Why me?

The first question many people ask when they find themselves in any sort of distress is: 'Why me? Why has this happened to me?' It's a question that recurs throughout the book of Job, as Job and his friends try to make some sense of all the calamities that have befallen him. The disasters which Job suffered were frightful: his possessions, his livelihood, his children and his health - all gone.

It all seemed so unjust! Job was a good man 'blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil' (1:1). He wasn't perfect. No man or woman is. But we can be quite certain about one thing: Job's suffering was not directly attributable to sins he'd committed - not proportional to his sinfulness. The widespread belief in both Old and New Testament times was that suffering was a direct punishment for specific sins. Our word 'pain' comes from the Latin 'poena', meaning 'punishment'. The historian Jeremias records that in New Testament times, if you met a person who was maimed, lame, blind or a leper, it was your duty to murmur, 'Praised be the reliable judge'.

Now I believe that's the reaction today of many people who find themselves in distress. 'Why me?' they ask. And then they think, 'I must have deserved this in some way'. And so they feel guilty. 'Is it because I smoked, doctor?' 'Perhaps I ate the wrong food, did I?' And that quickly moves on to: 'I should have seen the doctor sooner'. 'My doctor should have done something more quickly'. 'I should have been treated differently'. They seek to apportion blame - to themselves and to others.

We want to know the reason for our problems. We can accept things more easily if we know why. Of course, modern medicine is based on an understanding of the aetiology of disease, so doctors pin diseases on behavioural factors like alcohol, smoking or promiscuity.

Much of the book of Job is about the awful senselessness of suffering. If suffering was directly related to sin, then there would be a sense of justice in it. There would be the possibility of avoiding it; it would put some of the control into our own hands. But if we don't know the reason, then we're so vulnerable. Senseless suffering is frightening because it threatens all of us. No-one is exempt - it can strike at any moment. The Bible is quite clear about why that is so. Suffering, illness and death date from the Fall. By sinning, mankind brought on itself these curses, and each one of us will be afflicted by them, if we haven't been already.

Job didn't receive specific punishment for specific sins, but Job - like all of us - was a sinner. Job's suffering - like all of our suffering - was deserved. 'Why me?' is the wrong question. We've really got no right to ask 'Why me?' Rather, we should ask God why when 'the wages of sin is death' (Rom 6:23) any one of us should still be alive at all, sinners that we are. Why are we not in hell this very minute? Why such mercy?

This isn't a popular place to start in considering suffering. It's painful and humiliating for us. But this is the sad truth at the root of all our trials. 'All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God' (Rom 3:23). The universal sinfulness of mankind is to be found everywhere in Scripture. To deny this central, biblical truth is to accuse God of libelling mankind.

When we see suffering, our first response should not be, 'Why has this happened to him or her?' Rather we should wonder at the amazing grace of God that he has not already judged the whole world - that we are not already all condemned. There are two remarkable things about suffering. The first is that we, who justly deserve God's punishment, have been offered a way of escape. The second is that the Lord Jesus suffered and died, when he deserved no such thing. Only Christ was perfectly sinless, and yet God 'did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all' (Rom 8:32).

'Why me?' we ask, when pain and hurt come. Instead, we should ask, 'Why him? Why Christ?' Why did God love us so much as to send his only son to suffer as our substitute? 'Why me?' we ask, when we find ourselves in painful circumstances. Rather, we should ask, 'Why me?' when we consider our salvation. Why, when we see so many daily leave this world for a lost eternity, why should I - I of all people - be delivered by the grace of God. 'Why me?'

Is suffering God's doing?

A second question people ask when faced with distress or suffering is, 'Is this God's doing?' The problem of suffering is felt most acutely by those who believe in a good God. For the atheist, suffering is less of a problem; for him it is just part of the pointlessness and absurdity of the universe. But when a man or woman turns to God, many difficult questions arise. In his book, 'How long, O Lord?'[1] Don Carson has searched the scriptures for answers to this problem. He describes how, 'Why me?' quickly gives way to 'Why are you punishing me?' Then come doubts: 'Maybe you aren't a God of love, after all. Maybe you aren't just.' From there it's just a whisper to: 'Maybe you aren't there at all.'

How easy it is to rail against God when we suffer pain. 'Curse God and die!' said Job's wife (2:9). And so we hear people saying: 'Where is God in cancer? Where is God in AIDS? Can there be a God after Auschwitz? After Kosovo?' 'How can you believe in a good God?' people ask. 'Either God isn't good, or he doesn't exist at all!'

But it's not that simple, is it? In the book of Job we're privileged to glimpse the unseen realities in heaven. 'Is this God's doing?' The answer is an emphatic 'Yes'. Job's suffering, and ours, is ultimately brought about by God. Evil and pain are within God's control. Our sufferings are not outside the bounds of God's sovereignty.

Satan came to present himself before God, and it was God who laid down the limits within which Satan was permitted to afflict Job: 'Everything he has is in your hands, but on the man himself do not lay a finger' (1:12). 'He is in your hands; but you must spare his life' (2:6). God is in charge throughout.

When tragedy strikes, people turn to us and say, 'Couldn't your God have prevented this?' And he could have. If he couldn't, he wouldn't be God. But then they ask, 'Well then, why didn't God prevent this?' Often we don't know. God knows the end from the beginning, and in his wisdom he has let it happen. But why? We simply don't know.

All that happened to Job came about when God removed his restraining hand. And Job recognised this. 'The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away' (1:21). Job's suffering was God's doing. Behind human malice and natural disasters stood Satan - but behind Satan stood God. Ought this not to stretch our ideas about God? Under the heading, 'The Mystery of Providence', Carson points out that while God doesn't cause evil, not even evil takes place outside God's sovereignty, although it's never morally chargeable to him - always to sinful men and women. Good also occurs within God's sovereignty, but he is responsible for good. So we can say that God's sovereignty extends both to good and evil; but good is always his initiative, whereas evil is always chargeable to other agents. We don't understand how this can be, but it's clearly so from Scripture, and nowhere more obviously so than here in the account of Job.

This helps us in our consideration of suffering. 'Is it God's doing?' Yes, it is. And God has set limits for our suffering. To Satan he says: 'On the man himself, do not lay a finger'(1:12), and, 'You must spare his life'(2:6). What reassurance there is here! God hasn't abandoned us in our pain. Sometimes it feels like it, doesn't it? We can have our theology all sorted out - the i's dotted and the t's crossed. And then we're ill, or we're in pain, or we're bereaved; and suddenly God seems so distant, and our prayers seem to bounce off the ceiling. But all of this is within God's purposes, if only we could understand it. Faith is to believe that, and to trust God even when we cannot understand.

Of course, not all suffering is like Job's suffering: coming by the hand of an evil agent, and simply permitted by God. Sometimes suffering is part of God's righteous judgement on sin and is instituted directly by him. We see this in the Old Testament, when God punishes not only the sins of pagan nations (eg Israel's neighbours in Am 1 and 2), but also the disobedience of his own covenant people (Am 7-9). In the New Testament we think of Herod's death for allowing himself to be worshipped, or the dishonesty of Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1ff). These judgements came directly from God and not via any other agency. But, just like Job's suffering, they also were the result of sin, and under the control of God.

Why has God allowed this?

If suffering is God's doing, then the next question has to be: 'Why has God allowed this?' Here the story of Job speaks very directly to believers. Satan claims that there is no sincere love of God by men and women: 'Does Job fear God for nothing?' asks Satan (1:9). 'Job doesn't reverence you and respect you and love you for your own sake,' says Satan. 'He loves you because he gets things from you. He doesn't love you 'for nothing' '.

'Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father...' (Jas 1:17). But do we love the giver - or is it just his gifts we love? Do we love God for what he gives us, or do we really love him for himself? It can be difficult to disentangle these things in our minds, can't it? Do we love God, or is it Christian fellowship we love? Or the worship and singing? Or the ritual of the service? Or the words of the Scriptures? Would we love God still, if our circumstances were different? If God's material benefits to us were withdrawn? If we were believers in places where Christians are thrown into prison? How would we fare? Is it really God himself we love, or is the trappings of comfortable western Christianity? Will our love survive suffering? That's the question that's being addressed here.

It's so easy to be a Christian when everything's going swimmingly for us. That's what Satan said to God about Job: 'Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has?' (1:10). We need to consider this carefully. Perhaps we'll never have to undergo persecution. But, sooner or later disease, frailty, old age, will take from each one of us our 'hedge'. For some it will happen sooner rather than later: a subarachnoid haemorrhage, multiple sclerosis, a serious accident, a host of other unforeseen happenings - and in a moment our 'hedge' has gone.

All we'll have left then is God. Is God enough? Is he the whole desire of our hearts? Will we 'fear God for nothing'? It's God's reputation which is in our hands. God holds up his people before all creation: 'Have you considered my servant Job?' (1:8). This is the Lord's rebuke to Satan - the evidence of his redeemed people.

We are testimony to God's plan of salvation, and he holds us up for all to see: 'Have you considered my servant Job?' What a responsibility we bear! Christian man or woman, put your own name in there: 'Have you considered my servant... '. Would the evidence of our lives confound the devil? When we are subjected to suffering or pain, will our reaction glorify God? The writer to the Hebrews spoke of the great men and women of faith, and he wrote, 'God is not ashamed to be called their God' (Heb 11:16). I hope and pray that he will not be ashamed to be called ours.

Satan's desire was that Job should curse God for allowing him to suffer: 'Stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face' (1:11). But God's intent was that Job's suffering should demonstrate that men and women will love God for his own sake. And Job '[came] forth as gold' (23:10). Job did 'fear God for nothing'. 'In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrong-doing' (1:22).

This is at one and the same time a wonderful privilege, and a fearsome responsibility. The eyes of the world are on us all the time. Everything we do and say as Christians (or don't do, or don't say) sends a message to those around us about God; about his nature and his character. But it's especially our reaction to difficulties and suffering that marks us out as God's people.

We're struck down with a debilitating illness, we're bereaved; our career falls apart. And Satan says, 'Curse God! Look what he's done to you!' But the mature believer's concern through all of this is for the glory of God, and for the honour of his name. 'Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?' he says.

What does this mean for my relationship with God?

I'm sure it's true to say that the greatest progress in our Christian lives comes about through times of suffering. These are the times when all the trappings and trivia are stripped away, and we find ourselves confronted with reality; face to face with God. There are two responses to suffering for the believer: we may come closer to God in dependence - or we may turn away from him in bitterness. Job's wife turned away: 'Are you still holding onto your integrity?' she said to Job. 'Curse God and die!' (2:9). But Job worshipped God: 'The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised' (1:21).

Here is a deeper understanding of God. Faith isn't merely the expectation that God will deliver us from suffering - although often he graciously does just that. But real faith is commitment to God, whether or not he delivers. The hope and joy is independent of his or her circumstances. Suffering is one of God's ways of forcing us to rethink our attitudes and our priorities. During Job's struggles God gave him no answer - no reason for his suffering. It remained a mystery. But Job was left with a far deeper understanding of God. At the end of the book he says: 'My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you' (42:5).

Must we continue to insist that suffering is a problem to be solved rather than a mystery to be accepted? There are things that books, study and sermons can never teach us - only painful experience. So many believers have found this for themselves. What do we ask God for? Do we ask him to spare us suffering? Should we not rather ask for a closer walk with him whatever that takes, whatever it costs, whatever he needs to put us through to achieve that.

How wonderfully God can bring good out of suffering! How many of us know people who turned to Christ only when they found themselves in trouble? Look at the cross. Was that not the greatest suffering, the greatest evil in all the history of the world? What must the disciples have felt? 'Is this God's doing?' 'Why has God allowed this?' And yet, out of this, God brought the greatest good of all, as Christ's death opened the way of salvation to all who would believe.

Hugh Thomson