📖 "From Shadow to
Substance" (Job 14:1-17)
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who entered our suffering to bring us eternal life. Amen.
The news of a violent death, like the murder of a young
woman from among us, shatters our world. The news received It feels like a tear
in the fabric of life itself. In the stunned silence that follows, the
well-meaning words of friends often fall short. Our hearts cry out with
questions that have no easy answers, and we find ourselves in a territory that
feels God-forsaken.
We are not the first to walk this path. This is the
territory of Job.
Our text today, Job chapter 14, is a raw, unfiltered lament
from a righteous man buried under an avalanche of undeserved suffering. He has
lost his wealth, his health, and his children. And in his grief, he gives voice
to the universal human condition in the face of mortality.
“Man who is born of a woman is of few days and full of
trouble. He comes out like a flower and withers; he flees like a shadow and
continues not.” (Job 14:1-2)
Job feels the intense, searching gaze of a holy God upon his
fragile life and asks, “Why do you fix your eyes on such a one? ... Who
can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? There is not one.” (Job
14:3-4). He articulates the feeling of irreversible brokenness, that from an
unclean source, nothing clean can come . This is the utter despair that
trauma brings.
He looks at the world and sees a painful contrast. “For
there is hope for a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again... But a
man dies and is laid low; man breathes his last, and where is he?” (Job
14:7-10).
This is the theology of the cross in its most nascent form.
It does not look away from the horror. It stares directly at the cut-down tree,
the withered flower, the shadow that vanishes. It does not rush to resurrection
without first dwelling in the reality of the tomb .
But then, in the midst of this deep darkness, a flicker of
impossible hope emerges. It is not a hope Job can prove. It is not a hope based
on his circumstances. It is a hope that seems to be breathed into him by the
Spirit. He dares to ask a question that changes everything:
“If a man dies, shall he live again?” (Job
14:14a).
This is the pivotal question of human existence. And from
this question springs a desperate, faith-filled plea:
“All the days of my service I would wait, till my renewal
should come. You would call, and I would answer you; you would long for the
work of your hands.” (Job 14:14b-15).
Job’s hope is not in a concept, but in a person. His hope is
in a future act of God. His hope is that God, who made him, will long
for him. He believes that the God who seems so distant and angry will
one day call his name, and that he will be able to answer.
He trusts that his sins and pains, which feel so present and unforgivable, will
be covered over and sealed up (Job
14:17) .
✝️ The Lutheran Lens: Where Job’s
Hope Finds Its "Yes"
This is where a Lutheran hermeneutic shines the light of
Christ directly onto Job’s desperate hope. Luther taught that the literal sense
of Scripture is profoundly Christological . The entire Bible, including
Job’s cry, points to Jesus.
Job asks, “If a man dies, shall he live again?” We
point to the empty tomb and say, “Yes!”
Job pleads, “You would call, and I would answer
you.” We point to the raising of Lazarus and the voice of the Son of
God calling, “Lazarus, come out!” and we say, “He
will!”
Job hopes that God will “long for the work of his
hands.” We point to the cross and see the length to which God went to
reclaim the work of His hands, and we say, “He does!”
Job’s prayer for his transgressions to be “covered
over” and “sealed in a bag” finds its ultimate answer
not in a philosophical idea, but in the person of Jesus Christ, our Redeemer,
who is the “ransom” for sinners (Job 33:24) . Our sins
are not merely overlooked; they are nailed to the cross of the One who entered
our shadowlands to destroy them from the inside out.
💡 A Word to the Grieving
For those of you in this room whose hearts are broken, who
feel like a flower cut down or a shadow vanished, this word is for you.
Your grief is real. Your anger, your confusion, your feeling
that God has fixed a harsh gaze upon you—these are not sins. They are the
honest cries of a wounded heart, and God is big enough to handle them. Like
Jesus on the cross, you can cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken
me?” and still be held in the Father’s hands.
Do not let anyone give you easy answers. There is no
"reason" that can justify this. But there is a "who." There
is a Savior, a Redeemer, who lives. He knows what it is to be murdered, to be
forsaken, to have his life cut short. He has carved your wounds into his own
flesh . And in his resurrection, he has shown that the answer to Job’s
question is a resounding “Yes!”
He is the God who calls. He is the God who longs for the
work of His hands. He is the one who will, on the last day, call the name of
your loved one, and she will answer. And until that day, he calls you to wait,
not without pain, but not without hope, trusting in the renewal that is to
come.
The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will
guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
✨ For Further Reflection and Care
In the wake of such a sermon, it is vital to provide ongoing
support.
- For
the Congregation: True Lutheran care involves "walking beside the
grieving person" . This means practical help—meals, someone to
monitor calls—but also the long-term commitment to listen and be present,
without trying to "fix" the pain with worn-out phrases .
- For
the Preacher: Preaching on trauma is draining. Remember the
"Christ-Centered Trauma Recovery Model" and practice "tomb
time"—allowing for rest, just as Jesus did after his
crucifixion . Your own self-care is essential for effective ministry.
- A
Note on South African Context: In a land with a profound history of
both trauma and truth-telling, the story of Job—a righteous sufferer
seeking answers—resonates deeply. The hope found in Christ does not erase
the painful past but enters into it, much like the work of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission, pointing toward a future of healing and renewal
that God alone can bring.
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