Job 3:7
That Night – May it be Childless (barren),
May no joyful sons permeate it.
I waffled on this one. I am on Verse 9 of chapter 7 today and I flashed back to the early days of the process when I waffled on big words and many concepts and I still remember this waffle. I am waffling again today as I try to decide if I should turn the water back on or keep using pool water for the flushing.
My first waffle was over childless or barren. I wanted to use barren, but I wanted to make sure the context was childless. I split the difference and used both here. I know it is not as poetic, but I am not expecting the meter and such to be great, so using two words for one does not feel disingenuous. I look forward to coming back in a second pass and see how the coming verses impact my decisions.
Job was simply wishing his pain would end and the poet was throwing everything he had to the topic. When I think of barren, I normally think of deserts in the noon day sun. Today I think of the snowy wasteland that was our cul-de-sac Monday morning after the power went out. My perspective will be forever changed after this week. The surroundings were barren, but I wanted to not be. Sitting alone Monday night as the sun went down, I decided I could read one of the many Max Lucado books I obtained when my mom died. I started with Just like Jesus. An appropriate title to the path I want to be on.
Childless brings on a host of negativity across the ages of child mortality, painful labor, and death that I just do not really like to dwell on, but the whole point was that Job (the child) did not want to have been born. Fortunately for me and my sister who lives near me, my mom only experienced the first two and narrowly avoided the third (according to the stories I heard). That fact set defined me in ways I have never understood, but was at least aware of. I know we were precious to my mom because of the sum of these experiences and continually find myself learning why I should have been more compassionate.
I was texting my cousin this morning, for the short period the power was on, to find out how his doctor visit went. I could hear Big D humming and singing happily in the background and remembered that the cold, losing power, burst pipe, and lack of water yesterday were only minor bumps in the road (and maybe all week), but the eternal nature of our calling is forever (double positive) and important and continues even in all this. It has been good to see the girls spend free time together. Little fun in the snow, but good memories I hope.
So, the wish for Job was that no such songs permeate the night. The other term I wanted to use was penetrate, but it just does not seem to measure up to joy. My recent piece on joy reverberates with the grand scale of the sentiment being conveyed by that small word.
Looking back at other terms, two stand out as contrasts to what I selected. The night could have been desolate rather than barren. This brings more emotion and a sense of loneliness to the verse that Job might have been feeling and wishing on the night since he could not wish it upon anyone else. The songs could have been happy. More emotion and more fitting with the “happiness” from circumstances as opposed to the “joy” from a right relationship with God. I think the lack of kids and the lack of joy from separation from God are more in line with the message being delivered.
When I read my chapter of the Bible a day in Leviticus today, I noted the contrast to the single verse from Job. I am not sure the chapters on leprosy can yield as much learning as these verses from Job, but none the less, each piece of the word of God that holds with its context can be useful for instruction. At 52, I find it hard to expect to learn and grow in my career and life in general, but I know I can grow by digging deeper into the Word the more I dig deeper into the Word.
The world can be seen as a barren place, but our songs of joy can penetrate and permeate and remove some desolation and maybe bring a little happiness to heaven as others find this joy too.