Hard Scripture

 October 18, 2022

Thousands of years ago, Job was suffering terribly. His children had all been killed, he lost his wealth, and then his health. The only thing he didn’t lose was his wife who urged him to curse God and die, and his faith which kept him from listening to her bad advice. Instead, he uttered these words, perhaps wincing in pain as he did so: “Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.” (Job 13:15)

Words like that are not spoken in comfortable places. They are often forced through gritted teeth from a steely determination that refuses to yield to the hurricane forces of life. Faith like that is not reasonable; it is counter-intuitive and counter-cultural. It refuses to quit when everything within and without screams for surrender.

I’ve been reading through Leviticus in my daily devotions. Leviticus is not usually high on people’s devotional reading, but it is Scriptural and therefore, has instruction for us. The first 17 chapters deal primarily with the Hebrew laws governing the prescribed place of worship and the priesthood, all of which were essential to establishing and maintaining a right relationship with God.

Chapters 18 and 19 are the heart of the book, echoing and expanding upon the Ten Commandments of Exodus 20. Besides repeating many of those Ten Commandments, it has in common with the Exodus record the basis for all the Old Testament Laws: “I am the LORD, your God.” The Law isn’t arbitrary; it isn’t merely rules people decided were good for living; it is an expression of God’s own character. Since he is Creator, when we abandon his laws, we distance ourselves from life itself. We are seeing evidence of this in the crumbling of our society as we reject all semblance of fealty to the principles set forth here.

All that may be so, but the above words don’t reflect the reality we confront in these words. How often have I in my prayers failed to ground them in the character of God? Like St. Paul, I don’t always know how to pray as I ought. I know as a Christian that we are not exempt from trials and hardships, but I often don’t know what to make of them. Our son’s cancer is no different than the challenges countless others face. We are not being singled out, but we also don’t know what God’s plan is. Humanly speaking as Nate’s father, I don’t understand why God doesn’t do more to protect his children. I’ve even wondered if God doesn’t always save us in this life, how do I know he will do so in the next? 

This question doesn’t come from unbelief; it comes from faith in a God who does things I don’t understand. If I were an unbeliever, I wouldn’t even ask the question, for if there is no God, nothing makes sense, there is no purpose. So unashamedly, I ask for the life of my son.

It’s these words, “I am the LORD your God” that bother me. When I question his ways, this says to me, “I am God; you are not.” I know this, but I don’t always like it. I have to confess that I want to be God for a day; actually, just a moment would suffice—long enough to heal my son. Scripture can be hard to hear. God’s Word is not always comforting and encouraging. Tonight, it is challenging; so much so that the only response I can muster comes grudgingly. It’s the ancient response of Job: “Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.”