He Maintains His Integrity

There was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them to present himself before the Lord. And the Lord said to Satan, "From where do you come?" ... "Have you considered My servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, one who fears God and shuns evil? And still he holds fast to his integrity, although you incited Me against him, to destroy him without cause." ... So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord, and struck Job with painful boils from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. And he took for himself a potsherd with which to scrape himself while he sat in the midst of the ashes. (Job 2)

Job lost everything yet held fast to his integrity—and his story confronts our deepest questions about suffering and the goodness of God.

Everyone Suffers

Last week we began in the book of Job, and the feedback I received came largely from the topic of suffering, which is a very important topic. It's important to acknowledge that everyone suffers. Suffering is not the exception; it is the rule. We live in a broken and fallen world. This matters because there are those in our own country who claim to be preachers of the Bible who say Christians do not suffer. If that's true, none of us is a Christian, because we all suffer. It has been called the human reality.

The challenge for us is that we live in a modern, highly privileged culture in which we have, in so many ways, mitigated suffering. Relatively speaking, we do not suffer the way other people have suffered throughout human history, or the way others suffer right now in other places. So the challenge for us is how we respond to suffering.

A Reality Check from Mozambique

You may not be sure we really live in a place where suffering has been mitigated, so let me offer a reality check. We have good friends, Luke Ryder and his wife, who serve the Lord in Mozambique, sub-Saharan Eastern Africa. Years ago Luke shared with me that he was invited to be part of a child's naming ceremony—an honor, because this family chose to name their child Luke after him.

Here's the striking thing: in that part of the world, the naming ceremony happens when the child turns one year old. Why? Because infant mortality is ten times higher than it is here, and you're not entirely sure the child will make it to their first birthday. We can hardly comprehend that. Here, you often know the sex of the child six months in, you've painted the nursery, chosen the name, and some of you have already picked the university and career. Why? Because we have a default assumption of life. That illustrates how much we have mitigated suffering.

No one would argue that's a bad thing. No one likes to suffer, and easing suffering in the world is wonderful. But our normal experience here in the United States is abnormal to most of human history and to most of the rest of the world. We are insulated from a great deal of suffering—and that insulation has the effect of amplifying our experience of suffering when it comes.

Insulation Amplifies Suffering

Where the death of a child in the first years of life is somewhat normative, as in Mozambique, the impact—though never welcome—is felt differently than in a place that assumes life as the default. When we are insulated from suffering, the experience of suffering is amplified to the point that even minor sufferings become major events. We even name them "first world problems"—the Wi-Fi is down, the power went out for a couple of hours, life is coming to an end. And when major suffering does come, it becomes almost entirely debilitating.

All of this becomes a real challenge if you believe in an all-loving, all-knowing, all-powerful God—that is, if you're a Christian. Christians have traditionally believed in a God who is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent. So we wrestle with the issue of suffering in light of that God's existence. This wrestling has a name: theodicy, the vindication of divine goodness and providence in light of the existence of evil and suffering.

If God Is All-Loving, Why Do We Suffer?

The challenging question is this: if God is all-loving, all-powerful, and all-knowing, then why do we suffer? You have likely been confronted with this question, in your family or in yourself. It's a good question to wrestle with, and it has very good theological answers going back centuries—from Augustine to Thomas Aquinas and on through church history.

But let me be clear: theological answers are almost completely worthless to someone who is suffering. Theological answers are not the answer for the person who is suffering—compassion is. You learn this doing the work of a chaplain, which I've done for many years. When you walk into a tragic, unanticipated death and the question comes—"Why?"—my default answer is: no answer I could give you at this moment will take away the pain. So you minister to the hurt. That doesn't mean there aren't good answers; it means that's not the time or the place.

Retribution, Karma, and Sowing and Reaping

The book of Job illustrates one of the oldest theological answers to the question of suffering—at least 3,500 to 4,000 years old, and probably older. In the ancient Near East, where this story took place, that answer was called the law of retribution: you are suffering because you deserve it. Job's three friends, whom we'll meet next week, hold exactly this worldview. Their conclusion: Job, your suffering proves you are not upright.

Move to the Far East and it has a different name—karma. In Buddhism and Hinduism, what you experience now has come upon you because of your actions in this life or a previous existence. The kicker is that I cannot help you in your suffering, because if I intervene I only hinder your progress in the next life. That gives a great deal of insight into why things are the way they are in India.

We in 21st-century America might say we don't believe in such archaic principles. But hold on—we have a Western version built on a New Testament principle: sowing and reaping. You reap what you sow; do unto others as you would have them do unto you. So every culture—West, Mideast, East—has held this view for centuries. It is often our default assumption: when we see someone suffer, like it or not, we begin to think they must have done something bad. This is beautifully illustrated when Paul reached Malta, survived the shipwreck, and was bitten by a snake. The islanders concluded he must be a wicked sinner. We think that same way.

Job's Suffering Was Undeserved

If you were here last week, you know that in Job chapter 1, Job was the most righteous, most wealthy, and most pious man of his day, according to God. But an issue was brought before God. Here is where I hold an alternate view of the character called the accuser—ha-Satan, "the accuser." God says, "Have you considered My servant Job, the most wealthy, righteous, and pious man on earth?" The accuser answers that this may be true, but it could be said Job serves God only because God is so good to him. Job could be a mercenary. To test that, everything must be taken away.

So God gave Job up to be tested, and in one day he lost his fortune, his business, and his ten children. How did Job respond?

Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head; and he fell to the ground and worshiped... "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." In all this Job did not sin nor charge God with wrong. (Job 1:20–22)

We'll see something similar at the end of chapter 2: "In all this Job did not sin with his lips." Job loses everything—wealth, business, children, and now his health—and his loss apparently has nothing to do with any wrong he has done. The law of retribution says you deserve this, but Scripture tells us plainly: his suffering was undeserved. He received it not because of his unrighteousness but in response to his righteousness, to test it.

Two things to note. First, that Job suffered to test his righteousness does not mean every suffering we experience is a test of our righteousness. Second, Job's response—and the response of his friends—points us to an important consideration.

The Biblical Writers Do Not Charge God with Wrong

Point number two: biblical writers do not hold God responsible for suffering. They do not judge God wrong for it. "In all this Job did not sin nor charge God with wrong." He did not accuse God of injustice. Consider how striking that is. We live where suffering has been mitigated more than in any other culture or time, and yet we are far faster to accuse God of wrong than Job, who suffered more than any of us ever will. At the very least, that indicates he had a better understanding of suffering—and of God—than we do. We could learn a lot from him.

In chapter 2, God again says to the accuser, "Have you considered My servant Job? ... still he holds fast to his integrity, although you incited Me against him, to destroy him without cause." Was Job righteous according to God? Yes. Did Job do anything worthy of such excessive suffering? No. Who caused Job's suffering? The text says, "You incited Me... to destroy him without cause." God was the cause of Job's suffering.

We shouldn't read into this that God causes all suffering—that would be a wrong interpretation. But in this situation God certainly allowed Job's suffering, or at the very least did not stop it. He limits it in chapter 1 and again in chapter 2, but He does not stop it. That bothers us. We feel it is unjust, to the point we would even charge God with injustice. And yet the man who actually suffered did not. So if it seems wrong to me, perhaps I misunderstand the circumstance, or I misunderstand God.

God Has a Purpose We May Not Know

We assume that if God is all-loving, all-powerful, and all-knowing, then we should not suffer. Point three: our suffering is not an indication of God's injustice or of His inability to intervene. But why doesn't He intervene? Here is the part we find so hard—we don't always know the answer, at least not now. And we don't like that we don't know.

As we get to know God through Job and the rest of Scripture, we can trust that God is not unaware of our suffering. He knows. That may not feel like enough—"You know what I'm going through and You're not doing anything?" But we should also believe that God has a purpose in our suffering, even when we don't like that purpose. That is clearly presented in the book of Job.

Made for Another World

Consider, too, the logic of C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity. Our very desire for a world without suffering indicates that such a world exists. Lewis writes:

Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists... If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.

Why do you desire a world without suffering? Because there is one—a world with no more death, sorrow, sickness, or war; no malaria, no tuberculosis, no infant mortality. The Bible predicts that world. In Revelation, the last book, God declares He will wipe away every tear, and there shall be no more sorrow or sickness, for behold, He makes a new heaven and a new earth. Paul says in Romans 8 that the sufferings of this present world are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us. That is the hope of the Christian, and I believe it is the hope of Job, who later cries, "I know that my Redeemer lives, and I shall stand with Him on that day."

The Second Test: Skin for Skin

So Satan answered the Lord and said, "Skin for skin! Yes, all that a man has he will give for his life. But stretch out Your hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will surely curse You to Your face." And the Lord said to Satan, "Behold, he is in your hand, but spare his life." (Job 2:4–6)

Previously, all of Job's suffering had been external; now it comes home to his own body. God had said the accuser could not touch Job's person, but now the accuser argues there is still a problem: Job could still be a mercenary, because he still has his health. One commentator notes the wording is so strong it is as if the accuser says, "If You take his health, I'll be damned if he does not curse You to Your face." And God answers, "He is in your hand, but spare his life"—you may ride right up to the edge, but you may not kill him.

So clearly God is behind Job's suffering, yet the biblical writers do not accuse Him of injustice. Therefore, point four: if God does not forestall—prevent—our suffering, He must have a purpose in it. God was not powerless to prevent Job's suffering; He allowed it. Either God is an arbitrary brute who randomly fires at any passerby, or He has a purpose. This matters because the increasing philosophy of Western society in a postmodern age is existential nihilism—the belief that nothing has a purpose at all.

Job's Wife and Job's Answer

So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord, and struck Job with painful boils from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. And he took for himself a potsherd with which to scrape himself while he sat in the midst of the ashes. (Job 2:7–8)

Can it get any worse? Then enter Job's wife—let's call her "Jobina." She was held back for dramatic effect.

Then his wife said to him, "Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!" (Job 2:9)

A lot of grief has been given to Job's wife, but remember: she experienced the death of her children right alongside him, and the loss of everything alongside him. Now she watches her husband—whom she knows better than anyone, and believes to be upright—suffer in his own body. "Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Then blaspheme God and die. End it now. This is too much."

More important for us is Job's response:

But he said to her, "You speak as one of the foolish women speaks. Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?" In all this Job did not sin with his lips. (Job 2:10)

Notice that Job does not call her a foolish woman. He says she is speaking like one of the foolish ones—"that's not you." Then comes the amazing statement: shall we accept good from God only, and not adversity also? This is the right response of a righteous individual in the face of suffering and pain.

The Righteous Sufferer Trusts God

Point five: the righteous sufferer trusts that God knows what He has permitted and why He has permitted it. Job doesn't know everything, but he trusts—by faith—that God knows what He has allowed and why.

From his wife's perspective, the suffering was purposeless and arbitrary, and God was to blame. Because she believes her husband is upright, her only conclusion can be, "God, You are wrong." She sees God's treatment of Job as injustice, and thinks Job ought to call God to account. But Job will have nothing of it. The pious Job believes God to be just, and therefore believes that the God who permitted this must have a reason—even if Job doesn't know what that reason is.

The Greater-Than-Job

Four thousand years ago a righteous man named Job suffered in a seemingly unrighteous way—arbitrary, random, unreasonable, needless—and through all of it he maintained his integrity in adversity. Two thousand years ago, someone far more righteous and far greater than Job suffered righteously, in a way that seemed random and unjust—suffering for the unrighteousness of others on a Roman cross outside Jerusalem. Through all of it He maintained His integrity in the midst of adversity.

The greater-than-Job, Jesus Christ, maintained His integrity in adversity until the end. Why? Because His eye was not on His Redeemer; His eye was on redemption. When we go through adversity, we are exhorted to keep our eye on Him.

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls. (Hebrews 12:1–3)

For the joy set before Him, Jesus endured suffering, because He knew there was a purpose in it. In Gethsemane, the night before His crucifixion, He prayed, "Father, if there is any other way, let this cup pass from Me." In His humanity, did Jesus desire to suffer? No one desires to suffer. But He said, "Not My will, but Yours be done." Why? Because God had a purpose in and through the suffering—and that purpose was a world without suffering.

Communion

One of the ways we consider Him who endured such hostility is to remember Him through the broken bread and the cup. We partake of communion together as we remember the passion of Jesus—which to an outside observer would seem arbitrary and unjust, but in which there was a purpose. His body was broken for us; His blood was shed for us, that we might have the hope of a world without suffering in His presence, where there is fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore. We were created for that world, and this world is broken because of sin—and He came to break the back of sin.

Closing Prayer

Father, as we prepare our hearts for communion, I pray that You would minister Your grace to those here this morning who are themselves suffering, or walking with someone else through suffering. The fact is, living in a broken and fallen world, suffering is normative; it is reality. But You have made us for a world that no longer has it. Because of what You accomplished on the cross—which seems unjust—we who have sinned are given Your righteousness, as You took our sin upon Yourself, so that we can have hope of a life and world without suffering. We rejoice in You and in Your work on the cross. We thank You that You suffered for us, the just for the unjust, that we might receive righteousness. We praise You today. It's in Your name we pray. Amen.