Finding God's Purpose in Pain: Lessons from Job's Suffering

Life often throws us curveballs that leave us reeling, questioning everything we thought we knew about God and His goodness. In these moments, it's tempting to rush past the pain, seeking quick resolutions and easy answers. But what if there's value in slowing down and sitting with our discomfort? What if God has something to teach us in the midst of our suffering?

The story of Job offers profound insights into this very question. Here was a man who had it all—wealth, family, health—only to have it stripped away in a series of devastating losses. In a single day, Job lost his livestock (which represented immense wealth), his servants, and most heartbreakingly, his children. It's a tale of loss so extreme it almost seems unbelievable.

Yet in examining Job's response, we find a roadmap for navigating our own seasons of suffering. When the final messenger arrived with news of his children's deaths, we're told that "Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship." This dual response is crucial—Job didn't deny his pain or put on a brave face. He openly grieved, tearing his clothes in anguish. But he also worshipped. He chose to believe, even in his darkest hour, that he did not know more than God.

Too often, we feel pressure to skip the grieving process and jump straight to praise—a type of worship, but not the sum total of what worship is. We tell ourselves or others, "It's okay, everything happens for a reason," without allowing space to feel the weight of our loss. Acknowledging pain isn't a lack of faith; it's an honest recognition that we live in a fallen world where tragedy occurs.

Job's example teaches us that we can both grieve and worship. We can cry out to the Lord in our anguish while still trusting him—even when we don’t entirely understand or trust what he is doing or not doing in a given situation. This nuanced approach stands in stark contrast to our tendency to oversimplify suffering, either by minimizing pain or by questioning his character.

It's natural in times of crisis to look for someone to blame. When the Sabeans and Chaldeans attacked Job's property, there were clear human actors at fault. But what about when "the fire of God fell from heaven" or when a mighty wind collapsed the house on Job's children? These "acts of God" present a much thornier theological dilemma.

What do we do when the Lord seems to be the cause of pain and suffering? As I mentioned in this week’s message, this tension is most resolved for me by distinguishing between what the Lord actively causes and what he passively allows. I know this does not satisfy everyone, and I also acknowledge that the Book of Job is a story, not a systematic theology text; However, there is a clear distinction made in this first chapter of Job about what the Lord actively causes and what he allows the Adversary to do.
 
This is admittedly a difficult concept to wrestle with. If the Lord has the power to prevent suffering, isn't allowing it just as bad as causing it? Some say yes, but I don’t think so. It might be the case if there was no hope of justice or restoration, maybe, if our suffering could thwart the Lord’s plan. For me, hope in Christ is a game-changer.

While we may not have all the answers, we can find comfort in knowing that Jesus himself experienced this same tension. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Christ pleaded, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me." Yet the Father remained passive, allowing His beloved Son to endure the agony of the cross.

This brings us to a crucial point—God's plan is not thwarted by my suffering. In fact, He often uses my deepest hurts as the very soil from which new life and ministry grow. The gospel doesn't promise us a pain-free life. Instead, it offers the assurance of God's presence in our suffering and the hope of redemption on the other side. Like a loving parent allowing a child to face age-appropriate challenges for their growth, God sometimes remains passive so that we can develop spiritual muscles we didn't know we had.

Perhaps the most profound lesson I can learn from Job is humility. When faced with incomprehensible suffering, Job didn't assume he could do God's job better than God could. While it's okay to wrestle with hard questions, I must remember that the Creator of the universe has a perspective and plan far beyond my limited understanding. This doesn’t mean that the pain isn’t real or that evil or sin should be ignored. It simply means that where Jesus is, there is hope.

(Blog Post for June 22: I Wish I'd Never Been Born)