Something About Job
Something about Job has stayed with me these past few days since I set him alongside Naomi.
That something still sits alongside me today.
I want to keep pondering it.
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On the worst day ever to be a messenger in Job’s household, one after another came as the lone survivor of progressive disasters, culminating in the report that a mighty wind — it must have been swirling, for it struck all four corners — leveled the house where all his sons and daughters feasted.
Only a servant, bearing dreadful news, remained.
Job, the greatest man among all the people, knew two responses.
Two only.
He did them both.
Simultaneously.
He got up. And he fell down.
He shaved his head and tore his clothes. And he drew in dirt mixed with his tears as he went to his face.
He mourned.
And he worshiped.
Both were his immediate, unthinking, call it knee-jerk, response to losing a hair right of everything.
::
While he was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, “Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, 19when 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, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”
At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said:
“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
and naked I will depart.
The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
may the name of the LORD be praised.” (Job 1:18-21)
Job did not have to tell himself to tear his clothes — who among us would stop to think, Should I mourn now?
But neither did he contemplate the worship. He just did.
He didn’t know what else to do.
He mourned.
He worshiped.
He could not divide one from the other.
Lord, let me not either.
::
Photo: Clay Handiwork, by Josh Klute
Just heard a teaching this week on worship. The speakers main focus was worship – “Worship is a heart issue, a lifestyle. It is not just singing on Sunday morning, it is how we live our daily lives.” It seems Job got that – an undivided life. I desire that as well. Good post, as usual.
2010/05/07 at 7:46 PM
Lyla,
I had never seen this. Thanks for sharing, thanks.
May our Lord give us a heart like Job.
Blessings from around the corner.
2010/05/07 at 8:01 PM
Beautiful, Lyla.
I only know this feeling of lament and praise in the moments of learning of a best friend’s death.
To embrace in the intimate circle of friends and family and just do what we only knew to .
2010/05/07 at 9:44 PM
thanks for your thoughts on this, lyla.
2010/05/08 at 12:18 AM
i am also curious about the photo.
what beautiful colours.
2010/05/08 at 12:19 AM
My local fellowship has been looking at how we prepare ourselves for worship — seems in this case Job didn’t have the opportunity to prepare himself in the split second before rising and falling here. But that looks to go back to Nancy’s comment that it’s a lifestyle. Job had prepared well in advance for the type of worship that would arise so spontaneously here. I think perhaps that’s what you’ve experienced with the loss you describe as well, Deb.
To onlookers, it would appear as madness, don’t you think?
(nAncY, I’m so glad there are those like you who have the eye to catch these images with the camera. I can see where you’d like this one. )
2010/05/08 at 6:03 PM
I witnessed this very thing only two days ago at a funeral. Difficult to fathom. That Job has always amazed me. The Lord’s words in this book are some of my favorites in the Bible. Beautiful, His majesty revealed.
And what is that photo?
2010/05/08 at 6:43 PM
That photo is a piece of pottery — I went looking for a photo of some broken pottery (used for scraping boils in this case…) and found this I liked better.
2010/05/08 at 7:07 PM
Hey, Lyla,
Just wanted to let you know…I’ll be out of town all day tomorrow (going to Pittsburgh with the fifth graders–pray for me!) and may be a little late linking up to the book club posts.
Hope your mom’s day was awesome.
luv, me.
2010/05/09 at 8:33 PM
Lyla, this is such a powerful reminder. I have had a very challenging day today. My patience, my endurance and my trust have been tested. Your words bring me into a place of faith, into a place of submission.
Thank you for allowing yourself to be used by Him.
2010/05/10 at 2:00 PM
I’m learning anew what this means. And I do not regret that if I forget to fall on my face voluntarily, I may wind up there by stumbling. It’s the very best place to be.
2010/05/10 at 5:21 PM
Claire and Anne, what if we always did this, allowed difficulty and pain to level us into worship, rather than trying to make it go away? What that might change for me . . .
2010/05/10 at 8:23 PM