Well-intentioned jerks
Reading in the book of Job this week, I’ve been convicted. I’ve read it before, focusing on Job, the deal God confidently made with the devil allowing Job to be tested, Job’s integrity as he maintained his innocence and refused to deny God, and the lessons he learned in the process. I had never paid much attention to Job’s friends, other than to notice they were most helpful when they were silent.
A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion. –Proverbs 18:2 (ESV)
Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, and Elihu had a firm grasp on some things that are mostly true most of the time for most people. They insisted, ad nauseum, that Job must be guilty of sin (and it must be something pretty egregious to have generated the level of misfortune he was suffering). They KNEW if he would just confess his wrongdoing, God would have mercy, forgive and restore him.
But they were wrong. Job continued to deny the presence of any deep, dark, hidden sin, and his friends became more and more indignant. What began as a mission of mercy and comfort became a struggle to justify themselves and prove their rightness. Their observations became suggestions, then turned into false and angry accusations. There were even hints of some satisfaction that Job, who had been so prosperous for so long, might finally be getting his just desserts.
This is prompting me to examine my attempts to offer counsel to others. It’s unlikely that I would say it aloud in so many words, but I know your life is a mess, I know why it’s a mess, and I know how to fix it. That’s right – I know what you should be doing right this very minute! Furthermore, if you’d just listen to me, you’d be a lot smarter, a lot wiser, a lot happier, and a lot more pleasing to God. Doesn’t that make you want to hear what I have to say?
Even when I’m not presenting myself in those words, there can be an attitude, a tone of voice, an expression on my face that conveys all the thoughts included in them. It’s a holier-than-thou air of spiritual arrogance that turns people off and drives them away, not just from me, but oftentimes from whatever truth was embedded within what I might’ve said.
If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame. –Proverbs 18:13 (ESV)
I’ve often been quick to assume I knew someone’s whole story shortly after meeting them, quick to offer unsolicited advice based on my assumptions, and impatient when they did not readily embrace my suggested behavioral modifications. It turns out, whether or not I have something of value to offer, most people would prefer to be heard than fixed.
Indeed, I cannot “fix” anyone. While God may have granted me some wisdom and life experience that would enhance my ability to speak truth into a situation, the work of changing a human heart belongs to Him. That takes a lot of pressure off me, but it’s also a reminder to let my words be few and humble and judiciously shared. This has been especially challenging in exchanges with my four adult children.
Raised in church, with God-fearing parents, they’ve all gone through struggles to try and make their faith their own. As a father who is heavily invested in them and their eternal destiny, it has been tempting at times to sit them down and tell them what’s what. I’ve also worked through the question of my own motives, feeling the shame of assumed spiritual failure on my part that must’ve contributed to their struggles.
God, by His grace, is helping me through all that, even as I am confident His Spirit remains active in their lives. In the meantime, I want to be a better friend than Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, and Elihu. My best intentions are not helpful if I act like a jerk.
Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. –James 1:19-20 (ESV)