Then you move back home and suddenly you are just like everyone else, a nobody, with no power, no authority, no opinion. You have to start at the bottom and work your way up.
Pretty soon, you find yourself longing for the good old days when you were important, when your opinion mattered.
Remember when you were important?
Hold that thought; you'll need it in order to relate to the story.
How is it that I managed to leave Job out of a chapter on suffering, and yet here, at the beginning of this chapter, his story surfaces? I'm a little mystified myself since it was only last week, as I was reading the book of Job, that I discovered it fit humility like a glove.
Job's story in the Bible is a difficult series of painful speeches between him and some friends who have come to offer comfort, though I have some serious doubts as to whether "comfort" was their true purpose. They argue that Job must have done something bad, that his current suffering reveals a wickedness beneath all his apparent righteous behavior. Their arguments only provoke more defense from Job, since he can easily produce plenty of examples of men, who happen to be much more wicked than himself, living a blissfully happy life, and thereby proving them wrong. Where is the justice of God in all this? Sound familiar?
Job won't go so far as to curse God, but you get the feeling that he has a few choice things to say, if he could just get an audience with him.
In Job's final impassioned defense (ch 29), he describes the position he used to have in the community,
when his steps were "bathed in butter", when he would go out to the gate of the city where all the important dignitaries gathered. Here the young men would step back, the old men would stand up, and princes would stop talking, putting their hands on their mouths. A hush would descend on the group when Job arrived, as if their tongues were stuck to their palates. "To me they listened and waited and kept silent for my counsel," Job said.
But now, Job is humiliated, now young men mock him, the very sons of men that Job would not have considered worthy enough to mingle with his sheep dogs. They taunt him and make fun of him. He has become one who is despised, one whose condition is so disgusting, that no one comes near him except to spit on him.
Job is humbled and afflicted. Looking up at the height of his former glory makes his collision against the ground all the harder, and the distance of his fall all the more painful.
Elihu, who has kept quiet because of his youth, gets fed up with this useless arguing. His anger burns at Job for constantly defending himself rather than God, and to the others for condemning Job without really answering him. You are not right in this, he tells Job, for God is greater than man.
You are a fool, Job, who defiantly claps his hands in front of us and multiplies his words against God, senseless words without knowledge. You have only succeeded in adding rebellion to your sin, Job. (job34:37)
Then the Lord speaks out of a whirlwind, and Job, with only one thing to say, finally stops multiplying words. "I am unworthy, how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth." (40:4)
Hey Job, isn't that how you used to be treated, how you longed to be treated again? How ironic!
I've often struggled with understanding where Job went wrong. He was right to say that his suffering wasn't due to sin, right to claim his own righteousness. Hadn't God Himself claimed he was righteous? Didn't He tell Satan that Job was the most upright man on earth? All Job wanted was a chance to defend himself, a chance to question God. What was so wrong with him demanding to know why he was suffering? When the Lord speaks, He is obviously annoyed with Job, but why? I could never put my finger on it, and it bothered me. I needed to know so that I wouldn't make the same mistake. Where did Job go wrong, what did he fail to understand, what has he seemed to have grasped at the end, so that God restores blessing to him?
This time a light bulb came on, and I think I see it.
Job's problem was his pride.
Through all his suffering, he couldn't stop defending his exalted self, wouldn't stop seeing himself as the kind of man worthy of commanding silence from those around him. Despite the extreme physical humiliation he suffered, Job had gotten caught up in the current of his pride, constantly swirling in the pool of his own significance, because he had not brought his spirit down to match his circumstances, had not yet been humbled in his own mind.
Pride hates to be brought down from its lofty place, because pride seeks worship, and as long as we seek to elevate our own worth, we can not worship God. Pride is idolatry.
You know what Job's story implies?
Pride talks too much.
Humility requires a hand over my mouth, it is best achieved when I shut up.
Uh-oh
This is a real problem for me.
How my words have been multiplied by pride!
This isn't gonna be pretty.
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