Grieve as you worship

This blog post is adapted from a talk given at Christ Church Abingdon, UK in September 2022. The Bible excerpt referenced is Job 1:20-22.

There are two characters in Scripture that I feel particularly connected to: Peter and Job. The reasons why I feel a particular familiarity with Peter can be saved for another day, but it is my honour and joy this evening to share with you about Job - the other person in the Bible whose life, words, and actions have spoken to me over and over again.

And, I have weird proof of this.

I went to university in America, where the yearbook is a rite of passage for graduates. In our final year, we were invited to choose a quote that we wanted to either remind us of our time at Yale, or remind our peers of who we were when we looked back at the yearbook in years to come. My husband, Andrew, chose Psalm 46:10 - “Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted in the nations. I will be exalted in the earth.” One of my best friends chose Micah 6:8 - “what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” 

I, on the other hand, chose Job 1:1 - “In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil.”

As per usual, I did not do the ordinary or expected thing.

Where did this interest in Job come from? One day, I went to meet with my mentor in the midst of despair. And he made a weird side comment about how I was living a Job-like story. Now, I don’t know the incentive for him to make such a comment as he wasn’t a spiritual mentor. But I began to read Job, and journeying with Job honestly changed my life. Tonight, we’re just going to discuss a small portion of this beautiful book but I do encourage you to sit down with it and slowly digest all that it has to offer.  

Tonight’s talk will have two sections.

The first being this: ‘Grieve as you worship.’

Let’s read Job 1:20 again:

“At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship.”

For your context and understanding, let me briefly tell you what has just happened. We learn in the first verse of Job that Job was blameless and that he feared God. He is, by contemporary standards, a good man. He had seven sons and three daughters, owned lots of sheep, camels, oxen and donkeys, and also had a large number of servants. He had a lot going for him. Then, all in one day, messengers come to Job and tell him that he has lost all of these things - his children, his livestock, and his servants. 

So, he shaves his head and tears his robe. These actions are Biblically significant. In Job’s time, hair was perceived to be sacred, a symbol of commitment to God. Remember, Samson was instructed not to cut his hair. So, shaving someone’s head was only done upon death, and it was considered a ritual act. Job shaving his head could have suggested to the earliest hearers of this story that he felt as if he were dead. His grief was too significant. Then, he tears his robe, also a Biblical indicator of immense grief. We can look at Genesis 37. When Jacob is told that Joseph is dead, he tears his robe. And in 2 Samuel 1, David does the same when he discovers that Jonathan and Saul have been killed. Job is in a state of immense grief.

But this is not the end of the verse. Verse 20 then says “then he fell to the ground in worship,” which brings us to our first point this evening: “Grieve as you worship.”

Job approaches God in the midst of all his grief, and verse 22 of this passage (if you read on ahead two verses) says “In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.” We’ve come to this idea in the modern Western Church that we should be shiny, happy, perfect people before God and before each other. I’ve seen it in every church I’ve been a part of, even from when I was very small. We tell each other we’re okay when our entire lives are falling apart. And we take the same attitude to God, or at least I do.

I’ve had a really hard week actually. I’ve just felt rubbish all week and feeling rubbish has stopped my to-do list from being anywhere close to being completed, and the lack of ticks on said to-do list has made me feel useless and worthless. I’m sure I’m not alone in that.

But, I bet I’ve already told people today that I’m doing “fine”, “well” even. 

Sometimes, I complain to God. But, most of the time, I don’t really talk to God about it. 

God has really challenged me these past few days to remember that he does care about these things, the things that cause us immense grief but also the things that cause us smaller amounts of discomfort. He cares about it all.

And we know this, not just because Job did this. We can also take the cue from Jesus himself. He does something similar in the Garden of Gethsemane (although he keeps his robe and hair intact!)

In Matthew 26:39, it says that Jesus, “Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” 

Grieving is not incompatible with worship. They are not mutually exclusive acts. Grief is not something we have to leave at the door when we worship, whether that worship takes place in church or in the quietness of our own homes (as Carl challenged us to do last week). 

You might be thinking, “well, that’s all well and good. But I can’t be Jesus because I’m not God, and Job is a Biblical character so his response might be out of my league too.”

So here’s another story.

In 1828, Horatio Gates Spafford was born in New York. He moved to Chicago and, by 1870, was an incredibly prominent lawyer in the city. He had a loving wife, a growing family, and had recently accumulated a fair amount of valuable real estate. He was also a faithful Christian and considered prominent evangelists like Dwight L. Moody and Ira Sankey among his close friends.

In 1871, things began to go downhill. His four year old son died. Shortly after, the Great Chicago Fire literally reduced the family’s whole world to ashes. Their investments and sense of financial security were gone, just like that. Because even the buildings that remained were devalued in the subsequent financial downturn. 

To give the family a well-deserved break, Horatio arranged for his family to go to Europe to support prominent Christian evangelists in their missions. Due to a business emergency, Horatio himself was unable to travel. The rest of his family boarded the SS Ville du Havre in November 1873 and set off for Europe. 

The boat collided with another ship, and reportedly sank in just 12 minutes - killing 226 of the 307 people on board. His wife, Anna, was the only member of his family to survive, leading to the famous telegram to Horatio which simply said, “Saved Alone.”

Horatio boarded a boat to bring his wife home and passed the spot where the Ville du Havre sank. The captain made him aware and he returned to his cabin and wrote the words which became the hymn: “It is Well with My Soul.” 

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well with my soul
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

That is the most famous moment of the story. But there’s another part of the story that touched me when I read about it this week for the first time. While she waited for her husband to arrive, Anna stayed with the other survivors of the shipwreck who reportedly feared she might take her own life from grief. 

Sometime later, Anna spoke of hearing a voice say: "You were saved for a purpose,” and remembered that a friend had once said, "It's easy to be grateful and good when you have so much, but take care that you are not a fair-weather friend to God."

This takes us to the second point I have this evening.

“Remember God is God. We are not.”

Let’s go back to the passage in Job. Job 1:21:

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”

Job acknowledges in his worship that God is God and he is not. 

Typically, you might hear someone say at this point that “God is in control.” But I know, as many of you may well know too, that the phrase “God is in control” can be used as a means to dismiss our pain and grief. And it can sometimes be used to suggest that God desires the terrible things that have happened in our lives. But I’m pretty convinced that God does not delight in our grief.

So, what is happening here?

Let’s return to the Garden of Gethsemane as I think it’ll give us some insight.

In Matthew 26:42, Jesus says: “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.” 

Jesus invites God to do his will in the most trying of situations. And I think that’s what Job is doing a little bit too. He’s acknowledging that God’s will supersedes him, that there are things going on that he doesn’t understand, and he’s praising the name of God regardless.

And the name of God he chooses is significant too. There are many names used for God in the book of Job, as there are many names used for God throughout the Bible and even today. The fact that “Lord” is often written in capitals in Job 1:21 indicates that Job is using ‘Yahweh’ as his name for God. This is the favoured name among Israelites for God, which is particularly interesting given that Job is not an Israelite. But it’s also interesting because Yahweh was used to signify a more personal relationship with God. God is not an abstract idea for Job. Contrary to his friends who use less personal names for God, Job continues to name God ‘Yahweh’ even as he wrestles and struggles with his circumstances. He remembers that God is God, the One who created all things.

Job focuses on God as creator throughout the book. And, towards the end of the book of Job, God invites Job to see and experience the expanse of his creation through a vision. Job comes to recognise the magnitude of God once again, falling down in humility to the One who is so much greater than anything he could imagine or fathom.

There’s a kid’s song that talks of God being a ‘great big God.’ Growing up, I used to think this meant that God was simply a bigger thing than I was. I thought about this very literally. But it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve begun to even barely appreciate the expanse of God. We talk a lot as Christians about the expanse of God’s love as shown through the love demonstrated by Jesus on the cross and that’s so true, but it’s possible because the width and depth of God Himself is just so far beyond comprehension. 

One of my best friends lives in Arizona and, when I went to visit her a few years ago, she took me to the Grand Canyon. Now, the Grand Canyon is incredibly impressive and big and amazing, and I was awestruck. But I was actually more struck by the views on the way home, as we drove through Sedona. I saw views just like this through the car window as we drove back to her house. And the memories still take my breath away. That was when I began to fathom the expanse of God’s creation. Sedona doesn’t look like the UK, that’s for sure. That’s one way that I remember that God is God and I am not.

But, there’s also more personal moments that I can look back on as a reminder that I can grieve as I worship because I’m worshipping a God who is so much greater than I am and ever could be.

In July, Andrew’s grandfather passed away. He had a long life of 95 years, living through the Soviet occupation of Hungary and the aftermath of World War II in Germany. He eventually came to the US in 1952, arriving through Ellis Island. We went to spend some time with him before he died, and it was a really moving time. There’s a lot I won’t forget about that time. But here’s one story. He told us how he met with his pastor who prayed with him. He began to pray the Lord’s Prayer in Hungarian, his native tongue. And, even though the pastor couldn’t understand, Andrew’s grandfather proudly told the pastor and told us too that God could understand all the languages. It didn’t matter if he spoke to him in Hungarian or German or English. God understood.

God is God. We are not.

So, even though we grieved deeply when Andrew’s grandfather passed away, I smile when I think of him praising God in the way only he could or would. And I could worship God, thanking him that God doesn’t even really need me to articulate my prayers because he knows. In Romans 8, Paul writes that the Spirit intercedes for us as we groan and when we don’t know how to pray.

My prayer for us is that, in the midst of our grief, we’ll be able to think of those moments when we can remember that God is God and we are not. I hope that we’ll groan together and grieve together and come before God, truly as we are, and acknowledge the magnitude of a God who both created the heavens and the earth and the intimacy of a God who knows each word we declare or utter, no matter how we say it.

And finally, my hope is that we remember that we are invited and able to bring our grief to God because he cares for us.