justice

I've been reading the Old Testament Book of Job.  This is fascinating early literature. Some scholars believe it was among the oldest stories to find its way into the scriptures, or it may date back 15 centuries before Christ to the kingdom of Solomon.  It is an ancient story treating an ancient question that forever challenges the human heart, not to mention every religion created to make sense of the world.

What does justice mean?

This question comes to us in the Book of Job through a character whose worthy behavior does not save him from waves of suffering. The story is set so as to make the Job character's plight the center of a study of justice. Why is it that a man doing his best to be righteous should suffer? Is he perfectly righteous?  Is that what God demands? Even if Job isn't perfect, isn't his righteousness, as he claims, at least greater than that of the evil ones around him who seem to fly through life joyfully?  Where is the justice in that?  Generations of scholars have struggled with these questions, much like the unhelpful friends who try to counsel Job in the blackness of his hopelessness.

What struck me during this reading was not so much whether the relatively righteous deserve better than the aggressively evil, but rather three amazing passages attributed to Job. These passages cry out from the pages of the story, echoing through time and setting the stage for responses that come only thousands of years later.

What we hear in the fullness of time are answers that finally address Job's search for justice.

In chapter 9 Job laments in frustration,

"God and I are not equals; I can't bring a case against him.  We'll never enter a courtroom as peers.  How I wish I had an arbitrator to step in and let me get on with my life -- to break God's death grip on me, to free me from this terror so I could breathe again. Then I'd speak up and state my case boldly. As things stand, there is no way I can do it."

There is then a perfectly beautiful and poignant passage in chapter 14.  Job whispers wishfully to this seemingly punitive and unloving God, imagining a time when their relationship would be different,

"You'll call -- I'll answer. You'll watch over every step I take, but you won't keep track of my missteps. My sins will be stuffed in a sack and thrown into the sea -- sunk in the deep ocean."

How amazing. 

Job imagines a relationship with God that can be personal -- a relationship not based on perfect behavior, but on God's willingness to know everything and yet overlook the imperfections and still love. 

How could a just God ever love like that?

Finally, this beautiful thread can be seen within the fabric of the book just a bit further along.  In chapter 16 Job continues his call --

"There must be someone in heaven who knows the truth about me -- in highest heaven some attorney who can clear my name -- my champion, my friend, while I've been weeping my eyes out before God.  I appeal to the one who represents mortals before God as a neighbor stands up for a neighbor."

We find in these passages glimpses of a coming truth -- that God can know and be known, both personally and tenderly -- that there will be a way for Job, for me, for you, to come before God in safety and assurance -- to stand both fully-known and fully-accepted. Job repeatedly invokes the legal concept of an attorney or advocate -- one in the position to represent me, lovingly, before the force of justice.

In the fullness of time we learn that God provides precisely this attorney, arbitrator, advocate. He is provided in the form of God With Us, Emanuel, Jesus Christ, capable not only of defending us before our just God, but also making us defendable.  This advocate doesn't ask God to ignore our sins -- he acknowledges our sins before the just God --

--but then pays for them himself.

The author of the New Testament Book of Hebrews writes,

"Therefore Jesus is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them"

In 1 John 2:1-2 we read,

"My little children, I am writing this to you so that you may not sin; but if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the payment for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world."

The Bible is a scrapbook -- a collection of samples of many literary forms from many times and places and authors -- fragments intended for many different purposes and different audiences -- but with a coherence that is unexpected. It is in the ancient cries of Job from a time of pain, ignorance, mystery, that we hear, put into words, the central need of humanity -- some way to relate to God.  I am so thankful that the answer comes, centuries later, as we learn the truth. In his majestic love and since before the creation of time, God has been above all else just and compassionate. 

Our God is a rescuer.

11.18.12