No Fair Piling On

I tried my hand twice at organized football. The first time was in seventh grade. I, along with every other seventh-grade boy—except Denny Wiss, the smartest boy in our class, of course—went out for the team. Amazingly, there were uniforms for all of us. Granted, some were a little threadbare from decades of other seventh graders, but they were still uniforms. My other crack at the sport was as a freshman in college. Even though I attended all the practices, I never dressed out for a game.

In my remarkably limited experience at this celebrated American sport, I did have the experience of knowing what “the dog pile” felt like. The ball carrier is tackled and those closest to him, both his teammates and opponents, pile up on the runner like cord wood. By the time the game gets to the National Football League, these stacksof bodies weigh more than an Amtrak locomotive.

One of the football rules that is consistent from middle school to the big time is this: When the play is over and the referee has blown his whistle, no additional players can join the pile. In other words, no piling on. The last thing the men at the bottom of this crush of humanity need is more humanity.

To my knowledge, Job never played organized football, even as a middle-school hopeful. But he clearly understood—from personal experience—the sensation of having everyone jump on the pile. As you read the chapters leading up to today’s text, you realize that nearly every person who knew Job had joined the stack. At times he even thought he felt God’s heft on the pile. Our suffering friend was about to perish under the sheer weight of their speculation and accusations.

Today’s verse—“I know that my Redeemer lives”—was not written on a pristine Easter Sunday morning walking to church and holding a kid’s hand. It was spoken under the crush of an NFL-caliber dog pile. It was almost as though Job was peeking out from under unbearable pressure and pain, his eyeballs about to pop from their sockets, when he saw his rescuer—his Redeemer. And even though Job was being crushed in the turf, he remained confident that he would one day see God. With his own eyes and in some form, he would see the Almighty; he would see his Redeemer standing on the dust.

Some days we can identify with Job being under the pile. It even feels like the referee has turned his back and more players have unfairly joined the others who are against us.

Regardless of the weight, the pain, the frustration, the inability to even breathe under the pressure, our God is still there, and we will one day “see” Him. No circumstances will ever change that. No accusers will ever have their way with our Savior. Our Redeemer will forever be standing atop the dust.

Take a deep breath. Look up from the mash and be glad. Your Redeemer has come. He is standing. He is with you. He is for you.