“Aiming Higher Than the Barn”

“…and that man was perfect and upright” (Job 1:1).

Once upon a time in the South an old person told me, “You’ll shoot higher if you aim at the moon than if you aim at the barn.” The lesson was to aim high and not settle for just hitting something. But perfection? The patriarch Job was not sinless, but he was a complete man and upright in God’s sight.

Is sinless perfection even possible? Sure. The Father, His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit is sinless perfection. But that’s not what we mean when we ask the question, is it?

Do we believe in sinless perfection as a possibility for us regular people? Well, yes. Just not yet. There are, doubtless, some who think that they might be capable of living for long stretches of time without sinning. I once heard of a fellow who claimed that he had not sinned in fourteen years. But, for that to be true, one would have to craft a nuanced, unbiblical definition of sin—a definition that did not include errant, stray, and momentary evil thoughts (e.g. Matthew 5:28); neither could it include neglect of doing known good, any quite within one’s reach to perform (James 4:17).

Sinless perfection is where all of God’s beloved people are headed. The Golden Chain of Redemption (Romans 8:29-30) tells us that those whom God foreknew (loved from eternity past) are certain to be glorified, that is, ultimately and completely sanctified. Everything in the passage is soaringly related as though even the future elements have already happened—it is that sure. In our glorified state, we who are redeemed by Christ will be sinless and perfected in righteousness.

Glorification, our arrival at sinless perfection, will not preclude our making further progress. Even in our glorified state, we who savingly know Jesus will continually progress and grow and serve and live with ever-increasing purpose. Eternity for us will not only be endless time, but endless progress, as well. No sitting around on puffy clouds, strumming harps forever. We will live to God’s glory by doing great, meaningful, significant things in that age that will know no end.

Would Jesus actually command us to do what we have not sufficient power to obey, at least, not fully? Some would say that such a command would be nothing short of cruel taunting, serving only to frustrate those who might make the attempt. But, is that a true representation or does it just sound good?

Do parents ever command their children to do things beyond their present ability? Do mothers ever require behavior of their young daughters that is customary only in older children? Do caring fathers ever assign too-difficult tasks to their sons, tasks their sons cannot yet acceptably perform? Very often, indeed! It is all part of training and challenging and preparing them for the future responsibilities and challenges that lie ahead—as someone has said, “Success is a sorry teacher.” Mothers and fathers understand that their sons and daughters need to be challenged. Do we believe our Father knows less?

Requirements beyond our present ability may serve to grow and stretch and test us against an ideal, the very ideal we should aspire to. Is not our Father in heaven preparing us for a forever life with Him (the very Ideal to which we aspire)? There, sinless perfection will be the never-breached norm. So even now he says to His people, “Be ye holy; for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:16); Jesus says, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48).

Are these commands given only to shame and frustrate us? Not at all. They are given to challenge and grow us—to prepare us for “the age to come,” that other world where sin will be no more!–TSA

Only Time Will Tell

“So they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great” (Job 2:13).

Have you entered a room where someone was sick and, as far as anyone could tell, quite possibly dying? What a difficult, awkward moment. To know the right thing to say; choosing the moment to speak. Or would it be better to say nothing at all, since the very best words will surely be woefully inadequate? Even the kindest word stands some chance of landing badly. Loved ones are standing about, bewildered and heartbroken. To the sick or dying, one more word may be yet another barbed arrow piercing his already wounded heart.

Some things never get easier. How to love through the darkest hours, even until the end. Being a true friend in the absolute worst of times. What to say in someone’s dire hour; when to say it. O’ the delicate nature of words and even facial expressions and posture. When everything is good, when we and our friends are prospering, everything is easy; but those seasons are all too few and all too brief in this world

We have many acquaintances, associates, contacts—but few are friends; even as “many are called, but few are chosen.” Friendship has unspeakable benefits and fills longings in the human heart, as nothing else can. However, life being what it is, friendship is rather costly and inconvenient, at times. It may interrupt plans. Being someone’s friend means being prepared to drop everything and come to his aid. An acquaintance has not such things to be bothered with. After all, they just happen to know each other. It’s not like they’re close friends or something.

When Job’s three friends saw him at a distance they were horrified, brokenhearted. After they came near and expressed, if only with tear-filled eyes, their sympathies—these three friends “sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights.”

They had lives of their own and untold responsibilities, each one of them. But they didn’t do what many of us would have: speak a few obligatory words and make for the exit. For them, nothing was more pressing or more important than their friend. The first gift they gave him was sympathetic tears of grief; the second, more costly, gift they gave him was their time. A lot of people have words for us; far fewer have time for us.

For “seven days and seven nights,” not one of his three friends spoke “a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great.” How quickly we speak our piece of magic comfort, say “Bless your heart, Honey,” and excuse ourselves and go. They said nothing to him. They sat with him. It was not that they had nothing to say; but before they could say any of it they knew that they must, first, at least attempt to enter into some of the utter brokenness of their friend. They knew that, until Job knew more certainly their love for him, he would not have been able or willing to hear a single word from any of them. Indeed, the saying is still true, “No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care.”

When the bones of the soul are shattered and everything hurts, what our friend needs, first of all, is our deepest sympathy with loud cryings to God for him. Next, he needs our time. Some can’t afford to give you more than a moment. But a friend believes you are worth it, even if you’re sick and dying. Job’s friends surely figured he was dying; they gave him their time anyway. Time would tell whether Job would live or die. Time had already told that Job had three friends. Three real friends. –TSA

Neither Alone Nor Forsaken

Job 2:11-12

It had been some time since they had seen him and that was before all “this evil” had “come upon him.” Undoubtedly these men had enjoyed face-to-face fellowship over the years and they knew each other well enough to be truly invested in each another. But now things were very different for one of them. Job’s fortune was gone and all ten of his beloved children died in a single, tragic day. And now his health was perfectly demolished. The sight of their friend was something they could not have anticipated.

“Now when Job's three friends heard of all this evil that was come upon him, they came every one from his own place…they had made an appointment together to come to mourn with him and to comfort him” (2:11).

Traveling together for at least the last part of their journey so they could arrive together, the three men may have rehearsed some words of comfort that might console and encourage the heart of their friend. They all had known other men who had lost fortunes who recovered from their losses. They had known families that had lost children to tragedy, as well. But nothing could have prepared them to see their friend. “And when they lifted up their eyes afar off, and knew him not, they lifted up their voice, and wept; and they rent every one his mantle, and sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven” (2:12).

The sight of their friend, even at a distance, took their breath. Almost before they could speak, a chorus of grief poured out. They wept in utter disbelief. They threw dirt into the air and grieved, as if to vigorously say, “No, no, no!” Their first weeping soon gave way to quieter tears of sympathy for their beloved friend. Formerly bronzed by the sun, robust and dignified in every way, Job was now hardly more than a despised bag of stinking, broken bones.

He was unrecognizable. Sickness and suffering had taken such a toll. He didn’t appear to be the same person. What he had been through is truly beyond comprehension. Every description fails. Only the God-Man who took unto Himself true humanity and suffered more than any man, only He could ever fully enter into Job’s sufferings of body and soul. Sufferings had come, seemingly, from every possible direction in rapid-fire succession, all at once.

Ghastly sores erupted and oozed over his body. His intestines boiled. There was no way he could keep food down, so he soon became skin and bones; appetite was gone and pain beyond bone-deep and unrelenting. He winced all the time; he ached and hurt. His weeping stopped only because there was no more strength to cry. I imagine two lonely tears lingering in the corners of his sunken eyes.

He will say, “The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest” (30:17). “My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat” (30:30). Gaunt, ashen, black; gnawing, burning pain. Then there was the greater pain—none of his most earnest prayers brought the slightest relief. The great Friend of his soul seemed to have no interest in anything pertaining to His servant, Job. Every moment the burning question in that poor man’s soul must have been, “Why?”

Only the God-Man who would endure the cross could fully understand. It was He who would cry out in His most wrenching hour, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me” (Psalms 22:1)? Job was neither alone nor forsaken, but he felt that he was both, if ever any man was. –TSA