Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

I want to confess that for too long in my ministry I took unfair advantage of Job's wife, especially since she was not present to defend herself. I think it was probably due to immaturity on my part. Furthermore, I hadn't been married long enough to know better than to say those things.

When bad things happen, they often happen to the wrong person. And when that occurs, we're always left with that haunting question, "Why?" Somewhere in all of this, there is room for the story of Job. For, as we have learned, a better man never lived in his day.

Without realizing it, by worshiping God during his woes, Job is saying, "In your face, Lucifer! I never set my affections on these things in the first place. And when it came to the kids, I've understood from the day we had our first child until we had our last, they're all God's."

With Job facedown in worship to God, the only one cursing is Satan. He hated it! He resented Job's response! Of all things, the man still worships his God—the One who would allow these catastrophes to happen. There wouldn't be one in millions on this earth who would do so.

Perhaps Job lay under the stars until he was wet from the dew. Finally, he spoke. And when he did, what a remarkable response! Verse 20 comprises nine words in the Hebrew text. These words describe what Job did before the text goes on to tell us what Job said.

There is a plan that we explore which we will not understand, but it is best. Though each segment of it may not seem fair or pleasant, it works together for good. The disease Job endured wasn't good in and of itself. Hardly! But it worked together for good.

Without Job's knowing it, a dialogue took place in the invisible world. As the Lord and Satan had their strange encounter, the subject quickly turned to this well-known earthly man. The Lord calls Satan's attention to Job's exemplary life, and Satan responds with a sinister sneer.

Job does not deserve even the suggestion of mistreatment. He has walked faithfully with God, certainly in his adult years. He is now the best of the best, "greatest of all the men of the east." On top of all that, he is a humble servant of God. But none of that impresses Satan.

Verses 1 to 5 are full of good news, wonderful blessing, business integrity, purity of heart, faithfulness of life. The man is spiritually mature, domestically diligent, and professionally respected. As he sleeps, another scene opens to us that Job doesn't see.

Life is difficult. That blunt, three-word statement is an accurate appraisal of our existence on this earth. When the writer of the biblical book named Job picked up his stylus to write his story, he could have begun with a similar-sounding and equally blunt sentence, "Life is unfair."

At the end of Esther's story, we have the same king as at the beginning, King Ahasuerus. We have the same kingdom, where he reigns from India to Ethiopia, more than 127 provinces. We have the same country, Persia, and the same capital city, Susa.

It was like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's all rolled into one. It was like Berlin on the ninth of November 1989! It was like nothing they had ever seen before. They would sing all night and all the next day because the gloom was lifted!

The law of the Medes and Persians couldn't be changed. The law Haman had written had to stay on the books. But because the heart of the king had been softened by the pleas of Esther, he provided a way by which that law might never come into effect—or would at least be neutralized.

The king's heart is like mush, like soft putty, or we could say like Play-Doh in the hands of the Lord. Just for a moment imagine another name in that proverb in place of "the king." Someone who is giving you grief perhaps. It may be one of your own grown, wayward children.

The workings of God are not related to our clocks; they are related to our crises. That's why God doesn't care if this is the last day you can buy that car on sale. It doesn't bother God that it is the first day of summer or high noon or a quarter after seven.

All the time Haman was having the gallows built, he could see—enthusiastically anticipate—Mordecai impaled there. Now he is condemned to die there himself. We call this irony. Theologians call it sovereignty. I call it God's surprising sovereignty!

The plot thickens as the excitement builds. Esther plans a banquet for the king and Haman. Blinded by his own conceit, Haman thinks the queen wants to honor him. But when the king asks Esther what request she might have that he can grant, she says, "I want both of you to come to another banquet tomorrow."

Talk about the power of a woman! Can you believe Esther's diplomacy and sensitivity, even in the midst of pleading for her life and the lives of her people? "If we were only being sold into slavery, I wouldn't have troubled you with this matter."

Imagine swimming in a vast lake and getting three or four hundred yards offshore when suddenly a freak fog rolls in and surrounds you. You're trapped in this tiny circle of diffused light, but you can't see beyond your arm's reach.

If you're like me, you're often waiting for the other shoe to drop. In this instance, we're waiting for—and wanting—Haman to get what he deserves. Everything within us craves justice. Especially with a loser like Haman, who has strutted his stuff long enough.