I Know

~
"I know, I know
that my Redeemer lives
I know, I know
eternal life He gives
I know...I know...
that my Redeemer lives"
~

We sang this song at church on Sunday. I knew we would. It was Easter, after all. You have to sing that song. That or "Up From the Grave He Arose." It's just one of those things you do.

Many of the songs we sing, especially the hymns, are musical renditions of Scripture passages. I often don't realize it until I come across a verse and think, "Hey! I know that song!" Most of the time it's a psalm. Not so with this song. This song, this lively, enthusiastic, resurrection song...is from the book of Job.

Yes. That Job. The Job who was righteous in God's sight. The Job that God gave Satan permission to test and torment. The Job whose children were killed, whose livelihood was stolen, whose very body was torn with sores. The Job whose friends, shall we say, lacked the spiritual gift of encouragement. That Job.

That was a shockingly beautiful revelation to me.

You see, we sing this song on Easter. Easter. The season of life. Everything is alive. It's spring. The trees are alive. The flowers are alive. The baby bunnies and chicks are alive. And, of course, Jesus is alive. We stand in a church amidst treasured friends, singing our hearts out in celebration of the resurrection, and we feel alive, too. In moments like that, it's easy to sing.

~
"I know, I know
that my Redeemer lives
I know, I know
eternal life He gives
I know...I know...
that my Redeemer lives"
~

But when these words were spoken for the first time, life was not the dominant theme. In fact, there was no life to be found. Everything dear to Job was dead. His wife told him to curse God and die. He himself lamented the day of his birth. His friends were spending hours telling him about the demise of the wicked and how God was punishing him and he had only misery and death to look forward to. Job is surrounded by death, yet he speaks confidently about the certainty of life. I want to be like that.

See, the Lord told us that there would be seasons in life. Seasons of birth...and death. Seasons of planting...and uprooting. Seasons of healing...and killing. Seasons of building...and tearing down. Seasons of laughing...and weeping. Seasons of dancing...and mourning. Seasons of gathering...and scattering. Seasons of embracing...and refraining. Seasons of searching...and giving up. Seasons of keeping...and throwing away. Seasons of mending...and tearing. Seasons of speaking...and silence. Seasons of love...and hate. Seasons of peace...and war.

It's easy to speak of life during half of those seasons. The birth, the planting, the healing, the building, the laughing, etc. We sing it, we live it, we shout it from the mountain tops.

"I know that my Redeemer lives!!!"

But what about the other half? The death, the uprooting, the killing, the tearing down, the weeping, etc. That's the true test. Do we believe it even then? Maybe we can't sing it. Maybe it's hard to live it. Maybe we don't have the strength (or the desire) to shout it from a mountain top. Maybe all we can do is whisper it, curled up in a ball of tears in the dark of night.

"I know that my Redeemer lives."

The point isn't how loud or confident the words sound. The point is the One in whom those words declare faith. Those words say, "I see my circumstances. I bear the weight of my surroundings. I'm aware of the hopelessness. I breathe the despair. I feel the desperation. I live in the pain. But that doesn't change what I know.

I. Know. That. My. Redeemer. Lives."