Job 30:26-31; Jonah 3:10-4:11
Presented February 20, 2011, by Joel Kline
The Seventh Sunday after Epiphany
This is one of those sermons far more likely to raise questions than to provide answers. Indeed, if you’re looking for a definitive answer to life’s most troubling questions, I suspect this is not the sermon for you. But if you are convinced, as am I, that it is in our willingness to struggle with life’s complexities; if you believe that it is in grappling with life’s seemingly unanswerable questions that faith may well surprise us and, indeed, come most alive, then I invite you to listen up! It’s been five years to the day that my first wife Janice was killed in a car accident in Little Rock, Arkansas. My purpose this morning is not to spend time recounting all the trauma and grief in the aftermath of that accident, but rather to ponder some of the apparently unanswerable questions that come our way when confronted with the kind of experiences that would lead us to cry, as did that ancient figure, Job, “When I looked for good, evil came; and when I waited for light, darkness came. My inward parts are in turmoil, and are never still; days of affliction come to meet me” (30:26-27). Someone has paraphrased one of those last phrases, “The churning inside me never stops” (Philip Yancey, Disappointment with God).
Who among us this day has not had one of those times of life when our inner churning seemed unstoppable—one of those times when life as we have known it crumbled in upon us? Times of affliction and pain, times of loss and grief, are an integral part of life, a part of life that none of us escapes. Yours may be an unresolved brokenness that keeps you from risking a new relationship, or a lost job that not only creates economic uncertainty but gnaws at your self-esteem, or a recent diagnosis of terminal illness—whether your own, or that of one with whom your life is deeply intertwined. Whatever the particulars, each of us faces our own times when, with Job, we are led to lament that “sunless gloom” surrounds us, that “my lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep” (30:28, 31). In other words, times when the only song within us is a lament of grief and of pain.
(more…)