WE ARE ALL ON A JOURNEY through this life that has myriad and complex events taking place on a daily basis. There are some highs, and some lows, and the ever-present constant drone of our routines. And we somehow just keep doing what we do. In the midst of all this, we seldom lift our sight up across our own spiritual horizons. Maybe we’ve developed a kind of rocking chair faith, where we’re rocked back by life, and rock forward to meet with God, and that’s our spiritual routine. But then something out of the ordinary happens—life intervenes in a way unexpected and not pleasant, and we’re forced to reevaluate. Or, more accurately, forced to give value to something not fully comprehended or appreciated before. Scripture is replete with examples of people who had an encounter with God at a stresspoint in life that brought about not only such a reevaluation, but new direction and new possibilities in life.

One example comes to us in the story of Job. Job’s life has been upended by personal tragedy. His herds and personal wealth are destroyed by neighboring hostility— “the Sabeans attacked” and “the Chaldeans formed three raiding parties” —as well as by supernatural calamity: “The fire of God fell from the heavens,” and “Your sons and daughters were feasting; a mighty wind struck the house; it collapsed, and they are dead.” (Job 1:16-17) During his incomprehensible shock and deep mourning at the destruction of his entire way of life, even his wife assails his faith in Yahweh. “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!” (Job 2:9)

The next forty chapters of the Book of Job examine his struggles to come to a difficult understanding of the God Job thought he knew and trusted. He cannot fathom what has occurred, how so much evil could befall him when he had led an exemplary life. His well-meaning friends challenge him to examine his interior motivations, and Job refutes them in what he believes to be an objective view of not only his actions, but his motivations. He insists on his own righteousness before his friends, who know him well, and wants, even demands, an audience with God. “I sign now my defense—let the Almighty answer me; I would give him an account of my every step; I would present it to him as to a ruler.” (Job 31:35-37)

The young Elihu, unlike Job’s other three friends, is inspired not by human wisdom, but by God. “The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life.” (Job 33:4) He challenges Job’s perceptions. “But you have said in my hearing—I heard the very words— ‘I am pure, I have done no wrong; I am clean and free from sin. Yet God has found fault with me; he considers me his enemy.’” (Job 33:8-10) He recites this evidence, the words of Job’s own mouth, and then levels this charge against him: “But I tell you, in this you are not right, for God is greater than any mortal.” (Job 33:12)

And then it is God’s time to speak. He has waited out all the developments and arguments, from beginning to end. His approval has been upon Job from the onset, but not without other, higher objectives. “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.” (Job 1:8) He has carefully watched Job’s responses to the great trials he has been put through. But now, he shatters any illusion that Job might have about his ideal self and real self in relationship to a most holy God. “Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand.” (Job 38:2-4)

And so begins God’s greater revelation of himself to Job across four painful chapters late in the book. So also does Job encounter the need to see himself anew, and, very disquietingly, much smaller than he thought. Before we see Job restored and blessed once again, we see him anew through his own eyes. “Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know. My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42:3b, 5-6)

The O.T. prophet Isaiah underscores this vast difference between carnal man and a holy God. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isa. 55:8-9)

Another example, this from the N.T., brings us to yet further understanding of this extreme dichotomy. At the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, he calls the first disciples out of their current way of life. One of these is Simon Peter. Jesus needed separation from the crowds he was teaching. “He saw at the water’s edge two boats, left there by the fishermen, who were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from shore.” (Luke 5:2-3) Afterwards, and not incidentally, he asks Simon to “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.” Simon is reluctant, having already worked all night to no avail, but concedes, and “they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.” (Luke 5:4-7) Simon’s response to this indicates the degree to which he is personally impacted, the clarity of his sudden perception of himself, flawed and weak, reduced to true humility in the face of heaven intervening on earth. “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” (Luke 5:8b)

While Simon’s nets have hauled in a great catch of fish, Jesus’ net has caught one large fish of great value, one that will glorify God. This story is one which even today speaks to us across the millennium. Job’s story of suffering, similarly, speaks to us regarding the way in which God uses all circumstances to bring about his own purposes. These are the lessons we all need to learn. The way in which God works in our world is indeed ‘higher than our ways,’ and a revelation regarding those differences is something that the Lord has planned in every one of our lives. The place where our own story becomes so radically changed is a holy place, a place where an encounter with God gives us a perspective about life that we’ve never had before—one in which we are no longer the primary inhabitant of the time and circumstance of our story, and something far greater is happening.

Isaiah, confronted with a similar realization, says “Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” (Isa. 6:4-5) When we intentionally and faithfully engage with God in his story, when we choose to push through a difficult experience with the master of the heavenly realm, not only do we change, but our future changes. Our future changes first in the sense that our hopes change from temporal to eternal, from death to life, from this realm to the highest realm. Our future changes second in linear time; that which has changed us changes our choices, and the immediate future and the near-distant future become populated with practical visions of a life worth our every focused effort. With the Psalmist, we say “The Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes.” (Psa. 118:23)

Q. Has the Lord shown me holy ground, and have I taken off my sandals?