Learning From Job

I've been reading Job of late. In the past, this has been a tough book for me, but in the last few years, I've grown to appreciate it. As I've read this time, I've spent a little more time sitting with Job in his grief. I suppose just the act of staying alive for enough years will help us to acknowledge the reality of grief and the ways it wrecks us -- and eventually comes for us all. Job did not try to get through this with a lot of positive thinking. He did not look for silver linings. He did not ask for "good vibes only". He did not consider angels getting their wings. He wept. He mourned. He screamed at the heavens. He demanded (though he did not get) answers from God. He walked unimaginable grief out and through with honesty and transparency. And he did not take any crap from his "well-meaning" friends.

I've also spent time listening to what his friends had to say, once they decided that simply being present with Job in his grief was not enough (Spoiler alert: it was enough). They are just packed full of wisdom, aren't they? (*still needing that sarcasm font*). I think one of the things that has always bothered me about this book is just how much of what his friends spout sounds eerily similar to things Christians still spout today when confronted with the trauma and tragedy of others. It is so easy for us to "speak the truth" without stopping to consider that we just might be wrong this time - without stopping to consider that our words are ripping open fresh wounds again and again - without stopping to consider that we are. not. God. 

"Speak the truth in love." -- I cannot even count the number of times I've heard this verse quoted only to be followed by words that do not, in fact, speak or show any love, but are rather an excuse to shut down a conversation or put someone "in their place". I'm quite certain I have been among the numbered guilty. When our words alienate, when they kill conversations and relationships, when they are where curiosity and imagination go to die, when they isolate others rather than bringing them in, we've become "friends of Job" and are truly no friends at all.

I'll stop with words I read today from the lips of Job: If only you would be altogether silent! For you, that would be wisdom. Your maxims are proverbs of ashes; your defenses are defenses of clay.

If only.