“There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job, and that man was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil.” (vs. 1 ESV).
As you may recall, along with being identified as blameless and upright, Job was then and by today’s standards, a very wealthy man both in possessions and in family (vs. 2-3). It is recorded that Job had seven sons and three daughters, all of whom enjoyed one another’s company, indicative of the regular parties held (vs. 4).
“And when the days of the feast had run their course, Job would send and consecrate them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all. For Job said, ‘It may be that my children have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.’ Thus Job did continually.” (vs.5).
I heard of a woman once who, when life became devastatingly difficult, sought out the local pastor. He asked her about her faith in this time of trouble. She replied that she was finding it hard to be faithful. Her heart was broken, her life lay in ruins, and she simply had no idea how to fit faith in anymore.
Out of sheer compassion, the pastor made this offer: “In this time of grief, how about I hold the burden of your faith for you? It won’t be lost or forsaken but held safely here waiting for you to reclaim it.”
I remember my friend and theology mentor telling me how he had made this simple offer to his congregant. There was no bragging on his part, just an illustration of practical theology on how Christ comes in flesh to uphold the weak and suffering. It had a profound effect on me that day as he recounted the gratitude of the woman and how I would feel if someone offered to carry my burdens this way… Isn’t that precisely what Jesus did when he said those relief bringing words: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matt 11:28). Indeed, isn’t that just what Job was doing each morning for his children?
Since then, I have thought about those whose faith is something more akin to a heaviness than how I experience faith as freedom. So wherever possible, whether out loud or in my heart in silence, I offer to hold that burden for them.
Psalm 5:1-2 (TPT) powerfully articulates that which I imagine the broken-hearted are often unable to:
“Listen, Yahweh, to my passionate prayer! Can’t you hear my groaning? Don’t you hear how I’m crying out to you? My King and my God, consider my every word, for I am calling out to you.”
And in verse 3 I find myself wanting to respond on their behalf:
“At each and every sunrise you will hear my voice as I prepare my sacrifice of prayer to you. Every morning I lay out the pieces of my life on the altar and wait for your fire to fall upon my heart.”
Oh Jesus, fall upon my heart and set it on fire.
Just as Job bore the burden of faith for his children, so too, I believe that Jesus grants us a double portion of faith when we are willing to call on Him, when we are available to be His hands and feet. Through His grace shown to us, we can offer the gift of bearing the burden of faith for those who simply are unable to do so on their own for whatever reason.
When we come across someone unable to fathom how their circumstances equate to a loving God… “How can God be good when my child has died?” or “How do I trust in God’s presence when years have passed without rain?” Or, what about our own children? The one who turned their back on Jesus, the one who drifted away? I firmly believe it is our privilege to take that weight for them; to trust in God’s goodness for them by laying down all their sorrow and unbelief in surrender to Him, on their behalf.
Each day, I lay down the pieces of my life, standing in the gap on behalf of a distant child, a wayward friend, a broken marriage. In this way, an alternate scenario is revealed: through His humble servants, God is very much present with the weak and the suffering. Could you be His hands and feet too? Could you hold someone’s faith when they need it most?
コメント