Job 7:11–16 (NIV)
11 “Therefore I will not keep silent;
I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit,
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I the sea, or the monster of the deep,
that you put me under guard?
13 When I think my bed will comfort me
and my couch will ease my complaint,
14 even then you frighten me with dreams
and terrify me with visions,
15 so that I prefer strangling and death,
rather than this body of mine.
16 I despise my life; I would not live forever.
Let me alone; my days have no meaning.”
11 “Therefore I will not keep silent;
I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit,
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I the sea, or the monster of the deep,
that you put me under guard?
13 When I think my bed will comfort me
and my couch will ease my complaint,
14 even then you frighten me with dreams
and terrify me with visions,
15 so that I prefer strangling and death,
rather than this body of mine.
16 I despise my life; I would not live forever.
Let me alone; my days have no meaning.”
“In 2024, I really got into running.
I was used to running through playing football, but that mainly consisted of short bursts and sprints. Probably the furthest I had ever consistently run was around 5K. Then some people from my gym, who ran regularly, invited me to join them.
Before long, I caught what people sometimes call the “running bug.”
I began to realise just how huge the running community is. I discovered parkrun, where every Saturday people gather at locations across the UK and around the world to complete a timed 5K. Then I started hearing about people running half marathons and marathons.
One morning, with absolutely no official event planned, I woke up, turned to my wife and said:
“I'm going to run from our house to Southend.”
Looking back, that probably should have required slightly more thought!
I put on my running vest, packed some SiS energy gels and water, and set off.
I was running at a good pace and initially felt great. But by the time I reached Southend, I had covered around 27 kilometres, more than the distance of a half marathon.
My body had had enough.
My legs gave way and I dropped to the ground. Almost immediately, I started feeling cold. I eventually struggled my way to a nearby Tesco, bought some food and a drink and tried to recover.
The original plan was to get the train home, although I'm sure my fellow passengers would not have appreciated the wonderful aroma after 27 kilometres of running! Thankfully, my wife came and collected me instead.
I had pushed my body beyond what it was prepared for.
I had nothing left to give.
Sometimes life can feel like that.
By Job 7, Job sounds like a man who has nothing left.
He has experienced devastating loss. His body is suffering. His friends have begun speaking into his situation, often without understanding it. Even sleep isn't bringing him relief.
And Job finally says:
“I will not keep silent.”
What follows isn't polished.
It isn't comfortable.
It doesn't sound like the kind of prayer we would necessarily want somebody to pray publicly on a Sunday morning.
Job speaks of his anguish, bitterness, fear and even his desire for death.
But here is something profound:
Job brings his real self before God.
He doesn't pretend.
He doesn't hide behind religious language.
He tells God exactly how he feels.
There is a biblical word for this kind of prayer: lament.
The Psalms are filled with prayers where people bring their confusion, disappointment, fear and pain honestly before God.
David prays:
How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? — Psalm 13:1–2 (NIV)
That's an incredibly honest prayer.
David feels forgotten by God, and instead of pretending otherwise, he tells God.
Yet something happens as the psalm continues.
But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the LORD’s praise, for he has been good to me. — Psalm 13:5–6 (NIV)
Notice the movement.
David doesn't deny his sorrow in order to trust God. He brings his sorrow to God and, from within it, chooses to trust Him.
There is a difference between complaining about God and complaining to God.
Lament keeps the conversation going.
Sometimes we think prayer has to sound spiritual. We think we need the right words, the right tone and the right emotions before approaching God.
But God already knows what is happening inside you.
He knows when you're disappointed.
He knows when you're angry.
He knows when you're confused.
He knows when you're exhausted.
He knows when you've reached the end of yourself.
“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV)
God doesn't invite us to cast only the respectable parts of our lives upon Him.
He invites us to bring it all.
As we reach the final day of our fast, perhaps physically you are feeling tired. Maybe spiritually or emotionally you entered this week already feeling exhausted.
Don't finish this fast pretending before God.
Talk to Him.
Tell Him where it hurts.
Tell Him what you don't understand.
Tell Him what you're afraid of.
Tell Him where you're disappointed.
And then, like David, remind yourself of what remains true even when your emotions are struggling to see it:
“But I trust in your unfailing love.”
Prayer is not pretending everything is okay.
Prayer is bringing everything to the One who cares for you.
I was used to running through playing football, but that mainly consisted of short bursts and sprints. Probably the furthest I had ever consistently run was around 5K. Then some people from my gym, who ran regularly, invited me to join them.
Before long, I caught what people sometimes call the “running bug.”
I began to realise just how huge the running community is. I discovered parkrun, where every Saturday people gather at locations across the UK and around the world to complete a timed 5K. Then I started hearing about people running half marathons and marathons.
One morning, with absolutely no official event planned, I woke up, turned to my wife and said:
“I'm going to run from our house to Southend.”
Looking back, that probably should have required slightly more thought!
I put on my running vest, packed some SiS energy gels and water, and set off.
I was running at a good pace and initially felt great. But by the time I reached Southend, I had covered around 27 kilometres, more than the distance of a half marathon.
My body had had enough.
My legs gave way and I dropped to the ground. Almost immediately, I started feeling cold. I eventually struggled my way to a nearby Tesco, bought some food and a drink and tried to recover.
The original plan was to get the train home, although I'm sure my fellow passengers would not have appreciated the wonderful aroma after 27 kilometres of running! Thankfully, my wife came and collected me instead.
I had pushed my body beyond what it was prepared for.
I had nothing left to give.
Sometimes life can feel like that.
By Job 7, Job sounds like a man who has nothing left.
He has experienced devastating loss. His body is suffering. His friends have begun speaking into his situation, often without understanding it. Even sleep isn't bringing him relief.
And Job finally says:
“I will not keep silent.”
What follows isn't polished.
It isn't comfortable.
It doesn't sound like the kind of prayer we would necessarily want somebody to pray publicly on a Sunday morning.
Job speaks of his anguish, bitterness, fear and even his desire for death.
But here is something profound:
Job brings his real self before God.
He doesn't pretend.
He doesn't hide behind religious language.
He tells God exactly how he feels.
There is a biblical word for this kind of prayer: lament.
The Psalms are filled with prayers where people bring their confusion, disappointment, fear and pain honestly before God.
David prays:
How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? — Psalm 13:1–2 (NIV)
That's an incredibly honest prayer.
David feels forgotten by God, and instead of pretending otherwise, he tells God.
Yet something happens as the psalm continues.
But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the LORD’s praise, for he has been good to me. — Psalm 13:5–6 (NIV)
Notice the movement.
David doesn't deny his sorrow in order to trust God. He brings his sorrow to God and, from within it, chooses to trust Him.
There is a difference between complaining about God and complaining to God.
Lament keeps the conversation going.
Sometimes we think prayer has to sound spiritual. We think we need the right words, the right tone and the right emotions before approaching God.
But God already knows what is happening inside you.
He knows when you're disappointed.
He knows when you're angry.
He knows when you're confused.
He knows when you're exhausted.
He knows when you've reached the end of yourself.
“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV)
God doesn't invite us to cast only the respectable parts of our lives upon Him.
He invites us to bring it all.
As we reach the final day of our fast, perhaps physically you are feeling tired. Maybe spiritually or emotionally you entered this week already feeling exhausted.
Don't finish this fast pretending before God.
Talk to Him.
Tell Him where it hurts.
Tell Him what you don't understand.
Tell Him what you're afraid of.
Tell Him where you're disappointed.
And then, like David, remind yourself of what remains true even when your emotions are struggling to see it:
“But I trust in your unfailing love.”
Prayer is not pretending everything is okay.
Prayer is bringing everything to the One who cares for you.
Reflection
How honest is your prayer life?
Is there something you have been feeling that you haven't honestly expressed before God?
Take some time today to put aside polished prayers and simply tell God where you really are.
You may even want to write your own prayer of lament, beginning with what you are feeling and ending, like David, by reminding yourself of something you know to be true about God.
Is there something you have been feeling that you haven't honestly expressed before God?
Take some time today to put aside polished prayers and simply tell God where you really are.
You may even want to write your own prayer of lament, beginning with what you are feeling and ending, like David, by reminding yourself of something you know to be true about God.
Prayer
Father, thank You that I don't have to pretend in Your presence. You already know my thoughts, fears, disappointments and struggles. Help me to come before You honestly and openly. When I feel exhausted and have nothing left to give, remind me that I can cast every anxiety upon You because You care for me. Teach me to lament without losing faith, to ask difficult questions while continuing to trust Your character, and to bring every part of my life into Your presence. Today I give You my burdens, my unanswered questions and my worries. Even when I do not understand, I choose to trust in Your unfailing love. Thank You for carrying me when I feel that I cannot take another step. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
A Pastoral Note
If Job’s words reflect how you are feeling, please do not remain silent or face this alone. Tell someone you trust today and contact a church elder or member of the pastoral team. If you are in the UK and experiencing thoughts of ending your life, or you feel you may not be safe, call NHS 111 and select the mental health option, or call Samaritans free on 116 123 at any time. If there is an immediate risk to life, call 999 or go to A&E. If you are outside the UK, contact your local emergency or crisis service.
If Job’s words reflect how you are feeling, please do not remain silent or face this alone. Tell someone you trust today and contact a church elder or member of the pastoral team. If you are in the UK and experiencing thoughts of ending your life, or you feel you may not be safe, call NHS 111 and select the mental health option, or call Samaritans free on 116 123 at any time. If there is an immediate risk to life, call 999 or go to A&E. If you are outside the UK, contact your local emergency or crisis service.