Homily | September 28, 2026 | Loving God Beyond What God Gives (Episode 288)

There's an interesting question hidden inside the first reading today.

It may be one of the most important questions in the spiritual life.

Do I love God or do I love what God gives me?

That's really the question at the beginning of the book of Job.

Job's a good man, his life is blessed, he has a family, he has property, he has success, and most importantly, Scripture tells us that he is upright and faithful.

But Satan raises an accusation.

He essentially says to God, Of course Job loves you.

Look at his life.

You have blessed him, you have protected him, everything is going well for him.

But take those things away, and then we will discover what his faith is really made of.

That's a challenge at the heart of this reading.

Is Job's relationship with God based upon God or upon the blessings God has given him?

And suddenly this ancient book becomes very contemporary.

Because without realizing it, we can begin to make a bargain with God.

I pray, I go to mass, I try to live a good life, I try to do what is right.

And somewhere deep down inside us, there can be an unspoken expectation.

Therefore, God should make my life work.

My family should be protected, my health should remain good, my children should be okay, my plans should succeed, my prayers should be answered.

But then something happens.

The diagnosis comes, the marriage begins to have trouble.

The children we prayed for make terrible decisions.

The job disappears, someone we love dies.

The prayer we've been praying for months seems to go unanswered.

And suddenly faith becomes much more difficult.

Because now the question is no longer, do I believe in God when God is blessing me?

The question becomes, do I still believe that God is God when I cannot understand what God is doing?

That is Job.

Notice how brutally the story unfolds.

One messenger comes, then another, then another, then another.

Before Job can even absorb one tragedy, another one arrives.

His possessions are gone, his livelihood is gone, his servants are dead, and finally comes the unimaginable.

His children are dead.

And Job falls to the ground.

But notice something very important.

Job does not pretend that it does not hurt.

He tears his cloak.

He cuts his hair.

He collapses.

Well, this is not stoicism.

This is not a man saying everything happens for a reason and moves on.

No, Job is devastated.

This is where the book of Job is extraordinarily honest about faith.

Faith does not mean pretending that suffering does not hurt.

Faith does not mean smiling when your heart is breaking.

Faith does not mean that we never question.

No, in fact, if you keep reading Job, you will discover that Job has plenty of questions for God.

He becomes angry, he becomes confused, he demands answers, he wrestles, and God allows him to wrestle.

Because biblical faith is not pretending.

Biblical faith is remaining in relationship with God even when we do not understand God.

And then Job says these extraordinary words.

Naked I came forth from my mother's womb, and naked shall I go back again.

In other words, everything I have is a gift.

My possessions are a gift, my success is a gift, my health is a gift, the people I love are gifts.

Even this life is a gift.

And beneath every gift stands the giver.

That does not make suffering easy.

It does something deeper, though.

Prevents suffering from becoming the final word.

Because Job's faith is slowly being stripped of somewhat that can creep into our own faith life too.

The idea that God owes me.

God, I've been faithful, therefore you owe me.

God, I prayed, therefore you owe me an answer.

God, I go to mass, therefore you owe me protection.

God, I tried to live correctly, therefore you owe me the life I planned.

But God's not a vending machine.

Christianity is not a transaction.

We do not insert prayers and receive blessings.

We enter into a relationship.

And every mature relationship eventually reaches a moment when love has to exist without receiving something in return.

Maybe that's the question Job places before us today.

If God stopped giving me everything I wanted, would God himself still be enough?

That's a difficult question.

I'm not sure any of us should answer it too quickly.

Because eventually every Christian will encounter a moment when faith stops being theoretical.

It will come a moment when we do not understand, when the prayer is not answered the way we hoped, when something precious is taken away from us, when God seems silent, and in that moment we discover what our faith is really built upon.

Job falls to the ground with almost nothing left, and from that place of devastation he says, Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Not because what happened was good, it wasn't.

Not because Job understood it, he didn't, but because somewhere beneath everything that had been taken from him remained one conviction, God was still God.

And perhaps that's the one deepest form of faith.

Not God, I understand.

Not even God, I like what is happening, but God, I do not understand.

My heart is breaking.

I would never have chosen this, but I am still here and I am still yours.

That's not weak faith.

That may be where faith finally becomes real.

Amen.