Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32
Job 29:1-20
Acts 20:1-16

Psalm 107

O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever.

Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, those he redeemed from trouble

and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south.

Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the mighty waters;

they saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep.

For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.

They mounted up to heaven, they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their calamity;

they reeled and staggered like drunkards, and were at their wits’ end.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out from their distress;

he made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.

Then they were glad because they had quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven.

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.

Let them extol him in the congregation of the people, and praise him in the assembly of the elders.

Today, we find a bit of a foretaste for the texts for this Sunday (the Psalm is the one that will be used on Sunday). I think that this Psalm gets at what it is to be human: "They went down to hte depths; their courage melted away in their calamity."  It seems that, during times of success, we do not question God's presence.  During times of hardship and challenge, we wonder whether we have been left to our own devices.  When the storms come and threaten to do us in, and when they are not stilled though we cry out, how do we respond?  How do we truly respond as people of faith when we face our fears that our prayers will not be answered?  I have no answers to these questions.  What I do know is this: it has never been so much what I have done that has supported others in their time of need.  Sometimes, it does not seem like showing up at a friend's house with a plate of cookies and a jug of milk is enough to help melt away a difficult day.  Putting on a pot of tea and dropping whatever else is going on to connect seems like such a small thing upon which a friendship can be built.  These are, nonetheless, the places in which relationships are forged.  Often, rather than showing up, we spend our time telling ourselves we need to think of something more, something better, something more flashy, and end up not showing up at all.

Job's words of lament are not lost on his friends.  Instead of putting on a pot of tea, instead of simply holding what he has said, they seek to coach him on his behavior.  The friends do not receive much sympathy from us, mostly because we do not want to recognize ourselves in Job's friends.  We do not want to be cast as the self-righteous know-it-alls, offering advice on how to avoid impossible situations, yet we do.  Not wanting to see people we love hurt, we attempt to fix.  Not wanting to see people we love struggle, we distrust their strength.  Not wanting to see people we love make mistakes, we try to make decisions for them.  Being sympathetic to Job's friends long enough to learn from them, we realize they serve as a foil for us.  It is Job's behavior, in struggling and arguing with God, that is upheld in the end.  Perhaps what we are meant to learn from this is not that God allows bad things to happen to good people; and maybe it is not that self-righteousness will always get us into trouble.  Maybe what we are really supposed to learn from Job is that it is in the wrestling match of life that our faith is formed and that the role of the community of faith is not so much to fix or to save, but to walk with through life's questions, doubts, uncertainties, and yes, even calamities.