The Introduction of Job

Thoughts from Job
from Dustin

Job 1:1-5 The Introduction of Job

There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job; and that man was blameless, upright, fearing God and turning away from evil. Seven sons and three daughters were born to him. His possessions also were 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 yoke of oxen, 500 female donkeys, and very many servants; and that man was the greatest of all the men of the east. His sons used to go and hold a feast in the house of each one on his day, and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. When the days of feasting had completed their cycle, Job would send and consecrate them, rising up early in the morning and offering burnt offerings according to the number of them all; for Job said, “Perhaps my sons have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.” Thus Job did continually.

What a marvelous introduction of a man that I will come to know and, no doubt, further marvel at in the days and weeks to come. I wish that some day my epitaph or those who would describe me to one unacquainted would describe me in half the glowing terms we see given Job in these few verses. This man had everything that the world respected: the culture valued sons, his outnumbered the girls more than two to one. Possessions and wealth have always been coveted and even revered by the world, and while the list of livestock may not strike us with its opulence, focus on the phrase “that man was the greatest of all the men of the east,” if it helps your understanding of Job’s standing in the world of men. Yet, and as will stand the test of the remainder of the book, the approval of men won’t mean much to Job in the trials to come, rather the qualities laid out in the first verse, “that man was blameless, upright, fearing God and turning away from evil,” these are descriptors with power and should be considered. Blameless, doesn’t suggest without sin—no one except our Lord Jesus can claim that distinction—but endeavoring toward righteousness, striving toward a right standing with God. Upright refers to Job’s dealings with others, not only did this man strive to live rightly with the Almighty, he recognized the need to live rightly with his fellow man as well. Fearing God and turning away from evil in my mind go hand in hand. Many have said that to fear God is to truly know Him in His holiness, as such one who fears God can only respond by fearing the evil that would violate that same holiness. What have we learned, that this man, in the midst of his great success and prosperity, rather than do what so many have done in the luxury of worldly comfort, did not turn away from his appointed response to his Creator, but instead lived in such a way as to provide Him honor.

The next couple of verses in this introduction have struck me differently this week. Less significant to me is the behavior of Job’s children--though there may be some parental principles here—compared with the response of the father. Job clearly recognized his responsibility as the father, priest, intercessor, and guide of his family. How many men can say the same? Sadly I cannot with full confidence. The example here is convicting. Job didn’t sit idly and wait for his children to sin before the Lord. He proactively took steps to prevent, to the best of his abilities, the wrath and judgment of the Lord toward his sons and daughters. “Perhaps my sons have sinned,” is his motivation, notice that there is no certainty, he isn’t aware of a sin, yet to be safe and certain he will take the steps given him, to protect his beloved children from, and no doubt to remind and exhort them of the holiness of his God. This, fathers is a telling example of love for your children. Fathers these days sit passively waiting for their kiddo to mess up and then to discipline and teach, yet Job presented his children with the reality of God without a “trigger” of misbehavior in them, and he did this continually, keeping those valuable lessons before his children without fail. I hope and pray that my children will benefit from a daddy who is half as loving as this man.

These few verses point to a wonderful heart, to a man that I hope we can respect and admire, he will go through a lot in the chapters to come. The God he reveres and fears will seem to leave him. The people he has tried to live amongst as an example of goodness will revile him. The possessions that have brought him respect will be destroyed. The children he has loved and striven to teach the fear of the Lord will be taken from him. Yet through all this the character and heart we see in these few verses will carry him when nothing else will. My prayer as I study and for anyone who cares to read with me is that we will find something--through the power of God’s Spirit, given those called through Christ into His kingdom—of that same sustaining hope in ourselves.

On Winning

I ran faster than most of the boys in junior high. On a good day, I beat them all. And so began my career as a professional competitor.

After my immense success in on the track in the seventh grade, my athletic career went downhill. I switched from running to showing horses in high school and college and dreamed of competing at the international level in dressage. But I gave that up for a far more competitive career: I became a doctor. Those of you who live in the micro-culture called the American medical system know what I mean.

After residency, I felt that competitive itch again. Maybe it was because I didn’t have to compete for spots in medical school and residency anymore. I just had to fight the surgical subspecialists for the pick of the cookies in the doctor’s lounge. So I got into triathlons and marathons. But I was soon faced with a harsh reality: I’m not an athlete. I’m a “glad to finish without puking” kind of participant.

But this year I stepped into a world I gave up over ten years ago. I began to compete in dressage competitions again. Only this time the goal was different. We run a “missional horse barn”, a riding stable that aims to provide quality horse care and riding lessons while sharing the love of Christ. And to get to know people in the horse world – to love them as Christ did – we needed to share our lives with them. So I began showing. Only there was a problem: as the owner of a barn and a part time instructor, I lost my amateur status. I became what I had always dreamed of being: a professional rider. But I didn’t have the horse, the time, the finances … or the skills… to win.

This past September, my son and I competed at the Rocky Mountain Dressage Society Championship Show. I thought, “Hey, we won’t win anything, but we’ll get to know people. Nothing like humiliating yourself for the cause of Christ, right?” So we did. I took my cow pony with three months of dressage training, and she jumped out of the ring. My son was the smallest kid on the tallest horse and was lucky to find the rail. But he looked cute. And we smiled more than anyone there.

But I felt like a jockey in an NBA locker room. And as much as we laughed, as much as we tried to get to know other riders, as much as we tried to fit in – we didn’t. We had stepped into the world that respected only one thing: winning. So it hit me. I needed to win.

So I bought Tessa - an expensive Fresian Sporthorse. And I’m working with a trainer. And I have my show schedule planned a year out. Why? I want to win.

I have a friend who’s won a lot in the horse show world. She about made it to the Pan Am games before her horse broke his shoulder and had to be retired. She reminds me of another friend who attempted Mount Everest and had to bail in the last hundred meters due to a freak storm. But my horsey friend was there. She accomplished what I can’t even dream of. She went all the way -- almost. And it’s the almost that haunts her. It’s the almost that, in her mind – if I dare to speak for her – defines her.

I understand. I want to win as badly as I did in junior high. Why?

I’ll be honest. I want to be the alpha mare. I want to accomplish great things for the sake of doing it. I want to climb the mountain because it is there.

But that’s not why I bought Tessa.

I also want to win because I want to fit in. I want to fit in so I can live alongside people who have made it to the top of the mountain and realized the view isn’t what they expected. I want to be there with them – and point to the other mountain – the one with an eternal view – and say, “I know how to get up that one. Want to come with me?”

1 Corinthians 9:25 states, ”Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”

I want to win. I want that crown. I want it for others. I want it badly enough for my friend that it hurts like a horse stepping on my stomach. I want her to see what truly defines her – the awesome, talented, caring, kind woman God has made her. I want her to know that He longs for her more than an Olympian longs for a gold medal. Far more.

That’s why I ride. That’s why I want to win.

On Losing

I hate to lose.

I don't mean like board games. We have a group that plays games, and I could really care less if I win or lose. Some people get pretty worked up about it, but honestly, my goal is usually to get to bed. 4 am comes too soon, and horses get testy if they're not fed on time.

Perhaps I just hate to lose things I've worked hard to succeed in.

I had a lousy horse show this weekend. I took a green mare who believed that the devil resided in the indoor arena and that the sunlight patches were jumps. Too bad it was a dressage test. She thought canter meant breeze a mile in 1:35 and that "A" was the starting gate. My 10 year old son scored better than me in his first dressage test ever. And it frustrated me. Those voices I talked about in the last post? They love that wide door that swings open when I lose.

I hate to lose competitions, but I really hate to lose to horses. I battled that same mare this morning. We were working on a new movement, and she reared. A lot. So we went to the round pen and battled until she did a nice, light, turn-on-the-forehand... two hours later. What made me spend two hours fighting with a half-ton animal who wanted to kill me just so she could move her haunches in a circle while keeping her front legs in place? Is that crazy? But the goal wasn't a perfect turn-on-the-forehand. The goal was to win.

I hate to lose to my patients. I don't like to pick battles with them - it's bad form and never helps the healing process. But sometimes they pick fights with me. Like screaming "I want (name that narcotic)" when they'd really like my DEA number to sell to their buddies. I have a pretty strong "no" that is at times necessary for the welfare for the patient, society, and my license, but there are times when my stubbornness gets in the way, too. I'm right. I win. Not the heart of the Great Physician. And when I fail to model that - guess what? I lose. And it hurts.

Maybe it's not that I hate to lose what I work hard in. Perhaps I detest losing in things I feel I should have done better in. I should have ridden better. I should have prepared more. I should have shown courage. I should have modeled Christ. But I didn't.

Alec won a blue ribbon last weekend. He scored a 60% - a really good score for a 10 year old in his first show. In the warm-up arena, his horse, Star, was misbehaving and began to canter. Star has a huge canter that can intimidate adults, much less a 60 lb kid. But Alec sat up, turned him in a circle, kept his head, and slowed him down. Afterwords, he walked up to me terrified. He was scared to ride his test. But he did. We prayed before hand (with a lot of people looking at us funny), and he rode well.

Alec won. Before the scores were even posted, he won.

As much as I hate to lose, I'd lose seventy times seven to see my kid win in that way. Not a blue ribbon. I'm happy he got it, but to win by showing courage? By modeling Christ? By being unashamed to pray in front of strangers who look at you like you're an alien? That's success.

Maybe that's love. Perhaps it's grace.

But it sure beats losing.

In Defense of a Name (Dustin)

At our house it’s just me and the dogs (and the bipolar kitten) by 9:30. And, since reading more than a couple hundred pages gets dull, you can only do so much origami before the paper cuts cause clinically significant blood loss, and since it makes little sense to continue training for the pro tiddly winks circuit until it surpasses mixed martial arts as the next nation wide alternative sports craze (when it does I’ll be ready), I find myself, and the dogs, watching a lot of late night television.

Something I’ve noticed lately as I’ve watched a number of different comedians is that more and more often the name of Jesus is featured highly in their “bits.” I find this to be both sad and troubling. It used to be that people would joke about some kind of generic “god”, heck there are whole genres of jokes based upon St Peter at the pearly gates, and the stereotypic all-powerful alternately smiting or chuckling at those he observes from his cloud (you know the one I mean, always has a long beard, white robe, looks like a benevolent yet sort of creepy department store Santa on his day off). But the name of Jesus was one that simply didn’t get used as more than an expletive, something that somehow seems more acceptable than what I’ve heard lately.

It used to be that the name of Jesus, the person, not the expletive, was one that people were unwilling to allow into conversation. I know that to be true when sharing spiritual discussions let alone humor. You could talk about “god” all day and not offend or turn off anyone, but the name Jesus triggered some kind of reaction in the unacquainted hearer -- and not usually laughter. Most people weren’t entirely sure why, but that name offended them, challenged and angered them, at the very least ended the conversation. Now maybe that’s changed.

Whether you accept Jesus the way Scripture names him, as God incarnate who died for the sins of men; as some religions might portray him, as a moral and wise teacher who was killed by those who disagreed with his teaching; or as history describes him, as a religious figure who, though loved by the masses made too many powerful enemies and was brutally silenced, his name and story ought to mean more than fruit for bad jokes.

On one hand I’m thankfully the name of Jesus is getting to be less taboo. It makes my job as a pastor easier, and people don’t run quite as quickly from conversations about him. But on the other hand, I’m deeply saddened that we could find it in our humor to laugh at a man who, Lord, liar or lunatic, gave so much.

The name of Jesus is more recognized than any president, movie star, athlete, or writer. Have you ever wondered why?

The Voices of Romans 8

I hear voices.

But I think I found better cure than Zyprexa this Sunday morning in church.

I've heard the voices for years. I first remember them when I walked through the doors of junior high school with my braces and glasses. They continued into high school and seemed to speak the loudest before climbing the ladder of the diving board at meets. They followed me to college and rained from the loudspeaker in my mind as I rode into the arena for equestrian team try outs. They came with me on dates. And they screamed at me in medical school.

"You're worthless. You don't belong here. They'll find you out soon enough."

I don't think I notice them as much as I once did, but they still speak.

They speak at the entrance to the ICU as I flash my badge over the security scanner. Or when a patient returns from a surgery I cleared them for with a medical complication. "You're just fooling anyone who thinks you're a good doctor. They're figuring it out, though."

When I sit to down to write my new manuscript. "No one will want to read this. Your crit partners are just too nice to be honest."

When despite my attempts at picking up the house, shoes and water glasses accumulate. "I'm a terrible wife. My husband does all the cleaning. Remember the party at that other doctor's house? His wife keeps it perfect. You're lucky to wash out your bowl at breakfast."

At the start of long bike rides. "You're going to make such a fool of yourself on this hill."

When teaching a riding lesson. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You can't ride yourself!"

Watching Corrinne at dance. "The other moms all know each other. They don't know you because you're not here every week. You're at work."

And even at church. "Look at all these amazing women. They're kids look perfect. They're in Bible studies and serve in the nursery. You don't even make it to church every week! What kind of pastor's wife are you? You don't even play the piano!"

Ever hear voices? I do. They're not audible. But thoughts echo longer than words.

I find solace from Paul. In the sermon today, Pastor Willie called him one of the "top five Christians in history." I'll agree with that. But Paul stated in Romans 7, "What a wretched man I am!" If you look up "wretched" in MS Word's thesaurus, you get "shameful, vile, worthless, base, despicable, inferior."

It hit me in the sermon today. Paul -- who loved the same God I love -- but who accomplished more through Christ than I can ever dream of -- heard the same voices I do.

And they didn't have Zyprexa in the first century. They had something better. And we still do today.

In Romans 8, Paul writes, "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Condemnation? The first definition in the dictionary defines condemn as, "To make a judicial pronouncement stating what punishment has been imposed on a person found guilty of a crime, especially in the case of a heavy penalty or a death sentence." Jesus took away our guilt. I'm a pastor's wife. I get basic theology. I know this. He died so we could have eternal life with God. My three year old can recite that, even though she has no idea what it means.

But do I understand it any better than she?

Farther down the page, another definition pierced me. To condemn is "To state that somebody or something is in some way wrong or unacceptable."

I've heard that before. So, apparently, did Paul. And that's why he knew we all needed to hear Romans 8:1.

I love MS Word's thesaurus. It gives antonyms, too. The antonym of wretched? Noble. Like a king - or the child of one. Paul writes in Colossians that God "has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light."

No more condemnation. Instead of being wretched, we inherit nobility from our Father the King.

So maybe the next time I hear those voices say, "You're worthless," I'll close my eyes and imagine walking into the light of a great royal court. And I'll answer, "Be silent. I'm the princess, and my daddy says you're wrong."