No Answer

And his anger burned against his three friends because they had found no answer, and yet had condemned Job. (Job 32:3, NASB)

"One of the hardest things we must do sometimes is to be present to another person's pain without trying to "fix" it, to simply stand respectfully at the edge of that person's mystery and misery. Standing there, we feel useless and powerless, which is exactly how a depressed person feels - and our unconscious need as Job's comforters is to reassure ourselves that we are not like the sad soul before us... in an effort to avoid those feelings, I give advise, which sets me, not you, free. If you take my advise, you may get well - and if you don't get well, I did the best could. If you fail to take my advise, there is nothing more I can do. Either way, I get relief by distancing myself for you, guilt free."

"I had always imagined God to be in the same general direction as everything else that I valued: up. I had failed to appreciate the meaning of some words that had intrigued me since I first heard them in seminary - Tillich's description of God as the "ground of being." I had to be forced underground before I could understand that the way to God is not up but down.

The underground is a dangerous but potentially life-giving place to which depression takes us; a place where we come to understand that the self is not set apart or special or superior but is a common mix of good and evil, darkness and light; a place where we can finally embrace the humanity we share with others. That is the best image I can offer not only fo the underground but also of the field of forces surrounding the experience of God."

--Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak

I got this quote from here. It sums up so much of my thoughts today. How often I have been one of Job's visitors. And worse still, have seen them walking my way, weeping and wailing, then settling among my ashes in silence. The quiet is comforting. For as long as it lasts. Why can't I remain quiet, allow the mystery and misery to play out? I cannot, it seems. Not even for myself. Sitting at another's side, I am reminded that soon I will sit here, scraping boils from my mind. Waiting for His hand, for His restoration.

Palmer speaks well (I'm not sure about the 'field of forces' though. Smacks of Luke Skywalker...). God is found in the dark wrestle of the night as well as the smooth lightness of morning, where we find new names and limbs out of joint. Where we find the blessing.

Lord, help me to remember this when I am well and another is here. To be silent and patient, knowing that she will--You will--triumph. To remember that a seed cannot bring life unless the shoot cracks it open, tears it through. To remind myself we're all just bread distributors, an easy job, but no good without the crumbs.

And there's only one way to get the crumbs--to endure the fight silently, watch the hunks ripped off, the exquisite loaf broken, the healthy blood watered into wine, knowing this is fellowship. Communion. Preparation. Reasonable service.

Knowing there is no answer but You.