There are few men who have the record that is ascribed to Job, a “perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and turneth away from evil” (1:8; 2:3). Job’s life proved this testimony true. We would expect such a man to have an unclouded sky. But few men have suffered as Job did.
Job is introduced to us as a man of renown, wealth, and uprightness. With what amazement, then, do we behold the disasters that befell him. Even the elements–fire and tornado–seem to conspire against him. Yet, when the curtain falls on this first scene, no word of complaint passes his lips. He accepts this as from God. “In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.”
When the curtain lifts again, Job is not only penniless, he has lost his health. A degrading and loathsome oriental disease is burning like fire in his marrow. Dumb with anguish, he sits on a heap of ashes and scrapes the oozing corruption off with a piece of broken pottery. Even the loving solicitations of his bosom companion are denied him, for his wife seems more disgusted than pitiful. She would rather see him dead than in his present repulsive condition.
In the meantime, we have been introduced to two court scenes in heaven. Satan has long been observing this servant of God, and now suggests that affliction will reveal Job’s true heart; that he is serving God only because he is being paid for it. God lengthens the leash and allows the dragon to devour, touching everything Job has, except his body. In the second scene, still persistent and still eager for his prey, Satan suggests that physical affliction will extract from Job the predicted renunciation. This time permission is granted for any affliction except the taking of Job’s life.
Can it be that God would allow such afflictions to fall on His servant merely to give the lie to Satan? We cannot believe it. After the first two chapters, Satan is not once mentioned. He has simply been a tool in God’s hand to do more than Satan ever realized. It was not the refuting of Satan but the “end of the Lord” that divine Providence had in mind. The fires of persecution may have been ignited by Satan, but sovereign wisdom and love sat at the crucible awaiting the unclouded reflection of the divine face in the purged gold of Job’s life.
Now there were three men who were particular friends of Job. Job’s own reputation was so noteworthy and his disasters so great that they soon heard of his tragedy. But when they got within sight of the miserable spectacle who had once been their renowned friend, they were so dumbfounded that they could do nothing but sit with closed lips for seven days. During that time, however, they had opportunity to think. Each had brought his preconceived idea as to the cause of affliction. This idea was a yardstick by which they measured every act of Providence and every circumstance of human existence.
The three friends attempted not so much to comfort as to cure Job, but they signally failed to do either. No one knew this better than Job. Their solution of the problem takes the easy course of ascribing all evil to the sin of the sufferer as its cause. God is holy and righteous; God punishes sin. Consequently all calamity is, in their eyes, punishment brought on by sin. It is true that God is holy, and it is also true that He punishes sin, but it is not true that all evil is punishment. Sin causes suffering, but suffering is not always caused by sin. Job knew that no sin of his had brought on these tragedies. He knew, moreover, that the wicked do not always receive due punishment, at least in this life. With his more sound knowledge of human existence, he easily is able to refute the arguments of his friends, and to pronounce their comfort vain (21:34). But his own problem is still unsolved. Why does he, a righteous man, suffer in this way? Where is the God of justice in whom he has believed?
The clouds of perplexity are ultimately driven from his darkened sky, and with this there comes to us all light on the problem that has engaged philosophers and puzzled Christians. This we shall see later.
During the dialogue between Job and the three comforters, a young man has been sitting by listening. He is now introduced to us. His speech has a necessary and important place in the drama. It summarizes what both Job and his friends have been saying, and it prepares the way for the coming of God in the whirlwind. It seems strange that some writers have discredited this young man and his speech, especially since God does not do so. Elihu is not included with the three comforters when God requires them to go and ask Job to pray for them. His speech contributes a new element to the discussion.
Elihu brings out into clear shining vision, what the friends only hinted at, the hints also being obscured by the passionate trend of their argument. His main contribution to the progressive solution of the problem of suffering lies in his emphasis on the fact that God is disciplining his children and leading them upward to a higher, nobler life. The gist of the whole may, however, be described as an attempted vindication of God, as at the same time a just and masterful ruler of the world, who is great and glorious above man’s power to comprehend, and who sends affliction upon his own people as a chastisement or as a means of purification or as a divine warning against sin. The stress laid upon affliction as discipline is Elihu’s chief contribution.
Whatever Job has or has not done, Elihu is determined to ascribe righteousness, perfect knowledge and might to God (36:3-5). He closes his speech by again ascribing these three attributes to God (37:23). Job has ascribed power to God, but he had failed to ascribe the other two attributes. Elihu makes a true indictment when he says, “Therefore doth Job open his mouth in vanity; he multiplieth words without knowledge” (35:16).
Having corralled Job, Elihu now crowds him into the chute. He has pointed out to him his error in justifying himself rather than God. Now he brings him face to face with a choice. “Take heed, regard not iniquity: for this hast thou chosen rather than affliction . . . God doeth loftily in His power: who is a teacher like unto Him?” (36:21-22). Which shall it be, Job? Will you submit to affliction as coming from a just and wise God, or will you add rebellion to your sin? (34:37).
Like a diver who pauses before he takes his final plunge, Job listens. His ear is open to hear the next speaker, none other than God Himself.
It is noteworthy that when God speaks to Job, He makes no reference to the unjust and even harsh things Job had said about Him. He does not belittle Himself to argue with Job or vindicate His place as moral Governor. Neither does He crush Job with stern denunciations. He asks Job a series of questions that bring the wayward rebel to a humble and willing acknowledgment of his folly.
Job knew enough about his own troubles. God turned his eyes to things outside himself. “The call to view nature drew Job out of himself and away from his troubles,” writes Peloubet.
What is God like? The book of Job tells us. He is not like the arbitrary tyrant that Job was inclined to think. He is not like the rigorous ruler of righteousness, meting out immediate penalty, that the three comforters made of Him. He is even more than Elihu knew him to be. And he certainly is not the impotent king that Satan’s speeches would lead us to believe. He is just, He is wise, He is all-powerful–this the book of Job reveals. But it reveals something far more, and better. He is loving. Had we only God’s revelation in nature, we would see mainly His attribute of power. God has given us a fuller revelation than this. It is through His dealing with mankind and, in particular, with a man like Job, that His most constraining attributes shine forth–pity, mercy, and love.
This book, then, not only justifies the ways of God in His dealings with man, but it also reveals God Himself. He controls Satan. Satan can proceed no further than God allows. Consequently he is introduced in the first two chapters, is made to fulfill God’s purpose in Job’s life, and then passes off the scene, and is not heard from again.
The three comforters display human knowledge, but they leave us on the lower plane. When we are through with their discussion, we have no light other than we had before they began. They might as well have kept still as far as helping Job is concerned. Truly the help of man has failed you, Job. You must look to a higher source.
What is God like? Calvary tells us as foreshadowed in the book of Job. “The real contents of the book of Job is the mystery of the cross: the cross on Golgotha is the solution of the enigma of every cross; and the book of Job is a prophecy of this ultimate solution,” writes Dilitzsch.
The vision of God’s mediatorial work–later more fully unveiled through Christ’s death–did not remain an objective fact with Job. It brought him into the surrender of that monster self to the work of the cross, into identification with that cross, and into appropriation of its benefits.
What is God like? God is love. This revelation of God’s love is one of the most magnificent in the entire book. It predicts the coming of the beloved Son, and assures all sinners of expiation provided by God Himself through the cross. It tells humanity that God loves, and love gives.
No man can stand at Golgotha and remain the same. The vision received there not only changes his character; it also does something more. It changes his outlook and conduct. It sends him forth from this hub to the remotest rim of earth. It sent Job forth, and the first ones he found were the three who had unjustly and bitterly condemned him. We hear Job praying for them. Can this be the man who had so stoutly maintained his integrity, and declared he would never acknowledge they were right in their criticisms? Can this be the victim who had paid them back with the same acrimony they had given? What had brought about this change? Job had been in the presence of God. There he had seen the cure for his innate loathsomeness. He goes forth to pray for those who have despitefully used him. The Lord turned Job’s captivity when he prayed for his friends for this was the final and evident proof that Job abhorred self, and had left it on the cross.
There is only one Gospel. God has declared it in many ways. In the book of Job, He declared it through His dealings with this man who represents all Adam’s race. Those who cling to their own righteousness and works walk the way of Cain. Those who, like Job, renounce self, find the narrow pass into the road that leads to the cross, the cross that reveals “the end of the Lord,” the cross that is the full, final, complete, and eternal expression of all that God is and wants to be to the ostracized and suffering seed of earth. The book of Job is fundamental. It is doctrinal. It leads us to Calvary, and then leads us forth.
And from here we take up our cross with you, Job, and follow Him.