The Roller Coaster of Suffering

Job’s honesty and Jesus’ invitation

One small aside while reading this wisdom literature in 2026 - humans thousands of years ago were far more perceptive than we often assume. Living after the scientific revolution, it can be easy to imagine that people of the ancient world knew very little about the natural world. Yet Job casually references things like the persistence of trees after they are cut down, or the slow wearing away of rock by water. These are quiet observations, but they remind us that insight about the world is not only modern. The ancient world watched the earth carefully, perhaps even more so in particular ways. More to our task at hand, the book of Job shows that their understanding of suffering could be just as perceptive.

Today we finish Job’s response to Zophar. What stands out to me most is how honestly Job displays the emotional turbulence that suffering often brings. In one moment he sees hope - even a tree, cut down, can sprout again if water reaches its roots. In the next moment he is certain that death is final and despair will win. It is a roller coaster. Anyone who has walked through tragedy likely recognizes this pattern. Hope appears for a moment, only to collapse again under the weight of grief. And there are even strange internal negotiations: Am I allowed to enjoy this small thing, this conversation, this cup of tea, knowing what has happened?

In the middle of all this, Job does something important. He holds firmly to his innocence. Despite the relentless accusations of his friends, he refuses to accept their explanation for his suffering. Job may be emotionally volatile, but he is not morally confused about himself. That clarity becomes one of his strengths.

Luke’s gospel places a very different scene alongside all of this. Peter is not suffering like Job, but he is exhausted. He has worked all night and caught nothing. And into that moment of weariness Jesus speaks a simple, but strong interruption: Try again. You know the rest of the story.

And then, Jesus says something that echoes gently into every kind of human struggle and all throughout scripture:

Don’t be afraid.

Not a solution to suffering. Not a denial of exhaustion. But a word that interrupts despair all the same.

Luke 5:1-11

One day Jesus was standing beside Lake Gennesaret when the crowd pressed in around him to hear God’s word. Jesus saw two boats sitting by the lake. The fishermen had gone ashore and were washing their nets. Jesus boarded one of the boats, the one that belonged to Simon, then asked him to row out a little distance from the shore. Jesus sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he finished speaking to the crowds, he said to Simon, “Row out farther, into the deep water, and drop your nets for a catch.”

Simon replied, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and caught nothing. But because you say so, I’ll drop the nets.”

So they dropped the nets and their catch was so huge that their nets were splitting. They signaled for their partners in the other boat to come and help them. They filled both boats so full that they were about to sink. When Simon Peter saw the catch, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Leave me, Lord, for I’m a sinner!” Peter and those with him were overcome with amazement because of the number of fish they caught. James and John, Zebedee’s sons, were Simon’s partners and they were amazed too.

Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid. From now on, you will be fishing for people.” As soon as they brought the boats to the shore, they left everything and followed Jesus.

Job 13:18-14:22

Look, I have laid out my case;
I know that I’m innocent.
Who would dare contend with me,
for then I would be quiet and die.
Only don’t do two things to me,
then I won’t hide from your face.
Remove your hand far from me
and don’t terrify me with your anger.
Then call and I’ll answer,
or I’ll speak and you can reply.
How many are my offenses and sins?
Inform me about my rebellions and sins.
Why hide your face from me
and consider me your enemy?
Will you cause a wind-tossed leaf to tremble, or will you pursue dry straw?
You even write bitter things about me,
make me inherit my youthful indiscretions.
You tie up my feet and restrict all actions;
you stamp marks on the bottom of my feet.

Surely a person wastes away like refuse,
like clothing that a moth eats.

All of us are born of women,
have few days, and are full of turmoil.
Like a flower, we bloom, then wither,
flee like a shadow, and don’t last.
(Yes, you open your eyes on this one;
you bring me into trial against you.)
Who can make pure from impure?
Nobody.
If our days are fixed, the number of our months with you,
you set a statute and we can’t exceed it.
Look away from us that we may rest,
until we are satisfied like a worker at day’s end.

Indeed there is hope for a tree.
If it’s cut down and still sprouting
and its shoots don’t fail,
if its roots age in the ground
and its stump dies in the dust,
at the scent of water, it will bud
and produce sprouts like a plant.
But a human dies and lies there;
a person expires, and where is he?
Water vanishes from the sea;
a river dries up completely.
But a human lies down and doesn’t rise
until the heavens cease;
they don’t get up and awaken from sleep.

I wish you would hide me in the underworld,
conceal me until your anger passes,
set a time for me, and remember me.
If people die, will they live again?
All the days of my service I would wait
until my restoration took place.
You would call, and I would answer you;
you would long for your handiwork.
Though you now number my steps,
you would not keep a record of my sin.
My rebellion is sealed in a bag;
you would cover my sin.

But an eroding mountain breaks up,
and rock is displaced.
Water wears away boulders;
floods carry away soil;
you destroy a people’s hope.
You overpower them relentlessly, and they die;
you change their appearance and send them away.
Their children achieve honor, and they don’t know it;
their children become insignificant, and they don’t see it.
They only feel the pain of their body,
and they mourn for themselves.

Prayer

God,

They say it’s going to hit 50° today. In my neck the woods, that is a welcomed heat wave. I love the snow (even now!). But I don’t like the layers of dirt that have sullied it. So I’ll take the melt. And I love thinking about how the slow melt of the snow is becoming the source of life for the soon-to-come plants, flowers, and annual growth spurts for the trees.

I pray the same for my life today. And for the lives of those I love. Let us understand how even the difficult things can become compost beneath us for the expansion of life. I’m not sure I understand that at the moment, but I pray it nonetheless.

So help me, God.

By your Spirit & in Christ,
Amen.