Yet Will I Trust Him, Part 6: The End of Suffering (Job 42:1-17)

Everyone loves a happy ending. Most of our fairy tales begin with, “Once upon a time,” and they end with, “And they lived happily ever after.” That’s the way they’re written because that’s the way we want them. That’s the way we like them. Some would say that that’s the way we need them. In The Wizard of Oz, for example, Dorothy finally makes it home, where she’s longed to be from the very beginning. In Beauty and the Beast, the prince is restored, and the curse on the castle is finally lifted. In It’s a Wonderful Life, George Bailey learns it was better for his town that he lived instead of jumping off a bridge. In Willy Wonka, Charlie Bucket inherits the entire chocolate factory for passing a test and returning the Everlasting Gobstopper.

Now, it’s certainly true that when it comes to life and literature, the good guys don’t always win, the hero doesn’t always get the girl, the man in rags doesn’t always make it to riches, and the wrongs endured aren’t always righted. In such cases, the audience is left with unanswered questions, moral ambiguities, a sense of disappointment, or perhaps even the anger that comes with unfinished justice. People generally aren’t inspired by a miserable ending. That’s because it conveys a lack of rhyme or reason to the universe—a sense that there’s no benevolent sovereign authority overseeing life as it unfolds before us. We’re just doomed creatures with bumper stickers announcing, “Excrement Happens,” and we think, “Hopefully it won’t happen to us.” But that seems horribly unsatisfying. Even depressing.

Research indicates that given a choice between happy endings or sad endings, we tend to choose the happy ending by a 10 to 1 margin. Even if we have to re-write the author’s original conclusion, as in Pretty Woman, we’ll get our happy ending. Human beings crave it. Job craved it. Fortunately for Job, he eventually got it. He had to wait for it, and he had to be divinely prepared for it, but he eventually got it. In spades. All that he lost was restored to him two-fold. 

For many people, if the happy ending takes too long, they simply settle for the happy hour. They anesthetize the pain of life, never really facing up to it or being completely honest about it. But Job did face up to it. And he was honest about it. In the end, after his painful ordeal, Job gets his happy ending. That tells us the God who knows his people’s suffering will someday end his people’s suffering.

This message explores how the end of suffering commences with our restoration to God, continues with our reconciliation to others, and culminates in our reversal of painful circumstances forever. The Apostle James wrote, “As you know, we consider blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy” (James 5:11). That’s why there’s a happy ending for God’s people—precisely to demonstrate that the Lord is full of compassion and mercy, even if we have to wait for it to fully realize it.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Yet Will I Trust Him, Part 5: What Good Is Suffering? (Job 7:20-21; 10:18-20)

If suffering has no ultimate meaning or purpose, then God is a monster. He’s mean, cruel, ugly, vicious, and sadistic. He’s like Sid Phillips in Toy Story—that little hellion who likes to torture his toys, pull them apart, set them on fire, and give them brain transplants. A popular online skeptic writes:

“The existence of such large quantities of suffering, despair, pain, natural disasters such as earthquakes, the death of the unborn, and the immense suffering of lovers, and kind-hearted people means that god is evil and intentionally creates life in order to create suffering.” In other words, God is the celestial Sid; therefore, he cannot possibly exist.

But what if God can do something incredibly good with the things that are bad? Moreover, defining good and evil without some sort of fixed, objective reference point by which the two are distinguished is impossible. Is the difference between good and evil just a matter of the skeptic’s feelings or opinions? Well, who died and left him boss? Why should we listen to him? What’s his authority for placing the dividing line where he does?

If he appeals to the strength of his own logic, as his website boasts he does, we still have to ask, “Where do the laws of logic come from?” The laws of logic are timeless, immutable, and non-material—just like the nature of God himself—the “Logos”—whom the skeptic seeks to deny. No, Mr. Skeptic, in the biblical worldview, suffering does have meaning and purpose, even if in yours it doesn’t.

Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, wrote, “In some ways, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning.” In other words, if suffering has meaning, we don’t have to jump off the bridge of pain into the angry waters of skepticism. We can jump off the bridge of pain into the soothing waters of hope. The meaning of our suffering is not always clear, but God has made it clear that our suffering always has meaning

As such, This message catalogues some possible causes for human suffering. It also highlights some possible benefits of suffering according to the biblical worldview. As Simone Weil has noted, “The extreme greatness of Christianity lies in the fact that it does not seek a supernatural remedy for suffering, but a supernatural use for it.”

Ultimately, the greatest act of evil, pain, and suffering in the history of the world took place at the cross of Christ. It was there that Jesus bore the sins of humanity in his own body, mind, and soul. Out of that unique and incomparable ordeal, God pulled the greatest good known to the human race—the salvation of those who would trust in his Son for the forgiveness of their sins. 

As Job declared in the midst of his pain, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust him,” so Jesus also declared from his cross, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” We can do the same—precisely because our suffering has meaning.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Yet Will I Trust Him, Part 4: A Cosmic Answer to Earthly Pain (Job 38:1-42:6)

Job is a man in agony, and he’s been pelting God with questions because of it. He wants to know—as would anyone—how the Lord could allow him to suffer for no apparent reason. Like a lawyer shooting out questions in rapid-fire succession, Job lets God have it. Throughout the interrogation, God remains silent. He doesn’t say a single word, but that is about to change. For 30+ chapters, Job has questioned God, but now God will question him. It’s Job’s turn to be quiet. Really, it’s Job’s turn to be put on trial.

“Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm. He said: ‘Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand’” (Job 38:1-4). Thus begins what some critics have called “the grand failure.” God misses an opportunity here to explain himself. He simply pulls rank on poor Job, sort of like a drill sergeant flexing his muscles and barking orders at his soldiers just because he can. “Drop and give me twenty, Job.” O.k., God is all powerful, but how is that helpful? How is that an answer? And why does this power play—if that’s all it is—lead to such a dramatic response of humility and repentance by Job after God is done speaking to him (cf. Job 42:6)?

As it turns out, God’s response to Job is much more than a power play. Indeed, divine power is only part of the response. Quite significantly, Job’s encounter with God is uniquely personal to him. It’s also supremely gracious, as this message seeks to show. God takes Job on a whirlwind tour of the cosmos, which leaves him overwhelmed in more ways than one. The divine strategy is clear: The God of nature reveals the nature of God. This nature is critical for all of us to know and experience when we ourselves are suffering. For example:

God shows himself to be infinitely powerful. When we are suffering, we need to know that God is still in charge of the universe. 

God shows himself to be infinitely perceptive. When we are suffering, we need to know that God still has a good purpose for us.

God shows himself to be infinitely playful. When we are suffering, we need to know that God is still delighted with his creation.

God shows himself to be infinitely parental. When we are suffering, we need to know that God still cares about us personally.

What Job wanted all along was a demonstration of God’s goodness, and that’s exactly what he gets. God unveils to Job his divine strength, wisdom, joy, and love. He gives Job a cosmic answer to earthly pain, and he accepts it. As such, God’s response here is not a “grand failure” at all. It’s the “grand finale.” Job learns what all of us can learn in times of pain and suffering: The answer to life’s hardest questions is God himself.

In Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth has despised Mr. Darcy for most of the book. He appears to be distant and aloof. He appears to be cold and unfeeling. He appears to be pompous and proud. But when Mr. Darcy finally reveals himself—in all of his charity, love, and good deeds—Elizabeth is melted by love. When God reveals himself to Job, a similar thing happens. He is melted by love, and he is supremely satisfied by that love. We can be, too.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Yet Will I Trust Him, Part 3: How Not to Help (Job 2:11-13; 42:7-9)

It’s often been said that good help is hard to find. The book of Job is a perfect case in point. Satan (“the accuser”) doesn’t make an appearance after chapter 2, but he doesn’t need to. He’s got Eliphaz, Zophar, and Bildad to do his dirty work. In so doing, they unwittingly become the Larry, Moe, and Curly of the Old Testament—three stooges who keep making a bad situation worse. Indeed, God finally takes them to task for their performance. He says to Eliphaz, “I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (Job 42:7). 

Ironically, these men thought they were being helpful. They thought they were being supportive. They thought they were defending God against Job’s accusations and complaints. In reality, they were just pouring gasoline on the fire. They were pouring salt in the wound, adding insult to injury. They did not comfort Job, and God, in the end, did not comfort them with any affirmation.

One challenging aspect of this drama is that sometimes the three friends do speak words of truth. They do say some correct things about God. Their theology isn’t all bad. Why, then, is God so angry with them? It’s because misapplied truth is a serious form of error, and misapplied help is a serious form of harm. In other words, it’s possible to be right in a wrong way. It’s possible to be right in a wrong-headed way. Know-it-alls tend to be like that. In fact, some of the cruelest people in this world are religious people who set out to defend God. (As if he needed their help.)

Nevertheless, one can sympathize with these men to a certain point. They come to visit Job because they do care about him. They do want to help, but the situation they find themselves in is not easy. What could they possibly say to Job—a man who keeps getting brassy with the Almighty? A man who seems to keep crossing the line of disrespect with his Maker. They’re almost in a no-win situation. But as Abraham Lincoln once said, “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.” Job’s three friends would have been better friends had they kept their mouths shut in Job’s presence.

Eliphaz offers the arguments of a flawed mystic. Bildad offers the arguments of a false mediator. Zophar offers the arguments of a faulty minister. And that’s the problem. They’re offering arguments rather simply being present and being quiet. As a result, Job is still in pain, still in confusion, and still in despair. The help he receives is no help at all. What can we learn from their mistakes? This message offers some useful advice for two different but related groups. The first group is “When you are the friend wanting to help.” The second is “When you are the sufferer needing help.” The book of Job has plenty to say to both groups.

In the end, just as Jesus came into a world of suffering and ministered to people in pain, so believers can also enter into other people’s suffering and minister to them in his name. Such a ministry may not always require words. In fact, Jesus has a revealing middle name—it’s “With.” Emmanuel means “God with us” (Isaiah 7:14; Matt 1:23). It means God present to us, God in our midst. The believer’s ultimate witness, then, is “withness,” especially in times of suffering. 

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Yet Will I Trust Him, Part 2: Honest to God (Job 2:1-10)

For 36 chapters in the book of Job, the suffering patriarch erupts in a molten river of intense emotion, basically protesting, “God, my life is excruciating right now, and I don’t like it. In fact, I wish I had never been born.”  As such, we get a window into the heart and mind of a godly man who suffers untold agony. We may not be able physically to feel what Job is feeling at the moment, but we can certainly appreciate the weightiness of his tortured questions. “Where are you in this horrific mess, God? And why won’t you stop it? I’m not happy with you right now. What’s going on?” 

As the drama unfolds, we find Job either praying to God out loud, responding to his three friends who admonish him, or talking to nobody in particular—just writhing in pain and bewailing his very existence. We can only conclude from all the ink used in these sacred chapters that when God’s people struggle in profound ways, God knows, and God cares. Our misery is never off his radar. That seems like small comfort, though, when the pain endures.

One thing that often startles people about these chapters is how Job explodes with honest, blunt, and raw expressions about how he feels. Some of his statements don’t seem very pious. They don’t seem to match what we might think a godly person might say in such a situation. And yet, God doesn’t seem to be too terribly upset by that. We might expect by the end of the book that Job would get a divine scolding: “Hey Job, you overdid it. You said things you shouldn’t have said. You should have had a more hopeful outlook. You should have had a more positive confession.”

But no, God essentially says, “Job, you were right. It’s your pickle-faced friends who didn’t express their true feelings but instead quoted all the religious clichés of the day who were way off base.” That may be surprising to us, but it’s an important reminder that in the midst of our flailing faith, God is right there with us. As Job himself said, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes—I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!” (Job 19:25-27).

God did stand upon the earth in the person of Jesus Christ. And when he did, he suffered greatly. His final statement from the cross was, “Into your hands I commit my spirit” (Luke 23:46). Like Jesus—and Job—God’s people can do the same today.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Yet Will I Trust Him, Part 1: A Man Called Job (Job 1:1-12)

The world doesn’t seem to be what it ought to be. It is broken as well as beautiful, and that hurts. Has your life ever been affected by crime, poverty, violence, joblessness, or homelessness? What about disease, disabilities, deformities, or discrimination? How about a weather event, such as an earthquake, tornado, flood, or hurricane? Has your family ever been jolted by a fire, a fatal accident, a destructive riot, or a school shooting?

The question is always the same. After the initial shock and horror subsides, after the news crews go home, after others have gotten on with their lives, we’re always left with the same question: “Where was God in the midst of my suffering? And why did he let it happen in the first place?”

Christian professor Peter Kreeft has said, “More people have abandoned their faith because of the problem of evil than for any other reason. It is certainly the greatest test of faith, the greatest temptation to unbelief.” It is for this reason Christian author Philip Yancey calls the problem of evil “theological kryptonite.”

Can the ancient Hebrew book of Job provide any insight into the universal problem of pain? It is often said that the theme of Job is the age-old question, “Why does a loving God permit the righteous to suffer?” But if that is the theme of the book, the question is never fully answered. Perhaps the theme of the book is better stated, “How do the righteous suffer?” The book of Job can show us how to endure until the world is finally what it ought to be—beautiful and not broken—when God in Christ makes all things new.

At issue in this first message of the series is the question, “Shall a person love God because he’s God, and enjoy the blessings received from his hand?” Or “Shall a person love God only because of the blessings he or she might receive from his hand?” Satan’s implied accusation is, “God, you’ve stooped to bribery. You give good gifts to your people to make them love you. Take away the gifts, there will be no more love.” But in Round 1 of his suffering, Job proves the accuser wrong, so the score right off the bat is God—1, Satan—0. Moreover, we come discover that suffering is not meaningless if we come to know God better in the end. Job certainly did, and so can we.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.