“I Know that My Redeemer Lives”
Have you ever found yourself in a conversation like this? (Person one:) “What’s wrong? You seem really down today?” (Person two:) “Nothing’s wrong.” “Are you sure you are OK? It really seems like something is bothering you. I’m worried.” “I told you. I am fine. Nothing is wrong.” “Hey, you’re still acting strange. What can I do to help? What’s wrong?” “How many times do I have to tell you? NOTHING IS WRONG!!” If you’ve been in a conversation like that, as I have, you probably would come to the same conclusion as I do. It doesn’t matter which side of the conversation you relate to more strongly. We know this: something is wrong.
Here’s a different conversation: “What’s wrong?” “Everything.”
Have you ever had that conversation? Sometimes people truly feel as though nothing good is happening. Everything is wrong, and there’s really no reason to have hope. And while it is almost certainly technically not true that everything is wrong, it doesn’t help to point that out. It doesn’t help to say, “Hey, the sun is still shining. Don’t worry, things are bound to get better. At least you have your health. Your family and friends are looking out for you.”
If there was ever a person who had a right to say that everything was wrong, it was Job. He lost nearly everything that he owned. He had been extremely wealthy. He owned animals numbering in the thousands, and one day he got word that most had died and the rest had been stolen away. Nearly all of his many servants had likewise been put to death. Job’s three daughters and seven sons had died. For a brief time, one could have argued that at least Job had his health, but shortly after, that was taken away from him, too. Job got painful boils, sores all over his body. His life was in such ruins that even his own wife said he should leave behind his integrity, curse God, and die.
No one needed to ask Job what was wrong. When friends came to see him, they were so overwhelmed by the sight of him that they covered themselves in dust and sat near him for a full week without saying a word. There was nothing to say. What’s wrong? The answer was clear: everything.
So, have you ever felt that way? I don’t mean have you ever had it as bad as Job. It is the very rare person who would put himself or herself in that same category. We may have experienced the loss of a loved one, but not all of our children. We may have faced a serious and painful illness. We may have lost wealth. But rarely have we seen so many tragedies stack up, one on another, in our own lives. And still, at times, when something is wrong in our lives, it affects us deeply enough that it really does feel as though everything is wrong.
That had to have been the way that many close friends and followers of Jesus were feeling very early on a Sunday morning nearly two thousand years ago. It was true that not everything was wrong. The sun rose that day. The women had a supply of spices with which they could honor their loved one. Only one among the entire group had lost his life. He was the one who had been nailed to the cross. No, not everything was wrong, but it sure felt that way. Peter and the other disciples, Mary and Mary and Salome—they had all been following Jesus for years. They all had become convinced that he was someone very special. He talked to them about God and heaven. He did miracles. He fed the hungry. He healed the sick and drove out demons. And the last time anyone had seen him was when they laid his lifeless body in a tomb and rolled a heavy stone across the entrance, just before the sun went down on Friday.
These aren’t the kind of problems you can ignore. If you say, “Nothing is wrong,” no one is going to believe you. And while it is not technically true that everything is wrong in a moment like that, a moment like that sure has a way of making you look at your life very seriously. You pretty quickly start to wonder whether you’ve done something especially wrong to deserve this sort of suffering. You start to ask whether your focus has been the right focus. Was Jesus a fraud after all? Others had said so. The Pharisees hated him. The Romans ridiculed him. Maybe they were right. The women had to have been wondering. They had given up so much of their time and money to follow and support Jesus. Had it all been a waste?
Or maybe, just maybe, all these friends and followers wondered whether Jesus had figured out what they knew all along: that they didn’t deserve him.
Do you feel that sort of doubt that creeps in when you take a serious look at your own life and your own priorities? “Oh, I help others often enough, but I sure do like the praise that I get when someone notices.” “I know that it is the right thing to do to go to church, but when my alarm rings, I really feel like I could use a few extra hours of sleep.” “I put offerings into the plate every time. No one needs to know that they’re the smallest item on my budget.” “I smile at everyone I meet. It’s a good thing they can’t hear what I’m really thinking.” Maybe I am not as good a person as I like to think. Maybe I am just as selfish as the people that annoy me with their selfishness. Maybe I deserve not just this suffering but also much worse.
The life story of Job is long enough and complicated enough that we won’t fully cover it this morning. But let’s say this. Those silent friends of Job didn’t stay silent. They began a dialogue with Job that went around in cycles in which they accused him of some secret sin that God was punishing with his obvious affliction. And every time, Job responded that he was innocent. And it was true that there was not one singular sin in his life for which God was punishing Job. At the same time, God was not being unfair. Job was a sinner just like every human being born in the natural way. He had done things that God did not approve of, and there were good things that God wanted Job to do that he did not accomplish. The punishment that Job deserved couldn’t be found in the dusty streets no matter how many painful sores covered his body.
Mary and the others deserved far worse than the loss of a dear friend and teacher. You and I deserve far worse than an empty bank account or an illness or the loss of a loved one or whatever it is that we are hiding when we tell someone, “Nothing is wrong.”
So God looked at a world that had everything wrong. He saw the wickedness with which every human being is born. He looked at that world as it would exist throughout time, and he made a plan and a promise to make everything right. And hanging on the Good Friday cross was the heart and center of his plan and his promise. All those who had followed Jesus were right to do so. He was the one God kept talking about through so many prophets. He was the one who would solve the problem first introduced by Satan in the Garden, the same problem shared by every generation since.
This is Jesus. What is wrong with him? Nothing whatsoever! He is the only one since that moment in the Garden about whom it could truly be said that nothing was wrong. But instead of nothing, he took on everything. The anguish of the cross? That was God’s anger being unleashed against Job’s sins and Mary’s sins and your sins and my sins. That was what we deserved.
And today is the day that puts all of that in its proper perspective. Look at the tomb with Mary. See that the stone has been rolled away. Walk with the women until you hear the angel voice: “Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified, is not here. He has risen! Just as he told you!” Today is so important that you can even go back thousands of years prior, sit in the dusty street with Job, and hear him mention today. He says, “I know that my Redeemer lives.”
That doesn’t mean that suddenly his boils are cured and his wealth is returned. God does eventually bless Job by giving him incredible wealth again. God even blesses Job with seven more sons and three more daughters! What a living Redeemer meant for Job was that everything could be taken away and Job would still be loved by God. Job’s very life could be taken from him and he would still stand with Jesus, and see him with his own eyes. Job understood what an important truth he was proclaiming. He wanted to see it etched in stone and written in metal forever.
And his prayer was answered. Today we listen to his words for our strengthening and comfort. We sing his words in joyful praise. We join with Christians who have sung a hymn of praise based on his words since it was set to its tune over two hundred years ago. Most importantly, we join with Job in an attitude of heartfelt thanks and repentance, and joy and hope. We have come to worship a living Savior. Come back again next week. We celebrate Easter every Sunday here. No, not every Sunday is like today. But every Sunday’s message is the same in this respect: Jesus is still alive. We still have hope. We still have joy. We still need to hear this good news.
What we get to sing and say today is way better than a phony “Nothing is wrong.” This is a confidence that changes our lives. This is a faith that changes our eternity: “I know that my Redeemer lives.” Alleluia and Amen.
The Text: Job 19:23–27 (EHV)
23Oh how I wish that my words were written down. Oh how I wish that they were inscribed in bronze,
24that they would be engraved in rock forever with an iron tool and letters filled with lead.
25As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the end of time he will stand over the dust.
26Then, even after my skin has been destroyed, nevertheless, in my own flesh I will see God.
27I myself will see him.
My own eyes will see him, and not as a stranger. My emotions are in turmoil within me.