Job's argument with God—and ours
Job 5:21; 11:15; and 21:9
Why do the wicked have it so good, live to a ripe old age and get rich? They get to see their children succeed, get to watch and enjoy their grandchildren. Ther homes are peaceful and free from fear. ~ Job 21:9
Dear Faithful Reader,
There are three “do not be afraid” verses in the book of Job. I’m going to combine them into one post.
You remember that the disasters that befell Job happen in the first two chapters, first the disaster of losing all his material wealth and the tragic death of his children. Then he loses his health. In a vividly drawn word picture, we learn the ulcers and sores on his body “itched and oozed so badly that he took a piece of broken pottery to scrape himself, then went and sat on a trash heap, among the ashes.”
Job’s friends show up to comfort him, and they are the ones who speak the first two verses in the Book of Job having to do with fear. First Eliphaz tells him, “You’ll be protected from vicious gossip and live fearless through any catastrophe.” Then Zophar tells him, “You’ll be able to face the world unashamed and keep a firm grip on life, guiltless and fearless.”
The next 35 chapters are an argument between Job and his friends. His friends are convinced that Job must have done something to bring this disaster upon him, and they speak the above verses to assure Job that if he will just confess and return to righteousness, good things—and an absence of fear—will mark his days.
But Job protests again and again that he did nothing wrong, and he cries out in anguish and metaphorically shakes his first at God—not because he abandons his faith, but because of it. He speaks the verse highlighted above. Far from believing that good things happen to good people, he is protesting that good people suffer. Whereas it’s the wicked who live without fear—instead of reaping their just reward, they live well and go unpunished.
It’s a punch to the gut. It’s truth telling of a kind we can hardly bear to hear.
Eugene Peterson’s preference to the Book of Job is a long one—four pages. There’s so much to unpack and discern in this book of wisdom. He writes, “The Book of Job is not only a witness to the dignity of suffering and God’s presence in our suffering, but is also our primary biblical protest against religion that has been reduced to explanations or ‘answers.’”
At the end of the Book of Job, God shows up. God doesn’t explain. God doesn’t defend. Instead, God asks Job to explain the universe to God. It would be laughable if the poetry here, the language and imagery were not so exquisite, so gorgeous. Listening to God’s questions, Job is left speechless, awestruck on his trash heap, sores forgotten for the moment, his mouth agape.
Like Job, we want answers. We want a God who is accountable to us. We want a God who intervenes in undeserved human suffering. But what we get instead is a deep, unfathomable mystery—suffering that breaks open our hearts.
