What Job Said

Sorrow has visited our house frequently in the past two years.  Around Thanksgiving of 2006, Jeremiah, our oldest cat, became seriously ill and died.  He had been part of our family for more than 10 years, since shortly after our wedding.  Shelby’s condition took a turn for the worse around the same time, and he passed away in February of 2007.  We “inherited” his 17-year-old cat, Gertrude.  That summer, Abigail, our middle “child,” also became terminally ill.  And as winter rolled around again, Gertrude followed suit, leaving us with only our “baby,” Rosie.

Rosie is a very outgoing cat, and craves attention and playtime.  We thought maybe it was finally time to get her a new playmate.  When Jen received an e-mail about a 6-week old long-haired tortie kitten who’d had her shots and was already litterbox trained, we thought it sounded like a golden opportunity.  But Ava had been in our home less than three hours when she fell limp and had to be rushed to the emergency veterinary hospital.  Her blood sugar was extremely low, and she had had a seizure.  After two and a half days of care and prayer, her condition proved to be insurmountable.

Ava’s death was hard for us, not because we were particularly attached to her, but because of what she represented to us:  a new start, an affirmation that life goes on, an expression of hope for a happier tomorrow.

In circumstances like this, one is naturally inclined to look for a reason — something bigger than “kidney failure,” “heart disease,” “cancer,” or the like.  But reasons like those are all science can offer, all that merely human knowledge can supply.  And those answers simply do not satisfy, no matter how accurate or otherwise useful they may be.  No, under such circumstances one seeks deep answers, meaningful answers.  And for this, one must go to the only One Who knows:  to God Himself.

And that is just what Job did when sorrow visited him.  I notice that despite the fervency of his prayers and the righteousness of his life to that point, Job received the same answer that I have:  no answer at all.  Job did get more than silence, though:  in response to all his questions, Job received… more questions.  But they were the right questions. 

Sometimes coming up with the right answer is simply a matter of asking the right question.  And the answer to God’s question was, essentially, that God is in charge and I am not.  So, the words Job said at first were the right ones:  “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord.” 

God still loved Job, and in the course of time He restored to him double what he had lost.  And God still loves Jen and me, too.  But when sorrow comes there is nothing for us to do but cry and allow God to be God, to remember that He has loved us and trust that He will bring us joy again.