There was a man from the land of Uz whose name was Job, and that man was upright and his way straight. He feared God and turned away from evil.
One day, the sons of God came to present themselves before Yahweh, and the One-Who-Opposes also came among them. Yahweh said to the One-Who-Opposes, “Have you set your heart upon my servant, Job? There is no one like him in the land, a man upright and whose way is straight, who fears God and turns away from evil.
Then the One-Who-Opposes answered Yahweh, saying, “Is it without cause that he fears God? Have you not fenced him in round about, as well as his household and around all that is his on all sides? However, now put out your hand and touch all that is his. See whether or not he curses you to your face!”
Job 1:1-11
The book of Job is strange. If we’re honest, it’s difficult to land exactly how the story fits with the rest of the Bible. It’s poetry, but not like the scathing or hope-inspiring poetry of the Prophets, nor like the prayers of anguish and redemption in the Psalms. It’s not Torah/Law, and there are no commands for the community to keep or rituals to perform. It’s technically part of the “wisdom literature,” belonging with Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Solomon,1 but it is difficult, to say the least, to get at exactly what the book is saying. There are no easy lessons or principles or morals to draw from the book. Yet, it stands in our Canon and we confess that it is God-breathed and inspired, “useful for teaching,” and “training in righteousness, so that everyone who belongs to God may be proficient, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:16-17).
When a person finally gets to the end of the 42 long chapters, they blink their eyes a couple times trying to figure out what in the world they’re supposed to take away. It has something to do with the problem of suffering, that much is obvious, but it refuses to answer any of the questions we bring nor those we are left with when we’re finished reading. If the book is supposed to be encouraging, it’s not doing a great job of it, at least not in the way we typically approach the book. We might take the end of the book to be saying that if the sufferer is faithful, everything they lost in life will be restored to them, but can we really trust that message?
Setting the Stage
The book begins with a description of Job and his family. It has all the tell-tale signs of a story. It might as well open, “Once upon a time, in the land of Uz there was a man named Job…” For the ancient Israelites, saying someone was from the land of Uz was like saying, for English speakers, they were from Timbuktu, in other words it’s an exotic, unfamiliar, far away place. Job is described as extremely, exaggeratedly wealthy and extremely, exaggeratedly righteous, like saying, “Back then, Job was the most righteous and the most wealthy person to have ever lived.” His kids were a different story. In contrast to their father, they regularly held drunken parties together. Because of his righteousness, Job would make offerings the morning after just in case they “cursed God in their hearts,” which might be a way of saying they abandoned a righteous life. Not only is he wealthy and righteous, he’s a good dad.
If one were to take the wisdom of Proverbs as it is, then Job’s life makes sense. He’s righteous, so his life is good. It may be, in fact, that the book is responding to this simplistic reading of Proverbs. While Job is living his good life on earth, there is another wold at work of which Job and his family are blissfully unaware.
One day, there is a cosmic meeting between the Creator and a group of super-beings called the sons of God. In Old Testament studies, this group is often called the “divine council,” and their role is to govern or oversee the world on God’s behalf. This seems to be a gathering where the sons of God would report on how things are going in the world to their supreme ruler, Yahweh the Creator. Among the sons of God is a being called the “One-Who-Opposes,” which is how I’ve translated the Hebrew ha-shatan, or Satan. I did this because it’s not completely evident that this figure is “Satan” as we’ve come to know him in Christianity, i.e. the chief leader of the rebellion against God. It’s possible they’re one in the same being, but it’s important to realize in Job the One-Who-Opposes has a specific role, namely to serve as a kind of prosecutor within the divine council. It’s his job to make sure people are not getting away with things they shouldn’t.
After a brief check in, Yahweh asks the One-Who-Opposes, “Have you set your heart on my servant, Job?” Many translations read, “Have you considered my servant, Job?” which is a perfectly justifiable way to translate my overly-literal translation, but I think there’s more going on here than just, “have you considered?” God wants to know if the One-Who-Opposes has really paid attention to Job, if he’s really considered his way of life, if he truly understands the kind of righteousness Job displays. God is telling the One-Who-Opposes, and therefore the one reading the book, that Job is a object of meditation. Within the first twelve verses, the author is letting us know that we will not “get” the book if we read it passingly or quickly without taking time to pay attention to Job and what’s happening to and around him.
Sh!t Happens
The One-Who-Opposes thinks he understands Job. “Of course Job ‘fears God,’ you’ve given him everything he could ever want and you protect it all. Take it all away, though, and see what happens. See if he still blesses you. He won’t, he will curse you to your face!” So, God lets the One-Who-Opposes “touch” Job’s wealth and family. In one day, all of Job’s wealth is destroyed, and as the servants are informing him of this, a final servant comes to him and tells him all his children died in a horrific storm while they were partying. Job does not curse God in all this, instead he worships, acknowledges that all things come from God, that God can give and take as he pleases, and the book tells us, “In all this, Job did not sin, nor did he accuse God of injustice” (1:22).2
Another scene like the first divine council meeting takes place, with God once again asking the One-Who-Opposes (and us) if he’s (we’ve) meditated on Job, and the One-Who-Opposes responds, “A man will do anything as long as his body and health aren’t threatened.” So God tells him he can oppose Job’s body and that he can take it Job the point of death, but no further. Again, Job responds righteously. His wife wants him to curse God and die, but Job will do no such thing, and says to her, “Should we receive good from God and not also bad?” (2:10).
Job remained righteous, not because of what he said—that God gives and takes away or that we should receive good and bad from him—but because of what he did not say. Job would not pronounce a curse on God. As we will find out later in the book, Job knows he didn’t do anything to deserve what’s happening to him, but he will not accuse God of injustice. This is not a saccharine piety refusing to cope with reality, but a righteousness that holds on to the hope that God is good and trustworthy.
These first couple chapters aren’t merely set up for the rest of the book, but they do provide a kind of backdrop, something we’re supposed to keep in mind as we read through the text. When Job’s friends are judging him, we remember what was happening in the divine council. When Job makes his defenses, we remember that he really has no idea what’s going on. I also think that these first two chapters are meant to make us wrestle with a feeling Job would have felt, with a kind of existential question about the nature of suffering. Is Job’s suffering the result of a bet between Yahweh and the One-Who-Opposes? Is he, and therefore are we, stuck like a pawn in a game between cosmic powers?
As we get into the worst part of the book (bold statement, I know), we also face the surprising idea that perhaps this isn’t about whether Job trusts God, but that God trusts Job.
Vanity, Says the Preacher
Job’s infamous three friends show up, and at first, do the right thing. They cried when they saw him and they sat with him in silence for seven days and nights. This mourning cycle “should have” ended after the seventh day, seven being the signal of completion, but after the seven days, Job is not better. He doesn’t feel better, in fact he feels worse and explodes in a 24 verse poem cursing the day he was born and asking why he didn’t die in childbirth. Job has moved into a new stage of grief and he’s raging. His friends, likely thinking the seven-day cycle should complete Job’s mourning, cannot abide Job’s anger and despair. Righteous men don’t talk like this, and they let him know.
The speeches of Job’s friends are interesting because, if you pulled them out of Job and read them outside of this story, they’d read like Proverbs.
“As I have seen, those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same” (4:8).
“He frustrates the devices of the crafty, so that their hands achieve no success. He takes the wise in their own craftiness; and the schemes of the wily are brought to a quick end…But he saves the needy from the sword of their mouth, from the hand of the mighty. So the poor have hope, and injustice shuts its mouth” (5:12-16).
“See, God will not reject the blameless person, nor take the hand of evildoers” (8:20).
“If you direct your heart rightly, you will stretch out your hands toward him. If iniquity is in your hand, put it far away and do not let wickedness reside in your tents. Surely then you will lift up your face without blemish; you will be secure, and will not fear” (11:14-15).
“Do you not know this from of old, ever since mortals were placed on earth, that the exulting of the wicked is short, and the joy of the godless is but for a moment?” (20:5).
You get the picture.
The speeches go back and forth between the friends and Job, with them saying if Job had not been acting wickedly, he would not be in this situation. If he were righteous, God would have protected him, his family, and his belongings. The proof is in the pudding. Job, on the other hand, continues in his despair because he knows he has acted righteously in the world and all he wants now is to die.
Technically, according to conventional wisdom, nothing that Job’s friends are saying is “unscriptural.” This is all biblical speech, and yet they’re wrong. I wouldn’t want to limit the number of ways Job could be read, but I do wonder if one of the lessons is how not to act when a friend or loved one is going through tragic times. The words of Job’s friends turn out to be nothing but hevel, vanity, or even better, hot air.
The Vein of Wisdom
In Job, and throughout Scripture, there is a struggle between folly and wisdom. In Proverbs, Wisdom is personified as a regal, beautiful, noblewoman who should be sought after, even courted at all costs. Whereas folly is likened to the seductive sex-worker who stands on the street in the cover of darkness beckoning to the “simple ones” (Prov. 7:7). You will spend your resources to be with either of these mythical women. To pursue Wisdom is to invest in a longterm, healthy relationship that will lead into eternity. Folly too, will cost you everything, but it is not an investment. You will give up everything and in the end, you will be left with nothing, for Folly herself will abandon you.
The contrast between Wisdom and Folly in Job is not as clearcut as it is in Proverbs, and that is part of Job’s purpose. Proverbs gives us ideal situations, Job gives us “real life.” That both are God-breathed books in our Canon is puzzling, but it’s worth taking the time to consider why they’re both there.3 We get a clue that Job is dealing with this contrast around two-thirds of the way through. Chapter 27 is Job’s second to last speech. It is quite long, covering six chapters and is a comprehensive justification, first of God’s ways, then of Job himself.
Job again took up his discourse and said:
As God lives, who has taken away my right,
and the Almighty, who has made my soul bitter,
as long as breath is in me
and the wind of God is in my nose,
my lips will not speak falsehood,
and my tongue will not utter deceit. (27:1-4)
This is part of Job’s self-defense, but when we get to chapter 28, there’s a kind of interlude. The theme suddenly changes and it may be that this is an interjection by the narrator of the story. Job will close out the next four chapters detailing how he has pursued Wisdom, which is tantamount to pursuing a life of righteousness, but in chapter 28, we’re told something about that pursuit.
Indeed, there is a mine for silver
and a place for gold they refine.
Iron is taken from the dust,
and he pours out copper from ore.
He puts an end to darkness,
and he searches out the farthest limits
for the ore in gloom and deep shadow. (28:1-4)
But from where will Wisdom be found?
And where is this place of Understanding?
A human being does not know its proper value,
and it is not found in the land of the living.
The primordial deep says, “It is not in me!”
And the sea says, “It is not with me!”
God understands her way,
and he knows her place.
And to humanity he said,
”Behold, the fear of the Lord, she is Wisdom!
And to depart from evil is understanding!” (28:12-14, 23, 28).
We have often looked to Job to be a biblical answer to the problem of suffering, in particular the suffering of the righteous, but perhaps we’re asking the book to do something it wasn’t meant to do. Or maybe the book isn’t addressing the problem of evil in the methodologies of Western philosophy, or even Western theology. Job is inviting us to learn how to walk in true wisdom while suffering and showing us how to discern wisdom. In it’s own way, it is telling us, “the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Cor. 3:6).
Between the second (chs. 3-31) and final (chs 38-42:6) acts is another interruption. We are introduced to a new character, Elihu, who proclaims to have better wisdom than Job or his three friends, even though he’s a young man. There’s a pretension here that should catch us off guard. Who is this upstart who presumes to tell these older men about life (remember, ancient Israel is a patriarchal culture)? Unlike Job’s friends, God never rebukes Elihu for his words, but neither is he praised for them. Rather, the reader is left to discern whether this is bookish wisdom or if this is the fear of the Lord and a departure from evil.
The Fear of the Lord
Finally, we get an answer from God, who “answered Job from the storm” (38:1). We all know what happens after this. God tells Job to get himself ready for a difficult task (“Gird up your loins like a man!”) because he’s about to take Job on a wild journey. Over and over, God asks Job about the mysteries of creation, from the creation of the world (38:3-11) to the source of light (38:19), from the hidden ways of wild animals (39) to the mythical sea monsters (41). One of my favorite of Scripture’s questions comes from this section of Job.
Do you give the horse its might?
Do you clothe its neck with mane?
Do you make it leap like the locust?
Its majestic snorting is terrible.
It paws violently, exults mightily;
it goes out to meet the weapons.
It laughs at fear and is not dismayed;
it does not turn back from the sword.
Upon it rattle the quiver,
the flash spear and the javelin.
With fierceness and rage it swallows the ground;
it cannot stand still at the sound of the trumpet.
When the trumpet sounds, it says Aha!
From a distance it smells the battle,
the thunder of the captains, the shouting.
(39:19-25)
The point of all the questions God asks is to get Job to consider whether or not he has obtained wisdom and understanding. Here, we are approaching one of the greatest gaps between the value systems of the ancient Levant and contemporary Western societies, of which the United States is a part. In the West, we prioritize believing/thinking the correct thing(s). In our minds, if people believe or think the right things, they will act the right way or do the right things. Whereas, if I’m not mistaken, in the ancient world of the Bible, the priority lay in action. If you acted the right way, if you did the right things, that would ensure you thought correctly about the world and believed the right things about God.
What I think God is doing in all these questions is not merely asking Job if he has intellectual knowledge about the mysteries of creation, but whether or not Job is able to do the mysteries of creation. Notice some of God’s questions.
- In your days, have you ever commanded the morning? (38:12)
- Have you entered the storehouses of the snow, or have you seen the storehouses of the hail? ( (38:22)
- Can you lead forth the southern constellations at their appointed time, or can you lead the Bear with its children? (38:32)
- Do you give the horse its power? (39:19)
- Does the hawk soar by your wisdom? Does the eagle fly high at your command and construct its nest high? (39:26-27)
- Do you have an arm like God, and can you thunder with a voice like his? In order to look at all the proud and humble them, and tread down the wicked in their place? (40:9, 11-12)
- And when God asks, “Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook?” (41:1), he is not asking about Job’s power over a whale or dinosaur,4 but something much, much bigger and more terrifying. Leviathan was a mythological sea monster or sea dragon that was associated with the primordial chaos waters from which the world was drawn, and of course, only the Creator, the Almighty, could tame this wild beast.
Parallelism is a common feature in the Old Testament, which is a literary device meant to be instructional by driving points home. Instead of asking Job abstract questions like, “Do you know the true cosmogony and cosmology of the universe? Do you know how atoms work?” he asks, “Have you ever made the sun come up in the morning?” By compounding example after example of all the things Job cannot do, and therefore does not understand, in a way unmatched in the rest of Scripture, Job is coming to the understanding that he has no clue how the world works.
What Job knows is that he cannot do the things he is being asked about and that he stands before the terrible One who can. We often define the “fear of the Lord” as something like “healthy respect,” but I honestly don’t think this is what the Bible means when it talks about the fear of the Lord. When we think about the kind of power that governs this wild, untamed universe, that created it, who is himself without beginning or end or creator, who speaks through storms and tornados, who gives the horse its power and clothes its neck with mane, who is able to humble the proud and wicked, and we begin to tremble at his awesome majesty, that is the fear of the Lord.
It’s important I take an aside here and talk about interpreting Job. I do not think we should take Job as a case study of how God deals with human beings. I don’t think the book is trying to present an idea that God dangles us in front of the One-Who-Opposes or the devil or whomever as a kind of bait or that he gambles with our lives in order to prove the devil wrong. Here’s where I also come clean and say I think the book of Job is a work of fiction. Inspired? Yes, 100%. God breathed? Absolutely, and therefore the word of God to his people. But fiction does something “history” cannot do. It seeps down into our consciousness and being in a way that can shape us “pre-cognitively,” teaching us how to act before we think and process. In other words, don’t take from this that God will do the same thing to you as he did to Job. This is meant to instruct us in wisdom, not give us framework for understanding why you or I in particular are suffering.
Job’s Gospel of Heartbreak
It has been said, and I tend to agree, that if the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, then the end of wisdom is the love of God. It’s the difference between Jesus telling his disciples, “Do not fear those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who is able to destroy both body and soul in hell” (Matt. 10:28) and Jesus telling them, “Those who love me will keep my word” (John 14:23). Though it may seem like the book is trying to lean on the first (fear), the end goal is, I believe, love and trust. We get hints throughout Job’s speeches that this is his motivation for not cursing God.
- And why do you not pardon my transgression and take away my guilt? For now I shall lie in the dust, and you will seek me, but I shall be no more. (7:21)
- And I would speak with the Almighty, and I desire to argue my case with God! (13:3)
- Behold, though he kill me, I will hope in him; however, I will defend my ways before him. (13:15)
- Behold, even now my witness is in the heavens, and he who vouches for me is on the heights. (16:19)
- And I myself know that my Redeemer is alive, and at the last he will stand upon the dust, after my skin has been destroyed, but from my flesh I will see God, whom I will see for myself, whom my eyes will see and not a stranger. (19:25-27)
Job holds onto hope despite the despair he feels. He is not afraid to voice is despair and confusion, but his speech is seasoned with the salt of hope. His hope is not in better circumstances. In fact, it seems like he assumes they will not get better, so he continually longs for death. But he will not let go of his faithfulness or his hope, which is ultimately that God will in fact justify him. Looking death in the eyes, Job declares, “I know that my Redeemer is alive!” and confesses that though he has no expectation for things to get better on this side of life, after death he will see God in his own, resurrected flesh.
The goodness and redemption Job hopes for is the restoration of himself and a world where the kinds of suffering he experiences can happen. This sounds suspiciously like the hope given to those who believe in Jesus. Like our Lord, we do not escape suffering, even when our suffering makes no sense. Like our Lord, we will all succumb to the final suffering of death, but our hope in Jesus extends beyond death into the resurrection.
This is a trustworthy saying—If we die with him, we will also live with him (2 Tim 2:11).
The book of Job is not good news because it promises us that suffering will ever make sense or that we will ever be free from it, at least as long as we’re on this side of life. Job’s message is good news, it is Gospel because it compels us to live like Job, to lean into wisdom and understanding, to move beyond the fear of the Lord into love and trust. Jesus stands before us as the image of God, letting us know that God is indeed trustworthy. In this world you will have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world!” (John 16:33).
If we were to say this all very succinctly, Job is Gospel because, though it will not promise us a life free from heartbreak, it does promise us that God knows and sees us, and that we will make all things new in Jesus.
Postscript
At the end of Job, God speaks directly to Job’s friends, and tells them, “I have become angry with you…for you have not spoken to me what is right as my servant Job has,” (42:7) and has them take animals for sacrificing to Job so Job can make the sacrifice and pray for them. God hears Job’s prayer and answers, something we haven’t seen happen in a while. God also restores everything Job lost twofold. Why? We’re not given a reason. It happens “just because.” In a way, it’s as senseless as Job’s suffering.
In the end, Job is telling us that life in this world is beyond our understanding, but in spite of that, we should seek wisdom and run from folly because there is One who does see and understand it, who works justly in the world with wisdom and righteousness, and that if we follow him, we will live beyond our own death and see him in our own flesh.
Which, again when we’re honest, is a perplexing book that is not easily tamed.
Again, my translation, but this time a more fluid one. The Hebrew literally says, “In all this, Job did not sin and he did not give unseemliness to God.”
A question I will leave you to ponder.
If you know, you know.