Words Spoken Out of Grief, Not Unbelief

Job has been a kindred spirit to me for much of my life. Not out of desire, but out of necessity. As I’ve tried to grapple with deeply painful realities that appear to be at odds with who God says he is, I’ve had two options: go the easy route and deny God’s existence and Lordship, or go to battle with unsettling questions and doubts with gutsy honesty-even when my faith feels frail.

Job wrote with some of the most profoundly honest words in scripture. And for that reason, some avoid the book of Job because it unsettles their comfortable faith. But for those who have seen the depths of agony, it’s a book of comfort.

Lately, these words of Job have given words to my own pain –

“Why is light given to one burdened with grief,
and life to those whose existence is bitter,
who wait for death,
but it does not come,
and search for it more than for hidden treasure,
who are filled with much joy
and are glad when they reach the grave?
Why is life given to a man
whose path is hidden,
whom God has hedged in?
I sigh when food is put before me,
and my groans pour out like water.
For the thing I feared has overtaken me,
and what I dreaded has happened to me.
I cannot relax or be calm;
I have no rest, for turmoil has come.

If only my request would be granted and God would provide what I hope for;
that he would decide to crush me,
to unleash his power and cut me off!
It would still bring me comfort, and I would leap for joy
in unrelenting pain
that I have not denied the words of the Holy One.”
(Job 3:20-26, 6:8-10)

To some, that may sound unsettling – concerning even.
But to those who have tasted such grief, it’s like sitting across from a kindred spirit. These aren’t words of a suicidal man, they’re words of a heartbroken man desperate for relief. Even more, one who doesn’t want his heart to turn away from the Lord when he has every circumstantial reason to.

I have often prayed these words as my own, especially lately. Sometimes, in the mystery of God’s ways, he can appear cruel and uncaring. And that, I believe, is one of the enemy’s greatest tactics to sew seeds of doubt.

But here’s the challenge as believers – do we allow space for this level of spiritual wrestling? Do we allow ourselves and others to honestly process the confusion and spiritual disorientation of grief? Or, like Job’s friends, are we quick to correct, condemn, or dismiss it as foolish and faithless?

Job challenged his friends: “Do you think that you can disprove my words or that a despairing man’s words are mere wind” (Job 6:26)?

In other words, do you think you can dismiss a despairing man’s words as something to be condemned? Do you think words spoken in grief are best to be corrected? Or can you see that God himself allows his children to come to him with gutsy and ugly honesty? Because words spoken out of grief are not necessarily spoken out of true belief. They are spoken from a heart trying to make sense of how worldly agony and God’s goodness can co-exist. And from a hurting child of God who’s trying to live in the tension of tragedy and God’s faithfulness, pain and the promises of God’s comfort and redemption (which may seem out of reach).

What some may call words of unbelief, I think God sees as evidence of some of the greatest faith on earth. Because for a Christian to trust him enough to come to him with terrifying questions, the fear that their faith may fail, and feelings that are overpowering spiritual sense, he must see a heart of a child crying out to their Father with every weak ounce of their being.

I resonate with Job’s words, which in a sense say, “Lord, take me away before you let my heart deny you” (6:10). Part of our suffering as believers is not only suffering the pain itself, but suffering the doubts, sin, and fear that your faith will fail as a result. I would find greater joy in the Lord taking me from this world before I deny his name, than giving me length of years that only lead to me turning my heart from him out of endless agony.

This is not a sermon anyone wants to hear from the pulpit unless you’re in the pit of despair. This is not a song we want to sing unless we are desperate to know we aren’t the first Saint to wrestle with in these spiritual depths. This is not a pretty Instagram or Facebook post that is liked by thousands, but it’s words that the desolate, anguished, pained, and lonely will feel is balm to their broken heart and wrestling spirit.

And so may it be just that. May we not silence others who God himself wouldn’t silence. May we not condemn those who God himself wouldn’t condemn for their honesty to him. May we not accuse others of lack of faith when God himself sees their willingness to fight for faith despite how ugly it may appear on the surface.

“What strength do I have, that I should continue to hope? What is my future, that I should be patient?” Job asks.

That Jesus has tasted our agony and intimately knows this depth of grief. And that Jesus promises to never let us go – doubts, fears, ugly feelings, and all.

Home is around the corner,

Sarah Walton