“I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth.”
A teenager told me she thought her parents were about to divorce. She had heard her parents nightly arguments and watched her mom turn away her tear-stained face when asked about the situation. The parents of many of this young woman’s friends had divorced, so she assumed her parents were next.
The teen did not give me permission to talk to her parents about her fears. Yet I felt obligated to open a pastoral door for either the husband or the wife if it would allow them to get help and healing.
When an opportunity came to enter that home, I lingered in order to hint at the well-being of the marriage. Neither spouse did more than smile and spout platitudes, but a week later the husband called and said he wanted to talk.
He furtively slipped into my office. Any excuse to leave would have been welcome, but none presented itself. After moments of expansive quiet and several invitations to say what was on his mind, he finally began to talk.
He had always thought marriage would be wonderful, he said. His parents had been solid in their commitments, and his dating relationship with his wife had been marvelous. They had seemed to be a perfect match, sharing interests, passions and religious commitments.
But several years into their marriage, his wife was in an accident. She experienced a closed-head injury that altered her personality. She became suspicious, forgetful, impatient and abusive. What’s more, she was an emotional chameleon. In public her negative symptoms disappeared. Even her sisters and parents had no idea of the ogre she could become. The husband’s pleas for help were questioned and pushed aside. He felt very alone.
I listened as the hurting man wept, and I thought of Job, around whom unseen and unjust powers had swirled. Job was bewildered. So was this misunderstood husband. Neither man understood why bad things were happening. Each faced a murky future in an iffy marriage.
Yet I was amazed by this husband’s testimony. When I asked him if he had considered divorce, he said, “Never! I made a vow and my wife needs to count on that, especially now. Even if she doesn’t know that she needs me.” He added, “I read about a note scratched into a basement in Paris during World War II: I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I believe in love even when I can’t feel it. I believe in God even when he is silent.'”
I was reminded of Job when he professed, “I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth.” Though Job was unable to see how, he was confident that neither loss nor pain nor death itself could stymie God’s care for him.
If we are believers, there is no lament we can sing that does not have an Easter refrain. Trials and torments and troubles are part of our lives here, but they are not the whole story. Christ rose from the dead, and because he lives, we too shall live. Wayne Brouwer
When have we felt plagued like Job? How has trouble affected our relationship? When life was good, Job offered daily sacrifices for himself and his family (see Job 1:5). What habits are we developing in good times that will help us through the tough times? Whom do we look to as models of endurance and hope? What have these people taught us? How might they serve as mentors?
I am daily in prayer that these messages, and sermons of which I mostly copy & past from respectable Christian sites I read from daily, and some that I personally write will bring the conviction to the readers heart. When looking for a message to share, I always take into consideration three things;
1. What the Lord is burdened my heart to say.
2. A message I can personally relate to.
3. Finally a message that is simple for the reader to understand which will make Gods work easier.
Job is always one of the top reads for me, for the temptations which Job endured and his unbreakable devotion to the Lord even after the loss of his children always make me humble in whatever I think is an issue, to be like Job is to be a faithful Christian!
“Have a blessed day, I am.”
A. T. S .