Often today discussions of the book of Job focus on the dilemma of why bad things happen to good people—a philosophical question that is largely not answerable, at least not without significant difficulty. In contrast this lesson focuses on Job’s enduring trust in God in spite of the many sudden tragedies that have afflicted his life. Of course Job is about both of these, and while wrestling with the former has significant benefits, I think most people will easily benefit from focusing on the latter.

How to have the faith of Job, even while your friends (representing the range of views in the world) are critical of you, is valuable. We all need to be able to realize that the tragedies of life aren’t always about our actions, and we need to be able to hear and reason through the ideas of others, and reject those ideas when they aren’t correct.  Regardless of why “bad things happen,” maintaining enough faith to continue our lives and still act well, blessing others as well as ourselves is part of the important message of the book of Job.

 

I can trust God in all circumstances.

Perhaps the biggest stumbling block with trust in God is trusting him in all circumstances. It’s easy to trust when the difficulties are minor, or if we have a mental explanation for why the difficulties arise—such as being able to blame someone else’s bad actions. But then there comes the accident or natural disaster or the unexpected actions that are hard to call evil, but which make our lives a living hell, and it’s much harder to maintain trust in God. You may have a different take about what is difficult to endure but the result is the same—there are circumstances when we have trouble trusting God.

I’m not sure who Henry W. is—a convert to the Church in England in the 1850s is all I know—but the following poem makes clear the kind of trust in God we need. He deals with three different kinds of afflictions in life; natural disasters in the first stanza, the actions of others in the second, and the failure of our expectations in the third. In each case he sees a path to trusting in God.

 

Though gloomy clouds obscure the sun, and darken all the skies,

And storms and tempests o’er my head in wildest frenzy rise,-

Though fiery lightnings flash with rage, and mighty thunders roar,

And blasting winds with fury howl, and fearful torrents pour,-

Though ocean’s troubled waters swell, and rocks and mountains quake,

And universal nature groan, and to her centre shake,-

Thou, Lord, in every time of need, my faithful Friend wilt be:

My soul, undaunted and undoubting, calmly trusts in Thee.

 

Though in my chequered path of life temptation’s snares abound,

And persecutions, foul and fierce, my daily steps surround,-

Though treach’rous friends and scoffing foes unite to wound my heart,

And calumny, reproach, and scorn inflict a painful smart,

Though adverse powers of earth and hell against me all combine,

And wily stratagems employ, my peace to undermine,-

Thou, Lord, in every time of need, my faithful Friend will be:

My soul, undaunted and undoubting, calmly trusts in Thee.

 

Though all my fondly-cherished hopes be destined to decay,

And all my fancied happiness be doomed to fade away,—

Though fickle fortune cease to smile, and tears of sorrow roll,

And poverty, distress, and want depress my drooping soul,-

Though sharp affliction’s bitter pangs fill up my cup of woe,

And even Death’s cold hand be stretched, that cup to overflow,-

Thou, Lord, in every time of need, my faithful Friend wilt be:

My soul, undaunted and undoubting, calmly trusts in thee.

1857

 

Jesus Christ is my Redeemer.

Perhaps the most quoted verse in Job is in 19:25, where Job expresses his knowledge of his redeemer. And our belief that we will be redeemed from our errors and missteps is a crucial part of both our theology and our faith. The future is really very negative without the assurance and hope that we can be redeemed. And the assurance of a redeemer is therefore something we talk about frequently, that we sing about, and therefore something that we write poetry about.

This poem is from one of the more prolific and well-known LDS poets of the late 19th century. An english convert, Hannah Tapfield King immigrated with her husband to Utah, where she published a collection of her poetry, Songs of the Heart, in 1879 and in 1884 her masterwork, An epic poem : a synopsis of the rise of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, which was the first complete work of LDS epic poetry.

 

Yes, my Savior, I am Thine!

To follow Thee, I left my home,

To fill this yearning soul of mine,

Whose spirit voice says; “come, Lord, come.”

Yet hush my soul that secret voice,

Wait passive thy Redeemer’s time,

Then shall His Saints indeed rejoice,

And through eternal ages shine.

The grandeur of this mundane sphere,

Though dazzling to the mortal eye,

But shows the counterfeit is here,

To draw us up to crowns on high.

1882

 

“When he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”

The trials we face in life are meant to make us better, to refine us from a mixture that includes error to something more pure. Job talks about his misfortunes as trials that are meant to refine him into “gold.” Whether those trials are sent by God, or something he allowed, or are the cause of our unrighteousness is often difficult to say, and leads to the philosophical difficulties I mentioned in the beginning. Regardless, all of these trials can help refine us into something better, depending on our viewpoint and reactions. We can benefit even from the worst things that happen in our lives, if we are willing to allow them to.

Bertha A. Kleinman’s poetry frequently appeared in LDS periodicals in the first half of the 20th century. Kleinman here not only sees trials as a way we can improve, but also suggests that we also might have done things that led to the trials. But Kleinman then observes that the little things in life also have an impact—they can be strengths. But I suspect the little things can also be trials that we learn from as well.

 

Perhaps you have not done your best,

Your utmost or your all;

Perhaps life has denied the test

By which you stand or fall;

 

Perhaps the fortitude you lack,

The impetus you rue

Needs but the spur of handicap

To put you “smiling through”.

 

Perhaps convention plies its toll

And customs rule between,

Till all the beauty of your soul

Has never yet been seen.

 

It may be you depreciate

The daily tasks you do—

The little duties that create

The strength and might of you.

1927

 

God’s perspective is greater than mine.

Perhaps the key to trials is getting the right perspective — God’s perspective—an eternal perspective. If it is possible to understand our trials, and the difficulty of why bad things happen, it will require gaining that perspective. But we’re in this life, where gaining that perspective is hard, if not impossible. Many things will need to wait for the next life, where, as Paul suggests, we “shall… know even as also [we are] known.”

If any group of LDS poets was capable of that eternal perspective, Orson F. Whitney was certainly one of that group. His poetry was concerned with theology and spirituality from the beginning and his later elevation to the Quorum of the Twelve in 1906 only solidified his exploration of the spiritual. In this poem, Whitney suggests that God’s perspective is more than we can know in this life, and that He is not secondary to Nature, but with His perspective as the creator of Nature, we can trust in His work and actions.

 

“Where, where are the men for the on-coming years?”

A graybeard’s disconsolate cry;

For he lives in the past, and verily fears

All greatness is dead, or will die.

 

“Gone, gone are the sires, and the sons are swift passing;

The giants are under the sod.

Where, where are the armies of Israel massing—

The hope of the Kingdom of God?

 

“Yea, where are the prophets, the songsters, the sages,

God’s rulers, through whom he hath reigned

Since Chaos was quickened, and, launched on the ages,

A new world, to glory ordained?

 

“They are not, they are not, and the fountains are sealed—

Brass above and iron beneath.

Truth’s fulness is past, and the portion revealed

Now sleeps as a sword in its sheath.”

 

So the pessimist sang, and his doleful refrain

Smote my ear with sorrowful sound.

Then straightway the spirit within me made plain

A vision from loftier ground:

 

Not true, said my soul, that the mighty have ceased;

That all greatness is passing away;

Or more precious the knowledge at yesterday’s feast

Than the banquet provided today.

 

In the wide human forest, by Providence planted,

Great trees are yet growing sublime.

When a worn beam shall break—when a new helve is wanted,

‘T will be found in its season and time.

 

What though, summoned hence by the Chieftain commanding,

Hosts vanish, death-conquered in vain.

On time’s stormy shore other legions are landing,

From triumphs on life’s spirit plain.

 

The past is the parent—today, a descendant,

Whose heirs are the ages unborn;

Like springing from like, in a scale still ascendant.

Then how shall the future be shorn?

 

Deem not the all-wise and almighty Creator

Of stars, suns, and systems untold,

A bankrupt to Fate, an apprentice to Nature;

He is God—the same God as of old.

 

Can the glory now pale—the intelligence perish,

That founded eternity’s throne?

When failed the Good Shepherd his chosen to cherish?

Fear not—he will care for his own.

1910