Job’s Loss:

There was once a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job. That man was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil. There were born to him seven sons and three daughters. He had seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred donkeys, and very many servants; so that this man was the greatest of all the people of the east. His sons used to go and hold feasts in one another's houses in turn; and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. And when the feast days had run their course, Job would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings for each of his children, to sanctify them, thinking, “Maybe one of them have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.” That is what Job always did. (Jb 1:1-5)

I’m not thinking of “blameless and upright”, nor the “three thousand camels”; but rather, all those feasts, barbecues, parties that Job enjoyed, or mostly enjoyed, gathered, from time to time,  at each one of his children’s homes. I thought of it last night. It was towards the end of the barbecue, while darkness began to set in, at one our children’s homes. I was ready to go. The last few weeks, with our children and children’s children coming home for a few days or weeks as schedules allowed, had warn me out. I was partied out and ready to go home and go to bed. But Linda wanted to stay, “Can’t we stay awhile longer, I love this.” It’s the “I love this”, that caused me to think of Job, and Job’s loss.

“When the feast days had run their course, Job would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings for each of his children, to sanctify them, thinking, ‘Maybe one of them have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.’ That is what Job always did” (Jb 1:5). You can’t have that much partying without the need for some cleansing, sanctifying―some atonement, some forgiveness. So, after all the feasting, Job would offer atoning sacrifices. Even though, we did some hefty partying; and, even though there may have been some crossing the line—something said that shouldn’t have been said, some hurt, some offence; nevertheless, sacrifice has been made. We’re okay.  Our sin has been dealt with and forgiven.

I suppose if the sin could not be forgiven, the feasting would come to an end—too much pain, too much offense, too much hurt. We would eventually drift off into our own little self-righteous cocoons and sulk away. But sacrifice has been made. We are free for the next round of feasting.

That’s Job’s big gain—the joy of feasting with his children and his children’s children. So too, it will be his greatest loss. I thought of that because one of our children missed the party because she was on the road that night visiting aunt and old friends. When we came home, she was not there. Where is she? It took us back to old days when she was a teenager and we spent our share of sleepless nights at the kitchen window looking up the dark street hoping maybe the next headlights were hers. Why do we still worry? I suppose, it’s because, like Job of old, to lose our children would be our greatest loss.