A woman once told me about the week she was diagnosed with cancer. She was flooded with messages from friends and family—some full of love, some full of answers. A few said, “God’s testing your faith.” Others reassured her, “Everything happens for a reason.” One even said, “God never gives us more than we can handle.”
Each statement, however well-meaning, felt like another weight on her already overwhelmed heart. What she really needed wasn’t a theological explanation. She needed someone to say, “This is hard. I’m with you. And God is, too.”
This story echoes the ancient story of Job.
In just a few days, Job lost everything. His flocks, his servants, his children, and his health—all gone. When his friends arrived to comfort him, they sat in silence for seven days. But when they finally spoke, their words weren’t comforting. They tried to explain his suffering, to make sense of the senseless. Zophar, one of the harshest, essentially told Job, “You got what you deserved. Actually, it could’ve been worse—God let some of your sins slide” (Job 11:6).
That’s not exactly comforting.
But in the middle of his scolding, Zophar asked an important question: “Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty?” (Job 11:7). It’s a fair question. The ways of God are vast—broader than the sea, deeper than the grave. And yet, Zophar himself tried to answer that question, attempting to explain God’s justice and Job’s suffering.
We often do the same. We recite Romans 8:28: “All things work together for good…” and then try to explain how God is working it out. We want to make it make sense. We want to tie suffering up with a bow. But what if, in our attempts to explain pain, we forget the most important thing?
Job didn’t try to explain. He didn’t understand why everything was happening. But amid the ashes, he declared a truth more powerful than any answer: “I know that my Redeemer lives.” (Job 19:25).
That was his anchor. That was what he clung to when all else failed.
Job didn’t need a theological lecture. He needed a living Redeemer. And so do we.
When suffering comes—and it will—we may not have the words. We may not understand the why. And maybe we never will. God doesn’t explain himself to us. But we have a Savior who lives, who walks with us in the fire, and who promises that one day, all things will be made new. That’s not an explanation. It’s a hope. It’s what we know.
So, what can we know in the midst of such sorrow and suffering? We can know this: Our Redeemer lives. And that is enough.
You're Invited
Join us this Sunday at Mount Lebanon Church as we reflect more deeply on Job’s story and the hope we have in our Redeemer. Worship begins at 9:30 AM, and we’d love to welcome you and your family. There’s a place for you here.
