit, God allows Satan to do whatever he will, but to not harm Job directly. So Satan does his dirty deeds. He has all of the sheep, oxen and donkeys carried off and killed, all but a couple servants carried off and killed, and all but one of his sons and daughters killed. To this horrible carnage, Job’s response is to tear his robe and shave his head, both signs of despair and lament, and both absolutely warranted in this story. He also falls on the ground and worships.
That’s the part that’s hard to understand.
All of the things that are hard right now, partisan conversations, a struggling civil rights movement, the pandemic, elections, - none of these things are as horrible as what Job has experienced so far. And yet, our collective and individual response is not to worship. In response to these things, I find myself spending more time railing at God. But Job worshipped. I wonder what he said or thought in this part of the story. What did his worship look like. Thank you God, for sparing me? God, you are wonderful, all powerful, and my family, servants and livestock have all been destroyed? I want to know what worship at that moment looked like.
Sometimes when I worship, I’m able to momentarily suspend the grief or lament in my heart and head. Worship allows me to connect with the all-loving God, ever-present Holy Spirit. But after reading this beginning part of Job, I’m wondering what worship would be like, in the midst of the grief, not suspending it, but worshipping amidst it.
I’m exceedingly good at making things clear, perhaps forcing clarity even when there isn’t any in reality. I’m good at dichotomies, either this or that. I’m not as good at the in-between, vague, or inconsistent. I understand worry, despair, and the resulting lamenting. I understand joy, beauty, and the resulting worship. I struggle with understanding worry, despair, and in Job’s case, the resulting worship. For Job, it’s not that the worship made all the bad stuff go away. He worshipped from that place of immense grief.
This morning, I’m thinking about how to worship in grief, and letting the anguish remain. I genuinely do get glimpses of beauty and grace and love when worshipping, and maybe that’s just my overactive mind, making order where there is discord. I am feeling grief these days, whether from political uncertainty, pandemic, work uncertainty, or my loved one’s continued descent into their disease. I want to learn from Job, how he worshipped in the midst of his tragedies that were far more personally impactful than my worries.
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