So we’re back to this: Eliphaz is, again, insisting Job must have sinned because everybody sins and *obviously* God is punishing him, so, please just admit it already and let’s move on! And he hands to mic back to Job to catch this historic confession: how the mighty Really Great Guy Job has (finally) fallen! Over to you, Job.

I have heard all this before.
    What miserable comforters you are! (Job 16:2)

All right, so he’s got to warm up a little more. No biggie, we’ll give him a minute to get into the swing of things. Sidebar – remind me why these guys came all that way probably on foot or maybe worse, on donkey, again? To force a confession out of him, right?

When three of Job’s friends heard of the tragedy he had suffered, they got together and traveled from their homes to comfort and console him. (Job 2:11a)

Oh, that’s right. Well. This is awkward. Somewhere along the way that “comfort and console” bit seems to have turned to “criticize and condemn.” What a catastrophe.

I could say the same things if you were in my place.
    I could spout off criticism and shake my head at you. (Job 16:4)

So to paraphrase, Job’s not happy with the “comfort and consolation” he has received. Return to sender, thank you but no thank you. Now, I know it’s tempting at this moment to get all uppity and self-righteous about how differently we would have handled it if we were these three friends, how we would have done better and been more understanding and actually comforted him – oh, look, Job does that!

But if it were me, I would encourage you.
    I would try to take away your grief. (Job 16:5)

– and yeah, I believe him, since he’s got God’s endorsement as a Really Great Guy, but I’ve gotta be honest, I’ve been on Job’s side of this “comfort” and I’ve been on his friends’ side of this “comfort” and yeah, most of us stink just as bad as Job’s friends at this. Most of us, famously in fact, rush in to try to “fix” our friends problems, don’t we? “Well, of course something bad happened. You’re just doing it wrong.” I told you I identify with these three friends, right? I’ve tried that line, too, verily I say to you. A lot, in fact. It’s kind of a compulsion. (I’m working on it, all right?) But I’ve got to be honest – like I said, I’ve been on Job’s side, too. I know I’m not alone. We humans are miserable comforters.

We all want to be the wise one, the one with the answers, the one who swoops in and saves the day with our superior wisdom and right answers. It’s a rush, isn’t it, when you say something and it actually helps someone. When you’re the one who finds the answer everyone else missed. When you’re right.

Small problem. We don’t have a clue what the heck we’re talking about most of the time. We waffle back and forth and talk in circles and backpedal and course correct along the way to try to prove we’re right, rather than trying to actually be right. I had a communication professor who used to put it like this: “humans are not rational beings; we are rationalizing beings.” At the end of our argument, we usually sound something like this: “I’m right and you’re wrong no matter who says what.” Job notices.

Instead, I suffer if I defend myself,
    and I suffer no less if I refuse to speak. (Job 16:6)

Job is like guys, you’re already so sure you’re right, there’s *literally* nothing I can say that will change your opinions. We call this a presumption of guilt: because his friends assume he is guilty, anything he says in defense of his innocence they will assume is a lie. They won’t consider evidence that contradicts their opinion as anything but fabrication, they won’t listen to someone they’ve already decided is untrustworthy, and they won’t even ask God about it because they’re so sure he’s on their side. There is no way to correct those who deny any chance of being wrong.

I have to admit, I HATE being wrong. You might not know it by how often I open my mouth when I shouldn’t, but I do, I really do hate being wrong. Being human means I can’t always escape it; I have to try to do things every day that I don’t actually know how to do because life’s classroom operates a little backwards and often puts the test before the lesson. Learning by doing is great and effective and all, except for that part where you have to mess up a bunch and hope nobody gets hurt. Buckle up, everybody!

But as much as I hate being wrong, I have to stay open to the possibility or I’m going to become something worse: incorrigible. Unable to be corrected. Wrong without the possibility of ever being made right. Unsalvageable. Being wrong even momentarily is a miserable thought, but when I think of being wrong permanently – I shudder. Humility becomes a necessity.

So back to the story – Job has determined his friends are operating on a presumption of guilt, which in this case is reliant on a correct belief – that God is never wrong – and a fallacy – that because suffering is a punishment for a crime, all suffering is punishment for a crime.

O God, you have ground me down
    and devastated my family.
As if to prove I have sinned, you’ve reduced me to skin and bones.
    My gaunt flesh testifies against me. (Job 16:7-8)

The proof is in the pudding, as they say. In Job’s life, the proof is in the illness. There is no other evidence. But, as his friends keep saying, what else do we need?

These are murky waters. Sometimes what sounds so right to our ears ends in dangerous places. We must be careful who we presume guilty by their punishment:

People jeer and laugh at me.
    They slap my cheek in contempt.
    A mob gathers against me.
God has handed me over to sinners.
    He has tossed me into the hands of the wicked.

I didn’t put the reference on the verse above on purpose. Without it – can you tell where it’s from? Who it’s talking about? Is it from the prophets, or the Psalms? Is it something Jesus uttered on the cross? It could be.

Quick refresher: “People jeer and laugh at me. They slap my cheek in contempt.”

Then they began to spit in Jesus’ face and beat him with their fists. And some slapped him, jeering, “Prophesy to us, you Messiah! Who hit you that time?” (Matthew 26:67-68)

Quick refresher, part 2: “A mob gathers against me.”

“Why?” Pilate demanded. “What crime has he committed?”

But the mob roared even louder, “Crucify him!” (Matthew 27:23)

Quick refresher, part 3: “God has handed me over to sinners. He has tossed me into the hands of the wicked.”

So Pilate released Barabbas to them. He ordered Jesus flogged with a lead-tipped whip, then turned him over to the Roman soldiers to be crucified. (Matthew 27:26)

But it’s not in the prophets or the psalms. It’s not in the gospels. It’s right here, in Job. Job 16:10-11. We must be careful who we presume guilty by their punishment. If we fall into the trap of believing the punished are guilty because the guilty are punished, we will miss the one who took our punishment. We will not recognize the Messiah when he comes. What seems like a logical, reasonable argument – if you are suffering, God is punishing you, and if God is punishing you, you are guilty – ends in overlooking the Son of God himself.

The stone that the builders rejected
    has now become the cornerstone. (Psalm 118:22)

This is what narrows the narrow gate. We must believe Job when he says:

I wear burlap to show my grief.
    My pride lies in the dust.
My eyes are red with weeping;
    dark shadows circle my eyes.
Yet I have done no wrong,
    and my prayer is pure. (Job 16:15-17)

Though he knows they do not believe him, though he may not see a point in defending himself to them, Job cannot bring himself to admit guilt that doesn’t belong to him, either. So whether or not they believe it, he tells them, point blank, the truth: I am suffering, and I have done no wrong. And in this one statement, he is saying to them, “Everything you believe is wrong.” That is no small declaration to make.

So… if we can’t save ourselves… what, then? Are we all doomed? Is that what Job is preaching, now, that there is no hope and all will come to ruin no matter what we do? “Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless?” Nihilism – life has no meaning and there’s nothing we can do about it. This is what his friends hear him saying, and they can’t stand to believe it. Because if we can’t save ourselves, who else is going to do it, Job?

Even now my witness is in heaven.
    My advocate is there on high.
My friends scorn me,
    but I pour out my tears to God.
I need someone to mediate between God and me,
    as a person mediates between friends. (Job 16:19-21)

Who indeed.