Sermon Text: Job 19:23-27
Date: March 31, 2024
Event: The Resurrection of Our Lord, Year B
Job 19:23-27 (EHV)
Oh how I wish that my words were written down.
Oh how I wish that they were inscribed in bronze,
24that they would be engraved in rock forever
with an iron tool and letters filled with lead.
25As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives,
and that at the end of time he will stand over the dust.
26Then, even after my skin has been destroyed,
nevertheless, in my own flesh I will see God.
27I myself will see him.
My own eyes will see him, and not as a stranger.
My emotions are in turmoil within me.
What Words Are Worth Preserving?
Preservation is a very difficult and complicated task. Nature breaks down everything from cement buildings to film. One errant keystroke could render years of work or family memories housed on the computer gone. You’re always fighting time when it comes to preservation. It’s difficult to protect what is being preserved, but it’s also difficult to figure out what things should be preserved in the first place.
On the one hand, preservation may feel like it’s about keeping everything possible. On the other hand, subjective as it may be, preservation may be carried out based on what seems important. Of course, the danger in that is that what seems important today may be different than what seems important tomorrow.
I think through our congregation’s work and about how we preserve minutes from important meetings both digitally and physically. But there are no summaries recorded of conversations in the parking lot after worship, nor was anyone taking notes during our joyous time at breakfast this morning. Those things, while not meaningless or trite, probably will not be important down the road and may not need to be preserved.
Even when considering God’s interactions with people, we don’t have everything preserved. John tells us in his Gospel that Jesus did many things that he did not write down. The Bible itself, the verbally inspired and inerrant Word of God, is not complete. It is sufficient but not exhaustive. God’s Word tells us enough of how we are saved from the hell our sins deserve, but it hardly addresses every question one might have. I’ve lost track of the number of times that a question has been asked in Bible Class, and we end up having to leave it at, “Well, I guess we’ll just need to ask God when we get to heaven,” because we don’t know the answer and have no way of knowing.
But some things are worth preserving: the founding documents of a nation or an organization; the photos of a wedding, the birth of a child, or a family reunion; the favorite family recipes to be passed down to the next generation. And that list will be different depending on who you are, what is important to you, and where your interests lie.
In our First Reading for this Easter morning, we have a small snippet of the book of Job, perhaps largely made popular by the hymn “I Know that My Redeemer Lives,” which we’ll sing in a little bit, or even before that in its use in the grand soprano aria in Handel’s Messiah. In it, Job identifies that the words he’s about to speak are worth preserving, “Oh how I wish that my words were written down. Oh how I wish that they were inscribed in bronze, that they would be engraved in rock forever with an iron tool and letters filled with lead.” Job thinks these words are important and that they should be permanent.
It’s unclear exactly when Job lived, but it seems likely that he was a rough contemporary with Abraham. So, probably more than 2,000 years before Jesus lived and more than 4,000 years from today. Job had many material, earthly blessings and then lost everything in very quick succession—his property, most of his family, and even his health. The book is a conversation between Job, his friends, his wife, and eventually God. Job’s friends accuse him of wrongdoing and urge him to confess the horrible thing he did to bring this disaster on himself. Job’s wife is more blunt, suggesting that Job should curse God and die. But Job does none of these things; instead, Job sticks to his faith. He wavers at times, but largely, his attitude remains consistent with what he spoke in the opening two chapters of the book, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will return. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. May the name of the Lord be blessed... If we accept the good that comes from God, shouldn’t we also accept the bad?” (Job 1:21, 2:10).
By the time we get to our reading, Job is deep in the battle of words with his friends. He begins chapter 19 by saying to one of his friends, “How long will you torment my soul? How long will you crush me with words? Ten times now you have insulted me, but you are not ashamed that you are treating me so badly” (Job 19:1-2).
That is how he speaks to his friends, who continue to accuse him of wrongdoing baselessly, but when he remembers God, his tone is much different. His words speak confidently of God’s promises and his hope for the future: As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the end of time he will stand over the dust. Then, even after my skin has been destroyed, nevertheless, in my own flesh I will see God. I myself will see him. My own eyes will see him, and not as a stranger. My emotions are in turmoil within me.
Job calls God his Redeemer. The basic meaning of the word “redeem” is “to buy back.” In other words, to take something that used to belong to you and to make it yours again. We might think of taking something to a pawn shop and then going to get it back. Or someone who pays a ransom price to rescue someone else from a kidnapper. All of those are redemptions and rescues.
And so if God is our Redeemer, we used to belong to him, but then we didn’t, and he had to buy us back. From what would God need to redeem us? God created mankind to have a close, personal relationship with him. The harmony that our first parents shared with God, called “the image of God” in Scripture, was a beautiful thing. Adam and Eve loved God, wanted what he wanted, and didn’t want what he didn’t want. But not in a mindless way; God didn’t create robots that couldn’t help but follow his programming. No, the image of God meant they agreed with God, and the free will God gave them meant that they could choose to do what God wanted or not. But disobedience, rebellion, and sin would mean an implosion of that special family relationship with God.
Unfortunately, they chose to sin and ruined the perfect harmony. Where they had belonged to God, were dear members of his family, now in sin, they belonged to sin—were slaves to it—and brought death on themselves and all of their descendants. Physical death that we most often associate with that word that we observe at a funeral, yes, but more to the point was the eternal death that sin carried with it. Rebellion against God in sin brings with it eternal separation from God in hell as punishment.
And yet, Job had confidence that his Redeemer would live, which means God would do something about this. Maybe Job wouldn’t get his possessions and family members back; maybe he’d never have a comfortable day or night again. But Job was confident that God would not abandon him for his sins and leave him to suffer in hell. God would redeem him.
And that’s what we celebrate today. Well, in part. We started the celebration on Good Friday, a day named in a way that feels wildly contradictory. That day we call “good” was the day that Jesus died on the cross, an innocent man sentenced to crucifixion. But as we said on Friday night, so we remember this morning, the physical pains he endured, as horrific as they were, were not the worst of what he suffered. We heard Jesus cry out from the cross, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” And you and I know the answer. Why did God the Father forsake God the Son there on the cross? Why was the triune Godhead rent asunder on that dark afternoon? Because Jesus suffered what Adam and Eve, Job, you, and I deserved. There, Jesus himself endured hell, separation from God, so that you and I wouldn’t have to.
And if that had been the end of the story, if the tragic death of Jesus was the end, then it would be just that: a tragedy. We would have no reason to celebrate today; we would have no reason to call this past Friday “good.” But today, we celebrate what Job saw thousands of years before it happened, as we heard in our Gospel this morning: “Do not be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him” (Mark 16:6). Jesus did not stay dead. So complete was his victory on the cross that he undid sin, hell, and even death itself.
“I know that my Redeemer lives.” Historically, this is probably the first promise of the Savior’s resurrection from the dead to be inspired by God. To be clear, Easter is not just some cute legend or mass hallucination by Jesus’ followers. No, Jesus, actually, physically rose from the dead. This was proof of his victory and our rescue. And, as Job points out, by rising from the dead, Jesus shows what is ahead for us.
Job says that despite all the trouble he’s going through, all the hardship, loss, and pain, he is confident that his Redeemer lives. Job knows that despite the inevitability of death, yet at the end of time, in my own flesh, I will see God. I myself will see him. My own eyes will see him. Because of Jesus’ resurrection, we, too, will rise from the dead on the last day. Then, our tombs will look exactly like Jesus’ tomb: empty.
The apostle Paul, in our Second Reading this morning, observed that “if our hope in Christ applies only to this life, we are the most pitiful people of all” (1 Corinthians 15:19). But very little about our faith is focused in the here and now—we look forward to the resurrection and our rescue into eternal life where we, with Job, will stand in our own flesh and see God with our own eyes, face-to-face.
Can you see why Job wanted these words preserved forever and why he found them so important? Job looks past even the cross to see the ultimate victory Jesus would win and the ultimate rescue he would provide. He sees Jesus not as the lowly, humble, crucified man suffering for the sins of the world but as the victorious Champion Redeemer who has crushed sin, death, and hell forever.
So, my brothers and sisters, rejoice today. Not just because we have festive music and a lovely gathering of people here. But rejoice because not only were Job’s words preserved, but they were proved true. And because they were proved true—because your Redeemer lives—you also have the confidence of your rescue from sin, death, and hell.
I pray that you will never experience loss in your life on the scale that Job faced, but no matter what hardships and sadnesses grip you, take solace in this hope: this life is temporary. By Jesus’ life and death in your place and proved by his resurrection, you have the forgiveness of every sin. For Jesus’ sake, you will be in heaven. When we are there, Job’s words will continue to resonate for eternity, surely worthy of being preserved: I know that my Redeemer lives!
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.
