One of the major themes of the Hebrew Bible is the overpowering message, pervading the Scripture from end to end, that there is only one God and he is who he is in himself regardless of what we may imagine him to be. This is the theme of the book of Job. –FLEMING RUTLEDGE
The Old Testament book of Job is familiar to followers of every faith. Even atheists and agnostics often make reference to it. Perhaps the principal reason for its popularity is its blunt honesty in approaching pain and suffering. From the mouth of an anything-but-patient Job come questions and accusations hurled directly at God—things we might like to say to Him but would not dare. This resolute courage in the face of suffering is what separates Job from the rest.
In the first chapter, Job is at the top of his game. He is a wealthy and healthy father and husband. His character is above reproach. Indeed, he is touted in the halls of heaven as the best man in the world. What befalls him, beginning in verse 13 of the first chapter and continuing into the second, is a total and complete onslaught of suffering. First, his livestock and servants are killed by neighboring hordes. Then his sons and daughters perish in a storm. If that isn’t enough, Job’s grief is magnified by wretched sores "from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head," so intense that scraping them with broken pottery does not relieve the itching. His wife, overwhelmed with grief and anger at the loss of her children and the pitiful state of her husband, suggests that Job go straight to the source and "curse God," even if by speaking these words his life would come to an abrupt end. Job refuses, unwilling to raise his fist at God. Three of his friends receive word of Job’s plight and soon arrive to "mourn with him and to comfort him." When they first lay eyes on him, so disfigured and forlorn is he that not one of them recognizes him. Appropriately, they weep, sitting beside him in silent solidarity for "seven days and seven nights."
It is at this point that Job, in grief "very great," curses the day he was born, saying in essence that it would have been better if he had never lived. It is a sentiment he would repeat several times in the days to follow. And he begins to hint that he holds God responsible, referring to himself as the one "whom God has hedged in."
Hearing this, one of the friends—Eliphaz the Temanite—breaks his week-long silence and comes to God’s defense. (Aside from the fact that God did not need his defense, most scholars agree that Job would have been better off if Eliphaz and the others had kept quiet at least one more week.) Ever so politely he advises Job to look in a mirror to see the root of the problem. Rhetorically, he asks Job: "Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished being innocent? Or where were the righteous cut off? Even as I have seen, they that plow iniquity and sow wickedness reap the same."
Whereas Job’s wife had urged her husband to blame God for his suffering, Job’s friend now implies that Job himself is to blame. Surely there must be sin in his life (i.e. bad choices) to explain his plight. Job should admit the error of his ways and accept his suffering as punishment due.
Job bristles at the insinuation that His suffering is retributive. Trying to remain courteous to his friends, he responds that God has unjustly marked him as the target of His arrows. He challenges them to "cause me to understand the error of my ways." He maintains that there is no sin within him to justify his suffering. Even if there were such sin, he wonders why God wouldn’t just forgive him instead of tormenting him. He vows as long as he has breath to continue to voice his complaints, then once again he longs to die. "I hate my life," he moans, a phrase he would later repeat twice to his friends.
A second of them, Bildad the Shuhite, dispenses with politeness and likens Job’s words to "a great wind." He goes on to imply that Job may be suffering for the sins of his children (i.e. for others’ bad choices). Not surprisingly, Job does not buy one word of that argument. He continues to proclaim that he is "innocent" and "blameless" and accuses God of dealing with him (and all humanity) unjustly. Growing bolder by the day, he challenges God to arbitration, wishing for "an umpire between us." Realizing the improbability of such a fair and just forum, he cries a second time, "I hate my life," and again curses the day he was born.
Zophar the Naamathite, to this point silent, now enters the debate. Referring to Job’s discourse as "babble," he reminds Job that God knows everything and that, contrary to what it may appear, He may be inflicting on Job an amount of suffering less than he deserves. "If you set your heart aright," he admonishes, and "stretch out your hands toward Him...you will forget your misery and your life will be brighter than the noonday." In other words, "Stop your railings against God! The remedy—the road to restoration—is a repentant heart."
And so the debate continues to rage—the one convinced of his innocence, relentless in his lamentation, desirous to plead his case before God; the three convinced of his guilt, steadfast in their theology, awaiting his confession and repentance:
Job: I have prepared my case; I know that I shall be vindicated.
Eliphaz: Job, you are full of hot air! (Literally, full of "the east wind"–that which comes from the desert.) Your own mouth condemns you, not I. Your own lips testify against you.
Job: Miserable comforters are you all! Shall your windy words have an end?... Surely God has worn me out. He has shriveled me up. He has torn me in His wrath and hated me. He has gnashed His teeth at me. I was at ease, and He broke me asunder. He seized me by the neck and dashed me to pieces. He set me up as His target; His archers surround me. He slashed open my kidneys. He runs upon me like a warrior. My face is red with weeping but my prayer is pure.
Bildad: How long will you hunt for words? Why are we stupid in your sight?... Yes, the light of the wicked is put out but his own schemes throw him down. He is cast into a net by his own feet.
Job: No! God is the one who has put me in the wrong. He is not just... Oh, that my words were written! Oh, that they were inscribed in a book! Oh, that with iron pen and lead they were graven in the rock forever!
Zophar: Did not you know this from of old, since man was placed upon the earth, that the exulting of the wicked is short and the joy of the godless for a moment?
Job: But I, Job, have not been wicked and godless! If I have walked with falsehood, then declare me guilty... If I have turned aside and my heart has sought the things of this world, let me reap what I have sown... If I have been unfaithful to my wife, that would be a heinous crime worthy of punishment... If I have acted unjustly with my servants and maidservants, there is nothing I can say when God makes inquiry... If I have withheld anything that the poor desired, if I have ignored the orphan and widow, if I have seen one perish for lack of clothing, then let my shoulder blade fall from my shoulder and let my arm be broken from its socket. Then I would deserve calamity from God... If I have made gold my trust or called fine gold my confidence, if I have rejoiced because my wealth was great, if I have bowed down to the moon and stars as gods, this would also be an iniquity to be punished... If I have rejoiced at the ruin of my enemy,...if I have hidden secret sins from those around me,...if I have greedily kept for myself all the crops of the field, then let thorns grow instead of wheat and weeds instead of barley... But I, Job, have not been so wicked and so godless! Oh, that I had one to hear me! Here is my signature! Let the Almighty answer me! I would give Him an account of all my steps.
With that, the Bible says, the "words of Job are ended."
Before we continue the story, let’s pause and assess Job’s case. All of us can relate in some way to his argument. He has tried to live an exemplary life and do what is right in the eyes of God and man. God, in chapters one and two, argues this point Himself. And what does Job get in return? Sores to scrape but no remedy to cure them, sons and daughters to mourn but no family to comfort him, poverty to bear but no benefactor to supply him, advice to endure but no friends to understand him. In a nutshell, Job has become the poster child for indiscriminate suffering. His bad choices are not to blame, nor are the evil acts of his offspring. And there is no hint of sacrificial suffering here, no good choices made by Job that would, through his suffering, help others. What has befallen and befuddled him in wholesale fashion is what befalls and befuddles us in portion: the unexplained calamity and unjust consequences of indiscriminate suffering. And the questions he raises in full voice are the same ones we ask in quiet reflection. Why has this happened to us? Why does God seem so unfair? In the face of such suffering, we, like Job, put the nature of God on trial.
Within the discourses of Job lie the seeds from which answers may eventually spring forth. Consider the following:
• Job always assumes, never doubts, the existence of God. I told you in my first book that the existence of pain and suffering in the world has no bearing on the existence of God. Job inherently knows this. Nowhere in his discourse do you catch a hint of doubt about the reality of God. His railings have to do with God’s nature and nothing else. "What kind of God are You?" is his cry.
• Job always assumes, never doubts, that God is the Creator. When he lashes out at God for the natural disasters that befall him, he implies that God is the creator of the natural world. By complaining to God that he was born, he acknowledges that God is the creator of life. There is never an insinuation otherwise. God as Creator is never questioned.
• Job always assumes, never doubts, the power of God. Never is there the implication that God cannot act to relieve and restore. In fact, Job’s complaints in themselves presuppose that God has the power to prevent or alleviate his suffering. Job is sure that he suffers in full view of an omnipotent God. This, if anything, makes the pain harder for him to bear.
• Job always assumes, never doubts, the omniscience of God. He states outright that God is aware of the whole truth. He longs over and over again to argue his case before Him, believing that the all-knowing God would agree with him and vindicate him. To accuse God of ignorance is the furthest thought from his mind.
• Job always assumes, never doubts, the sovereignty of God. There is always the notion that it is God’s choice to allow, if not to cause, Job’s suffering, and there is likewise the notion that it’s His choice whether or not to remove it. God’s absolute sovereignty in the universe is thus upheld by Job, who is left only to question His choices.
• Job always assumes, never doubts, the righteousness of God. From beginning to end, Job depicts God as moral and righteous. The Moral Law, given by God, is even used by Job as the standard by which his innocence is declared. For sure, he often complains that the wicked prosper and the righteous suffer, but he always implies that God is on the side of right and opposed to the wrong. The delay of God may be an issue with Job, but never His honor. God’s integrity is never called into question.
• Job often doubts, seldom assumes, the justice and love of God. If God the Creator knows what is going on in his life, has the power and sovereignty to do something about it, yet nothing is done, then either He must be unfair or not care. This, in essence, is Job’s complaint. Every time I read the first thirty-two chapters of Job, I find myself straining and longing to hear a voice from above say, "I love you, Job!" or "Job, I will set things right!" And that’s exactly what Job finds himself straining to hear. In the midst of his physical and mental anguish, he longs for God’s full embrace and just verdict. If he had only one of the two, his suffering would be much more tolerable and his complaining almost negligible.
With this, the body of the story, behind us, let us now proceed to its climax.
