Phoenix

The Old Testament reading set for Morning Prayer today is Job chapter 29. Job is speaking, recalling how his life was before everything was taken away from him. How he had defended the widow, the orphan and the stranger, and had been held in honour by all, a man of gravitas. And then he says,

Then I thought, “I shall die in my nest,
and I shall multiply my days like the phoenix;

(Job 29:18)

A phoenix. Huh.

The Hebrew reads the ‘swirling sand’ and, combined with the setting of the nest, points to the mythical bird the Greeks later coined Phoenix, which died in a swirling death and was reborn in a swirling rebirth.

I shall die and shall multiply my days, like the Phoenix.

Or, even when all was going well for Job, in the days when he experienced God’s hand of blessing over his life, he intimated that he would experience disorientating loss—swirling death—and that out of that experience, he would know life-beyond-loss, rebirth from the ashes. That the wind that stirred up the sand—the breath of God that animates the dust of humanity—would not abandon him, but regenerate his life, his impact on the community. Not just as a legacy passed on, but in his own time.

This is not about the resurrection of the dead, though I hope in that. Rather, it is about hope in this life beyond suffering and despair. About having an impact on others, for good, after we pass through trial. Perhaps even a greater impact than before.

Then I thought, “I shall die in my nest,
and I shall multiply my days like the phoenix;
my roots spread out to the waters,
with the dew all night on my branches;
my glory was fresh with me,
and my bow ever new in my hand.”

(Job 29:18-20)

If your present experience might be described as dying in a sandstorm, a perfect storm, hang on, by whatever means you can. And if you know someone going throw the mill, hang on to hope for them. God has not finished with you yet. It is, perhaps, the dying of a season in preparation for the birthing of another.