Despairing of Life

So Job's three friends sat down with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his grief was very great. After this Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth. And Job spoke and said: "May the day perish on which I was born... Why did I not die at birth? Why did I not perish when I came from the womb?... Why is light given to him who is in misery, and life to the bitter soul, who long for death, but it does not come, who search for it more than hidden treasures... For the thing I greatly feared has come upon me, and what I dreaded has happened to me. I am not at ease, nor am I quiet; I have no rest, for trouble comes." (Job 2:13–3:26)

When the world stops working the way we expect, even a righteous man can despair of life itself.

We Are Creatures Who Expect Order

We are creatures that like orderliness—especially Westerners. That becomes clear when you travel with a group of Westerners to the Middle East or Far East, where lines don't mean much. You can watch the orderliness of Americans break out as anxiety when order breaks down.

We would like to think we live in an orderly universe, and in many ways we do. The very fact that we can do science proves it. We know what the tides will do because we understand the phases of the moon. We know when seasons change because we understand the earth's tilt. We board a steel tube with wings and trust it to fly because we understand the laws of aerodynamics. We live in a fairly orderly universe.

But many things in our cosmos do not work the way we expect. When things do not function as we think they should, we experience what researchers call cognitive dissonance. Researchers have observed it in children as young as three months old—that expectation the world will behave a certain way is innate. You see it in animals too: pretend to throw a ball, and the dog runs off, then looks back at you as if to say, "What just happened?" The world did not function the way it was supposed to.

That same kind of disruption can be deeply destabilizing. We have a perception of reality and an expectation of how the world should work, and sometimes it simply doesn't. Here in the book of Job, we have a situation exactly like that.

Job Endured Hardship Patiently

As we've considered, Job was the most righteous, religious, pious, and wealthy man of his day. Everything had been going well. He had done everything the right way and was no doubt looked up to by his culture. Then, in a matter of days, everything came crashing down—his children, his business, his wealth, and finally his health.

Yet to this point, Scripture tells us he maintained his integrity and did not sin with his lips (Job 2:10), nor did he charge God with wrong (Job 1:22). Point one: Job endured hardship patiently. He accepted his suffering in a righteous way. In Job 2, when we're given a heavenly insight, God Himself boasts about how Job is handling everything he's going through.

I believe Job accepted what he faced righteously because he expected a certain outcome—vindication. He received his losses as from God's hand. In Job 1:20, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." And in Job 2:10, when his wife told him to curse God and die, he answered, "Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?"

It's worth saying again: because Job suffered this way from the hand of God does not mean every sufferer is receiving suffering directly from God's hand. We should not extrapolate from Job's experience that this is how the world always works. But in this instance, that is exactly what is happening, and Job accepts it.

A Worldview of Cause and Effect

In Job's mind—and in ours—the world works a certain way. The ruling worldview of Job's time was the law of retribution, basically a law of cause and effect. We see something similar in the New Testament principle of reaping and sowing, or the Golden Rule. If I do the right things, the right things will happen to me—until it doesn't seem to work that way.

In many ways the world does work like that, because that's how God has ordered it. But if you read Genesis 1–3, the world is not exactly as God originally intended. It is a broken world because of the brokenness of sin.

Point two: Job expected the right outcome because he had been "right." He maintained his integrity—that is, he maintained that he was righteous. He knew himself better than anyone, and he knew in his heart that he had done nothing worthy of this devastation. Given his cause-and-effect worldview, he reasoned: I have done everything right, so right things should happen to me, and these things that are happening must somehow lead to vindication.

Fascinatingly, his three friends—Bildad, Zophar, and Eliphaz—held the identical worldview from the opposite perspective. Seeing his suffering, they assumed: Job, you must be secretly unrighteous; you're getting what you deserve. Job would say, "I don't deserve this," and they would respond, "Clearly you do." Same worldview, different conclusion.

Still, they sat with him and mourned, seven days and seven nights, no one speaking a word (Job 2:13). And through that silence, Job waited and wondered when vindication would come. It didn't come. Not yet.

An Existential Crisis

What happens when the world doesn't work the way we believe it must? After seven days and nights of silence and contemplation, "Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth" (Job 3:1). Point three: Job's unmet expectations result in an existential crisis.

An existential crisis is a moment at which an individual questions whether their life has meaning, purpose, or value. That is exactly what Job experiences. Job 3 is a poem expressing his mindset in the midst of that crisis:

Why did I not die at birth? Why did I not perish when I came forth from the womb?... Why is light given to him who is in misery, and life to the bitter soul?... Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden, and whom God has hedged in? (Job 3:11, 20, 23)

If this is the ultimate outcome of my life, there is no purpose to it—this is absolutely meaningless. You can almost hear him echo the Preacher in Ecclesiastes 1:2: "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity"—or, "Utterly meaningless; everything is meaningless." Maybe you have been in that place, or maybe you have been one of Job's friends, sitting beside someone who is.

Job Was Suicidal

As we read this text, it becomes very clear: Job was suicidal. I'm not sure there is any other honest way to read Job 3. The whole poetic structure of this chapter is built on three ideas.

First, that it would have been better never to have been conceived or born: "May the day perish on which I was born" (3:3). Second, that if conceived, it would have been better to be stillborn or to die at birth: "Why did I not die at birth?" (3:11). Third, the wish that he could simply die now: "Why is light given to him who is in misery, and life to the bitter soul, who long for death, but it does not come?" (3:20–21).

This is the same sentiment Paul expresses in 2 Corinthians 1:8: "We were burdened beyond measure, above strength, so that we despaired even of life. Yes, we had the sentence of death in ourselves."

Point four: Job's unresolved suffering begs for a final resolution. As he sits in the dust, going back and forth over every loss—his seven sons, his three daughters, his wealth, his health—and asking what he could possibly have done to deserve this, everything stays stuck at the bottom. In his mind, the only possible final resolution is death.

A Sobering, Necessary Topic

I don't want to make light of this or be casual about it. Out of that very concern, some teachers and commentators say Job wasn't really suicidal here. But I think we need to acknowledge what is plainly going on. Suicidal thoughts are one of the things suffering people are confronted with, whether we want to admit it or not.

In 2017, according to the CDC, suicide was the second leading cause of death among individuals ages 10 to 34, and the fourth among those 35 to 54. Today is the day before Veterans Day. On my drive home, at an intersection near my home, a property owner has set up a makeshift monument of 22 crosses—signifying the 22 lives lost on average every day to suicide among those in the armed services. For three straight years, life expectancy in the United States decreased, in part due to suicide and opioid addiction, which often involves people who are deeply suicidal. In a gathering this size, it is certain that some here have contemplated taking their own life.

Consider how heavy this is. In Job 6:8–9 (New Living Translation), Job says, "Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant my desire. I wish he would crush me. I wish he would reach out his hand and kill me." This is a righteous, pious man. And he is not alone. Elijah, the great prophet, prayed in 1 Kings 19:4 (NLT): "I have had enough, Lord. Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died."

I hope you are never in a place where you pray, "God, just take my life." But let's acknowledge that it happens. Unfortunately, some who desire to die make good on it through an irreversible choice. I feel compelled to talk about this because I have been there after people have taken their lives, helping families pick up the pieces. We cannot talk honestly about suffering in a broken world without confronting this.

Job Resolved to Leave His Life in God's Hands

How do we resolve Job's situation? We can't simply say, "It's okay, because everything was restored in the end." When Job speaks these words, he has no prospect that restoration is coming. He has zero hope that everything will be okay.

Point five: Job resolved to leave his life in God's hands. In the shadow of great suffering, as he declared his desire to die, he did not make the decision to die. He recognized that God gives life and only God should take it. He prayed for death, but he did not take his own life. That is a crucial consideration. The person who holds onto the concept of God—even when God seems not to answer the "why" of suffering—surrenders the decision to God: it is Yours whether I live or die.

This was Paul's conclusion in 2 Corinthians 1:8–10. After saying he despaired even of life and had the sentence of death in himself, he adds, "that we should not trust in ourselves but in God who raises the dead, who delivered us from so great a death, and does deliver us; in whom we trust that He will still deliver us." God delivered me in the past, is delivering me now even under this weight, and will still deliver me. His hope was in God—past, present, and future.

This is exactly what the psalmist does. When the waves and billows crush over him, he encourages himself: "Hope in God. I will still trust in You, even when things seem hopeless." The hope of the despairing soul is the hope of the Savior, who has delivered us, is delivering us, and will still deliver us.

From Despair to an Eternal Weight of Glory

Watch what changes a few chapters later. In 2 Corinthians 4:16–18 Paul writes, "Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though the outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal."

What changed? He hoped in God the deliverer and redirected his focus to the things that are eternal, setting his mind on things above. He would write in Romans 8:18, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us."

Job endured hardship patiently, then had an existential crisis when things didn't work out as he expected. But he resolved to put his life in God's hands. When someone we love faces a similar outlook, we must encourage their hearts to hope in God, come alongside them, walk with them in their pain, and direct them to the Lord. This is a very necessary ministry.

Practical Help for the Despairing

Let me give some practical thoughts—the same ones I teach in my pastoral ministry class at Cuyamaca College's Bible college. When you minister to someone who is suffering and seems to have lost hope, you must ask very pointed questions. I'm grateful that someone near me in life had the wherewithal to do exactly that during a difficult season.

Ask directly: "Have you had thoughts of harming yourself or taking your life?" Some say you shouldn't ask, lest you trigger them. No—you need to be clear and specific. If a person is "only doing it for attention," taking it seriously and following these steps means they'll likely never do that again. And if they aren't doing it for attention, you might save their life.

When I've sensed this and asked, people have quietly admitted, "Yes." Then ask, "Have you considered how you might do this? What is your plan?" I've sat with several people who told me, and sometimes you're stunned that they have a plan. Then ask, "Have you decided when you're going to do this, or done anything toward it?"

If you reach that point, act. Reach out to their doctor, or call the non-emergency number for the police department and ask them to send PERT—the Psychiatric Emergency Response Team, a police officer paired with a mental health professional who arrives casually, without lights and sirens, knowing how to help.

It can feel hard or embarrassing to have that conversation. But it is far easier than sitting with a family whose daughter or son just took their life—and I've done that. In a gathering this large, it is very likely some of you have a plan and have thought about it. If that's you, we want to walk with you through it. That's part of why we make such a big deal about prayer here. One Sunday, one of our pastors disarmed a man in his own driveway who was about to take his life. It's real.

One thing Job's situation teaches us is that this happens to religious people. Some say Christians don't experience this. Yes, they do. This week I spent two days with our fire department on these very issues, because the suicide rate among firefighters is higher than among police officers and about as high as among those leaving military service with post-traumatic stress. It is a big deal, and we need to acknowledge it—and that there is a way forward in the midst of it.

Closing Prayer

God, I pray You would take these words and use them—even though this is a very heavy text and topic—to help us comprehend the suffering of those going through difficult times, and to know some very practical ways to reach out and minister, to weep with those who weep. Father, it is clear that there are times we find ourselves in a place where all the ways we normally process life don't seem to work, and we become so despairing. There is an enemy who loves death, who comes to steal, kill, and destroy, and who has robbed many of the life You give. So we pray against that. We ask that You would bind the work of the enemy, and that Your word of life would encourage the one who is suffering. Draw near, as the Scriptures say, to those who are brokenhearted, and minister Your grace and Your comfort. We ask this in Jesus' name, and all those who agree said, Amen.