A sermon by Bob Schaefer
Luther Seminary, PR2510
Preached November 15, 2001
Text: Job 19:23-27

Job 19:23-27
[Then Job answered,] “O that my words were written down! O that they were inscribed in a book! O that with an iron pen and with lead they were engraved on a rock forever! For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God whom I shall see on my side and my eyes shall behold, and not another.”

From Martin Luther’s Small Catechism
I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father in eternity, and also true human being, born of the virgin Mary, is my Lord. He has redeemed me from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil, not with gold or silver but with his holy, precious blood and with his innocent suffering and death. He has done all this in order that I may belong to him, live under him in his kingdom, and serve him in eternal righteousness, innocence, and blessedness, just as he is risen from the dead and lives and rules in eternity. This is most certainly true.

Beloved in Christ, grace, peace and mercy to you from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“I know that my Redeemer lives!” These are big, bold words to come from a broken little man. We expect to hear this kind of boldness in churches and cathedrals, proclaimed from a gigantic marble pulpit, or ringing from the pipes of a massive organ. But not here. Just who is this fellow, Job, who says such profound things while sitting on top of a dust heap? What does he know that’s worth carving into a slab of rock as a memorial for all time? What does he have to say to us?

Job had been an important person once. Thousands upon thousands of animals roamed his land, grazing in the ample pastures. Some of his many servants fed and looked after the animals; many more tended and looked after Job’s wife and children. Job was fantastically, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous wealthy. But on top of this, he was a decent guy. Job served and obeyed the Lord in all things. He offered sacrifices for himself and his wife; he even offered sacrifices for his children after their incredible feasts... just in case. In a word, Job was righteous.

And now, how the mighty have fallen! Here’s Job, the millionaire, sitting in a pile of ashes, his clothes torn to tatters. Here’s Job, the family man, ditched by his wife and mourning the death of all ten of his children. Here’s Job, the “greatest of all the peoples of the east,” talking about his redeemer!

Redeemers were an important part of Job’s culture. A person’s property might need to be redeemed, for example, if it had been lost because of a debt or a vow. If the person was too poor to do it herself, then her next of kin was responsible. Such a close relative actually came to be called a Goel, or a “redeemer.” There were many situations in which a Hebrew might need a redeemer to step up to the plate. What it boils down to is that a redeemer was someone who delivered you from some kind of evil, at a personal cost.

In his moment of deepest despair, Job understood that he needed a Redeemer. And not just any redeemer would do, in this case. Job called upon God himself to be his Redeemer. God had redeemed his people from their catastrophic slavery in Egypt; only the living God could redeem the catastrophe that Job’s life had become. And so…

“I know that my Redeemer lives!”

But how can God redeem? The idea seems silly, really. Redeemers were always family members. Remember that the very word “redeemer” became another way of saying “my next of kin.” This was never a job to be done by a stranger, of all things! But God might just as well be a stranger to Job. There is certainly no blood relation between them. God, the creator of the universe, is about as far removed from Job’s family tree as you can get; God, you might say, is in a whole different garden.

But this isn’t the only obstacle to Job’s hope. The role of redeemer was an obligatory thing. Redeemers had a responsibility to do their job, even if they were reluctant to do so. Of course, many people saw their duty as a redeemer as an honor, and they did it gladly. But the fact is, if they didn’t do it out of love and generosity toward their family member, they would be forced to do it because it was the law. But what law might compel God to act on Job’s behalf? What obligation or duty does God have to Job? Simply put: None at all. God owes Job nothing.

Do you find that discouraging?

On the face of it, Americans don’t talk much about redemption. Sure, we might redeem a few coupons for Rainbow Foods out of the Sunday paper. Maybe we talk about LaTroy Hawkins redeeming himself after pitching a particularly bad one for the Twins. But by and large, the whole idea of being redeemed is pretty far from us.

Except here in the church. That’s where you hear the word “redeem,” isn’t it? Because here in the church, we hope for God our Redeemer, just like Job did. Job’s words are also our words. We use them in times of trouble and doubt, the times when our lives seem dark and without hope. We speak them during our funerals and sing them during our worships. We pray to God, “our strength and our redeemer” and the words flow naturally off our lips. We know that we need a Redeemer to save us from death, from the devil, and from all our sins. And so we, too, look toward heaven and say with quiet confidence: “I know that my redeemer lives!”

How can God be a Redeemer to us humans? The answer the church knows, the hope that Job looked forward to, can be given in one short word: Jesus.

In the birth of Jesus Christ, the most remarkable thing happens: The eternal God becomes flesh, and lives among us in a body just like our own. Suddenly God is grafted into the human family tree! Against all hope, Jesus is part of our own family. Here, finally, is someone we can truly depend on as our “next of kin.” Jesus says to us, “Brother!” “Sister!” and we hear the voice of the one who can free us, because he is like us. Jesus is the one who redeems us, Luther said, “not with gold or silver but with his holy, precious blood and with his innocent suffering and death.” In other words, Jesus is our blood relative; our debts are made good by his own blood. Paul said, “though [Jesus] was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.” Redeeming always involves a price for the redeemer. Jesus paid the price in body and blood, becoming “poor” for us, as Paul says, in order that we might be set free from sin, death, and the power of the devil.

Why would God do such a remarkable thing in Jesus? God has no responsibility to us, you remember, that could force his hand in such a way. But God is not acting out of responsibility here. No, he is acting out of love. Though no law could ever compel God to become our Redeemer, yet nothing could ever stand in the way of his desire to do so for us. God wants nothing more than for us to “belong to him, live under him in his kingdom, and serve him in eternal righteousness, innocence, and blessedness,” to use Luther’s beautiful words.

And so we, like Job, can say with complete confidence: “I know that my Redeemer lives! What comfort this sweet sentence gives! He lives, He lives, who once was dead; He lives—my everlasting Head.” Jesus Christ, our true brother and our true God, has redeemed us. And so we can bear even the greatest hardships this life brings. Because he lives, we too shall live, and this is most certainly true. Amen and amen.

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