Dust, Debris, and Unanswered Questions

Folks who’ve been reading this blog for a while know that I love the Biblical book of Job and I return to it on a regular basis. Here are a couple of new musings. 

I’ve been studying the book with a group, and last week we looked at what’s probably its best known verse, Job 19:25. That’s the spot where Job, in the middle of striving with his friends who just keep insisting he must have brought his sufferings on himself, seems to change the subject and suddenly declares “I know that my Redeemer lives, and he will stand upon the earth at last.” (NLT)

I learned a couple of interesting things about this declaration. The first is that the word often translated “earth” can also be translated “dust.”  Other translations of the term include ashes, debris, rubbish, or rubble.

This brings new images to mind, doesn’t it?  Maybe the idea is that when everything that once seemed solid deteriorates, collapses, or crumbles to the ground, what we can count on to still be standing is our loving, rescuing God. Author Terry Betts explains that the verse literally says that our redeemer will “stand against the dust.” He’s the counterpoint. He’s the one who says “The dust is not the end. I can use it to create new life.” The Literal Standard Version says “He raises the dust.” 

The second thing I had never really noticed about this verse is what comes immediately before it. In verses 23 and 24 Job says, “Oh, that my words could be recorded. Oh, that they could be inscribed on a monument, carved with an iron chisel and filled with lead, engraved forever in the rock.” 

What words did he want engraved? The ones he used to maintain his innocence. He was undoubtedly worn out by the unending conversations with his friends and of the constant need to defend himself and his integrity. Betts says “He feared he would die before he was vindicated and cleared of all the false accusations his friends had cast at him. He wanted a permanent statement that would put the record straight.”

It’s in this setting that Job talks about his redeemer, a term which carries the idea of being freed from bondage or oppression by enemies. Job undoubtedly felt oppressed by his enemy-friends. He wanted to be rescued from their false narrative and he believed that God would do it.

Here are a couple of translations of the verse that get at that idea:

“I know that my defender lives.” (GW)  

 “I know there is someone in heaven who will come at last to my defense.” (GNT)

 “I know that my Vindicator is alive.” (ISV)

Yes, our Vindicator is alive and he graciously responded to Job’s desire for a permanent record of his innocence. We have it in the book that bears Job’s name. It’s his vindication, and to a degree it’s vindication for all of us who need it, including those who suffer from poorly understood illnesses that get blamed on sin, lack of faith, negative thinking, hypochondria, selfishness, a desire for attention, or a million other things. I’m so grateful that God recorded Job’s story.

**

The second brief musing is simply a parallel I noticed recently between a passage in C. S. Lewis’s brilliant book “A Grief Observed” and what happens at the end of the book of Job.

At the end of Job, there’s restoration, but God doesn’t directly respond to Job’s statements or questions about his suffering. In fact, Job says to God in 42:3 “You asked, ‘Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorance?’ It is I—and I was talking about things I knew nothing about, things far too wonderful for me.”

The restoration came from relationship and not from a totality of answered questions. In 42:5 Job explains, “I had only heard about you before, but now I have seen you with my own eyes.”

“A Grief Observed” is the journal that Lewis wrote after his wife died. He asks many of the questions Job did. God feels distant to him. Then, at one point, there’s this:

“When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of ‘No answer.’ It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, ‘Peace, child; you don’t understand.’

Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable. How many hours are there in a mile? Is yellow square or round?  Probably half the questions we ask – half our great theological and metaphysical problems – are like that.”

If you’re struggling today, I know you want answers, and I hope you get them. You may want vindication, and if so, I hope you get that, too. Mostly, though, I hope you can find peace: the peace of knowing that our redeemer lives and can stand against and transform the dust.

The Problem with Honesty

“How are you?” It’s a question that people with chronic illness often don’t know how to answer. “Fine” or “OK” are safe choices, and generally true, to a degree. When we say we’re OK, we mean that life is challenging, but we’re handling things. We don’t mean our symptoms have suddenly disappeared or that we no longer grieve for all we’ve lost.

Sometimes we’re less OK than at other times. Sometimes when people ask how we are we wonder if “OK” or “fine” are the truest responses. We long for someone to understand us and acknowledge our pain, but we hesitate to be fully honest. We’ve learned that expressing our distress can sometimes make things worse.

When we’re honest, we risk scaring people away. When we’re honest, we open ourselves up to being gossiped about. Mostly, however, we’ve learned that when we’re honest, we may get blamed somehow for our own distress.

There’s a seemingly limitless list of subtle and blatant accusations that are leveled at those whose illnesses do not quickly resolve. Of course, there are the classic “lack of faith” or “hidden sin” explanations. In addition, people are said to be focusing on their problems too much, not focusing on them enough, not handling stress, not eating right, not thinking right, not using traditional medicine, not using alternative medicine, not using the right supplements, not using the right brands, being too needy, not asking for help, not praying enough, not praying in the right way, not pushing enough, not resting enough, and on and on it goes.

This is evidently not a new phenomenon. In the biblical book of Job, Job’s friends initially responded to his suffering by coming to visit him and sitting with him in silence for a week. Once Job began to express his thoughts and feelings, however, the support began to deteriorate.

The book of Job is a treasure trove, with depths to mine in every verse. For this exercise, I decided to summarize and paraphrase the conversation between Job and his friends. I picked a few representative sentences from each chapter and excluded the dialogue between Job and God. I find it amazing how much the conversation mirrors those that still occur regularly (or at least reflects things that people want to say, but often don’t). I used the New Living Translation, and chapter numbers are in parentheses.

Job: I wish I could die. (3)

Friend: You’re weak. Resentment and jealousy destroy people and if I were you, I’d turn to God. (4-5)

Job: I have a right to complain. People complain about all sorts of things, like unsalted food. I’m out of strength and have nothing to live for. I wish God would let me die. You should be kind to me, but you accuse me instead. Stop assuming my guilt. (6)

Friend: If you pray and live a good life you’ll be restored. (8)

Job: It sounds good in theory, but God is God and can do what he wants. (9)

Friend: God is undoubtedly punishing you less than you deserve. Pray, repent, and work on your heart and your life will be bright. (11)

Job: You think you know everything. I’m not as stupid as you think I am. All of you are worthless quacks as doctors. The wisest thing you could do would be to shut up. (12-13)

Friend: You’re a sinful windbag. What do you know that we don’t? (15)

Job: Why do you keep talking? You’re miserable comforters. If the roles were reversed, I could find plenty to criticize, too, but I would encourage you and try to take away your grief. As it is, I suffer if I speak and try to defend myself and I suffer if I don’t. (16)

Friend: Speak sense. Remember that the wicked fall into their own pits. (18)

Job: How long will you torture me? How long will you crush me with your words? You’ve insulted me ten times already and should be ashamed. You think you’re so much better than I am. Relatives and friends have turned against me and forgotten me. Please have mercy on me. Haven’t you chewed me up enough? (19)

Friend: Your words disturb me. God gives the wicked what they deserve. (20)

Job: Please listen closely to me. That’s one thing you could do to help. After I speak you can resume your mocking. I don’t know if I should say this, but I will. I see the wicked prosper all around me. They don’t acknowledge God, but they don’t suffer. How can your clichés comfort me? Your explanations are lies. (21)

Friend: There’s no limit to your sins. You were probably greedy and didn’t help the less fortunate. Submit to God and things will go well. Clean up your life. Give up your lust for money and God will hear your prayers. (22)

Job: I’m trying hard not to groan out loud. I’ve stayed on God’s paths. I’ve treasured his words, but I’m surrounded by darkness. Why doesn’t God punish the wicked? Why doesn’t he come to the aid of the godly? Can anyone prove that isn’t true? (23-24)

Friend: No one is innocent. God is much higher than man. (25)

Job: Thanks for enlightening me with your wisdom. That was certainly helpful advice for someone powerless and weak. I understand and respect God’s power.

I’ll continue to defend my integrity and will never concede that you’re right. My conscience is clear. You say all these useless things to me. Wisdom and understanding are more valuable than gold, but are hidden from humans. God alone understands.

I long for my former life. I miss being respected and honored. I was honest and gave generously to the poor. I assumed I would live a long, good life and die surrounded by my family. But now I’m mocked, even by people younger than I am. My honor has blown away. I’m depressed and my pain is relentless. I’ve tried to live with integrity. If only someone would listen to me. (26-31)

Friend: I haven’t spoken until now because you’re older than I am, but age doesn’t always mean wisdom. I speak the truth. God treats people like they deserve. You’ve rejected him and deserve the maximum penalty for the wicked way you’ve talked. You’ve added rebellion to your list of sins.

The wicked are afflicted and the innocent are exalted. If people are caught up in pride, God will get their attention and demand they turn from evil. If they listen, they’ll prosper and if they don’t, they’ll die. God is using your suffering to lead you from danger. Turn from your evil. Pay attention. (32-37)

The conversation between Job and his friends comes to an end, but the book continues, with God telling the friends in chapter 42 that he’s angry with them. He asks them to bring a sacrifice and have Job offer a prayer on their behalf. He says that if they do, he won’t treat them as they deserve.

Once again, I find consolation and encouragement in Job's story. It reminds me that although I deeply long to be understood and not blamed for my own distress, it’s not unusual for us as fallible humans to respond to each other that way. Being honest with people sometimes feels dangerous, but I can always be honest with God. He gets me.

Sickness, Disaster, Death and Satan

Leap year day is approaching. The elusive day, which appears once every four years, brings with it some intense memories. Almost 20 years ago, on February 29, 1996, I was living and working in Peru when a friend and co-worker lost her life in an airplane accident. She had been in my city, working with me on a strategy study team, and was returning to her home in another part of the country. I waved, said “See you next month,” and she got on a plane and died.

Lynn’s death didn’t affect my daily life to the extent that other losses have, but on a purely emotional level, it packed an enormous punch. I’ve never, before or after, experienced denial the way I did when Lynn lost her life. When I was told that the plane was missing, my immediate thought was “That’s ridiculous.” I had a dream where Lynn appeared to tell me the news of her death was a mistake and I replied, “I knew it was.”

There were two main reasons that Lynn’s death affected me so deeply. One was that she left behind three children whose gender and ages were similar to mine and my siblings’ when our own mother died. The second reason is that her death came at a time when our missionary family had already experienced much heartbreak and loss. The month that ended with Lynn’s death began with an automobile crash that left four members of one family gravely injured, with one still in a coma and not expected to live.

Christians in the United States have widely differing views of Satan and his influence in the world. Most Christians I’ve known overseas, however, and most missionaries, have no doubt that we fight a powerful and relentless adversary. Those of us serving with my mission board in Peru believed we were engaged in spiritual warfare. Others believed that, too. Baptist Press wrote an article entitled "Missionaries in Peru Pursue Harvest Amid Satan's Attacks." The article listed some (but not all) of the challenges we had been experiencing and attributed them to demonic opposition to the move of God’s spirit in the country.

Many of the challenges listed in the article involved physical illnesses or injuries. This raises questions about whether or not Satan can make people sick and what else he may or may not be able to do. What does the Bible say?

In the Old Testament book of Job, the source of Job’s illness is made very clear. Job 2:7 says that “Satan left and caused painful sores to break out all over Job’s body—from head to toe.” (CEV) There are also many New Testament instances of illnesses or disabilities being associated with demonic interference. Luke 13:11 refers to a woman “who had been crippled by an evil spirit for eighteen years.” Matthew 9:32-33 relates the story of a man “who could not talk because a demon was in him.” How about injuries and other sorts of disasters? The book of Job tells us that Satan was behind an attack by a gang of thieves, a fire, and a windstorm that collapsed a house, killing Job’s children.

The Bible also speaks about illnesses, disabilities and injuries coming from angels or directly from God. In contrast to the mute man of Matthew 9, we have the mute man (Zechariah) of Luke 1. When Zechariah apparently doubted the word of the angel Gabriel, who brought him news that he would have a son, Zechariah was struck mute until the child’s birth. Job’s skin disease came from Satan, but the skin diseases that struck King Azariah in 2 Kings 15 and Miriam in Numbers 12 came from God. Genesis 32 tells us of Jacob wrestling with God and being left with a limp.

Of course, many illnesses, injuries and other disasters can be attributed to the simple fact that suffering exists in the world because it is fallen and imperfect. In John 16:33 Jesus says, “While you are in the world, you will have to suffer.” There are some who argue that sickness is somehow different from all other types of suffering, but I certainly don’t think the Bible teaches that. I’ll save that discussion for another time. I also don’t think there’s generally a one-on-one relationship between suffering and the personal sin of the sufferer, but I’ll save that discussion, too, except to mention the words of Jesus in Luke 13. He responded to questions about a tragedy by saying, “Do you think that these people were worse sinners than everyone else in Galilee just because of what happened to them? Not at all!”

So what can we attribute to Satan, what to God, and what to simply living in a fallen world? I don’t have an easy rule of thumb to share. I do think it’s probably not quite as easy as attributing the suffering of others to God’s judgment and our own suffering to spiritual warfare, a tendency I’ve noted.

There’s a mysterious interplay between God’s will and Satan’s power. Satan had to ask permission before he could torment Job. Matthew 4:1 tells us that the Holy Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness so that the devil could test him. Satan’s reach is limited and temporal, but his desire and ability to cause harm is real.

In this season of memories, it’s helpful for me to remind myself that I don’t confront the challenges of this world as effectively as I could when I forget I have an enemy who “is like a roaring lion, sneaking around to find someone to attack” (1 Peter 5:8). When I get angry at people in power who put profits above human health, I need to remember Ephesians 6:12, which notes,“We are not fighting against humans. We are fighting against forces and authorities and against rulers of darkness and powers in the spiritual world.” I’ll try to remember these things when I pray for the world and when I pray for you, my friends, and I hope you’ll remember them as well when you pray for me.

Who Am I?

The news has been filled in recent days with stories of people identifying with a gender or race other than the one that seemed apparent when they were born. Because of that, I’ve been pondering the issue of identity. How much is chosen for us? How much can we choose for ourselves? Who am I, really?

People define themselves using many criteria. Age, race, and gender are starting points as are marital status and parenthood. We define ourselves by our jobs, our politics, and our faith. For those of us with chronic illnesses, a significant temptation is to let our physical conditions label and define us.

So who am I?

* I am more. I am more than my circumstances. I am more than my diseases. I am more than what the world sees.

Remembering that I’m more than my physical challenges is one of my biggest struggles. My chemical sensitivities, in particular, seemingly invade every corner of my life and affect every decision I make. I can never escape them.

I have long been intrigued by Satan’s reasoning in the book of Job. He asked God for permission to test Job in all sorts of horrible ways, including the death of all ten of his children. The Bible tells us that Job felt great sorrow and grief when confronted with his losses, but that he didn’t accuse God of wrongdoing. So Satan tried again. He proposed to God, “Reach out and take away his health, and he will surely curse you to your face!" (Job 2:5, NLT)

In general, I don’t think it’s helpful to compare suffering. I can’t even imagine the pain Job and his wife must have felt at losing all of their children, and I’m not at all sure that I would have passed Job’s test. I do know the grief, however, of losing my mother when I was a young teenager, and losing my husband last year. They were significant and life-altering losses. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that losing my health was harder than losing my loved ones, but it’s fair to say that it’s a loss with a different flavor. No matter how close the relationship between any two people, there is still a measure of separateness. While living on this earth, however, it is impossible to separate from the physical body. My body feels like me. My illnesses feel like my identity.

It feels that way, but it isn’t the truth. I have beliefs, thoughts, experiences and interests beyond my physical condition and my circumstances. I am more. You are more. Let’s remind ourselves of that.

* I am less. 1 Corinthians 12 describes Christians as parts of a body. Verses 19-21 say “How strange a body would be if it had only one part! Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. The eye can never say to the hand, 'I don't need you.'"

I am less than I can be when I’m not attached to the rest of the body of Christ. Finding a way to attach is a great challenge for anyone with significant chemical sensitivities. Many of us have learned, however, how essential it is to keep trying and how difficult it is to live a full spiritual life alone. Church, you are also less than you are created to be when you don’t find a way to include everyone who wants to be included. God designed us to complement each other and to work together to represent him on this earth.

* I am complete. After my husband died, I began to think about fractions. Our family suddenly seemed incomplete. We seemed like 3/4ths of a family. I realized that I needed to reframe the issue in my mind and stop thinking of my sons and myself as three of four, but as three of three. I needed to change both the numerator and denominator.

I also realized that not only was I seeing my family as incomplete or somehow not enough, but I was also seeing myself that way. Perhaps I was taking on the values of my culture. In the country and time in which I currently live, my race and education work in my favor, but my age, gender, marital and health status work against me.

Fortunately, God doesn’t see me as the world does. Colossians 2:10 tells me that I am complete through my union with Christ. He wants me to continue to grow and develop (the same chapter talks about letting my roots grow down into him), but as I am, I’m enough to be fully loved and accepted.

The Bible tells me that I’m justified through Christ. I’ve heard the term “justified” defined as “just as if I never sinned.” It’s a helpful definition, but I also find it helpful to think about how, when typing, our computers let us “justify” our margins. When we do that, all the gaps are filled in. Every line reaches the edge. God does that for me. He fills in the gaps.

So who am I? Who are you? What defines us? Who defines us?

They aren’t easy questions for anyone, and maybe they’re harder than usual for people with chronic illness. It’s so easy to let ourselves be defined by our diseases, circumstances, or culture. Instead, I want to let God tell me who I am. What he tells me is that I am his deeply loved child. That’s who I am, and that’s enough.

Revisiting the Book of Job

My read-through-the-Bible-in-a-year plan puts me in the book of Job in September. Last year I wrote a post about a particular verse that struck me. Maybe I’ll make it an annual tradition. This year, I was struck by a couple of verses in Chapter Six. Most of the book of Job relates a series of frustrating and nonproductive conversations between the deeply suffering Job and his friends. Chapter Six is part of the conversation, and a few of Job’s comments prompted thoughts about why it is that we humans seem to so often say unhelpful things to each other.

There are a wide variety of ways that our careless remarks can make the suffering of others worse instead of better. Those of us with chronic illnesses are often frustrated when people accuse us of sin (either of being sick because of sin or of lacking faith to be healed) or make statements that imply that we aren’t very bright or don’t really want to get well. (“Have you seen a doctor?”) Often our pain is denied or minimized. People with chemical illness frequently hear “That can’t hurt you” or “I know someone else with your condition and he’s able to do a lot more than you can.”

Sometimes a statement that is absolutely true (“God is in control”) feels unhelpful when we have a fresh or still-tender wound and the remark isn’t paired with some expression of sympathy. Job touched on the problem in verse 26. Although he was referring to criticism rather than to pat responses, he said, “Do you think your words are convincing when you disregard my cry of desperation?” Pain begs to be acknowledged. A fairly neutral remark may also feel unhelpful if we’ve heard it so much that it feels like an attempt to avoid having a real conversation.

All of us fail to respond helpfully to the suffering of others sometimes. Why do we do that? Here are some of the many possible reasons:

Fear – Job mentioned fear in verse 21. He remarked to his friends, “You, too, have given no help. You have seen my calamity, and you are afraid.” What are we afraid of? A basic fear when we encounter the pain of another is that a similar thing could happen to us. Accepting that good people sometimes suffer and that there aren’t always quick and easy ways to escape means that we, too, might someday find ourselves in a painful situation with no obvious way out. Those are scary thoughts and sometimes the response to that fear is to deny the pain exists or conclude that the sufferers are doing something wrong. Surely, we wouldn’t find ourselves in their position, but if we did, we would fix it.

Another fear is that if we acknowledge the suffering as legitimate, we may feel responsible to help alleviate it in some way. That seems to be what Job was implying. After remarking that his friend was frightened by Job’s situation, Job asked, “But why? Have I ever asked you for a gift?”

Differences in theology – I absolutely believe that God can take the messes that humans make and the consequences of living in a fallen world and turn them into something beautiful and good. I believe God has a plan. I believe God is in control. I don’t believe, however, that those truths mean that God’s people won’t suffer on earth. There are people who believe the Bible teaches that true believers are exempt from pain. I personally don’t see how even a quick skimming of the Bible or a quick glance at the world can lead to that conclusion.

One of many, many scripture passages that address the point is the “roll call of faith” in Hebrews 11. The chapter gives a long list of people who were commended for their faith in God. Verses 32 through 38 tell us that some of these heroes overthrew kingdoms, shut the mouths of lions, quenched fire and received loved ones back from the dead. That would be a handy place to stop the narrative, but it continues. We learn that others were tortured, jeered at, imprisoned, oppressed, stoned, and sawed in two. We are told that “they placed their hope in a better life after the resurrection.” That’s the hope. That’s the ultimate plan. Maybe we’ll escape deep suffering on this earth and maybe we won’t.

Guilt – This can play a role in the minimizing of all kinds of suffering, but is often very obvious in the realm of chemical illness. If I suspect on some level, even though I try to deny it to myself, that my decisions or actions may have played a role in someone else’s pain, I can deal with that by telling myself that the other person isn’t really suffering the way they claim to be or that they shouldn’t be and could avoid it somehow.

Lack of empathy – Sometimes we’re just so focused on our own lives we fail to really see and empathize with the struggles of others. This is especially true of struggles that are very different from our own experiences. In verses 5 and 6, Job asked, “Don’t I have a right to complain? . . . Don’t people complain about unsalted food?” Maybe Job was thinking something like, “If I complained about unsalted food you would understand because you can relate, but because my suffering is so far beyond anything you’ve experienced, you want to brush it away and are uncomfortable with me even expressing it.”

I find the lack of empathy for people in situations we can’t imagine often shows itself when people in developed countries talk about the suffering of those in developing ones. People sometimes say things like, “They’re used to it” or “It’s not so bad because everyone there is in the same boat.” If friends or family members lose their jobs, we feel some of their pain because we relate to them and can imagine ourselves in their shoes. On the other hand, we can’t imagine living on two dollars a day in a village with no electricity or running water, so we tell ourselves it can’t really be as hard as it sounds. If people who are “like us” lose a second child, we realize, to some extent, the depth of grief they must be feeling. We don’t generally say, “Well, at least they’re used to it.” It’s hard for us to remember sometimes that people are people and suffering is suffering and that it’s no easier for others to go through painful situations than it would be for us to experience the same thing, even if it’s something beyond what we can really imagine.

Habit – I think sometimes we don’t give responses much thought, but simply answer out of habit. The response to “How are you?” is “I’m fine.” The response to “I’m suffering” is “God has a plan.” I recently corresponded with someone who told me that on one of the very worst days of her life, when her heart was broken into a million pieces, someone said, “I’m excited for you because I know God has a plan.” Excited? Really? That wasn’t the most helpful thing to say on that day. A simple “I’m sorry” is generally helpful. “My heart breaks for you” is helpful. “I’m excited for you” – not so much. Surely that was a response made from habit rather than from thought about how it might be received or whether it was likely to help the situation in any way.

My husband recently introduced me to a song called “Broken Praise” that’s based on the book of Job. The “if” statements in the lyrics don’t resolve to a “then,” which bugs me a bit, but otherwise I think it’s a wonderful song. It captures well some of the frustrations of having pain deepened by the responses of others. It’s worth taking time to listen to.

We all have times when we feel like Job and times when, unfortunately, we act like Job’s friends. I hope we can all learn to do better. If you’re in pain, I’ll try not to tell you I’m excited for you. I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same for me.

Illness and Shame

I've come to love the Biblical book of Job and I re-read it often. Job experienced a great deal of loss and suffering, including a painful medical condition The Bible tells us that Job was "blameless and upright," but his friends believed (and expressed their belief) that those who live godly lives are protected from harm and that Job's struggles were therefore related to personal sin.

This week I noticed a verse I had never really focused on before. In Job 10:15, Job says, "If I am guilty—woe to me! Even if I am innocent, I cannot lift my head, for I am full of shame and drowned in my affliction."

Full of shame -- it's an illogical but common emotion among the chronically ill. There are a number of reasons for this, including the following:

* Pride is deep-rooted in the human psyche. Pride says, "I am capable and I don't need help from anyone." Illness says, "You aren't as strong as you think you are or that you'd like to be."

* The American culture has traditionally emphasized self-reliance and hard work. Stories of self-made men and women who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps are a part of our heritage and national character. Cultures define success in different ways. There are societies that value those who live their lives in solitude and contemplation. Ours puts a high value on tangible, material gains achieved through blood, sweat and tears. When illness keeps us from living up to our culture's standards, the sense of failure can be deep.

* The self-determinism that defines our world fuels an unspoken message that all sickness can be overcome and that failure to do so is a personal deficiency. This message is communicated in many ways. Get-well cards are a prime example. I'm sure that the messages people are trying to communicate when they send the cards include things like “I care about you," "I'm sorry you're ill," and "I hope you don't suffer much." That's not what the cards usually actually say, though. They say "Get well." That's an imperative -- an order. They seem to imply that healing is within your control and that if you don't get well soon it is somehow your fault.

* The Christian community can take that idea, magnify it exponentially, and attach spiritual significance to it. Some churches and denominations are very open about their theology that full earthly healing of all diseases is available to anyone who requests it and has enough faith. Some churches don't claim to believe that, but church members can manage to communicate that message anyway. Any ill Christian who ever listens to Christian radio, watches Christian television or webcasts, or communicates with other Christians online gets this message. Believe me, we get this message and it affects us deeply.

Condemning those who are ill certainly doesn't help ease the suffering. It compounds it and makes people afraid to express their needs. Job 42 tells us that God was angry with Job's friends and called their words and attitudes "folly." Let's try not to imitate them.