I know that my redeemer lives,
and that in the end he will stand on the earth.

And after my skin has been destroyed, 

yet in my flesh I will see God;

I recognize this verse from an old chorus - my redeemer lives. You may or may not know it, but it's a simple and catchy tune. It's certainly more tidy than this passage is in its Scriptural context! When I first looked at this passage as I sat down to write, I found four footnotes in as many lines. Each one points to a possible alternate translation of the original Hebrew. Redeemer could also mean vindicator. Earth could also refer to Job's grave. I can't even quite figure out all the possibilities for the final line, yet in my flesh I will see God... I'm met with confusion from the translators of this passage, but when I think about it, that tracks, because grief, heartbreak, and loss are all so incredibly messy and confusing. It only seems right that the poetry of Job would be riddled with complexities and uncertainty, as well.

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But the mess doesn't stop there. When I go back a bit to read this verse in context, I only find more confusion from the heart of Job throughout chapter 19. He's torn with emotion: One minute he's angry at his friends for seemingly having no compassion for his loss (vv. 1-6, for example). The next, he's angry at God and filled with despair (vv. 7-12). You can almost see the tears and hear his voice breaking in verses 21-22 as he cries, "Have pity on me; my friends, have pity, for the hand of God has struck me. Why do you pursue me as God does? Will you never get enough of my flesh?"

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Job is engulfed in darkness at this moment.

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Have you been there?

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I pray you haven't, but I bet you have: When the world seems against you, and you can't believe this is part of your story. God's graciousness feels like a far-off memory that you can't quite picture, and every gesture from a friend falls short of what your heart is truly longing for. Job is here, in the messy middle. Literally - this passage comes almost exactly in the middle of his story. And if we think of this time in Job's life as the metaphorical "valley," today's verses come like a gentle whisper of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness.

My husband and I just finished a Lord of the Rings movie marathon, and this moment for Job makes me think of Frodo in the giant spider's lair. It is utterly dark. He is filled with terror because he has just realized he is completely alone, surrounded by sticky masses of webbing created by no ordinary-sized beast. And he breaks down. He's sent his best friend away; the crafty Gollum, whom he trusted, has abandoned him...he is alone in the darkness. But then, a whisper comes. He remembers the words of Galadriel, the elf who gave him the gift of a bottled star - a light in dark places when all other lights have gone out. He tears it out of his pocket and turns to face the giant spider, armed with a beacon of light to drive back the darkness.

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I picture Job in this moment, too. It's as though he barely believes it, but it's a belief so rooted in his bones that, even in this darkest hour, it echoes in his head as truth: My redeemer lives. And in the end, even if I'm in my grave, he will still stand. Even after I'm long gone, I will see God. I, myself will see him with my own eyes...

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It's not a trite platitude; it's truth, deeply embedded in his soul, so that even when all other lights have gone out, it's still there, even when it feels impossible or complicated or like just a memory. In this dark place, Job clings to the truth that God is on the throne, even as he doubts his goodness, his care, and his kindness in nearly the same breath.

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Friends, know today that both can exist in a single breath - doubts about God's kindness and a certainty of his presence. Anger at what's been allowed and confidence in his authority. Despair at what's happened and a stubborn grasp on his promise of grace.

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I know that my redeemer lives, Job whispers. I will see God.

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If you're clinging to a flicker of light today, my friend, know that I'm praying for you. If you're tired of having grace for your friends' clumsy comments, know your Father is resolutely near. If you're so mad at God you could scream, know he's absolutely strong enough to weather a few of your punches. And when you're ready to hear his voice again, know he's ready to reassure you that, like Job, your story isn't finished yet.

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I encourage you to read all of Job's story, beginning to end. What a gracious God we have, that he saw fit to put Job's story in his Word, partly, I believe, because he wanted us to know without a doubt that he can handle us at our worst and that he is with us in the darkness.

Father God, we fall on our faces before you. In our confusion, our heartbreak, the messy middle, God, we choose to remember that you live. You, God, are my Living Hope - revive me today with your unending grace, help me notice your presence, and remind me of your unwavering faithfulness over my life. I trust you. In the mighty name of Jesus I pray, Amen.