For a time in my life, my wife and I lived in different states. We didn’t choose to do that, but my job was in another state, and for various reasons she lived in our home while I had an apartment where I worked. I’d leave on Sunday evening and come home on Friday.
I have to admit I didn’t mind being alone. I spent a lot of time on the road in my career, and I loved driving by myself for long distances. Unfortunately for my family, when we’d go on family vacations I too often acted like no one else was in the car and retreated into that world where I live when I drive, where I can think and listen to music and just process whatever is going on.
My family will tell you I can get lost inside my head, and I become difficult to talk to. I can get lost in a good book and make it clear I don’t want to get interrupted. As much as I love my wife and family, sometimes I enjoyed being off by myself.
The other day my wife and daughter were talking about what would happen if my wife died before me (not sure what was going on there!). My daughter told my wife, “Mom, if you die first, Daddy will just sit in the house, read books, never leave, forget to eat, and be grumpy.”
I would have been offended except I can see where she thinks that. And, truth be told, she’s probably right.
But even with that, I can tell you I love being around people. I love relationships. I don’t have that many really good friendships(probably as a result of living so much in my head), but those I do have I value. I get recharged by meeting new people, seeing new places, going into new situations, and making new friends.
Because we are people meant for relationships – with God, with each other. God said it wasn’t good for Adam to be alone, even though Adam had God to walk and talk with, so God made Eve. That’s just how we're supposed to be.
We come to the end of Job’s story in Chapter 42, and see where Job’s position and wealth are restored.
But it’s how they are restored that is important: through relationships with other people.
It says in verse 10, “After Job had prayed for his friends” – remember how important that prayer was, that it was the final test for Job, and again Job proved his righteousness – “the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before. All his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before came and ate with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him over all the trouble the Lord had brought on him, and each one gave him a piece of silver and a gold ring.”
It says “All his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before…” And I can’t help but wonder – where were all these people when Job was in misery? We never knew he had “brothers and sisters;” where was his family in all this misery? And all those people he had helped in his role as counselor, giving advice at the city gate, helping through tough situations – once calamity hit Job, they were nowhere to be found.
Why? Because, if we’re honest, most of us are not comfortable being around people going through hard times. I can tell you I’m not good around sick people. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to ask people "how's it going" without feeling like I’m prying. And maybe I don’t really want to know, just in case it’s really bad and they start crying. I don’t handle emotion very well, either.
And when someone loses his job, loses his position or prestige, it’s human nature to scatter. It’s like we’re afraid of guilt by association. I’ve had friends who lost really good jobs, and even known a few people who were indicted for crimes that they may or may not have committed. I can tell you a lot of people who used to flock to them suddenly looked the other way when they were in the same room; they’d find another table to sit at during a meeting. Some of it may have been mean, but I think most of it was just uncomfortable.
When I was in the media, a career that included newspapers and radio and TV, I had a lot of "friends." People used to tell me, “If you ever leave the media, you’ll be in such demand. We could really use you.” And then when, after 30 years, I did leave, do you think I heard from those people? Even when I called, those people who said they’d love to hire me suddenly were saying, “If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.” And it wasn’t just me. I’ve seen quite a few of my friends go through the same thing.
Ah, but just like Job’s friends and family, they show up for the party at the end!
Maybe you know some people like that.
Don’t misunderstand my tone. I may sound bitter, but I’m not. I get it. I really do.
But it’s wrong.
Still, for Job, once everyone got the word that God actually showed up and spoke to Job, and that the people who shunned Job would only be forgiven if Job forgave them, suddenly they were all over him, bringing him gifts, helping him get started again in his business, bringing pot luck meals and no doubt offering to help him restart his herds.
And you know what? Job accepted their help. That’s pretty important, too.
There was nothing to be gained by being bitter, by accusing them with “where were you when I needed you?” My guess is that Job, being the righteous man of God that he proved to be, forgave and welcomed these people back into his life, accepted their gifts, went back to work to rebuild his business and his family and his position in society.
Could God have done this without those relationships, as shallow as they seemed to have been? God can do anything, of course – but God chose for Job to get his life back through relationships.
Relationships are, by their very nature, reciprocal. People want to know you, you have to want to know them. People want to hang out with you, you have to want to hang out with them. And that can get messy, and uncomfortable, and even have risks (like getting sick, too, if the person you visit is ill; having people wonder about you if the other person has been indicted for a crime). But most of us think we're worth the risk. Therefore, aren't other people worth the risk too?
The story goes on to say, “The Lord blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the former part. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen and a thousand donkeys. And he also had seven sons and three daughters. …”
I don’t know about you, but it kind of bothers me to think that 10 new children could replace the 10 children Job had lost. He and his wife had already raised 10 children to adulthood. My children are out of college now, and as much as I love them and the way they’ve turned out, I can’t imagine starting over. My wife loves babies. She’d gladly have more, if she could. Meanwhile, I had a dog for 18 years who travelled with me and lived with me when I was away from home and I loved, but as much as I miss him now that he died, I just can’t do the puppy thing again.
But somehow Job and his wife – the same woman, I assume, who told Job to “curse God and die” in the early part of the story – come together and had 10 more kids. There is a lot of reconciliation going on here.
The bigger question I have is, how much courage did it take for Job to become a father again? I have read stories of Holocaust survivors who were terrified to bring children into the world because of what they went through and the fear that it could happen again. I read stories of people who say they just think it’s wrong to bring children into a world of such pain and suffering.
Job has seen the absolute worst that life can bring, and he chooses to do it all again. Job – and his wife - choose to bear children again. Job chooses to love and live, even when he knows the potential cost of loving and living, the potential for pain and loss that comes with any relationship.
And while it says Job’s wealth was doubled, meaning he got twice as much of everything this second time around, he didn’t get twice the children. He only got the same number as he had when the story started. Maybe that’s because God knew the first 10 could not be replaced and would never be forgotten; maybe it’s because while those 10 died, they were still alive in heaven which means that Job actually did have twice the number of children.
If I may be so bold, I think there is an underlying question that God is really posing as He talks about the universe and the plan that only He can see. It’s a question that we all face – Job and every one of us.
The question is this: Can you love what you do not control? It is a question worth pondering, as we look at this creation that we can’t control; the ups and downs of life’s events we can’t control; the people we love – even our own children – that ultimatly we can’t really control; even, ultimately, the wild and unpredictable Creator of it all.
Wife, children, job, friends - Job couldn't control any of them. To a certain extent - at least for a time - he lost them all. But he gladly and unselfishly accepted it all back, even knowing the pain of having been rejected by those very same people. Just like you and I have been hurt by (and have hurt) our wife or husband, our children, our friends, our boss, our pastor, our church, our neighbors. The question is, are we willing to get over it, to accept their apology and attempts to restore that relationship, to look past their own imperfections even as we hope they look past ours?
To me, that's a reflection of our relationship with God. We love Him, we reject Him, we want to come back to Him and God accepts us over and over and over. It's the children of Israel in the Old Testament, it's the Gospel of the New Testament, it my life and, my guess is, it's yours.
So the question is, are you willing to love what you cannot control?
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