Think of the mothers in Bethlehem, who, two thousand years ago, had their children slaughtered by Herod, simply because he was peeved that he had been deceived by the wise men. Scripture says that those grieving mothers “would not be comforted.” No one could put their arm around them and say, “God is in control. This tragedy will work for your good. It’s okay.”
Each mother had conceived a child in joy, carried it for nine months, birthed it in pain, and no doubt gloated over their children with the delight that only a mother can know. They had embraced, feed, nurtured and suckled, listened to the child’s first word, and seen his first stumbling step. In that culture they would have looked deeply into the wide eyes of her children and heartily thanked God for such a wonderful blessing. Children bring a joy to life to which nothing can compare. But suddenly, for no real reason, each one little child felt the sharp and merciless Roman sword thrust through their soft flesh. The mothers of Bethlehem embraced her dead children, their trembling hands covered in blood! The sweetness of life suddenly turned bitter, and according to Scripture, no amount of consolation could help them rid themselves of grief. Multiply such grief by ten and you have a taste of the bitterness of soul experienced by Job’s unfortunate wife.
Perhaps, she had been present as each of her precious children’s crushed and blood-stained bodies were pulled from the dust and rubble. No doubt she wailed in typical Middle Eastern fashion at such a sight, and then wept until she could weep no more as each one of her beloved children was buried.
If at any time in her life she needed to the love and support of her husband, it was now. But Job wasn’t able to stand up and put his strong and loving arms around her, and at least try and comfort her in her grief. He was hardly recognizable, as he sat in the dirt, clothes torn, head shaven, and his body was covered in raw and agonizing boils.
Continued tomorrow...
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