Some of us are old enough to remember this little ditty from the 1950s:
“Next time you’re found with your chin on the ground…
there’s a lot to be learned, just look around.
What makes that little old ant think he’ll move that rubber tree plant?
Anyone knows an ant can’t…
but he’s got high hopes…”
It’s catchy, upbeat, and even inspiring. But it also reveals the world’s shallow answer to despair: just keep on hoping. Keep believing in yourself. Put on a smile and keep going.
Yet if the last few years have taught us anything — with a pandemic that shook our world, with endless political shouting, with society divided and people walking around weary — it’s that human hope collapses quickly.
Dorothy Sayers once wrote:
“In the world it is called tolerance, but in Hell it is called despair — the sin that believes in nothing, cares for nothing, enjoys nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing worth dying for.”
That’s where many live today: promises undelivered, expectations disappointed, like an itch that can’t be scratched, a thirst that is never quenched.
Life feels like the accident report of a hapless construction worker — one thing after another. He hoists up a barrel of bricks, the barrel is heavier than he is, up he goes, down it comes, smashing his shoulder. He keeps going up, smacks his head on a beam, jams his fingers in the pulley, crashes to the ground, lands on the bricks, the barrel comes back down on his head. His final request: “sick leave.”
Sometimes life feels like that: one blow after another.
And yet the Bible insists: “The just shall live by faith” (Hebrews 10:38). Faith is not trusting God only when things go well, but clinging to Him when life goes wrong. Faith is not the absence of doubt, but the decision to trust and obey in spite of doubt.
The Bible shows us what that looks like in three men: Job, Moses, and Abraham. Each of them faced moments when God seemed silent, unfeeling, or contradictory. Each of them shows us what faith looks like when everything else collapses.
I. Job — Faith When God Seems Silent
Job wasn’t a myth. He was a man of flesh and blood. He was wealthy, respected, a father who prayed over his children daily. He was the kind of man about whom Scripture itself says: “blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil” (Job 1:1).
And then — in a single day — he lost it all. His wealth, his flocks, his servants, his children. His health collapsed, sores covered his body. He sat in ashes scraping himself with broken pottery. Worst of all, heaven was silent. He prayed, he cried, he begged: “Oh, that I knew where I might find Him” (Job 23:3). No answer came.
I thought of Job when I visited Urfa, in southeastern Turkey. There, local tradition points to a cave where Ayub — Job — endured his suffering. I stepped into that cave. It was dim, cool, silent. Pilgrims came in hushed tones, some kneeling, some resting in silence, some weeping. Beside it there is a spring, said to have gushed forth when Job struck the ground with his foot — the very water that restored him. People still cup their hands to drink, believing in its healing.
Standing there, I realized Job is not just a symbol of patience; he was a man who lived, who had a home, a family, a place. And in that silence I could almost hear his cry: “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him” (Job 13:15).
Have you been there? Not in Urfa, but in that silent place where prayers seem to bounce off the ceiling? Where you ask, “Lord, do You hear me at all?”
Job shows us that faith is not about getting quick answers. Faith is about holding on when heaven is silent.
II. Moses — Faith When God Seems Unfeeling
Moses was a man of passion. He once struck down an Egyptian in anger. He argued with God at the burning bush. He grew frustrated at Israel’s constant grumbling. He was strong, fiery, and sometimes weary.
For forty years, he carried Israel like a father carries children. Through Red Sea crossings, manna mornings, water from rocks, endless complaints, and rebellion after rebellion.
And after all that, God said: “You may look at the land, but you will not enter it” (Deut. 34).
I know something of that view, because I have stood on Mount Nebo with my family. In the evening, the sky turning amber, we looked across the Jordan Valley toward Jericho, the shimmer of the Dead Sea catching the last rays of light, and the ridges of the Promised Land beyond.
That was the very view Moses saw. Imagine his heart: he had given everything, endured so much, and the land was right there. But he could not go in.
Standing there with my family, I thought: Moses had no family left beside him, but he had God. And maybe that was what Moses needed most — not the land itself, but the assurance that his life had not been wasted. God Himself buried Moses with His own hands. And in Jude 9 we learn that Christ raised him, not to earthly Canaan, but to heaven’s glory.
Sometimes what we need most isn’t what we ask for. We want the dream fulfilled, the door opened, the “yes” we’ve waited for. But what we really need is God Himself. And when God is with us, even His “no” becomes a doorway into something greater.
III. Abraham — Faith When God Seems Contradictory
Abraham’s life was one contradiction after another.
“Leave your home.” Where am I going? “I’ll show you later.”
“I’ll give you descendants.” But I have no child. “Wait until you’re 100.”
“Now take the child of promise, Isaac, and lay him on the altar.”
I thought of this again in Urfa. Tradition says Abraham was born in a cave there. Tradition says that Nimrod hurled him from a high cliff beside what is now the Pool of Sacred Fish. I stood at the base of that hill and looked up at its height. I walked beside the pool, watching the carp swim in the waters said to have been formed when God turned fire into water and embers into fish.
Whether or not geography lines up with Genesis, the truth is the same: Abraham’s life was one long test of faith when God’s instructions made no sense. And every time, Abraham discovered the same truth: “The Lord will provide” (Genesis 22:14).
Have you ever been there? When God seems to ask the unthinkable? When the very gift He gave you seems to be slipping through your hands? Abraham shows us: you can trust the God who provides, even when life makes no sense.
Conclusion
So what do these three men teach us?
When God is silent — trust like Job.
When God feels unfeeling — hope like Moses.
When God seems contradictory — obey like Abraham.
Hebrews 11:1 reminds us: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
Hebrews 6:19 promises us: “We have this hope as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul.”
That anchor will hold.
I once met a man in Moscow in 1993. His friends said to him, “We know you are different. It is your face — you have hope.” Shouldn’t that be true of us?
And I think of the older believer who, when asked about his triumphant spirit, simply said: “I’ve read the last book of the Bible. I know how it ends. I’m on the winning side.”
Friends, so are we.
Fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of faith. Take hold of that certain hope today, so that when all is not well, you’ll still be able to say: “It is well with my soul.”
Closing Prayer
Lord, we lift our hearts to You in hope. Fill us with confidence when our faith falters. Fill us with joy and peace in uncertain days. Keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, our hands stretched out to You, and our hearts anchored in the hope of salvation. And when all is not well, teach us to rest in You — until that day when all is made well in Your kingdom. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
