"Men at ease have contempt for misfortune''

It is Sunday morning. I feel like preaching.
Turn with me to the book of Job.
Of course.

In Chapter 12, Job says, "Men at ease have contempt for misfortune."
Remember, when the book of Job started, Job was the ultimate "man of ease." There is a litany of his holdings, his family, his wealth. He is a respected member of the community, one that people go to for advice and counsel.
Yet now, possibly looking back at his life, he has this realization. It couldn't have been easy to make, because none of us want to admit we look down on people less fortunate. But I think down deep we know it is true: when things are going good in our lives, when we've got money in our pocket and the mortgage is being paid and the car is running right and the wife and kids are relatively happy, we look at those less fortunate and think, "Well, if only they'd done what I've done they wouldn't be like that." Sure, we thank God for our good fortune, but there is a dangerous tendency to think that somehow, because we're so blessed, "me and God" as a friend of mine once told me when I asked about his good fortune, "are tight!"
During those times, we help other people. We're compassionate toward those in misfortune. But down deep, in those areas we don't like to explore, when we see things go wrong in the lives of other people or even in our own lives, we look for reasons: what did they/we/I do to bring this circumstance?
Your spouse or child gets sick, you can't help but wonder, did I do something to bring this on the person I love? Is it my fault?
You lose a job, and think, "Am I being punished for some sin that I'm unaware of?'
From a seemingly happy and worry free life one thing leads to another and soon you are having trouble paying the bills, but a car needs repair or there is an unexpected medical expense and soon you have to choose between the immediate and the long term. Before you know it, groceries and gas have to take priority over mortgage and loan and now the home is facing foreclosure.
It's easy enough to trace how you get to the current situation, but it's that first step that has you bewildered. Where did that first disaster come from? Why did it happen to me?
What did I do to deserve this?

Job's friend Zophar's whole speech in chapter 11 is about that: "You say to God, 'My beliefs are flawless, and I am pure in your sight.' Oh how I wish that God would speak, then he would open his lips against you and disclose to you the secrets of wisdom ..."
Zophar's idea of justice demands that God treat people "fairly." He can't accept that this amount of horror could befall Job if Job had truly been living an upright and blameless life. But we know what Zophar doesn't know: that Job didn't do anything to deserve this.
No, that's not exactly true either. Job got this because he was living an upright and blameless life, and that attracted the enmity of Satan.

There are people who don't believe God really cares about the individual happenings in our life, that He is above us and distant. Eastern religions teach that we live our lives over and over until we get it right (before simply  disappearing into Nirvana, becoming "one with the universe,'' losing our identity as individuals completely). Islam - again, the short version - says everything is as "Allah wills it,'' meaning whatever lot you find yourself in, that's what Allah intended for you. Accept it, deal with it, move on.
My faith teaches that God does indeed care about the individual happenings of my life (and yours). He is involved in not just the day to day, but the minute by minute. It doesn't make sense. Why would the God of the Universe care about me?
We Christians are not fatalistic. We believe God gives us the power to change our circumstance, that He wants us to change not only our condition but the condition of those around us. We have hope - not only for eternity, but "strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow."
I think that is the point of the book of Job. There is the cosmic struggle going on. My faith teaches that Satan rebelled against God, and his rebellion continues to this day, and the only way Satan knows how to "get" at God is through God's favorite creation, man. The more of us Satan can get to reject God, the more victories Satan can claim on his way to ultimate defeat - kind of a "doomsday'' scenario, where Satan realizes that he's going down, so he's bound and determined to take as much of God's creation with him on the way.
We might not like this honor that God has bestowed on us, of defending God's honor if you will (and I know theologians are rolling their eyes at the simplicity of that statement) in this cosmic battle of the seen and unseen.
But it is an honor that God thinks so highly of us, His creation, that He believes we will follow Him "regardless."

But sometimes, like Job in chapter 7, we say, "What is man that you make so much of him, that you give him so much attention, that you examine him every morning and test him every moment?" Or, as my brother David said to me once, "Don't you think Job wanted to say to God, 'Why did You have to mention my name?'''

Job asks of his friends - and they are his friends, and their advice is as wise as they can make it, they just advise not really knowing the full story that we, the readers, know - to hold him accountable.
I find a couple of scenes very powerful in the book of Job: one where his friends intentionally come together and then go sit with Job in silent support, putting their own lives on hold for seven days; and then this scene where Job, despite the argument he's having with those friends, still wants them to hold him accountable for his life, his words and actions: "But now be so kind as to look at me. Would I lie to your face? Relent, do not be unjust; reconsider, for my integrity is at stake. Is there any wickedness on my lips? ..."

In the end, all Job knows to do is cling to his absolute faith that he has followed God faithfully. What he wants his friends to hold him accountable for is this: "Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for ... that I had not denied the words of the Holy One."

I'm not Job, holy and blameless and pure. My guess is, you don't see yourself that way either. I am the last person I'd expect whose life God sees such reflected glory in that He's willing to say to Satan, "Have you considered my servant Ray ..."
But I do believe that all of us are part of that. I do believe that God does say to Satan, "have you considered my servant (your name here)?" and that Satan sees it as a challenge to see if we - the followers of God - will "curse God and die" (as Job's wife, his closest confidant and helpmate, encouraged him to do - no doubt out of her own grief).
The good news for all of us is also that God placed boundaries around what Satan could and could not do to Job. Like Job, we have God's protection. He knows there are limits to what we can bear.

Sure, we ask "but why take the lives of Job's children and servants, innocents who did nothing to deserve what they got?" And I don't know the answer to that. I sit here beside my wife as she sleeps in a hospital bed, knowing she is still unaware of just what happened to her and the extent of her injuries. From my perspective, this happened to me. My guess is that from her perspective, she will ask why this happened to her.
And I know that we're fortunate. God's boundary did indeed put a limit on what was allowed to happen to us. Last night, MG said of the accident, "It's good that nobody died." She doesn't know, I don't think, how close she came to dying, that no one at the scene expected her to survive. And I know that it appears we're going to have what we'd call a "happy ending,'' (again, our perspective) and not everyone gets that.
And I don't know why.
All I know is that whatever I go through, whatever "life" sends my way, I want to be able to come out the other side and be able to say - like Job - "I have not denied the words of the Holy One."
I haven't always been able to say that. And I ask my brothers and sisters to hold me accountable.

I once heard a missionary preach who ended his talks with something like this: "That is the end of my words. But the sermon continues."
I know that is true.
But it's Sunday; go get some fried chicken and sweet tea.
And don't forget to say the blessing.