Susan LaffertyIn the week before Easter, I’m reading the Book of Job. Plodding through the verbose ponderings of his “friends” as they opine and try to make sense of Job’s suffering and misery.
Job is not impressed.
“You are all miserable comforters. Is there no end to your empty words? …How long will you torment me and crush me with words?” (Job 16:1-2; 19:2).
Waiting. Yesterday our pastor continued his series on “Unexpected Jesus.” Danny took us to the story of Lazarus. A story of delayed arrival. Unexpected timing that found the friends and family of Lazarus in the thick of grief, at the point of numb acceptance that their loved one wasn’t coming back.
In their traditional beliefs, the soul hovered above the body for three days. Waiting. But the fourth day? Gone. No hope. It was the pinnacle of sorrow and loss in the death of Lazarus. Decay had begun. And it was the day of Jesus’ arrival.
The tropical rain was pounding the pavement, flooding the side yard, pouring dense and loud. Riah laughed and said, “We call this a rich man’s rain.” Oh? I looked up curiously. She continued, “On days like this, the poor man cannot work. And when he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid. And when he doesn’t get paid, he doesn’t eat and his family doesn’t eat. That’s why we call it a rich man’s rain.”