Accepting the Bad With the Good

At one point or another in my life, I imagine I have read the entire Bible.  I remember being in high school (probably middle school, too) and reading a chapter or two with my family after dinner each night.  (Remember when families actually ate meals together every night?  And then they did devotions?)  Like most people, I find some chapters of the Bible--some books of the Bible--more meaningful interesting easy to read than others.  And, like most books I've read, some have become my favorites.

I love Philippians.  Some day I'd like to commit it all to memory--I have a good start because of Aaron Wetzel and my days in Higher Ground.  As crazy as it sounds, I'd have to say that Job is my second favorite book.  It's long, and there's a fair amount of doom and gloom, so I'm not committed to memorizing it, but it's good nonetheless.

As I'm continuing to catch up to the end of May (how did that happen?!) in my Bible reading plan, I finally arrived in Job.  And, like every time, I was struck by its beginning.  Not by the part where Satan and God are talking, and God is bragging up Job.  Not by the part where God allows Satan to--with some parameters--strip Job of all of his security and wealth and love.  The part where Job says (as written in The Message):

Naked I came from my mother's womb,
naked I'll return to the womb of the earth.
God gives, God takes.
God's name be ever blessed.
(Job 1:21)

God's name be ever blessed.  Ever blessed.  No matter what.  No matter what my life looks like or how much money I have in the bank or how healthy I or my children am.  No matter what; God's name be ever blessed.

I know that I've shared this before, but I have a child who resides in heaven.  Baby Zion would be two years and seven months old if it had lived.  Addison, Zion's twin, is that old.  She is exuberant and loving and adorable and giving.  She is so grown up.  She is life, where Zion is not.  I have to remember, some days, that Zion was God's to give and God's to take away.  Like everything else in my life, God gives, God takes, and God's name be ever blessed.

The important thing to note from Job is that while he is committed to blessing God's name--no matter what--he isn't committed to a grief-free life.  He isn't committed to never crying, to never tearing his clothes and sitting in sackcloth and ashes.  He isn't committed to laughing in the face of death and destruction.  He's just committed to God. 

So am I.  There are days, moments, that I still cry.  Last night, my two oldest girls gave me mini pink roses from a neighbor's miniature rose bush.  As with the last time I received two pink roses, one was open, and one was closed almost to a bud.  That was a celebration of the birth of Addison and (unknown to the giver) a memorial to a baby who didn't live.  My girls knew nothing of that and were each given a little rose to give me.  It just happened to bring a tear to my eye.  That happens, and it will continue to happen.  I get to cry about it, because part of my heart isn't here.  My family isn't all together.  God gave, and He took away.  That hurts.

We are told repeatedly that Job never sinned. He never cursed God or turned against Him. So the sin isn't the crying or the loss or the grief. The sin is in turning my back on God.  I don't understand His ways.  I don't understand why He would tell us that we had lost our child in the same breath that we were told we'd had a second baby.  I don't get it.  And it hurts.  But may God's name be ever blessed.