Monday, August 31, 2009

Where was I when the world was made?

I just spent some time reading Job, a book that I seem to have been in forever and a day. The first couple of chapters is God telling satan how awesome Job is. Then God allows satan to take everything that Job has from him, except his life. The next few chapters were Job's friends telling him that he did something wrong because God wouldn't let this happen to the righteous, and Job replying by saying that he indeed didn't do anything wrong. Job says that he'll praise God no matter what happens, but there are a lot of moments where he is just downright dramatic. I mean, seriously, "it would have been better had I not been born"?

In all this, Job is questioning God, and understandably so. But in Job 38-39, God answers back, and answers back hard. He asks Job where he was when God created the world. And if he knew when goats would give birth. There was one moment that I thought was particularly "rip-Job-a-new-one-ish" in Job 38:19-21

"Where is the way to the dwelling of light,
and where is the place of darkness,
that you may take it to its territory
and that you may discern the paths to its home?
You know, for you were born then,
and the number of your days is great!"

In reading these chapters, it's easy to say, "yeah, Job, why would you question God like that? Don't you know that He's the Almighty? Don't you know that He's sovereign? Don't you know that He knows what's best for you?"

It's not too easy, though, once I examine my own life and attitude. Over the past couple of weeks, I've asked God why a lot of times. "Why am I at 25% if this is where you want me? Why are there a lot of Nav staff right now who are struggling with their funding? Why are there so many women coming to the table today and only one man? Why, God, why?" I bombard God with these questions about why things aren't going my way. And then I read Job 38 and 39, and I can't help but hear God speaking these words to me. And I feel small. Like a little child being scolded by his Father. My head is down, not daring to look up at God, because I know that He's right and I can't answer back. I can't look him in the eyes. I can't say anything to justify my attitude towards God.

I know that God is good. I know that God is sovereign. I know that God's will is better than mine. My trouble is accepting and realizing this truth in my nearsightedness.