I remember sitting next to my dad in a hospital room in Maine many years ago. He had accidentally overdosed on pain meds during his cancer battle and was in a coma. I sat in stillness next to his unnervingly quiet body in that unnervingly quiet room – helpless and useless. And, because I’m a religious guy, I pulled out my Bible. I turned it to the Book of Job. Maybe when you’re sad and scared you want something happy and hopeful: an inspirational Bible quote or cheery encouraging song. Not me. I want the saddest music possible. Music was not allowed in the ICU, so I read through the Biblical story of the man who lost everything he ever had and never got a good explanation for it. Nobody ever told him why his life fell apart, and no amount of faithfulness made it clearer for him. Job was simply miserable and clueless, and at the end he hadn’t learned a thing.   It made my day. Because in that moment I realized not that I should be hopeful or happy or positive or cheery: Instead I learned I was not unique in my misery. I was not alone – even in my pitiable pilgrimage. What a gift.  Want to support our podcast? Give Here