Listen:

Job 19:21-27

Pity me. Pity me. You’re my friends.

God’s hand has truly struck me.

Why do you pursue me like God does,

always hungry for my flesh?

Oh, that my words were written down,

inscribed on a scroll

with an iron instrument and lead,

forever engraved on stone.

But I know that my redeemer is alive

and afterward he’ll rise upon the dust.

After my skin has been torn apart this way—

then from my flesh I’ll see God,

whom I’ll see myself—

my eyes see, and not a stranger’s.

I am utterly dejected.

Consider:

Job is throwing himself a pity party. He’s invited all of his friends over for the day, then ripped his clothes, started weeping and screaming, and then sat down in ashes, which is the ancient equivalent of one of those tiktok videos of people crying when something bad happens on their favorite TV show. He was miserable and he wanted everyone to know and to bear witness to his pain and loss. It was a grade-A pity party.

Except Job had every reason to feel sad and lost, to grieve the very real tragedies which had entered his life. When he asked for help, his friends only made it worse, telling him the events which had befallen him were all his fault. His friends told him he deserved God’s punishment and, coincidentally, he was also responsible for the fact nothing had gotten better. “If you’d just stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself,” they seem to say, “maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable.”

Job hit rock bottom. His present life was a complete disaster. There was no good news on the horizon, no reason for him to hope.

Except he knew something his friends didn’t know. God wasn’t punishing him — he hadn’t done anything to deserve this pain and he couldn’t do anything about making it go away faster.

When life feels overwhelming and the grief or anger holds us down, or when overwhelm feels insurmountable and we are covered in ashes, Job shows it’s ok to feel a little sorry for ourselves. And, it’s the holy act of self-pity which leads us to the truth of our circumstance. Yes — everything is bad right now.

And that is all you need to say in order for hope to leak in around the edges. This is the truth — and now that I’ve owned and acknowledged the truth I am ready to look up and take a shower so the ashes wash away.

Respond:

What one thing are you worried about today?

Name it aloud. Maybe write it down so you can see it and make it more concrete. Worries and pain are much smaller when they have a name. Maybe revisit it a few times today and ask yourself, “How do I feel about this right now? How long will this last? How much of my life is affected by its outcome?”

Then, at the end of today, throw it away so hope can creep in tomorrow.

Pray:

Hey God,

Thanks for letting me just be honest with You. I’m feeling (name your feeling: frustrated, tired, worried, etc.) and sometimes I don’t even know why. Help me be honest about what’s going on in my heart, even the messy stuff. Give me peace right now and help me move forward.

Amen.

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