Grief Without a Verdict

I've been thinking about something in Job I somehow missed for years: Elihu — the guy who shows up late, talks forever, and then God never explicitly grades. And I think the silence is the point.

Here's the "oh wow" that hit me:

Elihu isn't saying, "You sinned, so you're suffering." He's warning that you can be suffering innocently and still start sliding into a story where you call God unjust — because pain doesn't just hurt… it bends your interpretation.

That named what's been happening in me.

I don't believe my losses are God "punishing" me. That's one trap: turning pain into a verdict and rummaging for some hidden sin that must explain the carnage.

But I also don't want the other trap: suffering turning me into a prosecutor of God — "God is cruel," "God doesn't care." That's not lament anymore. That's libel.

So here's my takeaway:

I'm allowed to grieve honestly without needing a neat explanation.

And I'm allowed to say "I don't understand" without slipping into "God doesn't care."

When I catch myself spiraling into "always," "never," "God must be…," I'm trying to treat it like a smoke alarm, not a prophecy:

I'm in the thick of it. My vision is compromised. Slow down. Breathe. Anchor—one prayer, one psalm, one honest conversation.

Repentance doesn't always mean "I caused this."

Sometimes it just means, "I'm walking out of the courtroom."

If you want the longer version of this thought, I wrote about Elihu & Job's Friends.