“Persisting In Integrity”
Job 1:1, 2:1-10
Psalm 26
10/8/06
A Sermon by:
The Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating
Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian Church
Scripture focus:
Then Job's wife said to him, "Do you still persist in your integrity? Curse God, and die..."
Job 2:9
FOCUS: In the face of suffering, one discovers what one really believes. For Mrs. Job, the challenge is to discover what it means to “persist in integrity,” to discover God’s presence in their pain and grief.
Sermon:
This week, another layer of our innocence was swept away.
The peaceful, gentle clip-clop sound of horse and buggy was pierced by gunfire, helicopters and sirens. The private world of the Amish enclaves was invaded uninvited guests. That world seems so different from ours, like distant cousins who see each other only sporadically. But this week the worlds collided in a slaughter of innocents. Sounds of laments were heard, and anguish was on the face of all who witnessed those horrific killings.
Of course we have seen it before, too many times, in too many places. The pit in our stomachs grew deeper, and we silently raged against God…why? Why, O Lord, were these children taken?
That’s the obvious question. Larger questions loom in the background. These moments cause us to rethink our faith, and while we were doing that the other day, the Amish community did something unthinkable. They promised to forgive this murderer. They did it quickly, in typical fashion, without fanfare or press conference. They reached out in love and graciousness to his wife and children. They took steps to make sure that the man’s widow was care for, and they expressed forgiveness in the midst of their own penetrating, numbing grief. That their act of forgiveness caught the rest of the world off guard reminds us that the larger question at work in events like these is this: What does it mean to persist in faith in the midst of suffering?
And that is a question with which we have been struggling for sometime.
Some churches, of course, will have ready made answers to those questions. In thos communities, pastors will offer their congregation off the shelf answers to those difficult questions, with the aim of calming fear. Questions risk a less confident faith. In order to promote spiritual stability, these communities will provide easy answers, often demonstrating logical steps believers must follow to regain Christian confidence. I believe such churches promote a misguided sense of spiritual maturity. As one has said, they encourage a spiritual plateau in which “nothing phases the believer, no matter what comes. It is all manageable by the person of faith.”1
Instead of quick answers, perhaps we should be listening to Job. What’s compelling about Job’s story is the way it raises questions instead of providing answers. And I believe that there are times when our willingness to raise questions instead of seeking easy answers leads us more closely to the sort of dynamic faith that will support us when the foundations of our lives are rattled.
True faith, as David Nelson Duke has said, leads us passionately into the heart of God. True faith is the reminder that, as the Rev. William Sloane Coffin often said, God’s heart is the first of all of ours to break in the midst of suffering. God’s heart cries out in agony as children are murdered, and as the world is filled with grief and pain.2 In God’s heart, we find a model of what it means to persist in integrity.
Look at the story of Job and Mrs. Job not for easy answers…but for questions that define their spiritual crisis, and which could deepen faith. Instead of walking out on God, Job persists in walking in faith. Like the Amish farmers, Job does something remarkable, and almost unthinkable: in the face of suffering, he finds the face of God.
In the midst of my ruminating about Job and Mrs. Job, Mrs. Keating reminded me that the kid’s bathroom had a leaky faucet. That was the ruse. Once inside of Lowes, she also said, “You know the light fixture in that bathroom really needs to be replaced, too.” So, plumbing and electrical repairs on the same day…good material for a sermon on suffering! In fairness, let it be said that we shared the work 50/50. I replaced the light, Carol changed the faucet. Both are now working, mostly, and it only took two trips to the store. Home repair is not such a bad metaphor for understanding the important work which Job is calling us to do. It takes effort to keep a house in good shape. It requires a certain amount of diligence to dig in and get the job done, a commitment to repairing what needs to be fixed.
As the curtain rises in this theological drama, Job’s house appears to be fit and immaculate. Really, for most of Job’s life, his spiritual “home,” was well repaired and in good working order. Job had enjoyed the good life, and he was reaping the rewards of hard work. It was spotless. Living in one of the tonier neighborhoods of Uz, Job was a model citizen…a man who loved God, and lived well. His house was well ordered. They always believed that if you did what was expected of you, God would do what was expected of Him.
The inventory of his life in chapter one tells the story. Seven sons. Three daughters. Seven thousand sheep, three thousands camels, five hungred yoke of oxen, five hundred donkeys, servants, houses, parties, everything. Job was set for life.
And then one day, it was all gone. Removed. Not long after, huge sores appeared all over Job’s body, on his feet, on his head, on his hands, and everywhere in between. The foundations had really been shaken. The beautiful house of Job’s life had been ransacked and now lay in ruins. This is not just a broken light fixture or a worn out faucet. The entire structure is missing. It would take more than a little effort to fix this house; in fact, like most people who are suffering, Job learns that he needs a whole new tool box. More than a quick trip to the hardware store will be required; Job’s home, his whole world, had been knocked flat into the ground.
And Job sits in stunned silence, scraping his wounds with a broken piece of pottery. “Naked I cam from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed by the name of the Lord.”
Such faith pushes Mrs. Job beyond her limits. “Curse God!” She tells him, or as one translator has suggested, “Give up your integrity! Curse God and in so doing put yourself out of your misery!” Her pleas are understandable. Her vision of God was shaken. She believed in a mechanical God who is supposed to respond in a predictable fashion. The God she knew no longer exists. One commentator has said that Mrs. Job is issuing her husband a warning: “the God we thought we knew is gone. Do not antagonize this new God any further – the rules o the new God are unknown to us.” In plain language, Mrs. Job wonders if there is any God at all.
It is a place we all been.
The voice on the other end of the phone was tearful: “I’m not terribly happy with God at that moment.” Her voice was filled with emotion as she relayed the difficulty her family was experiencing. Like Mrs. Job, It seemed to her that God had abandoned her family, leaving them orphaned. Job, however, continues to cling to his faith. Rather than walking away from God, he begins a journey of transformation. He looks for his toolbox, and gets to work.
And the good news is this: as Job scrapes himself with that broken piece of pottery, as he sees that he himself is broken, he discovers that God is there with him in that brokenness. Centuries later, the Apostle Paul, who knew his own share of brokenness and suffering, would capture this sort of dynamic faith in these words:
“What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will separate us from the love of Christ?
Indeed, who? Amen.
1 David Nelson Duke, Anguish and the Word, p. 28.
2 William Sloane Coffin, Letters To A Young Doubter, p. 109.
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