Creative Commons License – Donarreiskoffer
I have been tasked with discussing the tension between suffering and blessing as it relates to life on planet earth and God’s so-called control over both. I say so-called because many of us look at the atrocities in the world and wonder, “How can a loving God allow this?”
I don’t pretend to know the answer to this question. I am, however, at ease with the lingering mystery of it. A haunting mystery really.
I will not repeat the discussion around suffering and blessing. You and I know the questions and the lack of answers and the debates. I want to look at how God built a transcendental framework around an ostrich.
In Job 39 God responds to Job’s impassioned inquiries regarding his suffering. Interestingly we don’t find God shoving Job further into the ashes after Job spends much of the book screaming out to him, demanding God answer his questions, and cursing the day he was born. We don’t find a cosmic, “How dare ye!” from God. Rather, we find a God who willingly condescends to a crushed and confused man. That God, then, expounds upon himself.
In verses 13-18 God describes the ostrich. She flaps her wings joyfully, but doesn’t seem to realize how puny they are in relation to, say, the stork. So, she’s a bit silly. She’s also not very smart. She lays her eggs in the sand where any wild animal can trample them. She’s not a good mother either; she treats her young harshly as if she’s forgotten that they are hers. All that work to bring her young into the world and she could care less.
Why did God create this foolish and ridiculous bird?
Through all her silliness and apparent idiocy, she does still shine. “When she spreads her feathers to run, she laughs at horse and rider.” One envisions this idiot bird cackling with glee along the desert plain—like an overgrown Roadrunner—passing horse and rider in an effortless gate. Beep-beep!
God of the Ridiculous
If we follow the ostrich’s dust trail we find in this quirky Old Testament passage a sideways view of a God. He gives us the ostrich for no other purpose than to marvel at her groundspeed.
This passage also lists the eagle and hawk, bloodthirsty displays of avian glory living to themselves, for themselves and God. What can you do about the eagle? You spot one and, in youthful exuberance, can do nothing really but grab your binoculars and marvel.
It’s the same with the leviathan and the behemoth; one symbolizing chaos the other ferocity. What can we do with them? Nothing.
What is God telling us about these ridiculous and glory-laden creatures?
I am the God of the ridiculous. I am the God of chaos. I am the God of awe. I am the God of the bloodthirsty. I am the God of the ferocity.
God’s Pulling Mystery
Perhaps God did not intend to for us to argue for prosperity or suffering. Perhaps God intends for us, his crowning creative jewel, to rest in his mystery.
Mystery can be exhilarating. It can also be dark and frightening. We love mystery because it draws us in towards the light of resolution—that moment of epiphany when we say, “I finally understand.”
But with God it’s always a “further up and further in” kind of pulling. The more we discover, the more he unravels; the more mystery we must live with.
God’s mystery draws us towards him. We all of us respond differently to this drawing of mystery. Either we will deride God because of his mystery or we will praise him, clinging to the unknown. We do have a choice.
I think we choose praise when we learn to live in contentment. Living content, however, does not mean that we live emotionless. We can, like Job, rip our clothes and heave ash upon our heads and wail when we encounter affliction—all while praying, “The Lord gives, the Lord takes away.”
The reason why we can be content in the midst of suffering, though, is because we live captivated by the mystery of God.
Life looks different from the vantage point of mystery. An ostrich runs, an eagle soars and the hawk hunts in view but out of reach. No point, just glory. Our suffering stamps around like the ostrich, dumb and idiotic but ready to spread its feathers and run. And here is where we choose. We choose either to pray, “Lord save me from this!” Or we pray, “Lord, save me through it.”
In the garden Jesus asked for the cup to be passed from him. And yet, he ultimately drank deep the cup of the cross. And there, on the other side of the gory wood, the brilliance of his salvation shone for each of us. His glory came through the cross. His glory yet comes, through you and me. Through the soaring and the stamping, his glory comes—through the contented life, through the wailing life.
I like this a lot.
While Amber and I have been mucking through our recent trials, we’ve heard people say stuff like, “it’s all for God’s glory,” or “God works all things together…” I have to admit (though there is grace for the comments) those sentiments are generally not comforting. In fact, they can be enraging.
You know, if God dropped from the clouds and said the same things, I reckon I’d be okay with it, being that he’s God. But it seems like he didn’t even do that with Job. Instead, he posed these riddles and let Job (and us) sort of figure it out.
It is all for God’s glory; I know that. All of this. And when I doubt, I think I’ll consider the ostrich instead of the eagle from here on out.
Oh I love this.
“Perhaps God did not intend to for us to argue for prosperity or suffering. Perhaps God intends for us, his crowning creative jewel, to rest in his mystery.”
Yes.
Thanks Tim. Truly.
“We don’t find a cosmic, “How dare ye!” from God.”
You’ve given me something to think about. I’ve got plenty of friends who have always encouraged me to read Job when I’m pretty feeling low. Which enrages me and confuses me. When I read Job, I *do* find a cosmic “how dare ye” from God. I see Job, a man who has finally broken – who is miserable and depressed and questioning the fact that the Law says those who do right are blessed and those who do evil suffer – and instead of answers God responds with “I’m sorry, did you make all this? Are you that awesome? No? Okay then. Shut it.”
Amber, thanks for the words and the transparent spirit. I am not a Job scholar by any stretch, but I have been studying it lately for a book I’m working on. I would agree with you that Job can be a confusing book to read, especially when you’re dealing with hurt and pain and suffering. Lately, however, my reading and researching has shown me a couple thing–one of them being the thing that God does not tell Job. He does not tell Job that he is about to get zapped because of what he says in Chapter 7: “I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in nthe bitterness of my soul.” God allows this. And when, later on in the book (38 on) he says “brace yourself like a man” and get ready for my answer, he’s NOT saying, “Okay buddy, you’ve had your say, now get ready to find your place.” RATHER, he is saying, “Gather yourself–all your strength as a man–and see if you can seize the size and eminence of ME … I will walk you through it and show you the heighth and depth, let me know if you can handle it.” I think too often we read this (and perhaps rightly so) in the English translation and we hear a God browbeating Job. That’s simply not the case and it’s unfortunate that many people preach it.
In the last chapter (42) Job offers a final response to God. He says that all this time he’s “heard” God or heard of God, but now he sees God (“my eyes see you” 42:5) … and now that Job has seen God (figuratively of course) he sees himself in the light that we all see ourselves in when compared to God. But the translation in v.6 is unfortunate “therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.” Your bible may have a note, if not, then it might help that a better rendering of “repent” is “comfort.” So, after “seeing” God, Job finds comfort in his ashes. It’s actually quite beautiful.
I think a healthy way to read Job is not to find out how BIG God is necessarily, but to be comforted in the fact that God IS indeed BIG, he’s big enough to take our hurling accusations at him. He’ big enough to hear us curse the day we were born because of our calamity. He’s big enough to listen as we wallow in despair. He’s big enough to condescend to us and to blow us away with the depth of his being in a transcendent effort to comfort us. And, indeed, that’s what Job finds. Comfort.
I hope this helps, Amber; and I certainly hope it comforts you.
Your brother,
Tim
Like Amber, I have often read that part of Job and felt that it was a bit ‘how dare ye?’ I think it is because of the interrogative, ‘were you there when…?’ and the ‘brace yourself like a man’ bits. I do still read them and feel a bit like it’s a booming voice – but I wonder if I read it with a gentle voice in my head, whether just that would make a difference. I like the suggestion of ‘brace yourself’ not being about a rebuke and correction but about an expanding vision of God. That is helpful.
Thanks for your responses, Tanya! What’s helpful for me when reading Job is to listen for what God does not say to Job as well as the way in which he actually does respond. Job curses the day he was born and he also exclaims how he will complain and speak out to God for what has befallen him. At the end of the book, God does not rebuke him for his despair or for hurling his doubt at God or cursing his own birth. I think that’s very important and helpful for me in my own life when things get confusing and hurtful. Years ago when I was touring in a music group our manager received a phone call about one of her friends: he committed suicide. She was devastated. Weeks later I took her to a camp site many of us used to have midnight bonfires at. I took a bag of oranges. I had her heave the oranges at the rock and cry out anything that was on her heart.
I think this is what Job is doing. God, the rock, does not move. Nor does he respond. Rather, he invites Job and us into Him. I love how at the end of the whole book Job says he finds comfort in his ashes. How does he find comfort if God issues an, “How dare ye!”? This is what I often reflect on.
What saddens me is that there are plenty of people in the church who believe that they cannot cry out to God because he is this big immovable object who, in the end, says, “Well, I’m God. Deal with it.” That, in my opinion, would make worship very hard and block my heart to God’s healing power. My passion is to perhaps help those of us who are hurting by giving permission to throw oranges at God and then to site in the pulp of life and find comfort once we’re exhausted from telling Him about our pain.
I don’t want to be too redundant here, but I feel like this message is important.
Hopefully, my co-author and I can shed some more light on this in our forthcoming book 
As to London … yes, we are excited and venturing into a very big unknown. God is guiding our steps and we are following. Would love to get with you and your husband once we’re there! Right now, we’re looking at rentals in Oxford–a bit cheaper and more room for my three little pixy girls flitting about my house (and my writing chair at the moment!).
Please keep in touch. Feel free to email me from my site. I receive those pings directly!
Cheers,
Tim
Ah yes, Job. And God. Such an interesting, fascinating, sometimes frustrating, but ultimately humbling conversation. Thank you for the encouragement to jump off the edge into the mystery, somehow trusting there will be glory at the end of it all – in the days of contentment and in the days of wailing. Good stuff.
Thank you – this was outstandingly helpful. I am hearing the challenge of mystery – not to be stumped by it but to glory in it.
I especially love the way you exposited Job 39 – i felt like I caught your love for God’s word and the warmth of His character as well as a sense of greater understanding on that passage. Job is also something that I have been returning to again and again in my study, and has breathed life into me. I am intrigued by your forthcoming book – I’d love to know more about it!
It’s great to hear that you’re coming to London. I’m in the UK and my husband (and I, kind of) studied theology under Alister McGrath while at theological college – the man has a brain the size of a medium planet. I have a friend doing post-doc stuff at Kings – it’s a great department. Looking forward to welcoming you to our side of the pond!
Thank you – this was outstandingly helpful. I am hearing the challenge of mystery – not to be stumped by it but to glory in it.
I especially love the way you exposited Job 39 – i felt like I caught your love for God’s word and the warmth of His character as well as a sense of greater understanding of that passage. Job is also something that I have been returning to again and again in my study, and has breathed life into me. I am intrigued by your forthcoming book – I’d love to know more about it!
It’s great to hear that you’re coming to London. I’m in the UK and my husband (and I, kind of) studied theology under Alister McGrath while at theological college – the man has a brain the size of a medium planet. I have a friend doing post-doc stuff at Kings – it’s a great department. Looking forward to welcoming you to our side of the pond!