Nick Fawcett (devotional and reflective writer)

WHAT DID I DO WRONG, CAN YOU TELL ME?

Reading
Today also my complaint is bitter;
his hand is heavy despite my groaning.
Oh, that I knew where I might find him,
that I might come even to his dwelling!
I would lay my case before him,
and fill my mouth with arguments.
I would learn what he would answer me,
and understand what he would say to me.
Would he contend with me in the greatness of his power?
No; but he would give heed to me.
There an upright person could reason with him,
and I should be acquitted for ever by my judge.
If I go forward, he is not there;
or backward, I cannot perceive him;
on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him;
I turn to the right, but I cannot see him. Job 23:2-9

The meditation of Job
What did I do wrong, can you tell me?
What terrible crime did I commit to deserve such pain,
such sorrow,
such suffering?
I’ve asked myself that day after day,
year after year –
the question always there,
adding yet more torment to my private hell –
and it’s with me still,
refusing to be silenced
despite my every attempt to lance its poison.
Yet for all my searching I find no answer,
not one moment of madness
to explain these endless months of misery.
Oh, I’ve made my mistakes like anyone else –
foolish words,
foolish thoughts,
foolish deeds –
but nothing especially shocking,
no worse than anything others do all around me,
so why is it that I suffer and they don’t,
I endure such agony and they enjoy such blessing?
It makes no sense, for I’ve tried to be faithful,
day after day seeking the Lord’s will,
studying his word,
following his commandments,
so why does he hide his face from me
in my hour of despair?
Repent, that’s what they tell me,
acknowledge my weakness,
confess my mistakes,
and all shall be well.
They mean well, I know that,
each one, in their own way,
trying to make sense of the inexplicable,
but if they only knew the added pain they cause me,
the extra burden they impose,
perhaps then, like me, they’d learn to be silent,
accepting that the ways of God are beyond us all.
I don’t blame them, for they want answers,
easy solutions to uncomfortable questions,
but you can take it from me –
from someone who’s experienced
depths of suffering I pray you’ll never know –
it’s not that simple,
not that simple at all.

Prayer
Living God,
there is so much suffering in this world of ours;
so much pain, so much sorrow, so much evil.
It is hard sometimes to reconcile all this
with it being your world too,
created by you and precious in your sight.
We search desperately for answers,
clinging first to this and then to that,
and underneath there are times
when our faith begins to crumble.
Teach us, though we cannot always see it,
that you are there,
sharing in our anguish,
carrying in yourself the agony of creation
as it groans under the weight of imperfection.
Teach us that you will not rest
until that day when all suffering is ended,
when evil is no more
and your kingdom is established;
and in that assurance give us strength to face each day,
whatever it might bring.
Amen.