Text:  Job 7:1-7 (Psalm 88)                                                                                 5 Epiphany

A Legitimate Complaint

            In the name of him who healed the sick and demonized, dear friends in Christ:

            If you came to worship this morning hoping to participate in something bright and uplifting, you’re probably pretty disappointed at the moment.  A lot of what we’ve heard so far today has been anything but upbeat.  In today’s Old Testament reading we had the bitter lament of Job carrying on about how life is nothing but wearisome misery and how he expected never see happiness again.  Prior to that we had Psalm 88 – which, though it was prepared by a group of psalmists called “the Sons of Korah”, sounds like the sort of thing Job might have written on one of his worst days.  (And I’m just guessing here, but I don’t imagine that these Korah brothers were ever accused of being the life of the party.)  And then that last hymn we sang was something equally bleak and cheerless, with lines like:  “What at last does this world leave us - but a hand - full of sand - or some loss to grieve us?”  Ugh. Normally it seems that we reserve this sort of gloom for the season of Lent—and that’s still a whole month away yet. So what are we doing?  Trying to get an early start on it?

            Well, no, not exactly.  Believe it or not, these rather depressing themes dovetail quite nicely into the normally optimistic Epiphany season.  Remember the main thrust of Epiphany is the Light of Christ shining forth to reach those trapped in darkness and hopeless despair.  These readings help us to see life from that perspective.  They place us in the shoes of those who know no comfort or peace in the world.  And that’s important to you and me because there is such a person in each one of us. We usually think of those who have never heard of Christ as the people who are sitting in darkness, and that’s true; but it’s equally true that as long as we live in this fallen world, each one of us is part benighted unbeliever.  And for the unbeliever in us, when things are going well, life is happy and there are no worries; but as soon as things take a turn for the worse, life suddenly becomes nothing but bleak misery.  The problem, whatever it is, casts its dark shadow over us, and becomes so overwhelming that it’s difficult to focus on anything else.

            We see such desperate misery in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus and the disciples have just finished with Saturday services at a synagogue in Capernaum.  There Jesus was preaching a message when suddenly a demon spoke up through a man who was possessed.  Jesus sent the unclean spirit away and freed the man, and then went right on teaching as if nothing big had happened.  Of course, the congregation was astonished.  We pick up the action this week right after the service.  Jesus and the disciples had planned to have dinner at the home of Simon Peter – apparently his mother-in-law was to prepare a meal; but arriving there, they find that she is sick with a fever.  No problem:  Jesus heals her, and lunch goes on as planned.

But word of these first two healing miracles of Jesus spreads like wildfire through the town and surrounding area.  At sunset, as soon as the Sabbath is officially over and people can get out and about, the house where Jesus is staying is virtually surrounded by people with all kinds of terrible problems.  Jesus finds himself confronted by a veritable sea of human misery. And these are faithful, God-fearing people; but on account of their problems, they have been living in dark despair.  Now they have been given an inkling of hope – something they haven’t had for a long time. And what I want to stress is that these miserable people are mentioned so briefly in the text that it’s easy to overlook that there are literally lifetimes of wretchedness assembled here. Each one of these hurting people has a story – a personal saga of suffering and pain, both physical and emotional, some of which probably extend over years or decades.  They have been drawn to Jesus by the hope that the rumors they’ve heard are true, and maybe, just maybe, they might be healed too. But again, each one has a story – and they are stories that we all share in one way or another because we too experience exactly the same sorts of troubles and heartaches that they did.

            But you know, we simply cannot digest these many hundreds of stories of the pain and sadness of the human condition.  It would overload our capacity for sympathy and just make us numb.  No, we experience problems on the personal level – when it happens to me or to someone I love.  And I think that’s why the Scriptures don’t give us a lot of details about all these people.  It would be too much to take.  Instead, we are given just one very detailed biblical account of human suffering in the Old Testament story of Job.  We’re actually taken into his mind to share his anxious thoughts and fears while he grapples with all the doubts that come upon a person in a period of darkness.

            You probably remember his story.  How the Lord held up Job to Satan as an example of an especially faithful man, and how that Satan claimed Job’s apparent devotion was entirely dependent upon the blessings the Lord had lavished upon him. “Take away what you’ve given him,” said Satan, “and Job will curse you to your face.”  The Lord accepted the challenge and allowed Satan to take everything that Job valued:  his wealth, his servants, his flocks and herds, and then, what was certainly the most cruel blow, even the lives of his ten dearly loved children.  Job lost it all in one afternoon.  But to Satan’s profound disappointment, Job put a remarkably brave face on it. Mustering all of his faith and courage, even in the midst of his crushing sorrow, he said, “God has given, God has taken away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

            But Satan, as you know, doesn’t give up so easily. In round two, he goes after Job’s health.  Satan tells the Lord, “Yes, all right, a man like Job can get along okay without the things of life; ah, but he’d trade his immortal soul for his bodily wellbeing.  You take that from him, and he’ll turn on you in a heartbeat.”  The Lord again rose to the challenge and allowed Satan to afflict Job with illness.  The only stipulation was that he preserve Job’s life.  And so poor old Job came down with a horrible skin disease.  His body was covered head to toe with painful, festering sores – and since they couldn’t be kept completely clean and sterile in that day and age, they were soon crawling with maggots that were literally feeding on Job’s tortured flesh. But through this too, Job hangs in there.  Even his wife turns on him at this point; but Job’s faith stands fast.  He tells his embittered wife, “I’ve accepted good from the Lord’s hands all these years; shall I turn away from him now when he gives me some trouble?  No.  I can’t do that.”

            Well, that’s the very admirable way he started anyway … but you know, time and trouble together have a way of wearing on even the most steadfast of the faithful.  Most of us are capable of short bursts of just about any virtue … but our true nature and character are revealed in the long haul.  In today’s Old Testament reading, we find that even faithful Job is made of flesh and blood like the rest of us.  We heard just one of the many episodes when he succumbs to depression and lets fly with an angry complaint against the Lord.  And I think this is important.  Sometimes Christians have the notion that we are supposed to be impervious to such things – that we’re supposed to walk around with a silly grin on our faces all the time – and that somehow it’s a sin to be unhappy. I’d like to suggest otherwise. There’s no question about it:  Job has a lot of reasons to be unhappy.  He has a legitimate complaint.  And he is here giving voice to feelings that we all have experienced.

            First he talks about the futility of his life. How it’s all joyless work and toil, and how there are no lasting rewards for it.  Who of us hasn’t felt that way at times?  I don’t care what you do; I don’t think any of us can say that they enjoy every aspect of their work.  A lot of every job is just pure drudgery – and on top of it are all the other jobs that need to be done.  Quick show of hands:  who likes cleaning the bathroom?  Or doing laundry?  Or washing dishes?  “Like a slave longing for the evening shadows”, says Job.  There’s always more to do.  And very often all we do is look forward to the time when we can stop and rest.

            But that’s not always all it’s cracked up to be either. Job complains of spending long nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep, unable to get comfortable, and worrying and fretting over all his troubles and cares. Does that sound familiar to you? He says he just lies there wondering how soon he’ll have to get up and get back at it all again.  Later in this same chapter, he complains that there are even times when he is afraid to fall asleep because of the terrifying dreams and nightmares he suffers.  He can find no rest at all.       

            And then he launches into a bitter tirade about his physical condition.  “My body is clothed with worms and scabs, my skin is broken and festering.”  And though we can thank God that none of us has ever suffered anything quite so severe, we’ve all known what it means to be sick, injured, and in pain; wondering if it will ever end – or if it’s only going to get worse.

            It’s shortly after this that Job shakes his fist at heaven and asks, “What is man that you make so much of him?”  David once asked the same question in one of the Psalms in a positive sense.  “What is man that you are mindful of him?”  He was asking why the great Creator of the universe bothers showing his love to puny little man.  It’s truly an awesome and astounding wonder.  But Job turns the question around to ask why the great Creator of the universe is bothering to pick on him.  The sense of it is, “Lord, haven’t you got anything better to be doing than making me miserable?  Why have you singled me out for your target practice?”

            Have you ever felt that way?  Like God is picking on you personally?   What you should learn from the story of Job is that when you feel that way, it’s very possibly the truth.  You have a legitimate complaint.  Look again at the Psalm we had today:  “Lord … You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths.  Your wrath lies heavy upon me … You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.”  It’s true.  The Lord pays a great deal of attention to you personally – even when things turn sour. We say that the bad stuff happens. “It’s Murphy’s Law or just rotten luck.” That isn’t exactly right.  It’s more accurate to say that the Lord makes the bad stuff happen.  He’s controlling it – or at least prescribing the limits to which he will allow Satan to afflict you.  But any way you look at it, he’s setting you in the dark.

            Why would he do that?  I suppose the best answer is that he puts us in the dark in order to attract us that much more into the Light.  Like those people who came flocking to Jesus when they were given just a glimmer of hope, so the Lord would shepherd us into a closer walk with him by increasing the intensity of our needs.  The lambs that stay nearest the Shepherd are the ones who feel most dependent upon him.

            His goal in allowing us to face troubles is to build up our trust and reliance in him.  Faith is refined in the fire and tempered by heat.  It doesn’t grow strong sitting unused and unchallenged on the shelf.  So the Lord gives us legitimate complaints in order to give us genuine faith and trust in him.  And it’s important to see too that the Lord does not abandon us in these times of trial.  As with Job, he’s watching over the whole ordeal, setting the limits.  He won’t allow us to be pushed beyond the breaking point. 

Most importantly, it’s vital to understand that the Lord joins us in our afflictions.  Christ Jesus’ coming into the world is more than just a divine reaching out – it’s an entering in and participation with us in all that brings sorrow and pain, precisely for the purpose of rescuing us from it all.  Look again at the Psalm for today and see that through the Sons of Korah it is the Spirit of Christ who is speaking.  It is he who stretched out his hands and called upon the Lord when he was crucified for us.  It was he who absorbed the wrath of God for us.  It was he whom the Lord rejected and hid his face from – for us.  And his, ultimately, is the truly legitimate complaint, because he suffered it all innocently.

            You see, even our legitimate complaints are legitimately earned.  We deserve the wrath of God and all the suffering that entails.  That he spares us from it is only because of his boundless mercy and love in Christ our Lord.  And I hasten to add that not everything Job said in his anguish was correct either.  In his momentary despair he said that his eyes would never see happiness again. That wasn’t true.  In fact, the Lord restored to Job far more than he allowed to be taken from him.  It was the Lord’s plan to take Job through hardship to greater faith, greater fulfillment, and finally to greater joy.  And because of his promises to us in Christ Jesus, we can be certain that he plans the same for us as well when we have legitimate complaints.  So may we cling to these promises in every trial and need, recognizing that our heavenly Father has individually designed them for our good and for his glory in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria!