Sermon on Job 19:23-27, for the Resurrection of our Lord, Easter Sunday (1 Yr lectionary), "I Know that my Redeemer Lives!"

Note: this sermon is revised and expanded by myself, from an original sermon by Rev. Dr. Reed Lessing, part of a purchased series of Lent and Easter sermons titled "Job: Blessed Be the Name of the Lord." The entire series is available for purchase through the Concordia Seminary Store as an inexpensive download. Our congregation has greatly appreciated the study of Job in both Sunday Bible class and midweek services, concluding with this message. 

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

For a child, the dark can be frightening—even and especially the dark bedroom, dark hallway, or dark bathroom at night. And that’s all on “familiar ground” inside the home! Not to mention plenty of other dark and scary places outside the home on unfamiliar ground! No, a child doesn’t want to go alone. Even reassuring words from a tired parent: “There’s nothing to be afraid of. No, there are no monsters. Just go! You’ll be fine!” often aren’t enough to convince a child to go alone into the darkness. Some particularly demanding youngsters won’t budge until you come with them, in the flesh. They’ll tug and pull on your hand until you relent. They don’t want just your words or the vague nearness of your presence; they want a hand they can hold, and someone in front of them in the dark. The child wants a strong hand guiding him and a tender heart loving him. They want you there in the flesh!

Job is a familiar friend on Easter Sundays. His famous confession of faith in the Bible reading: “I know that My Redeemer Lives” gives the title to one all-time favorite Easter hymn. These past weeks in Lent, in Bible class and midweek services, we’ve been learning the backstory of this famous example of faith and endurance in the midst of suffering.

Just a moment to review: Job knows all about long, dark hallways. Come with me, to a God-forsaken, ash heap. There sits Job with a shaved head and sores all over his body. His ten children have all died when a tornado destroyed their home. Raiding bands from neighboring lands and lightning from the sky have taken all his animals and killed all his servants. It has all reduced Job from his former position as the greatest man in the east to being a pitiful, ghastly sight, scraping himself with a piece of broken pottery. Any number of giants had jumped out and chewed Job up for a late-night snack. This wasn’t just a bad dream or fright—fear had already been realized in the most horrible ways for Job.

There are a couple of startling passages of brilliant faith where Job appeals to God to give him a mediator, an umpire, a referee. Someone to stand between Job and God and settle their differences justly. He longs for eternal life and trusts it’s coming. He’s confident he’ll be vindicated, and that his fate will not be with the wicked. Job cries out to God for a witness in heaven who will argue Job’s case before God. Each of these passages are mountain peaks that rise above the sunken valleys of Job’s despair; and each of them yearns for the very hope we find realized in Jesus Christ.

On this day of days, Resurrection Day, we wrap up our sermon series on the book of Job, on the mountaintop of Job 19:25, spoken right in the midst of Job’s fervent wrestling with God. “I know that my Redeemer lives,” Job affirms. What’s it mean? It means we aren’t insulated from life’s tragedies, but neither are we intimidated by them. It means we aren’t captive to fear, of the real or imagined; and neither do we face the dark alone. It means we have someone to walk with us through life’s long, dark, winding hallways. And he’s in the flesh! This verse is the Mt. Everest of Job! Let’s take in the view.

As we climb the mountain, we begin at the first base camp. “I know.” Job is living his worst nightmare. Job 3:25: “What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me.” And yet Job doesn’t say, “I kind of think . . .” or, “I sure would like it if . . .” or, “Wouldn’t it be nice if . . .” No way! Although Job has been severely assaulted, he is not defeated. Although he has lost much that was valuable to him, he still has what was most precious. Job could have sung these words sincerely against the devil’s assaults: And take they our life, goods fame, child, and wife. Though these all be gone, our vict’ry has been won; the kingdom ours remaineth.” He would not abandon faith in God, because he knew that God is his deliverance. Although he is down, he is not out!

Job dares to confess, “I know.” Even with the enormous uncertainty around him, this was one thing he knew for sure. There are plenty of things we don’t know. We don’t know why we had to bury the love of our life. We don’t know why that child turned against us. We don’t know why we lost that job. We don’t know why our parents emotionally abandoned us. We don’t know why we got that inexplicable illness. Often we just don’t know what God is doing in our lives. But instead of living in whimpering sadness, and letting the giants consume us, with Job, we dare to say, “I know!” “I know” . . what? “I know that my Redeemer.” We are getting higher! Job doesn’t say, “His Redeemer. Her Redeemer. A Redeemer. Their Redeemer. Or your Redeemer.” No. It’s personal and particular. It’s intimate and individual. It’s, “my Redeemer.” Job will not let go of God and His mercy.

In the Old Testament a redeemer was a close relative—someone in the flesh!—who would rescue, ransom, recover, or redeem anyone who had been, or was in danger of being removed from the family by poverty, war, death, or a poor economy. So, for instance, if someone had fallen into debt and had sold himself into slavery in order to pay back debts, the redeemer bought him back and set him free. If a piece of property had to be sold, the redeemer made sure that the title to the property remained in the family. And if a member of the family was hurt or killed, the redeemer pursued the legal options and collected the damages assessed against the offender.

Whatever goes bad your redeemer will make good. Let me repeat that. Whatever goes bad your redeemer will make good. What is broken will be mended, what is sick will be healed, whatever is lost will be restored and what is dead will be made alive! When sin has broken us and left us for dead, and our situation seems beyond hope—we still have a Redeemer, when no other hands can rescue us. Really? That’s what Job 19:26 says, “And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God.” “I know my Redeemer.” His name is Jesus. Jesus is not a mystical, abstract, impersonal vague idea. He does not send us into the dark alone. Jesus is the strong hand guiding us and a tender heart loving us when we are faced with a long, dark hallway. But He is not just the Redeemer of “last resort”—but He is my Redeemer, day in and day out, giving me His strength and mercy.

As our Redeemer, Jesus comes not simply to see that justice is done, but that mercy is given. Jesus bears whatever needs to be borne and carries whatever needs to be carried in order to see that our wrongs are righted. If a sentence needs to be served, he will serve it. If a fine needs to be paid, he will pay it. He does whatever it takes to set us free, even if it means giving his life for ours. Jesus forgives my guilt and Jesus destroys my grave. And he did it all in the flesh. Flesh that felt the Roman whip at a place called Gabbatha—the Stone Pavement. Flesh that felt the blazing Palestinian sun while He carried his cross-piece on the Via Dolorosa. Flesh that felt the thorns on his head and the hammering of the nails into his hands and feet. Flesh and muscles and nerves that, for six hours, bled on a cross all alone in a long, dark, God-forsaken hallway called Golgotha. And you can bet that there were giants who jumped out and chewed Jesus up like a late-night snack. Romans. Scribes. Pharisees. And there was Satan who stalked our Savior, took aim, shot straight, and killed. Jesus walked alone into the darkness—deep down into the throat of death.

Three days later this cry rocked the world, “I know that my Redeemer . . . lives!” Now we stand on the top of the world. We can see everything! The angels announced, “He is alive!” John outran Peter to the tomb. Mary cried out “Raboni!” The Emmaus disciples recognized the risen Christ in the breaking of the bread. And when he saw the scars on the living Redeemer Thomas climactically said, “My Lord and my God!” Death is dead. The grave is defeated. The free gift of eternal life is absolutely all yours forever and ever and ever!

People saw Jesus, literally. They didn’t see a phantom or experience a feeling. They didn’t experience a “figurative” resurrection like the blooming of springtime as a reminder of renewal, and make up some story about Jesus. Eulogies often include such phrases as, “She’ll live on in my heart.” Christ’s followers didn’t say this. That’s because they saw him in the flesh. He wasn’t still dead, but now cherished in their hearts—He was literally alive! Physically and factually resurrected from the dead—in the flesh. Heart and blood pumping, lungs breathing, brain and neurons firing, scarred hands extending greeting to the disciples—in the flesh.

And interestingly, that’s just how Job describes his confidence—that after his skin has been destroyed—i.e. long after his body has returned to the earth in the grave—“in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another.” Just as fleshy and real as Jesus was at his resurrection—just as fleshy and real does Job understand he will be, when on that future day, long after death, he is alive again in the flesh to see God with his own eyes. Job gives us the most marvelous confession of the resurrection of the body, long ago in the Old Testament. Even though Jesus was generations away from being revealed—Job knew that His Redeemer would not fail him.

And the disciples and women that morning walked to a dark tomb, expecting to see death—but were surprised to discover life! Surprised to be the witnesses of Job’s Redeemer, who at the last stood upon the earth, and greeted them ALIVE! Job, them, you and I together can call Him—my Redeemer, and confess that He truly LIVES!

There’s a word for all of this. Grace. Grace is the amazing gift God gives us that says even when it’s all wrong around us, at the very core of our lives, where we really are the most wrong, God has worked to make it right by the forgiveness of all our sins. Our Redeemer “rights” what has been wrong because of sin. He turns us in repentance back to Him, and away from the death of sin. Grace frees us to be the person God wants us to be—unchained from sin and the power of death, and free to walk after Him in newness of life. Grace sustains us on the days when we can barely cope with life, because we have faith that God’s promises and mercy have not come to an end, but His faithfulness endures. Grace is the love poured out for us so that all our debts are paid, we are released from slavery, and our brokenness is repaired.

What’s it all mean? It means that whatever your dark hallway looks like and whatever your giants are saying, you do not walk alone. You can say adios! to the irrational fears of darkness, worry, and anxiety—and for the real fears that have already been realized—the diagnosis, the layoff, the foreclosure, whatever—you can firmly grab the hand of Christ and follow Him through the valley of the Shadow of Death and know that He won’t leave you, that He’s gone ahead of you, even to death, and that He lives, Yes He Lives! “He lives, all glory to his name! He lives, my Jesus, still the same. Oh, the sweet joy this sentence gives: ‘I know that my Redeemer lives!’” Alleluia! Amen!