Job 10:21–22

It is not the bodily suffering that has wrung this bitter cry from him, but he has lost, or is in danger of losing, faith in God's goodness. There is barely a gleam of light in his whole speech. In the closing part (Job 10) he lets himself loose in the dark despair that has settled down on his soul. He does not stand staring into that darkness; instead he pours out all those thoughts before the eye of God. May not this very surrender to misery suggest the root of faith in his heart?

He again complained that he had ever been born, and as to the future he had no light. Death was to him as "a land of darkness," as we see in verses 21 and 22. We have to pass on to New Testament days to get such a word as that, "the true light now shines" (1 John 2:8).

Job 10:21 and Job 16:22 prove that Job's thoughts are running in this direction. If it were otherwise, then when he says that in dying he "goes to a place he will not return from," he is denying all resurrection. But he is thinking of a return to the scene before him. It is not an abstract statement. He simply means the scene of mixed joy and sorrow he was in the middle of. And Scripture often speaks this way. "Enoch was not." Is that extinction? No, "he was translated, that he should not see death."

We must remember that, although the Book of Job is inspired, it would be a great mistake to admit that the speeches are inspired. Satan's words were certainly not inspired, yet the book records them. Part of the profit of the book is that we have the mistakes of the speakers. Every one of the three friends was very much mistaken in what he said, and Job himself also.

In the past death was a shadow over souls, such as we find it in Job's picture of "a land of darkness, as darkness itself and … where the light is as darkness" (Job 10:22). But now with the Life the Light has come, and it pierces the shadow of death. He meets and defeats the one who had the power of death, and He frees the captives (Heb. 2:14-15).

Yet even today there are all too many who regard death as the taking of "a leap in the dark." And it truly is that to them, if they neglect or reject the Christ the Gospel presents to them. Such people have no excuse, while for Job there was every excuse. We say again: the gloom of this excellent saint of Old Testament days should move us to give much thanks to God, who has brought us out of darkness into His "marvellous light."

And so this awful lament goes on to its close. The wailing passes from blaming God for His injustice to lamenting his birth. Pitifully, Job asks for a brief pause, a break from sorrow, before he goes away and is no more. It is the lament of chapter 3 again.

We must remember that the book of Job is inspired, but it would be a great mistake to grant that the speeches are inspired. Satan's words were surely not inspired, and yet the book records them. Part of the value of the book is that we have the mistakes of the speakers. Every one of the three friends was very much mistaken in what he said, and Job himself also.

The New Testament weighs all these expressions and finds them wanting. Death is not a friend whose visit we should want, but an enemy. In the light of the gospel, the hope of God's people in trouble and sorrow is not relief by death, but the coming of the Lord.

But such as Job's was the Old Testament hope. Outside the present scene there was little light. Death was a deep, dark "shadow," almost impossible to see through. What was solid and plain to them was resurrection and restoration to a scene of earthly blessing. There were, indeed, scattered hints of other things. Enoch had of old gone to God, and not seen death. Elijah in a later day had followed him. A little gleam of light had broken in there. But that was still not the revelation of the heavenly places. Nor was death abolished, or life and incorruption brought to light.

Whatever else was true, Job was a saint of God after all, and he had confidence in God. He was not thinking about the portion of the wicked, but about what his own would be. In death a "land of darkness" stretched before him, and his eye could hardly see into it. Yet he had something of the Psalmist's confidence in One who would be with him there.

In the past death was a shadow over souls. We hear it in the cry of a Hezekiah, and we see it in Job's picture of "the land of gloom like thick darkness... where light is as thick darkness" (Job 10:22). But now the Light has come with the Life, and it pierces the shadow of death. The one who had the power of death is met and defeated, and the captives go free.

The victory is complete! Christ Himself has gone through the narrow pass of death. He has cleared the way for all His followers, free of every difficulty and danger. He who was in the lowest parts of the earth is now in glory. And from that glory — the glory of God in the risen Man — divine light now shines in these low and lonely depths. The gloom of death is gone. The darkness of the grave is lit up. The shadows of death are only on the human side, and only our poor human hearts feel them.

"As long as I am in the world," Jesus had said, "I am the light of the world." Judas, captured by the devil, went out from the rays of that blessed light. So, of necessity, when the door closed behind him, it was night — the night of death. Its awful darkness wrapped his soul for ever, for he had entered that land Job speaks of — a land dark because, it may be added, God's judgment lies upon it.