On the Mercy of God...

Some excerpts from a Piper poem about Job:

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The sky above the land of Uz
Could change the way the ocean does
In moments, with a boding wind,
As though the blue of day had sinned,
And brought the blood of some great saint
Upon the darkening east — the taint
Of some leviathan, up-swirled
Beneath the waters of the world,
Or worse, poured down like thick'ning gore
From some great struggle in the war
Of heav'n.

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The servants waited now
To see what Job would do, and how
He might deal with his God. At last
He rose, and took a knife, and passed
It like a razor over all
His silver head, and tore his shawl
And robe, and fell face down upon
The ground and lay there till the dawn.
The servants knelt by him in fright,
And heard him whisper through the night:
"I came with nothing from the womb,
I go with nothing to the tomb.
God gave me children freely, then
He took them to himself again.
At last I taste the bitter rod,
My wise and ever blessed God."

Light candle one, and count the cost;
And ponder everything we've lost.
And let us bow before the throne
Of God, who gives and takes his own,
And promises, whatever toll
He takes, to satisfy our soul.
Come learn the lesson of the rod:
The treasure that we have in God.
He is not poor nor much enticed
Who loses everything but Christ.

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That day
Was like a hundred years. At dusk
His wife returned. And she was brusque
And cool. "Do you still cling to God?"
She asked. And saw his wordless nod.
"I think you are a fool. How much
From him will you endure 'til such
A love as this from God, the Great,
Is seen to be a form of hate?
Here's my advice for you to try:
Curse God, tonight, and die. And I
Will follow soon — a widow robbed
Of everything." And Dinah sobbed.
And tears ran down Job's horrid face.
He pulled himself up from his place,
And by some power of grace, he stood
Beside his wife and said, "I would,
No doubt, in your place feel the same.
But, wife, I cannot curse the name
that never treated me unfair,
And just this day has answered prayer."
"What prayer? What did you bid him do?"

"That I should bear this pain not you.

O Dinah, do not speak like those
Who cannot see, because they close
Their eyes, and say there is no God,
Or fault him when he plies the rod.
It is no sin to say, my love,
That bliss and pain come from above.
And if we do not understand
Some dreadful stroke from his left hand,
Then we must wait and trust and see.
O Dinah, would you wait with me?"
"I'll try," she said, "I didn't mean
That you should die. I'm more unclean
Than you with all your sores. Is there
Some evidence that God could care
For such as me?" Job touched her hair:

"You are another answered prayer."

This candle two gives little light,
And does not make the darkness bright.
But keep it lit and you will find:
Far better this than being blind.
One little flame when all is night,
Proves there is such a thing as light.
One answered prayer when all is gone,
Will give you hope to wait for dawn.

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