My Redeemer Lives

Reference

Job 19:1-29

In this sermon Rev. Pedram Shirmast explores Job 19 and the bold hope found in the words, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” Amid personal and global suffering, we're reminded that God doesn’t give us tidy answers. He gives us Himself. Tune in for a message of honest faith, deep lament, and unshakable hope.

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Read the transcript

His pain is on full display, but so is his faith. His cry takes us on a journey from desperation to declaration.

Here's a quick breakdown of the structure of the chapter:

Verses 1–6: We see that Job rebukes his friends. He's wounded not just by his suffering, but by his friends' words and accusations. He pleads for empathy and understanding.
Verses 7–12: Job expresses his deep sense of God's silence. He turns his attention to God and expresses how he feels abandoned and attacked. He's confused since he believes God is just, yet he feels like he's being punished unjustly.
Verses 13–22: He lists his total isolation. He paints a picture of complete relational breakdown—family, friends, servants, everyone, even his wife. Everyone has turned away from him and his social and emotional world has collapsed.
Verses 23–24: He longs for his words to be remembered and wishes his defense could be recorded forever. He wants future generations to know that his suffering wasn't because of guilt, that there is more to his story than what people can see on the surface.
Verses 25–27: He declares his hope in a living Redeemer. In one of the most beautiful and faithful passages of this book, Job lifts his eyes and proclaims, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and one day he will stand on the earth.” Even if he dies, he believes he will see God personally with his own eyes.
Verses 28–29: He closes by warning his friends not to continue down the path of judgment and condemnation, reminding them that justice ultimately belongs to God, not to humans.

As we see, he doesn't sugarcoat his pain. He doesn't offer an easy answer.

But somewhere deep inside there is a flame that hasn't gone out. A trust in a God that he cannot see yet, but whom he refuses to stop believing in.

There is a crucial reality in our life.

The way we understand and interpret God and His character shapes the way we respond to suffering, and the way we experience suffering often reshapes how we think about God.

There is a direct and powerful relationship between theology and experience, between who we believe God is and how we live in a valley of sorrow or suffering.

So all human societies, even those who are not Christian, have known suffering and evil. I believe we can group people into three major categories based on how they respond to suffering and what they believe about God.

The First Category: Those who interpret the existence of suffering as evidence against God

This group looks at the world, see all the pain and all the suffering, injustice and grief, and they conclude that there cannot possibly be a good God. Their conclusion is based on two assumptions: If God is all-powerful, He could end suffering. If God is all-loving, He would want to. But the fact is, suffering exists. And the conclusion: Therefore, an all-powerful, all-loving God does not exist.

This view is deeply influenced by the visible reality of suffering around them. It makes sense emotionally, but it doesn't account for the unseen dimensions of God's character, His love, His redemptive plan, and His eternal timeline. While this category doesn't so much wrestle with God as it rejects Him, often behind that rejection there is still a deep pain, disappointment, and a yearning for a world that makes sense—a yearning for justice that they never experience.

The Second Category: Those who believe in God, but whose experience of suffering distorts their view of Him

This group does not reject God altogether, but suffering changes how they see Him. Their thinking often goes like this: The first assumption is God exists and He is in control. The second assumption is suffering is a sign of divine displeasure or punishment. And the fact is, suffering exists. They conclude that God must not be good or loving. He must be angry; He must be punishing me or punishing others. Maybe I have to work harder to earn His approval.

This is where Job's friends stand. This is their theology. And this view is common in even some other religions – for example, in parts of Islamic teaching (where I am from), people are taught that suffering is a sign of punishment from God, a sign of God's wrath and justice. This mindset can be found among some Christians too, especially those from another religious background or others who have grown up with a transactional view of God. They may still carry the idea that if something goes wrong in their life, it must be because God is punishing them. In moments of suffering, they begin to wonder:

Maybe I haven't prayed enough.
Maybe I haven't served the Lord enough.
Maybe I haven't been on the Deep Creek roster enough.
Maybe I haven't gone to church enough.
Maybe God is angry with me because of all these things.
Maybe I failed Him.
Maybe I'm facing the consequences of my response to God.

Even though they believe in Jesus, the picture of God hasn't fully transformed. They still relate to Him more as a judge than as a loving Father. But the truth is, in Christ, our punishment has already been paid. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. What they need is not more religious effort, but a clearer view of the Redeemer who carried all our guilt and shame on the cross and offers us rest instead of wrath. In this system, people live their lives trying to satisfy God, but the gospel tells us a different story. Jesus came not to pass shame on us, but to carry it. God's response to sin and suffering is not revenge, but redemption. He doesn't demand more sacrifice – He becomes the sacrifice Himself.

Jesus said on the cross, "It is finished." It is finished. The redemptive work of God – it is finished. If we view God primarily as an angry judge, we will live in constant fear, interpreting every trial as punishment. But when we see God's character revealed through Jesus as deeply loving, compassionate, and faithful – a suffering God here with us – our point of view changes. We see God as a Father: loving, guiding, and refining us even through life's challenges and suffering.

The Third Category: Those who trust God even in suffering

This group stands in the tension. They know God is all-powerful, they believe God is all-loving, and they also see the undeniable reality of suffering in this world. But instead of rejecting God or reshaping Him into something more manageable, they hold onto Him. An all-powerful God exists, and an all-loving God exists, and the fact is, suffering exists. The conclusion is that God must have a loving reason (which He is able to achieve) for allowing suffering.

Let's be honest – this is not an easy place to stand. Actually, it's the hardest. It's far simpler to reject God or reshape Him into something easier to accept. But this third way – the way of faith – requires trust. Even Job is wrestling with that. Job stands on that point of view and struggles. In Job 19:20 he says, "I am nothing but skin and bones; I have escaped only by the skin of my teeth." He laments, "My relatives have gone away; my close friends have forgotten me." The tears are evident from this deep experience he is having.

This is not an easy place to stay. Those who stand here don't have all the answers. Like Job, like you and I, like millions of people, they struggle with the same "Why, God?" questions: Why, God – why is this happening? They feel the same confusion and frustration. They fail, they grieve, they get angry. But beneath all that, there is a foundation of trust that says, even when I don't understand, I know that my Redeemer lives. Even when I don't see the end of the story, I believe the Author is good. They trust that God is not only sovereign over suffering, but also present in it – that He is working all things, yes even the worst things, for the good of those who love Him. They believe in a Redeemer whose redemptive work extends beyond the grave. They live with the hope that one day God will wipe every tear, right every wrong, and renew all things.

But let's be honest: standing in this place does not erase the pain and suffering. Not at all. It doesn't give us a tidy answer. The real questions are not "Can God and suffering coexist?" but "Why does God allow it?" and "What has God done about it?" The answer to those questions is not a formula – it's a person. That person is Jesus. God did not remain distant from the suffering world. He stepped into it. He suffered with us and for us. He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, and by His wounds we are healed. So faith doesn't always solve the problem of suffering, but what it offers is an anchor. It reminds us that our Redeemer is alive and He lives – and that one day He will stand upon the earth. One day we will see Him face to face. And until then we live not with all the answers, but with a living hope.

With all the escalating conflict and pain around us right now, like Job we feel isolated, helpless, and unheard. In that raw place of despair, Job gives voice to the same question we are asking today: Where is God in this? Where is He? His cry echoes our own hearts as we fear for our families, grieve for innocent lives, and wait in silence for news from home. We have moments of helplessness – a midnight phone call bearing the worst news, days of no contact with loved ones due to communication cutoffs – and we don't know if we'll ever see or hear them again. It's heartbreaking.

Around the world – in Russia, Ukraine, Gaza, Lebanon, everywhere – every day we hear of new suffering. We understand the pain that Job is dealing with. And you know what? It's utterly wrong for us to stand here and pretend we have all the answers, because we don't. This is what Job is living through – he doesn't have all the answers. We are looking at Job's story from the future, but he was living it in the moment. He didn't know anything about the behind-the-scenes (the prologue where Satan asks God for permission) or the ending where everything is restored. He knew none of that. He's living in the present. And God doesn't want us to pretend we have all the answers either.

In the middle of these painful moments, God gives us permission to grieve, to lament. He gives us, through Job, a language of honest faith – honest faith. The Bible never asks us to ignore suffering or sugarcoat it or say everything is fine. God invites us to bring our pain, our questions, our confusion to Him. We see this cry from Psalm 22: "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" And Jesus Himself echoed those words from the cross: "Why have You forsaken Me?" The Scripture shows us that wrestling with suffering is not a sign of weak faith. Sometimes people might even say, "Why are you sad or disappointed? Don't you go to church on Sunday? Aren't you a Christian?" Of course we are – but that doesn't mean we have all the answers, or that we never feel disappointment, terror, or grief. This is who we are, and God loves us in our honest state.

A faith that trusts God enough to bring Him our most broken, angry, and confused prayers is a strong faith. In Job's story – just like in the life and death of Jesus Christ – we see that God doesn't remain distant from our suffering. He steps into it. He enters the pain. He's not only the God who reigns from heaven, but the God who bleeds with us on earth. And yet, even in the pit of sorrow, Job dares to say something we need to hear now more than ever: "I know that my Redeemer lives." He doesn't know anything else, but he knows that his Redeemer lives. He doesn't say, "I feel that my Redeemer lives," or "I think maybe He does." No – he says, "I know, I believe."

You may still be asking, "Why, God? Why me? Why does suffering exist at all?" And that's a fair question – a good question. The truth is, we are not living in the perfect world that God originally created. He created it and said, "This is good," because God is good and whatever He creates is good. Then, in the very next chapter, sin entered this beautiful world – humanity and everything broke. Everything. Our relationships, our bodies, even creation itself. So much of the pain we experience isn't because God is punishing us or taking revenge on us – it's because we live in a fallen world.

But (and this is important) even in this brokenness, God is not absent. He didn't leave us alone. We caused this, but God didn't let us go. He uses suffering even to grow us, to shape us, and to remind us that this world is not our final home. One day our Redeemer will return and make all things new.

In the Book of Job, it turns out the main character is not Job at all – it's God. And what Job does is anchor himself to the One he cannot see, but will not stop believing in – that his Redeemer is alive, and one day God will make it right. Maybe today that's the only thing some of us can hold on to – not answers, not peace, not even resolution, but just the truth that our Redeemer is alive. The One who sees what we cannot see, who knows what we do not know, is still on the throne. Even if this world is breaking, even if our hearts are breaking, our Redeemer has not abandoned us. That's what Job 19 gives us – not an explanation, but a declaration. And today, as we sit in grief and tension and uncertainty and complexity, that declaration still stands.

Each of us knows how much easier it is to worship God when life is smooth, right? But Job's statement – "I know that my Redeemer lives, and He will stand on the earth one day" – is one of the most powerful cries and acts of worship in the midst of suffering.

Because He lives, we hold on.
Because He lives, we cry out.
Because He lives, we believe that one day we will stand with Him, and we will be with Him forever.

Every war, every missile, every injustice, every tear – everything will be answered with His peace, His justice, and His healing.

What Do We Do With All These Things?

God invites our question. Like Job, like the psalmist, like the Son of God Jesus Christ on the cross, we are invited to bring our hardest questions to God. We don't need to hide them. We don't need to protect God from our honesty. We don't – He's big enough to handle our doubts, our grief, and our tears. In fact, our honest cries before God may be one of the purest forms of worship and praise.
God understands our pain. He is not far from us. The Christian story is not about a distant, unfeeling deity – it is about a suffering God, a crucified Savior. Jesus didn't stay away from our pain; He entered into it completely. He was betrayed, mocked, beaten, and finally killed. He knows what it feels like to cry out and hear silence. When we weep, we weep with a God who has wept too. When we bleed, we bleed in the arms of a God who has scars. This is our hope: God understands truly and personally.
God offers hope that goes beyond this life. As John said, the resurrection of Jesus Christ changes everything. It tells us that suffering, death, pain – all those things do not get the final word. They may have a chapter in our life, but not the conclusion. As Job declares in the middle of his darkness:

"I know that my Redeemer lives."
We remember that the cross is not only where God suffers with us, it's where He saves us. Jesus took the punishment we deserve so that we could be forgiven and made whole. That means suffering is not punishment from God in our lives. It may be part of the broken world and its consequences. It may be something God uses to grow us, but it is never, never ever His wrath toward His children – because in Christ there is no condemnation. Yes, suffering is real. It's hard. It breaks us open. But it does not mean God has abandoned us. It means we are living in a world that is not yet made new – but one day will be. We may not have all the answers to the why, but we know the answer to the Who. His name is Jesus, and He's with us. He's for us, and He will redeem it all.