At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”

Nothing exists quite like a toddler to make me realize how petulant we must look to the Lord at times. My two-year-old recently went through a phase where he said "my turn" any time he wanted something. Sure, this applied to sharing toys, but he would also apply it to things that he wanted but just couldn't have.

As I chopped veggies for dinner with my bright, shiny knife, he declared, "My turn do dat!" So I explained that it wasn't about "turns" in this situation; there are some things you just aren't allowed to do. When he laid eyes on a friend's toy, he emphatically said, "My turn!" So I reminded him that sometimes things just aren't ours to play with. But the one that really got me was when we were getting ice cream the other night. His chocolate and M&Ms looked pretty good, so I stuck out my spoon and said, "My turn?" - to which my precious, angelic toddler yelled, "No, my ice cream!"

And do you know what swelled in my chest? Pure indignation. I had bought him this good gift of ice cream, surely I should get a taste back! Truly, teaching children the nuances of social behavior is exhausting, but, as indignant as I was, I also saw in my kiddo in that moment the same entitlement and possessiveness that I see flare up so often in my own heart. It's a self-protective desire to make sure I get what I think I'm due.

But life doesn't always work like that, and when we're left battered by the unfairness of life, how do we respond? We can demand for fairness - my turn! We can scream our NOs in protest. We can ignore the rules and try to take what we think we need, want, deserve. But the problem with each of these responses reveals the same tricky truth my toddler is coming to grips with: the world doesn't revolve around me.

But praise God, I know the One who does rule the world. And in Scripture we see the story of a man named Job who was deeply familiar with devastating loss and heartbreak, but who was also keenly aware of his place in the world. And for him, at the feet of the Lord was the most secure place he could ever be. Job lost everything, but when he did, he responded in three ways that can teach us a lot about how to handle loss that seems too devastating to endure.

1. Verse 20 says, "At this" - this being, literally losing everything, assets and heirs, to thieves and a natural disaster - "Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head," which was a sign of grief in the ancient world. "Then he fell to the ground in worship." Amazingly, Job's response to grief is worship. This isn't singing some nice songs to pass the time. Job prostrates himself before the Lord, entirely dependent upon the one he knows holds the world in his hands.

2. Verse 21, Job says to God, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away." In his worship, Job demonstrates the deepest humility imaginable. My toddler might yell, "No, mine!" and I would be tempted to do the same, indignant at God's choice to allow this loss. And knowing this of myself, I marvel at Job's humility in the face of the unfairness of it all.

3. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, he says, "may the name of the Lord be praised." Lastly, Job reminds himself to praise...but, how? Worship is one thing - to acknowledge God's authority over his life. Humility, another - to acknowledge Job's position in comparison to God's. But praise? The Hebrew here is barak, which means to bless or kneel; the root idea of this word is in the notion of breaking. And now I can see it: this is the kind of praise that happens on the ground. Because yes, sometimes praise is jumping up and down and celebration, but Job's life reveals that praise can also come out of our moments when everything is breaking apart.

Worship - face to the ground. Humility - in light of God's authority. Praise - even as I'm breaking. These three responses don't necessarily fix things, and they might not even make us feel better. But here's what they do: they position us to remember God's authority and receive his care as our Father. He's the parent - he gives the good gifts. But unlike me and the ice cream scenario, he's not annoyed at my stubbornness. He's not tired of teaching me how to human. Job's story reveals that the Lord is always ready to meet me in my distress with his all-sufficient grace. The name of the Lord be praised!

Father, you are the only one who is good, and you are entirely worthy of our surrender. Thank you for meeting me in my darkest moments with your enduring compassion and grace. Help me to trust you enough to worship and praise through those dark days. In Jesus' name, amen!