Category: God

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 32

Then Elihu son of Barakel the Buzite, of the clan of Ram, became angry. He was angry because Job refused to admit that he had sinned and that God was right in punishing him. He was also angry with Job’s three friends, for they made God appear to be wrong by their inability to answer Job’s arguments. (Job 32:2-3)

The book of Job takes an interesting turn here. Chapters 32-37 introduce a new character, Elihu, who drops into the middle of the conversation and is completely and entirely unacknowledged by any of the other characters. Chapter 38 picks right up where chapter 31 left off as if chapters 32-37 did not happen at all. Elihu is not mentioned at the beginning like all the rest of the characters, and he is not mentioned at the end when God declares his anger against Job’s friends. They do not react to him at all. It is as if, to them, he does not exist.

Which makes me wonder… does he?

It turns out I am not the first person to wonder. There is a long tradition of questioning Elihu’s presence here. From my literary perspective, what I see is his speech disrupts the narrative and there seem to be stylistic differences in the way his speech is written. It is highly suspicious, a little like reading a perfectly polished essay and finding one jumbled paragraph in the middle of it. Were these really written by the same author? We rightly wonder. It feels as if someone has drawn a mustache and horns on the Mona Lisa. So I asked the question: is Elihu’s rant in the earliest manuscripts of Job?

The answer is yes, it is. But the truth is, of course, more complicated than that. Our earliest manuscripts are not the earliest manuscripts ever written. There is much discussion about the prologue and epilogue sections of Job as well, which are written in prose as opposed to the poetic speeches that make up the majority of the book. Many scholars believe the book of Job was a collaborative effort by multiple authors possibly across centuries. Most early literature began as oral tradition and was only later compiled in writing, so it would make sense that later generations might have felt the written poetic section was an incomplete representation of the full story and needed the clarification of the prologue and epilogue. But Elihu? Has he been there the whole time or not?

This question does matter. It matters because it helps us understand why God did not respond to Elihu. Was it because Elihu was right, so he needed no rebuking? Or was it because Elihu was so young they refused to even acknowledge his impertinence? If so why was it even included? Or was his speech just misplaced in the text – did the pages scatter in the wind and get put back out of order? If so, why does God still only acknowledge Job’s three friends? Or – possibly – is Elihu much younger than Job’s three friends, a scribe hundreds of years later who felt compelled to add his own thoughts into the story? If so, was he inspired by the same Spirit that inspired the rest of Scripture, or would God have rebuked his argument, too?

I strongly doubt the argument that his speech is misplaced because of this textual evidence:

You sit there baffled,
    with nothing more to say.
Should I continue to wait, now that you are silent?
    Must I also remain silent? (Job 32:15-16)

This suggests that it was not until Job’s friends had nothing left to say to him that Elihu spoke up, which occurred after Job had made his final speech. So why does no one respond to this?

The reason I am so curious about this is that God’s responses to Job and his other friends clarifies for me how I should view them, and I frankly do not know how to view Elihu. He says things that I believe. Some of his words encourage and matter deeply to me. He says other things that echo what Job’s three friends have said. Is he wrong, like the other friends? Am I?

Without the explicit perspective of God to rely on, we will have to examine this section of Job thoroughly in light of the whole counsel of Scripture to determine if it is trustworthy. We will need to rely on the revelation of truth that we DO have, the Scriptures, and trust the Holy Spirit to lead and guide us to the truth, like we do with all matters.

So we start in Job 32. There is a mini prologue at the beginning of this section that describes Elihu’s frame of mind when he spoke these words. It says he was furious. It says he was furious that Job would not confess his sins and admit God’s punishment was just, and he was furious that the three older men were unable to refute him. What we know of Elihu from this little prologue is conflicting and unclear to me: he did not believe Job, but he had the absolute utmost respect for God. He badly wants to see God defended well. In truth, he reminds me of this verse in Romans:

I know what enthusiasm they have for God, but it is misdirected zeal. For they don’t understand God’s way of making people right with himself. Refusing to accept God’s way, they cling to their own way of getting right with God by trying to keep the law. (Romans 10:2-3)

We know that Elihu had good intentions; he only wanted to see God defended. But is he going about it any better than Job’s other friends? I don’t know.

This is what we do know. We know he spoke out angrily, which, in this context, I think could betray his youth and immaturity.

Proverbs has all kinds of things to say about rash words spoken angrily. Let’s sample some of them:

Short-tempered people do foolish things,
    and schemers are hated. (Proverbs 14:17)

A gentle answer deflects anger,
    but harsh words make tempers flare. (Proverbs 15:1)

Sensible people control their temper;
    they earn respect by overlooking wrongs. (Proverbs 19:11)

Fools vent their anger,
    but the wise quietly hold it back. (Proverbs 29:11)

By this reckoning, I am skeptical of Elihu’s outburst because he openly admits he is speaking out of frustration:

For I am full of pent-up words,
    and the spirit within me urges me on.
I am like a cask of wine without a vent,
    like a new wineskin ready to burst!
I must speak to find relief,
    so let me give my answers. (Job 32:18-20)

(Aside: I am not judging him for this. I identify strongly with those fools Proverbs mentions, and I, too, behave in ways that betray me to be young in wisdom. Far be it from me to condemn others for what I am guilty of myself; I am only trying to decide if I trust the man’s words, not if he himself is good or bad.)

But he also appeals to a higher authority and suggests that it is not his own spirit, but God’s, that urges him on:

But there is a spirit within people,
    the breath of the Almighty within them,
    that makes them intelligent. (Job 32:8)

When a man comes out of a city one day in 2 Samuel to curse David in the name of the Lord, one of his soldiers is ready to kill the man. David prevents him.

“No!” the king said. “Who asked your opinion, you sons of Zeruiah! If the Lord has told him to curse me, who are you to stop him?” (2 Samuel 16:10)

He says that even when someone says something we don’t want to hear, if they invoke the name of the Lord, we do not harm them. God is fully capable of defending his own name. If someone is speaking against his will in his name, their words inevitably come down on top of them. The consequences for false prophets are harsh. If they are truly speaking from him, we cannot stop or change it by harming them; we can only anger God. There are those who invoke God’s name against his will, but God handles them. We are only asked to trust that God will make it clear. In 1 John 4, believers are warned not to believe every spirit, but to test the spirits:

Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world. (1 John 4:1)

So is the spirit that is moving Elihu the Spirit of the Lord? Is it our own beloved Holy Spirit before humans had that name for him? That is what we seek to find out. According to 1 John 4, if a spirit is from the Lord, it will acknowledge the lordship of Jesus Christ. That is a tough test in the Old Testament because they did not have that name for him yet. So how do we know if Elihu is speaking from the Lord? We see if his words agree with our Lord’s.

Elihu suggests he stayed silent out of respect for his elders and the greater wisdom he believes they have, but when it fails, he is moved to speak. Interestingly, the Bible does suggest that wisdom often comes with age, but it does not dismiss the value of the wisdom of the young, either, as we famously read in 1 Timothy:

Don’t let anyone think less of you because you are young. Be an example to all believers in what you say, in the way you live, in your love, your faith, and your purity. (1 Timothy 4:12)

At the end of chapter 32, I am willing to hear what Elihu has to say, but I am not ready to accept it unless it agrees with everything else that God has said. This, too, is how we should hear all who want to be our teachers: listen, but think critically about what they say. Never accept the word of anyone unless it is consistent with what God has already said. Jesus said it like this:

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. (John 10:27)

In order to know what is trustworthy, we must learn to recognize our Lord’s voice. Is Elihu’s speech trustworthy? So far, I am still listening, but I am weighing his words against those that I know are trustworthy to see. What does God think of Elihu’s speech? The jury is still deliberating; we will have to keep weighing and measuring his words to see.

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 31

Let God weigh me on the scales of justice,
    for he knows my integrity. (Job 31:6)

In Chapter 31, Job concludes his closing arguments with a call to action: Go ahead, he says to God. Try me. Examine my actions thoroughly, and tell me where I was wrong. Job has rejected the accusations of his friends on the basis that they speak about what they do not know. Only from God will he at this point accept an accusation of wrongdoing because only God has been there with him every step of the way. God alone speaks about what he knows.

Doesn’t he see everything I do
    and every step I take? (Job 31:4)

Job proceeds to defend his actions: he does not lie, take advantage of the weak, worship anyone or anything but God, wish harm on anyone, cover up his guilt, steal or murder, keep quiet when he should speak up about God, or even neglect his chores. This is the point where I find I can no longer relate to Job! He can honestly say what all of us wish we could say: my conscious is absolutely clean. I have never put a moral foot wrong. He calls down consequences on himself if ever he has done any of these things because he knows he has not. Like a student who has studied hard and knows he aced the test, he is completely willing to write his name all over his choices because he knows every single one of them is correct. Oh, to have Job’s confidence! But which of us has done the work as well as he has? Do you want your name written all over every one of your choices? I don’t. If only.

Look, I will sign my name to my defense. (from Job 31:35)

I would face the accusation proudly.
    I would wear it like a crown.
For I would tell him exactly what I have done.
    I would come before him like a prince. (Job 31:36-37)

The “then let” phrases in the passage prove just how confident Job is in his assertions: he calls down curses on himself if anything he has said is not true. “Let all these terrible bad things happen to me if I am lying” is his way of swearing by all that he has left – his wife, his body, his food, his land – that he is telling the truth. After so much loss, he is still willing to risk every last scrap that was left to his name by calling down curses on these things should he be found a liar. His friends would have nothing left to say about this. He has proved himself willing to accept punishment if he can be proven guilty by the only one among them who has witnessed every single one of his actions: God.

Let the Almighty answer me.
    Let my accuser write out the charges against me. (from Job 31:35)

What else is there to say?

Nothing, as far as Job is concerned. So after expressing his willingness to accept punishment so long as there is proof of wrongdoing, he calls God to take action: Go ahead, he dares, tell me why you have done this to me.

I’m gonna go ahead and put that on my list of “Things I Never Dare Say to God.” But Job said it. And God carefully saved this moment so we could all see it, and so we could hear his reply. It is absolutely that important to him that we know he is willing to have this conversation.

Job is wise enough to stop talking now. He waits for God’s reply.

But we will have to wait a moment longer – there’s one more person, a very fascinating person, who still has something to say.

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 30

 I cry to you, O God, but you don’t answer.
    I stand before you, but you don’t even look.
You have become cruel toward me.
    You use your power to persecute me. (Job 30:20-21)

I have been breaking up Job by chapter, but that is not really the structure of this book of poetry. The chapter designations are somewhat arbitrary and meant to break some of the more unwieldy poems into manageable bites like we would a good, hefty steak, but really this book is originally structured by who is speaking at the time. That means chapter 26-31, Job’s Final Speech, are all one long poem. The sections we have broken it into are meant to make it easier to swallow, but like a good T-bone, it loses some of its distinctive shape when we slice it this way.

I said last chapter that if Job 29 were its own mountaintop experience, the verse that would be the peak would have been verse 18. But chapter 29 is not an isolated poem. It is part of a greater poem that builds to a pinnacle in chapter 30. That means in order to really understand the peak of chapter 30, we have to read it within the context of the building momentum of chapters 26-29:

26: Job has established his respect for God’s power and right to rule

27: Job expresses his agreement with the meting out of justice

28: Job explains his motivation for being good, his pure, genuine reverence for true wisdom.

He has refuted his friends’ arguments against his character. Now that he has corrected the fallacies in their arguments, now that he has established this base of his true convictions, he can build on top of it the fully accurate truth of his situation.

29: Now, he moves from correction, from rant, into lament. He confesses that he misses the evidence of God’s favor in his life, and he laments that even after he tried so hard, God has abandoned him.

Chapters 26-29 were all the supporting arguments for Job’s thesis, his one main point that he has spent the whole book defending. His friends have tried to refute him, and they have all failed. His argument is well-founded on the evidence they can see and though they do not like it, they cannot find a way it is false. This final speech of Job’s is his closing argument in his court case: summary of the evidence and claims (26-29), conclusion (30), and call to action (31).

So now we get back to… <drumroll please>

30: Job asserts his own (he thinks) watertight conclusion and levels his accusation – at God.

You use your power to persecute me. (Job 30:21)

Talk about slinging a mudball. In human relationships, we have a word for a person who uses their power to hurt others for no good reason. We call that person a bully.

Imagine calling God a bully to his face.

Imagine God putting that one time Job called him a bully in front of his friends in the Bible.

Why would he do that?

Maybe because he is not afraid of our accusations. There are two things that make accusations frightful things: 1) the fear of what people will do if they believe them and 2) the fear they might be true. God is not afraid of what people can do to him. And God is not afraid that Job’s accusation is true. So go ahead, God invites. Be honest with me. Tell me what you really think. The most righteous man alive did. Maybe – just maybe – God wanted us to see how he responded to Job so we can have the courage to be honest with him, too.

Here’s the thing about Job’s accusation: he’s wrong. God is not a bully. The devil sure is, and we could get into an argument over sovereignty and guilt by association etc, but the fact of the matter is that Job did not know the full behind-the-scenes plot in this story. He did not know God did have reasons for allowing this, reasons that were far beyond the scope of Job’s understanding or ours, even now, even after the fact, even if we in hindsight and with the full revelation of his plan for salvation can see and understand some of them. He did not know how God was using these circumstances to correct a pervasive false theology in his own heart and in millions who would come after, to prophesy and prepare Job and the world for the saving work of the cross, to draw Job’s heart into his Redeemer’s arms thousands of years before his birth! Job did not know about Jesus.

But if Job never admitted what he really thought, how could God correct him? If Job had not been honest, if he had been willing to lie –

I vow by the living God, who has taken away my rights,
    by the Almighty who has embittered my soul—
As long as I live,
    while I have breath from God,
my lips will speak no evil,
    and my tongue will speak no lies. (Job 27:2-4)

if Job had been willing to compromise the truth about what he really believed to “keep the peace,” to avoid the conflict, he and God could not have made any real progress. Job would have continued to grow more and more bitter and separated from God without hope for restoration. Their relationship would have broken. It would have been their end. God invited Job to reveal the mistake, to say it out loud, so he could help Job fix it – so they could continue. My band teacher growing up used to say, “I would rather hear a mistake than nothing. I can correct a mistake. But I can’t teach you if you won’t try!”

Even though it can be scary to hear Job accuse God of being a bully – even if we are afraid of what we will do if we believe it, even if we are afraid it is true – this moment of struggle in Job’s relationship with God is absolutely important enough to justify all the time and resources it took to preserve it for us. It tells us the relationship we each have with God is important enough to him that he wants to put in the work with us. He wants our raw, honest thoughts. He wants to heal, restore, and carry on loving each other after all the hurt, after all the anger. He really wants us after all. He is not afraid of our mistakes.

Job has finally said it, everything he came to say. He has lobbed that mudball at God’s own holy face. Now all that is left for him is to come down the mountain in chapter 31.

And then God will take the stand.

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 29

“I long for the years gone by
    when God took care of me,
when he lit up the way before me
    and I walked safely through the darkness.
When I was in my prime,
    God’s friendship was felt in my home.
The Almighty was still with me,
    and my children were around me.”

(Job 29:2-5, NLT)

Each heart knows its own bitterness,
    and no one else can fully share its joy.

(Proverbs 14:10, NLT)

It is hard for me not to get stuck in my own grief in these first verses. I want so badly to reach right through the ages and take Job’s hand. I know what you mean, I want to say to him. I may not be as righteous as you were, and my losses might look smaller, but I know what you mean.

Isn’t it a relief to find these words in the Bible? Think about this book. The Bible was written over thousands of years long before technology made writing cheap. It was written long before the general populous was literate. Every word in this book cost more than we can comprehend – in resources, in time, in education, in preservation, in lives lost to its defense. They did not have resources to spare on empty words. These words mattered that much to the people who meticulously, lovingly, arduously preserved them. These are the words, above all others, that they wanted every human to have the chance to hear.

And here, in the middle of them, is a man openly expressing his raw, bleeding sorrow. His vulnerability and gutting honesty meant that much to people, and that much to the God who inspired the preservation of every holy word. I miss him, Job cries. I miss God! I miss what my life was like with him around. Those words are holy when we cry them, too.

Job goes on to describe and clarify what his life was like before this tragedy occurred; he was respected, he was generous, he was loving, he was kind. Every word directly contradicts an accusation his friends unfairly laid at his feet.

I helped those without hope, and they blessed me.
    And I caused the widows’ hearts to sing for joy.

(Job 29:13)

When they were discouraged, I smiled at them.
    My look of approval was precious to them.

(Job 29:24)

The highest officials of the city stood quietly,
    holding their tongues in respect.

(Job 29:10)

If Job 29 comes to its own poetic peak, it is this verse right here:

“I thought, ‘Surely I will die surrounded by my family
    after a long, good life.'”

(Job 29:18)

Job is suffering, along with all else, the loss of his expectation. He thought he knew how his life would turn out. So many of us can relate; we anticipate a certain future, plan for it, work towards it – and yet there are no guarantees we will ever see it. How many of us expect to die of old age, surrounded by family, in peace! Though we know many meet a different end, we continue to expect the ideal.

When Job did not see his hope come to fruition, he concluded the same thing so many of us conclude in that place: God must have abandoned me. We sometimes feel like there is so little to go on to know how God feels about us, so little feedback to use to understand what he wants from us. So we read into our circumstances what we think God must mean. To Job, it was clear: God had left him. How could any of this have happened if God had not rejected and abandoned him?

This is Job’s greatest grief: after all the good he has done, God has still abandoned him. It was his greatest fear all along, wasn’t it? Didn’t he offer extra “just-in-case” sacrifices because he did not want God to leave him? And here he is, after all of it, after all the wonderful things he did just to please God, abandoned.

Or is he?

When my daughter was little, she had a tendency to jump to conclusions. If she could not find something immediately, it was lost forever. If someone else got a cupcake before her, she was not going to get one. I used to tell her, “Lovey, never rush into despair.”

I would not say Job rushed into despair like she so often did. I might sooner say he was rushed by despair! But I would suggest he did jump to one incorrect conclusion. He believed because of all he had lost that God must be among that number. Rejected. Abandoned. He believed he had been left alone.

How many of us have assumed the same?

But just because God may be quiet in grief, it does not mean he is not there.

Those are words worth whatever it takes to preserve them.

This book is about hope.

to be continued…

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 28

“God alone understands the way to wisdom;
    he knows where it can be found,
 for he looks throughout the whole earth
    and sees everything under the heavens.

And this is what he says to all humanity:
‘The fear of the Lord is true wisdom;
    to forsake evil is real understanding.’”

(Job 28:23-24, 28 NLT)

I love Job 28. I love it. I love it. I love it! ❤

“Why, Job?” That is the question his wife asked. Why are you still holding onto your integrity if you are not getting what you deserve for it?

Because, he finally truly answers here, God is still smarter than me. And he says this is best.

Job 28 opens with Job extolling the heights of human ingenuity – that we can dig deep into the earth to pull up treasures from places where not even the wild animals can go.

People know where to mine silver
    and how to refine gold.
They know where to dig iron from the earth
    and how to smelt copper from rock.
They know how to shine light in the darkness
    and explore the farthest regions of the earth
    as they search in the dark for ore.

These are treasures no bird of prey can see,
    no falcon’s eye observe.
No wild animal has walked upon these treasures;
    no lion has ever set his paw there.

(Job 28:1-3, 7-8 NLT)

But – he says – but they cannot find the one thing of real value.

But do people know where to find wisdom?
    Where can they find understanding?
No one knows where to find it,
    for it is not found among the living.

(Job 28:12-13 NLT)

There is one thing, he says, that is rarer than the rarest jewels. Rarer than all wealth. No one perceives it except God himself. Wisdom.

In the previous two chapters, we saw Job establish that he knows who God is, that God is in charge, and that he is, in fact, still determined to hold onto his integrity, despite what his friends believe. But this. This is the secret his friends are really missing. This is what Job understands that his friends do not, the bedrock, the underlying principle of his success: he never did what was right for the reward.

He did it because it is right.

He did it because God said it is right.

He did it because he believed God.

He did it because he knows God has searched out the universe, turned over every stone, examined every evidence, left nothing unknown in all of creation – and God says this is the best way. God did not say it is the best way to get what you want. He says it is the best way to live because he knows it is. He says it is wise.

Then he saw wisdom and evaluated it.
    He set it in place and examined it thoroughly.

(Job 28:27, NLT)

Because God says so, Job says, I believe it. Even if I lost everything, Job says, it does not change what God says is the best way.

Wisdom begins when we understand God rightly – when we know, as Job does, that

“These are just the beginning of all that he does,
    merely a whisper of his power.
    Who, then, can comprehend the thunder of his power?”

(Job 26:14)

Wisdom grows when we accept what God accepts and reject what God rejects not because we will get anything for it, but for the mere sake of what is good. The peace, the satisfaction of knowing it is best, it is right, is reason enough to do it. It is a pleasure in and of itself.

Job, in chapter 28, says – I hold onto my integrity because I found something rarer than the rarest gems, more difficult to obtain than minerals forged in the molten earth, something God alone has the skill, ability, and resources to have mined: wisdom. I am convinced God is right, and it brings me satisfaction to do what he calls right.

The wisest do what is right because it is satisfying to have done what is right.

Unfortunately for the Accuser, the one who set Job up to fail by stripping from him his rewards – Job’s best reward was internal. “Internally motivated,” we call it. He was convicted of more than the belief that he would get something, some external reward, for doing it, but rather was convicted by the belief that the action was the reward. He believed God that completely.

And as God showed us through Abraham, believing God is what God calls righteousness. When he says to the Accuser in the beginning of the book that there is no man on earth more righteous than Job, he means there is no one who believes him with as thorough a conviction as Job does.

People say Solomon was the wisest man to have ever lived. And yet, Solomon’s book of wisdom begins with this echo of Job’s:

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge,
    but fools despise wisdom and instruction.

(Proverbs 1:7)

and continues with this one:

Blessed are those who find wisdom,
    those who gain understanding,
for she is more profitable than silver
    and yields better returns than gold.
She is more precious than rubies;
    nothing you desire can compare with her.

(Proverbs 3:13-15)

Why? Because the wisest man in the world knew wisdom existed long before he did. He did not set out to invent it. He only sought to compile it. He only sought to pick up the torch and carry it forward. So when he saw these words of Job’s, he knew what he had found.

Wisdom. The gem mined from the heart of the universe by God himself.

Job has established his respect for God’s power and right to rule, his agreement with the meting out of justice, and his reverence for true wisdom. He has refuted his friends’ arguments against his character. Now that he has corrected the fallacies in their arguments, now that he has established this base of his true convictions, he can build on top of it the fully accurate truth of his situation. Now, he moves from correction, from rant, into lament.

So at the end of this beautiful chapter, we still find Job’s closing speech

to be continued…

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 27

Previously in Job:

How you have enlightened my stupidity!
    What wise advice you have offered! (Job 26:3)

(so much sarcasm)

Job 27 is the second part of Job’s 5 chapter closing rant I mean argument, so let’s recap a few chapters so we remember where we’re coming from here:

Job’s friends: Bless your heart. Clearly you are stupid and don’t know who God is or how to do the right thing. Let us help you be smarter so you won’t be such a screw up next time.

Job: Aw, guys. You really know how to make a guy feel better, don’t you? (again, sarcasm) Actually, I’m not stupid, you are. I do know who God is, believe it or not. Do you?

Job begins the next part of his closing rant I mean argument with a vow:

I vow by the living God, who has taken away my rights,
    by the Almighty who has embittered my soul—
As long as I live,
    while I have breath from God,
my lips will speak no evil,
    and my tongue will speak no lies. (Job 27:2-4)

I don’t think we appreciate vows enough in our culture. Promises, vows, oaths. Giving our word means so little in a culture that prioritizes pleasing the self. Words are cheap here. But that is not the kind of vow Job is making.

When our translation says, “I vow by the living God,” it means the Hebrew means something like, “As sure as God lives.” We might say something like, “I swear, I will NEVER…” but this is stronger than that. He was putting his honesty on the same level of certainty as the existence of God. If he lies, that is tantamount to denying God exists. To them, a lie at this point would be blasphemy of the most reprehensible kind. The strength of Job’s words leaves no room for compromise, no room for diplomacy. The ‘peace talk,’ of sorts, in which Job’s friends are trying to persuade him to be reasonable, is over. At this point, he CANNOT back down, or he will be guilty of, in his friends’ minds, an irrecoverable sin – blaspheming God. If they were hearing him clearly, they would have heard him say, “I will not lie just to make you feel better.” Instead, they most likely heard him say, “I am incorrigible. You cannot save me now.”

And even in his vow, Job maintains that the God who exists, the very same God whose power he so eloquently admitted in chapter 26, has “taken away [his] rights.”

The word for “rights” here is mishpat. Mishpat is a beautiful word, a beautiful concept, and absolutely worth more study and discussion. It is the underlying concept of fairness in the Hebrew construct of justice, but it has more to do with restorative justice than retributive justice. This is not about getting someone back for what they have done – it is not vengeance. It is restoration, the return of things to the way they should be so relationship can continue. It is about balancing, equalizing, and making sure everyone in the community is receiving their fair due. It is a beautiful kind of communal justice meant to multiply kindness, mercy, and awareness of others’ needs.

I imagine mishpat a little like making change. If I buy a bouquet of roses from you that we have agreed is worth $15, and I hand you a twenty dollar bill, you will hand me the roses and a five dollar bill. Now I have $20 worth of a combination of roses and bills, and you have $20 worth of bills. The equation is balanced. Both sides have the same value. That is mishpat – everyone walks away with the same value, though with the product that best suits their needs.

When Job says God has taken away his mishpat, he is saying he got shorted. The value he received is not the same value he gave. He believed they had a deal, they were in agreement about the value of the product and the payment he would receive for it, he handed over the product, and God did not keep up his end of the bargain. That often happens when we try to barter with God without his actual consent. We tend to misunderstand his terms.

When Job has thus thoroughly asserted his honesty, he goes on to carry his argument to his main point.

I will never concede that you are right;
    I will defend my integrity until I die.
I will maintain my innocence without wavering.
    My conscience is clear for as long as I live. (Job 27:5-6)

Still, Job holds onto the one thing. The ONE THING he still has: his integrity.

Why?

This is the question his wife asked him at the beginning. Why bother to do what’s right if you won’t get what you deserve for it?

Job just tells her she’s talking “like a foolish woman.” He continues to choose honesty, integrity, and the right thing even when nothing goes his way. Some part of me wants to know why he would do that, too.

But there is part of me that does understand. There is no burden on the human soul like the burden of guilt, is there? It is HARD to carry the weight of an unjust tragedy, but the weight of a self-induced tragedy? That is crushing. There is nothing, nothing worse than being responsible for your own suffering – or, even more, the suffering of those you love. That is why, when bad things happen, we are so quick to point the finger somewhere else. To have to bear loss is hard enough without the unbearable knowledge it came from our own doing. “It wasn’t your fault,” we say to comfort the grieving. Facing our own culpability is one of the bravest, most difficult things we ever do. That is the stumbling block that trips so many people on the way to salvation. It requires looking in the mirror and confessing what is really there. So few of us have the strength to confess.

Job knows that if he lies now, after all those years he spent doing the right thing, he will have to carry the blame for what happened to him. Is that not what the Accuser wanted in the first place? Did he not want to break Job, make him act in a way deserving of his suffering, tarnish his spotless conscience with the misery of guilt? But Job is still wise. He is unwilling to add that burden to the one he already carries. No, he says. If God insists I suffer, I insist I will not suffer the blame for it.

If only, friends, am I right? If only I had been as wise as Job.

Job has nothing left but his clear conscience, and he intends to keep it.

For the rest of Job 27, Job is agreeing with the point that the wicked should be punished. Look at what he says:

May my enemy be punished like the wicked,
    my adversary like those who do evil. (Job 27:7)

Please, do, God! He says. Please do punish the wicked! He describes in detail what should happen to those who don’t follow God, those who lie and steal and cheat and hurt others. He says they should have consequences; he is refuting the argument that he believes there should be no consequences for harmful actions. Not true! He says. I want God to give them what THEY deserve! He wants mishpat, for the scales to be equal. He wants the things the wicked take for themselves by hurting others to become the reward of those who did right. He wants the people who have callously taken the lives of others to watch their children be taken by disease, by famine, by war. It is good and right, he says, for those who have arrogantly disdained the kindness of God to feel what it is to be on the other side of their cruelty. It is balanced. It makes people think twice and maybe even change their minds before they do something cruel, and that preserves relationship, preserves community.

Job has never strayed from the belief that God is good to be just, to restore balance in the way he sees fit. This is what so frustrates Job about what his friends are saying. They know him, they know what he believed and what he did. And yet they accuse him of doing and believing otherwise.

I will teach you about God’s power.
    I will not conceal anything concerning the Almighty.
But you have seen all this,
    yet you say all these useless things to me.

He tells them he has faithfully taught others about God’s power and justice and he has never hidden the truth about God from someone. He invokes the testimony of their own eyes – they have seen it themselves! They know it is true.

So to recap, Job has responded to two of his friends’ accusations in this way:

1 – You think I don’t believe God is powerful, but I do,

and

2 – You think I believe God is wrong to punish the wicked, but I don’t,

And, because we are finite beings and Job’s argument is a little long, this is not an episode in two parts, but five, so I guess we have reached the point where we must say

to be continued…

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 26

How you have enlightened my stupidity!
    What wise advice you have offered!
Where have you gotten all these wise sayings?
    Whose spirit speaks through you? (Job 23:3-4)

Chapter 26 marks the beginning of the climax in Job. This is his final speech. If we think of this as a trial, Job is presenting his closing argument. His three friends have wrapped up their arguments and failed to prove that he deserves what has happened to him, and now Job will explain his conclusion before the judge (God) announces his judgment.

He begins with heavy sarcasm toward Bildad, whose feeble final attempt left much to be desired (see chapter 25). He poignantly questions Bildad’s source of information – “Where have you gotten all these wise sayings?” (vs. 4). There is biting sarcasm here as Job implies that Bildad’s source is certainly not wise, but underneath it is the implication that Job is only interested in one source, the TRUE source. I think it’s key to remember here that Job is going through a crisis of faith; his whole belief system is crashing down and his friends are accusing him of wrongdoing, but in the midst of the crisis and the criticism, he’s still looking for God. He’s actively rejecting the wisdom of humanity and seeking something higher – the Spirit of God, the source of real wisdom. This is what makes Job and his struggle so important. Embedded in the sarcasm at the beginning of this chapter is Job’s absolute commitment to seeking the truth from the source of all truth.

The rest of chapter 26 is a poetic establishing of God’s power and sovereignty over all the earth. It is the introduction, if you will, to the conclusion. This establishes God’s legal and natural right to do as he pleases. He made this place what it is, and he can do with it whatever he chooses. It is his right to do so, both by ownership and by superiority. He owns the place and no one exists who can stop him. Whatever he says goes. We’re starting at the bottom of the mountain again preparing to build our way to his ultimate spiritual conclusion.

His Spirit made the heavens beautiful,
    and his power pierced the gliding serpent.
These are just the beginning of all that he does,
    merely a whisper of his power.
    Who, then, can comprehend the thunder of his power?” (Job 26:13-14)

As Job continues in the next five chapters, we’re going to see him argue that he knows who God is, has always appropriately feared him and respected his authority, and has acted in a way that was both wise and kind out of that fear and respect. Chapter 26 is the beginning of Job clarifying and establishing his own understanding of who God is and what he requires so that they could see he was not a wicked, godless man. He is aware of his own inferior position before a ultimately superior God, a direct contradiction to the accusations of his friends that he has acted arrogantly and has not feared God.

But this hefty monologue is only getting started. We break it into chapters for our own sakes, not because it was meant to be read in pieces, but because it can be overwhelming if it is not. So I guess this is a Biblical

to be continued…

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 25

This is the shortest chapter in the entire book of Job, so it would be easy to just breeze right by it. But it’s the one I really, really struggle with the most. What is so wrong about Bildad’s argument? Isn’t he right? All people sin. No one is righteous before God. It says that. The Bible says that.

How can a mortal be innocent before God?
    Can anyone born of a woman be pure? (Job 25:4)

For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard. (Romans 3:23)

God looks down from heaven
    on the entire human race;
he looks to see if anyone is truly wise,
    if anyone seeks God.
But no, all have turned away;
    all have become corrupt.
No one does good,
    not a single one! (Psalm 53:2-3)

I was praying about this chapter because I do not know what to make of it. Job’s friends have now gone through all the common arguments about why suffering exists: 1) punishment for sufferer’s sin (they really harped on this one), 2) punishment for someone else’s sin (those naughty children), and 3) generalized sin leads to generalized suffering. Since they cannot find any other reason for Job’s suffering, this is where they ended up. No one is perfectly righteous, Bildad says. Because no one can be perfect, you must have sinned, and that is why you are suffering.

I have heard people make all of these arguments. When I was diagnosed with a painful condition early in our marriage, I wondered if it was because of something I had done. I wracked my brain looking for something to blame, for some unrepented sin that made this happen. My husband used to constantly blame the struggles in our life on foolish choices he made when he was young, and he would mentally thrash himself again and again for those choices. When my oldest daughter was born with a heart defect, we were told it was because we had sinned. “Which man sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born like this?” That attitude still exists, even in the modern church that has the next words of Jesus: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned.”

Let’s look, though, at the origin of this belief, this attitude toward suffering. There’s a good example of sin leading to suffering in Joshua 6 after the Israelites destroyed Jericho. The story is iconic. The people were given the strangest orders to march around the city without making a sound, and then, when they had marched around the directed number of times, they were to shout with all their might. We know this story because the walls literally crumbled in front of them. We like this part of the story.

But it does not end there, does it? The people are given the command to put to death every person and animal in Jericho, and they are to destroy or consecrate to the Lord all of the spoils of battle; the gold and the silver and the fine clothing. They were given precise instructions. Keep none of it, the Lord said. But Achan did not listen.

The next battle should have been an easy one. The spies came back full of confidence, saying the people were few and it would only take a couple thousand men to destroy them. They sent three thousand just to be on the safe side. They did not even bother to ask the Lord about it. No point for such an obvious and easy battle.

They were “soundly defeated.” (Joshua 7:4) Thirty-six men died. That might not sound like a lot for a battle. But every man is one too many, and it was more than they had ever lost before. They were so surprised, so horrified, that it says “their courage melted away.” (Joshua 7:5)

Then they asked the Lord why that had happened, and then he exposed Achan’s disobedience. Thirty-six men died because one man wanted a pretty robe and some silver and gold. Sin = punishment.

Now, is it more complicated than that? Of course. There was also a certain arrogance that had befallen God’s people, a certain entitlement to his power. If they had asked before they went, how differently would the ending have been?

Also, God did not raise his hand to strike those thirty-six men himself. He simply let Israel find out how much of their victory came from his strength and how much of it came from their own. He let them try it without him. They found out right quick and in a hurry that God’s way works and theirs does not.

But the fact remains that God traced the root of their failure back to disobedience, and rather than learning from the Israelites to ask God before making assumptions, what most people take away from this moment is that suffering comes from sin.

This is not a solitary moment in Israel’s history; over and over again they disobey God, and over and over again he lets them find out what it’s like to live without him. It turns out they’re a lot weaker than they think. It turns out most of what they thought was their success was actually God’s. It turns out a lot of us try to claim God’s victories for ourselves. When we do, it obscures others’ views of God’s character. When we do, people learn to falsely worship us instead of truly worshipping God. It was never the Israelites the nations should have feared, but their God.

But instead of learning to fear and worship God, instead of learning to consult him first and do what he says, people have instead tried to figure out how we can control the outcome.

So what is so wrong about what Job’s three friends are saying? Well. I have not heard one of them say, “I asked God, and he said…” They’re all still trying to figure out the right answer by themselves. None of them have actually talked to God. When Job suggests it, they actively discourage him. They’re like the Israelites attacking Ai without asking – no need to bother God for something we can do ourselves.

But they can’t figure it out, can they. That’s because this is one of those, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” kind of moments that Jesus used to knock that faulty logic off its stand. But the disciples did something Job’s three friends did not; they asked. So Job’s three friends don’t know that sometimes God has different reasons than the ones we understand.

All their usual explanations have failed them. And when all other explanations fail, people say, “We live in a fallen world.” I always thought they meant we are all sinful, and we all deserve it.

To some extent, that’s true. It’s forgiveness, mercy, and grace most of us mortals do not deserve. An eye for an eye is fair – equal and balanced – but it is not good, is it? No, when the first wrong, the first bad thing, happened, it could only be equaled, could only be balanced by another bad thing. It may be fair, but in the end sometimes what we see as fair is only doubly bad. It may be justice, but it is not perfect justice – that is to say, it is not mercy, but sacrifice.

I would say perfect justice begins with a kindness, not a cruelty. I would say it equals and balances that kindness with another kindness. I am kind to you, and then you are equally kind to me. Balance. Justice. The perpetuation of kindness and love. That is the kind of justice, I think, that God prefers. That is what makes what happened to Job so objectionable, isn’t it? He was kind and he was generous and he gave with an open heart, and others were cruel and others were selfish and others took from him what was his. The earth itself stole from him with the natural disasters that burned up his business and killed his children. It was not equal, and it was not balanced.

What is wrong with Job’s three friends’ arguments is that they are trying to prove that what happened to Job was equal and was balanced. They were trying to prove that it was fair. But anyone with eyes can tell you life is not fair. Something is unequal here. Something is unbalanced. Something needs fixing.

So what was wrong with Bildad’s argument is that he is trying to use something that is true – God is glorious, and we will never measure up to him – to support a fallacy, that what happened to Job was just.

It is true that no one is righteous next to God. Who could be? By sheer size alone, God is stronger. By sheer size alone, God has the resources to be more generous. By sheer size alone, God’s mind can be more right. By sheer size alone, God’s heart can hold more love. We can be nothing to him. We can never equal him. We can never balance him.

But. Does that mean it is right for us to be punished for not measuring up to him?

This gets into slippery territory.

Someone might argue, “If my falsehood enhances God’s truthfulness and so increases his glory, why am I still condemned as a sinner?” (Romans 3:7, NIV)

But as always, God is right. What good is it to argue about whether or not we should be held to God’s potential as a standard for goodness? We don’t measure up to our own potential, let alone his. That is enough for us to be condemned.

But the question in Job is not about whether or not he deserves eternal condemnation for not being able to counterbalance the goodness of God. That will be judged at the end of the age, and it will depend on far more than what he has done. He will need more than himself for that measurement. No, the question is whether or not he deserves the intense earthly suffering – beyond what most have to endure – that has befallen him here, in his earthly life. We can see, even in our humanity, that some people suffer more than others. The question is whether or not those people deserve to suffer more than the rest of us. Whether or not God knows something about these people that we do not, whether or not their suffering is evidence of some great, hidden (or not so hidden) sin.

Bildad’s argument falls profoundly flat in the face of that question, regardless of whether or not what he says is true. Sure, all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. But does that explain why some suffer more than others? No. By Bildad’s argument – and by the Bible’s truth – we are all equal under the rule of sin. “Don’t be ridiculous, Job,” he says, “everybody has sinned, so you must have, too. That’s why all this bad stuff is happening to you.”

Frankly, then, if Bildad’s argument was valid, unequal suffering for equal sin is still wrong. Even if Bildad’s argument was correct, we’re still left wondering why this happened to Job, but not everyone else.

He cannot refute what Job has said – that sometimes people cheat and get away with it. Sometimes people do terrible things and go unpunished. And sometimes people do great things, kind things, and are punished despite, or even for being good.

Again, this is an integral truth that must be accepted for the basic tenets of Christianity to be believed. If we do not believe the innocent suffer, then who is Christ? But he took our sins upon himself, some will argue. So he was not considered innocent anymore. He was innocent, I will tell you, or else he could not have substituted himself for us. It was the one qualification he had to meet to be our perfect sacrifice.

Martyrs. Saints. Kidnapped aide workers. Victims of the Holocaust. Abused children. All the way back to Abel, second generation human, who was murdered by his brother for bringing a better sacrifice to God.

Our theology must must must allow the innocent to suffer, or it is empty. It ignores what is real. It. is. fake.

The fact of the matter is what happened to Job was wrong. It was unequal and it was unbalanced. Something in the universal justice system is broken and has been broken since the fall of man, since God was generous and kind and gave mankind something good and man was selfish and cruel and stole something more. We broke the balance. By trying to justify, or make it somehow right, that innocent people suffer, we undercut the basic truth that something is flat out wrong here, and it needs to be fixed.

That is what it means to live in a fallen world. It is unequal. It is unbalanced. Bad things are done to people who are doing good. Like Job.

But who can fix it? Job cries out throughout the beginning of this book. Humans cannot be good enough, strong enough, loving enough to fix this broken world! All our love and all our goodness cannot balance the scales.

Yes, exactly. That’s the point.

This is a kind of broken only God can fix.

Job can see the need. He has declared that it will be met one day. But he cannot see how. He cannot see who. He can only see that the system is broken, and it needs fixing.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 24, Part 3

Well, Job asked the question, whether it was right of him or not. Why doesn’t God do something about this?

Let’s remember where Job is at this point in his life. He has been robbed. What was not stolen, he has lost to natural disasters. He has lost his children, his entire staff, and his business to thieves and tragedy. And then, if that weren’t enough, he got sick. Very, very sick. He is on his deathbed sick. He is facing the probability of leaving his wife behind widowed, childless, and completely unprotected.

And nobody got in trouble for any of it.

I can’t say I understand completely, but I understand some.

Last year, our van was stolen right out of our driveway. That van was a gift to us; we could never have afforded to buy it on our own, but by the generosity of some of our family, we were gifted this vehicle that allowed us to take our children camping and on road trips and all over the city with their friends. It fit all of my brother’s kids and mine, comfortably. It could tow our little camper to the mountains and fit suitcases, Christmas presents, and the dog for a holiday with family. And it was ours. The kites my kids had bought with their own money were in it, and my husband’s tools were scattered all through the back. The stickers they had stuck to their doors against the rules were right where they left them. My husband’s sunglasses, my pens, the bag of nickels leftover from a birthday party at Nickel-A-Play. Even the lingering stench of that time somebody forgot a gallon of milk in the car on a hot day, and it burst. Ours.

And they took it. Partied in it. Wrecked it. In one night, the van we had scrubbed, repaired, modified, and loved with our own time, energy, and money was destroyed by someone who gave nothing for it.

But this is the United States, right. So the thieves would have to pay for it, right. We have a criminal justice system. People don’t get away with stuff like that here.

Nope.

Oh, make no mistake. They were caught. We know their names. Their faces.

We never saw a dime of recompense. Our insurance, who we pay, paid for some of the replacement. We paid for the rest. The thieves paid not. a. dime. They were teens, see. So they were let go.

After talking to other victims of crimes whose perpetrators, though clearly proven guilty, went free, I grew stunned at the lack of consequences for crime, even in America. Child abusers who left children permanently handicapped, free. Men who locked up their wives and threatened to kill them, free. Rapists, free. Drug dealers, free. Thieves and swindlers, cheaters, murderers, bullies, free.

If the government has no teeth, then what reason does anyone have not to do these things?

That is the question Job is asking, too. If God does nothing to the rulebreakers, why should anyone follow his rules?

This is his path back down the mountain: he is trying to take this new revelation he’s had at the top and understand what it means for life at the bottom. What is interesting to me is that this discussion is mirrored in Romans 6 under the new revelation of God’s plan for salvation by grace through Jesus Christ:

Sin is no longer your master, for you no longer live under the requirements of the law. Instead, you live under the freedom of God’s grace.

Well then, since God’s grace has set us free from the law, does that mean we can go on sinning? Of course not! Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey? You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death, or you can choose to obey God, which leads to righteous living.  (Romans 6:14-16)

Job has seen a need for a mediator – that need would be fulfilled in Jesus. He has expressed faith that because this need exists, God will meet it – and that declaration of faith became a beautiful prophecy of the coming Messiah that Jesus would fulfill. Job is, thousands of years before Jesus was born, going through a conversion experience in which he moves his faith for salvation from himself to Jesus. And like those who would put their faith in Christ thousands of years later, the process of transitioning from a life under law to a life under grace created some confusion in his theology. One of the first things most new followers of Jesus ask is, “So – if Jesus took the punishment for our sins – can we just do whatever we want, then?” Funny, I don’t think that was the end goal of the cross.

But if God shows grace to wrongdoers, then what does it matter what I do?

Look at Job puzzling over the same question. It’s like grace confuses people no matter what their cultural-linguistical context.

So if God does not directly punish the wicked, if that’s not why we’re doing this, is there any other reason to be good? Is there any reason not to take whatever we want, knocking down anyone who gets in our way? Does it even matter what we do? If we are all treated the same by God, why shouldn’t we just follow our impulses and live for no one but ourselves?

I mean, it’s a fair question, no? Maybe not one we humans are *quite* qualified to answer. We maybe have some biases and desires that *might* skew our thinking from rational to rationalizing. But then again, when has that stopped us from trying?

Job begins to consider what happens to people who do what God forbids. He begins to try to use his human reasoning to understand God’s reasons.

So when God does not intervene, what is the fate of wicked people?

But they disappear like foam down a river.
    Everything they own is cursed,
    and they are afraid to enter their own vineyards.
The grave[a] consumes sinners
    just as drought and heat consume snow.
Their own mothers will forget them.
    Maggots will find them sweet to eat.
No one will remember them.
    Wicked people are broken like a tree in the storm. (Job 24:18-20)

Job observes that for one thing, “everything [the wicked] own is cursed.” The pleasure their riches afford is diminished by the psychological torment that comes from how they are obtained; “they are afraid to enter their own vineyards.” Paranoid, constantly watching over their shoulder, these people can hardly enjoy anything they’ve taken because they are so worried about who might want revenge. What is the point of having power, of having riches, of having the medal or the award if it had to be taken by force? Valuable things lose their worth when they are cheaply obtained. They become a thing of terror rather than a thing of joy.

In Romans, Paul says it this way: “Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey?”

That sounds like a rotten consequence. But that’s not all.

For an extra kick, he says, “No one will remember them.” Not even their own mothers, apparently. Now, I look at this and think, Pretty sure we remember Hitler. I wonder, then, if the translation does not really do this passage justice. There are many different ways to remember someone, and one way we use this word is to say we miss someone who is gone. When we choose to remember our fallen soldiers who laid down their lives for us, it is with reverence. When we tell stories about our grandparents to our children, it is with love. We respect these people. We miss these people and wish they were still here with us.

Funny, I don’t know a lot of people who miss Hitler or wish he was still here. There are a lot of people, actually, who rejoice that he’s gone. Most of us just let out a huge sigh of relief when someone as dangerous as he is stops being a threat. It’s not even about whether or not we like him or hate him or if everything he did was bad. It’s how he affected our lives overall; it’s that he was a problem, a big, scary, demanding problem, that has finally come to an end. Would we have preferred redeemed? Some of us who dream of an ideal world, yes. Would we take just gone gratefully? Yeah, that’ll have to do. Maybe that’s what Job is saying. Folks, nobody’s going to miss cruel, selfish people when they’re gone. Not even their own mothers.

And yet, in chapter 21 didn’t he say that “an honor guard stands watch at their tomb” and “many pay their respects as the body is laid to rest”? Huh. Maybe so. But does that mean people will actually miss them? There is a difference between acknowledging a person’s end with outward respect and actually missing them from day to day life, isn’t there.

Or maybe, and I think this is more likely, is Job saying that everyone is forgotten in the end, and the cruel are no exception. That reputation they wrecked other people’s lives to build does not last like they think it will, does it. So what’s the point? All that destruction, all that pain and suffering, and for what? Nothing, he says. They’re just the same as everybody else: forgotten.

At the end of it, Job says, they die just like the rest of us. None of the power or wealth they obtained prevents them from suffering the same fate as the people they mistreated: “They may rise high, but they have no assurance of life.” So what is the end result of a life of wicked cruelty? 1) a life of fear, 2) nobody likes them, and 3) still death.

Or, according to Romans, “You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death.”

As this journey concludes, Job finds

God, in his power, drags away the rich.
    They may rise high, but they have no assurance of life.
They may be allowed to live in security,
    but God is always watching them.
And though they are great now,
    in a moment they will be gone like all others,
    cut off like heads of grain.

Job is on his way back down the mountain, and he has concluded that no amount of riches gained, no matter how they are gained, can overpower God or buy an escape from death. If that’s the goal, cruelty failed. The only thing the wicked get for their methods is spoiled enjoyment of their wealth and others’ contempt. They do not go unnoticed by God, even if he does not move against them immediately. He gives them no special favor, even if he gives them no special punishment, either.

God treats us all the same, Job argues, no matter what we do. This is as far as his human mind can come to a rational explanation of what he has seen.

And then he concludes his observations, his evidence, his argument with this challenge:

Can anyone claim otherwise?
    Who can prove me wrong? (Job 24:25)

Say it isn’t so, Job dares. Tell me you have not seen what I have seen.

Sounds a little bitter, a little jaded, I admit. Definitely not a story you’d see on a felt board.

But can you, student of history and experience, say he’s wrong?

Talk About Trouble: Chapter 24, Part 2

Okay so remember how in chapter 23 we talked about Hebrew poetical structure? Job has been climbing a proverbial mountain, so to speak, of contemplation, in which he realizes he is not big, strong, or smart enough to convince God to do what he wants and consequently wishes he had a mediator to argue his case to God. This realization of his need for a mediator grows into the major spiritual revelation of the book in chapter 19. He came to the pinnacle of that mountain where he had the revelation that he would one day have a mediator, a Redeemer, and he would see his Savior stand on the earth. Big moment. Huge. Truly cinematic. So quotable. I mean really, like, the only thing people ever quote from Job.

So now we’re on our way back down the poetical mountain, and he’s trying to figure out how this big spiritual revelation transforms his theology. In chapter 21, he expresses his unwillingness to found his beliefs on ear-tickling lies any longer:

“How can your empty clichés comfort me?
    All your explanations are lies!” (Job 21:34)

We see him start to face the truth and wrestle with cold, hard facts he flat out does not want to be true, but can no longer deny:

One person dies in prosperity,
    completely comfortable and secure,
the picture of good health,
    vigorous and fit.
Another person dies in bitter poverty,
    never having tasted the good life.
But both are buried in the same dust,
    both eaten by the same maggots.

Look, I know what you’re thinking.
    I know the schemes you plot against me.
You will tell me of rich and wicked people
    whose houses have vanished because of their sins.
But ask those who have been around,
    and they will tell you the truth.
Evil people are spared in times of calamity
    and are allowed to escape disaster.
No one criticizes them openly
    or pays them back for what they have done.
When they are carried to the grave,
    an honor guard keeps watch at their tomb.
A great funeral procession goes to the cemetery.
    Many pay their respects as the body is laid to rest,
    and the earth gives sweet repose. (Job 21:23-33)

This is not necessarily a judgment. It is not a condemnation of the way things are, but rather a flat, scientific, just-the-facts description of things he has seen happen. He is not willing to sweep these things under the rug or pretend they were something they were not, like his friends seem intent on doing. He says no, I will build my beliefs on the truth, not on what I think should be true! He is comparing what he has been taught all his life to what he has seen with his own eyes, and he sees that those two things are different. He wants a reconciliation of his beliefs with the facts. Job is finding that his beliefs no longer fit around his experience; either they must stretch and grow, or they will tear. Who has faith and does not at some point find themselves in this place?

So he goes about asking questions, digging for the places where his beliefs need some altering. While in our language it sounds an awful lot like he’s criticizing or accusing God in chapter 24, I don’t think that’s really what he’s saying here. He really is flat out confounded by God’s choices, and he really does want to understand them. There is a strong dissonance between what Job used to believe and what has unfolded right in front of him. He is desperate to reconcile the two.

In this chapter, he’s really trying to work out why good God doesn’t do something about these horrible people! Most of the chapter is dedicated to a brilliant but long-winded poetical description of the truly brutal, cruel, greedy things he has seen people do for money. He is thunderstruck at how profoundly some people value wealth over the very lives of other humans.

If we were to take chapter 24 as its own poem, the “pinnacle,” so to speak, of revelation that Job reaches might be this:

The groans of the dying rise from the city,
    and the wounded cry for help,
    yet God ignores their moaning. (Job 24:12)

Somehow, he has to reconcile his beliefs about God to this fact: usually, oppressed people die. The pages of history are filled with them. Millions on millions, billions even. People who did nothing to deserve the cruelty of genocide, of human trafficking, of mass weapons, of regimes led by bloodthirsty, power-hungry men and yet still die by the tens and hundreds of thousands in every era of history. And God does not stop it. Sometimes he intervenes here or there, and eventually he brings these things to an end but on a large scale, he allows them to continue. On a small scale they continue constantly, too. If our theology cannot admit that, then our theology is nothing more than empty cliches and lies.

That sounds like a cold-hearted and brutal faith, doesn’t it? Doesn’t some part of you want to crawl back to the Sunday school Jesus on the felt board petting the soft, fluffy sheep and pretend bad, scary things don’t happen if we just stay with him? How can they both be true, the Good Shepherd and the wolf attacks?

This is why Job is so frustrated. This is why so many Christians are so frustrated. There is dissonance here that is hard to reconcile. The great thing about the Bible is that it does not ignore it and just pretend it does not exist, like many do, like Job’s friends did. The great thing about the Bible is that it dives head first into the hardest question, and God himself takes the time to answer it. The great thing about the Bible is the book of Job.

So Job is frustrated, but is he accusing God of doing it wrong or just asking a hard question because he really wants the answer? The word “ignore” in verse 12 has some pretty negative connotations in English, and so it can sound again like Job is accusing or criticizing. There is so much about what he says that comes across condemningly, but I think we have to remember we are interpreting this through our own cultural-linguistical perspective. In Job 1:22 it says, “In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.” We have to step back, then, set aside our own perceptions of the words, and take them at their face value meaning only to see if this could possibly mean something else. Ignore, at its face value, simply means to not respond to something. We view that as a malevolent or passive aggressive action, but sometimes it is not. Sometimes it is a choice made not aggressively, but pragmatically. Sometimes it is a survival mechanism, like the ability to ignore background stimuli to focus on priorities. Job is sitting here puzzling about why God would choose not to respond to something that he feels deserves immediate attention. This is not necessarily a criticism. It could be an honest question.

But does that mean Job was right to ask it? That’s a harder question, and one we will have to let God answer himself.

Oh, dear. We’re to the end of a reasonable blog post length already for part two, and still not finished with this chapter. I guess we’ll have to pick this up in a bit.

to be continued…