Longing for What Was Before

Job again demonstrates to us very normal human feelings in the midst of difficulty.

Have you had that event in your life wherein pretty much everything is measured before and after it? For our society, the global pandemic that began in 2020 serves in this way. But for us as individuals, it can happen that something that has occurred in our lives becomes a point of demarcation: before and after.

It’s easy to think of what life was like before that happening.

Job 29 feels different than what we’ve read from Job to this point. He’s mostly been rebuffing his friends, but now he turns and remembers what his life used to be like. Before the suffering, before the accusations, before the long arguments with his friends, there was a time when Job’s presence meant something in the community. (I’m reminded of Psalm 42 here.) Job recalls with particular pride how he rescued the poor, assisted the orphan, and cared for the widow. His life, as he remembers it, was marked by dignity and compassion. He was a man whose righteousness was not merely personal but practical, touching the lives of others.

Jesus also encounters a widow. Her only son has died. In the ancient world, the loss of a son was not just emotional grief; it meant social and economic vulnerability. Job once described himself as the one who would step into such situations. He said he was the one who made the widow’s heart sing. But here in Luke, it is Jesus who steps forward. Without being asked, he sees her, feels compassion, and restores her son to life.

Job’s memories show us what wisdom and righteousness once looked like in a faithful human life: defending the weak and standing with the suffering. Luke shows us something even more powerful - the compassion of God embodied in Jesus, doing for the widow what Job could only wish to do. In that moment, the crowd recognizes something profound: “God has visited his people.”

The kind of mercy Job valued need not disappear from the world.

Luke 7:11-17

A little later Jesus went to a city called Nain. His disciples and a great crowd traveled with him. As he approached the city gate, a dead man was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city was with her. When he saw her, the Lord had compassion for her and said, “Don’t cry.” He stepped forward and touched the stretcher on which the dead man was being carried. Those carrying him stood still. Jesus said, “Young man, I say to you, get up.” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.

Awestruck, everyone praised God. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has come to help his people.” This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding region.

Job 29

Job took up his subject again:

Oh, that life was like it used to be,
like days when God watched over me;
when his lamp shone on my head,
I walked by his light in the dark;
when I was in my prime;
when God’s counsel was in my tent;
when the Almighty was with me,
my children around me;
when my steps were washed with cream
and a rock poured out pools of oil for me.

When I went out to the city gate,
took my seat in the square,
the young saw me and drew back;
the old rose and stood;
princes restrained speech,
put their hand on their mouth;
the voices of officials were hushed,
their tongue stuck to their palate.

Indeed, the ear that heard blessed me;
the eye that looked commended me,
because I rescued the weak who cried out,
the orphans who lacked help.
The blessing of the perishing reached me;
I made the widow’s heart sing;
I put on justice, and it clothed me,
righteousness as my coat and turban;
I was eyes to the blind,
feet to the lame.
I was a father to the needy;
the case I didn’t know, I examined.
I shattered the fangs of the wicked,
rescued prey from their teeth.

I thought, I’ll die in my nest,
multiply days like sand,
my roots opening to water,
dew lingering on my branches,
my honor newly with me,
my bow ever successful in my hand.

People listened to me and waited,
were silent for my advice.
After my speech, they didn’t respond.
My words fell gently on them;
they waited for me as for rain,
opened their mouth as for spring rain.
I smiled on them; they couldn’t believe it.
They never showed me disfavor.
I decided their path, sat as chief.
I lived like a king with his troops,
like one who comforts mourners.

Prayer

God,

You know the moments in our lives that divide everything into before and after. Some of them arrive quietly. Others come like storms we never expected. And yet you remain present through them all. I’m grateful for this reminder right now.

In Jesus we see your mercy living and moving among us, restoring life where grief may have settled in. Form that mercy in me. When I see suffering, keep my heart from growing cold or distant. Teach me to notice, as Jesus noticed, and to respond with kindness, patience, and courage.

Let my life, in small ways and quiet moments, become a place where your compassion is seen.

By your Spirit & in Christ,
Amen.