“If only God were willing to crush me,
take off the gloves and break me in two” (Job 6.9).
There’s a scene in the movie A River Wild where Wade (played by Kevin Bacon) is boasting of the power he holds over Meryl Streep’s family. In response, she looks at him with contempt and says, “Stop telling me how tough you are Wade, just show me.” Shut up and show me.
Job’s request has changed since the poem began. Just a few weeks ago, he was wishing that he’d never been born. Maybe, in his grief, he’s accepted that such non-existence isn’t possible. This is his life and nothing in this universe will unmake him. So, he has turned toward a new desire: for God to get it over with and kill him.
This is not the first time we’ve encountered this type of request in Scripture. Elijah, on the run from the bounty on his head from Ahab and Jezebel, asks the Holy One to end his life. These two requests, Job’s and Elijah’s, have much in common. They spring from a place of hopelessness, but also from a place of deep, pure rage. With the tears, there is a fire of anger that turns their words from a request to a demand. They are, as we used to say at school, calling God out. They’re telling the bully to come out and show them just how tough they are. Come on and show me.
It’s a gamble to call out someone who has more power or greater strength than you. You’re risking that they’re like most bullies in this world who talk a good fight but are cowards at heart. Most of them hide behind a gun or a title or an image that prevents most people from ever challenging them. So, when someone dares to stand up to that facade, they reveal how weak the aggressor really is.
That’s what makes these two characters, Elijah and Job, so unexpected. They aren’t confronting bluster. They know God can do exactly what they demand. Their words are spoken knowing that they might well get that which they’re asking. But they are so sad and so angry that they don’t care anymore. Come on, they demand, show me.
And the Holy One lets them do it. There comes no bolt of lightning, no peal of thunder. God just lets them speak. And it makes you wonder exactly with whom are these two men are dealing.
Who is this figure offstage to whom our characters are speaking? For one, it is the silence after the storm and to the other the voice in the wild wind. It’s the One who made mountains and rivers, and wolves. The same that spins galaxies into motion and is there at the birth of every star.
The same that made them, and me and you. The One who takes the dare and shows us how tough they are.
Who is strong enough to handle our sadness and our rage.
My Solid Rock, thank you not only for being a foundation beneath me but the surface my sadness and anger and frustration can pound upon, knowing that despite my hardest blows You will be there, able to handle my weariness and give me rest.