Pages

Sunday, August 04, 2019

Elevate Discontent

The Apostle Paul said he had learned to be content in all things--an impressive statement for someone who had suffered wrongful imprisonment, torture, shipwreck, betrayal, and all of the unceasing labor involved in his efforts to expand and unify the varying strands of Christian communities being spawned during his time. 

I have also been content in all things.  But for me, it wasn't learned and it's not nearly as impressive.  My contentedness tends to be my natural disposition, and it's rarely been challenged. I've typically thought of my contentment as a good thing, but recently I have been calling it into question.  I enjoy life.  I have my basic physical needs met, I have family and friends that I love, and I have plenty of hobbies and passions that ensure I am always doing something I enjoy during my free time.  Naturally, I'd be quite content to keep living life exactly the way I'm living it now for . . . well, for who knows how long.  But . . .

The concept of wasted potential has been pressing itself upon me.  Have I buried my talent?  Have I conceived of God as a hard master, and consequently pursued what is safe?  Please understand, I don't consider "ordinary life" to be a waste of anything, necessarily.  My belief remains strong that most of "thy will be done" happens in the course of "ordinary" life.    But there is a growing sense in me that I want to do even ordinary life exceptionally well. In my vocation, in my relationships, in my thoughts, deeds, and words, I want to excel.

It's a lot to think about all at once, and it feels overwhelming when I try.  I'm not sure where to start.  I need wisdom.



 

Thursday, August 01, 2019

The Fourth Perspective in Job

On a cursory reading, I think it's often assumed that the Book of Job presents the outlook of three different entities: Job, Job's friends, and God.  There is clearly a fourth though:  the narrator/poet.  His perspective, which is the one he aims to impart to the reader, can be characterized as making the following four arguments:

1)  Job's friends are wrong in their insistence that Job has done something to warrant his suffering.
2)  Job, in his criticisms of God, fails to fully account for the obvious limitations of human wisdom.
3)  Job's death wish is myopic in light of the totality of Creation and all its grandeur.
4)  The grandeur of Creation is not an answer to the problem of suffering, nor a justification of God's ways, in and of itself.  It's simply a signpost that, when properly read, should lend to us a modicum of awareness that God's purposes cannot be assumed to always align with our individual desires.

One may object by asking, "Isn't this the perspective attributed to God?"  In other words, "Isn't the poet's perspective and God's perspective the same?"  Not exactly.  Job and God are in dialogue with each other, thus God's words are to be taken as a rebuttal to Job's friends and Job, respectively.  The poet then is a mediator between the story and the reader.  Via the narrative and the poems, he is pushing us to probe the question for ourselves:  how should we think of human suffering in relation to the righteous and loving nature of God?  He is not able to present God's perspective because he himself does not know it.  God's prosodic "answer" to Job is indeed a revelation, but not a revelation of understanding.  In its power, grandeur, and beauty, it seeks to imitate the revelation of Creation.  Which is to say, it is a revelation of humility, awe, and wonder.  The poet is a voice offering a hand, to walk alongside the reader in approaching such a revelation.