A Little Dagger in A Perfect Heart

The first Chapter of Job, in the Old Testament, begin by setting up an unusual scenario. Job is "perfect and upright," with riches and a large, healthy family. Unbeknownest to him, a secret meeting is being held within the glittery walls of heaven. God, the Lord, and Satan are all present. They begin discussing Job, his wealth, his upstanding character, and his unwavering belief and faith in the Lord. Verses 11 and 12 include a deal struck and the conclusion of the heavenly meeting: "But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face--this is Satan tempting God, but the Lord responds: "All that he hath is in thine power, only upon himself put not forth thy hand." In the days to follow, Job loses everything, but at the end of his losing, rents his clothes, shaves his head, and falls upon the earth saying, "the Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord" (v. 22).

At the end of the story Job shows his unwavering faith and all that he once had is restored to him, children and all. Growing up Mormon, I was taught to revere Job for his unshakable belief in God--to see him as an open and willing conduit for the Lord's redeeming love. To look at the story now, I see betrayal; I see a trickster God and an ass-kisser for the devil. And I see Job caught in the middle of a huge pissing match.

Later in the Bible, just as THE PREACHER begins his solipsistic and buzz-killing Ecclesiastes, I find another startling example of betrayal. Verse 10 and 11: "Is there anything wherefore it maybe said, see, This is new? It hath already been of old time, which was before us. There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after." Mere verses later, an indictment to remember everything, to keep it close to the heart, to bear witness, to exhort and change, to forever strive to become like God.

I am not trying to prove the Bible wrong, inconcurrent, or stupid (in its own right). I am trying, like thousands before me, to grab hold of something, to find my own struggle within scripture, to be seen. The language--that brittle diction--paints a Janus God, a multiple personality visage that contradicts his own way home.

I am in the middle of Isaiah now, and I find more of the same, more grafted imagery in the hope to prove the Mormons correct in their religious assumptions. But I care not for Mormon pandering. I want a history, a lithograph of struggle. I want a lead rope. But there are those that will tell me that the journey is half the battle, the fun, the proving ground. It is work to find God. Yet, I am not looking for God, I am looking for his dictionary. I am looking for his journals, maps, and letters. Just to see who it was that began all this carrying on. I have words locked between my teeth, waiting, like a dog, to set them down for safe keeping, because there is nothing of noteworthiness here. Not now. I will just wait.