O earth, cover not my blood, and let there be no place for my cry!
Job's friends insist that such crushing losses can only mean hidden guilt, so he refuses to let his case die with him. He appeals over the heads of his friends to God, though commentators ask how much self-defence runs through that appeal.
Blood that soaks into the ground disappears. Blood left uncovered stays visible and demands an answer. That is the picture behind Job's plea. He asks the same for his cry:
So Job calls on the earth not to hide his blood. His life was, as it were, poured out, and he wanted it to stand out in open view. With the same purpose, he asks that his cry should find no place to rest down here, but go straight up on high.
No one has murdered Job. Another writer explains what the blood stands for, and where Job's confidence lay:
He calls to the earth not to cover his blood. That is, he asks it not to cover up the fact of his undeserved suffering. He also asks that his cry should have no resting place, apparently so that it should be heard rather than silenced. For he was confident that the witness of his innocence was in heaven, even though his friends on earth had refused it and scorned him.
The picture reaches back to Abel, the first man to be murdered. Job is willing for his blood to cry out like that. Underneath the demand for vengeance there is something better:
He would let his blood cry for vengeance like Abel's. Yet he instinctively knows there is a just God in heaven who has the record of his life. To Him he can appeal against the false charges of his friends. He knows, though not fully, for he has not yet seen, that there is One who pleads for him before God. What he longs for, we know that we have — One who pleads for us with God as a man pleads for his neighbour.
Eliphaz, one of the friends, had charged Job with giving up prayer. This cry is Job's answer to that charge:
But was it true that he restrained prayer before God? Listen to his own words: "My face is red with weeping, and on my eyelids is deep darkness, although there is no violence in my hands, and my prayer is pure." Eliphaz had thoroughly wronged him. "O earth, cover not my blood, and let my cry find no resting place. Even now, behold, my witness is in heaven, and he who testifies for me is on high" — that is, on this point he can turn to God. Only God Himself could judge for certain whether Job had held back from prayer.
Commentators differ on how to weigh the cry. Ridout hears real faith in it. Others hear a man building his own case:
It was good that he did take it all from the hands of God. But we still see that note of self-righteousness and self-vindication marring his prayer, above all in verse 17. So his prayer did pass into a complaint that God was dealing harshly with him. The complaint grew mainly because he felt he could speak of God on high as the Witness to his integrity, even though his friends scorned him.
Job summons heaven and earth as his witnesses. Zophar, another of the friends, turns both witnesses around:
The heavens are against him; their holy light only reveals his iniquity. Job had appealed to heaven and earth to witness to his righteousness. Zophar hints at the exact opposite. The heavens only declare his sin, and earth rises up in the judgment against him.
Kelly adds what Job's appeal never reached for:
Job did not expect vindication in this life. But grace was yet to give, as it gives us too, more than faith looks for. Faith is in us, though it comes from God, and it has its measure. Grace is in Him — free, unmixed, and unlimited.
- Blood — Job asks the ground not to swallow the evidence of his suffering. Blood left in plain sight keeps his case open.
- Cry — He wants his cry to settle nowhere on earth, so it travels straight up instead of dying away among his friends.
- Witness — The appeal lands in heaven, where God keeps the record of his life, while every voice on earth turns against him.
- Flaw — The same prayer carries a note of self-vindication. It slides into a complaint that God is dealing harshly with him.
- Answer — What Job could only long for — One who pleads for a man with God — believers now know they have. Grace gives more than faith looks for.
Even now, behold, my Witness is in the heavens, and he that voucheth for me is in the heights.
Two blows have hit Job. First came disaster, then three friends who insist his suffering proves hidden guilt. In the middle of his bitterest speech he suddenly looks up. Whatever people on earth decide about him, someone in heaven knows the truth and will say so.
Most of chapter 16 is raw protest. This verse breaks the pattern. One writer sees faith stirring here, not fading.
But in all these ravings, faith, which sleeps in his breast, asserts itself and tries to wake. He says, "my witness is in heaven, and He who vouches for me is on high." So he clings to God. It hardly needs saying how beautifully this word suits us. We know Him who has gone on high, and who vouches for us there. But Job did not know Him as we know Him.
Job's witness is not an idea or a hope. It is God Himself, testifying for him in heaven while his friends mock him on earth.
So his eye turned upward. His disasters were not beyond explanation, only unexplained so far. Yet he speaks in confident faith: his witness is in heaven, even God Himself, to testify on his behalf in those high places. His friends were only mockers. They completely misunderstood his case and rushed to judge him instead of admitting their ignorance. From them he can only weep out his sorrow and his prayer to God.
The verse follows straight on from Job's plea that the earth not cover his blood. He wants his case left open, not settled and buried here on earth.
He calls to the earth not to cover his blood — that is, not to cover up the fact of his undeserved suffering. He also asks that his cry find no resting place, apparently so that it should be heard and not silenced. For he was confident that the witness of his innocence was in heaven. His friends on earth had refused it and scorned him.
Job's appeal to a record kept on high is more than a protest against his friends. He reaches toward someone who would speak to God for him. What he could only long for, we now have.
He would let his blood cry out for vengeance, as Abel's did. Yet he knows by instinct that there is a just God in heaven who keeps the record of his life. To Him he can appeal against the false charges of his friends. He knows, though not fully, for he has not yet seen, that there is One who pleads for him before God. What he longs for, we know that we have — One who pleads for us with God as a man pleads for his neighbour. We know a High Priest who is touched with the feeling of our weaknesses, who "always lives to make intercession for us."
Commentators differ on the tone of these words. Kelly hears an honest man answering a false charge. Only God could settle whether Job had stopped praying:
"My witness is in heaven, and my record is on high" — that is, on this point he can turn to God. None but God Himself could judge for certain whether he had held back from prayer.
Another writer hears self-defence in the same claim. The prayer then slides into a complaint about how God is treating him.
It was good that he took it all from the hands of God. But we still notice that note of self-righteousness and self-vindication spoiling his prayer, especially in verse 17. So his prayer did pass into a complaint that God was dealing harshly with him. He felt this all the more because he could speak of God on high as the Witness to his integrity, even though his friends scorned him.
Whatever is mixed in it, this upward look is what keeps Job from letting go — and it points him forward, past the grave he expects, to a settled outcome.
"The righteous also" — you see it is turned for good — "shall hold on his way." That is what he looked forward to. His record was on high; his witness was in heaven; he clung to God. "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." That was Job's language; that was his spirit. He had far more faith than any one of the three.
- Witness identified — the one who testifies for Job is God Himself, speaking for him in heaven.
- Witness needed — his friends had closed the case on earth, so he sent his cry higher than their verdict.
- Witness sought — he reached toward One who would plead for him with God, though he had not yet seen Him.
- Witness given — what Job longed for, we now have: a High Priest who feels our weaknesses and always lives to intercede for us.
- Witness holding — his record was on high, so he clung to God. He expected no clearing in this life, yet grace gives more than faith looks for.
My friends are my mockers; mine eye poureth out tears unto +God.
Job is answering the friends who came to comfort him and instead accused him of hidden sin. With no sympathetic ear left on earth, he turns his weeping upward. Does a sufferer whose friends have failed him still have anyone who will hear?
The three men had one explanation for Job's ruin, and they kept pressing it. It did more than wound him. It turned his thoughts the wrong way.
Unless we look at what goes on in our own hearts, we can hardly measure the heartbreak these accusations must have caused Job. They turned him in the wrong direction; they took him up with himself. He could not deny that he was afflicted. Measuring himself against other people, he could not see that he had done anything to bring such great affliction on himself. And his friends kept badgering him, directing and confining his mind to this one point: that God's dealings always match what a man has done, and therefore, since Job suffered so much, he must have been wicked to an extraordinary degree.
Eliphaz had charged Job with giving up prayer. The second half of the verse answers him, and only God could settle the matter.
But was it true that he had given up prayer before God? Listen to his own words: "My face is red with weeping, and on my eyelids is deep darkness, although there is no violence in my hands, and my prayer is pure." Eliphaz had completely wronged him... Only God Himself could judge whether Job had given up prayer. Job seems to act on that here. If I am not mistaken, this is exactly his appeal: "My witness is in heaven, and my record is on high. My friends scorn me: but my eye pours out tears to God." It was completely false to say that he did not cry to God.
Job has stopped expecting a hearing on earth. That leaves one direction open.
Job therefore calls on the earth not to hide his blood... and, for the same reason, that his cry should find no resting place here below but go straight on high. So his eye turned upward. He speaks in confident faith that his witness is in heaven — God Himself — there to testify for him on high, in spite of disasters he cannot explain, or rather that have not been explained yet. His friends were only mockers. They completely misunderstood his case and rushed to judge him instead of admitting their ignorance. So he can only weep out his sorrow and his prayer to God.
The next verse puts the longing into words. Job wants someone to argue his case with God, and he sees no way to get it.
Some translate the opening words of verse 21 as, "Oh that there were arbitration for a man with God!" So his mind went back to the umpire he had wished for at the end of Job 9. A man might plead for his neighbour or friend. But Job felt there was no one to step in between God and himself, and he could only expect a short time before his end.
Job blames God for every fresh pain, yet he still appeals to God. Real faith is buried in the complaint, and it reaches toward something believers now have.
Poor Job fails to see God in His unchanging love through all these sufferings. Each pang he endures, every tear he sheds, every humiliation he suffers, is a fresh charge against God. And yet, not altogether, for there is real faith in his heart... deep down he knows there is a just God in heaven who holds the record of his life. He can appeal to Him against the false charges of his friends. He knows, though not fully, since he has not yet seen it, that there is One who pleads for him before God. What he longs for, we know that we have — One that pleads for us with God as a man pleads for his neighbour. We know a High Priest who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities, who "ever lives to make intercession for us."
Job comes out ahead of the men lecturing him. The reason is where he keeps looking.
His record was on high; his witness was in heaven; he clung to God. "Though He slay me, I will hope in Him." That was Job's language; that was his spirit. He had far more faith than any one of the three.
- Scorn. The friends had one theory: great suffering proves great sin. It shut Job up with himself and comforted nothing.
- Tears. They said Job had stopped praying. His tears to God prove the charge false.
- Upward. With no ear left on earth, his cry refuses to settle here and goes straight on high, where his witness is God Himself.
- Mediator. The next verse names what the tears want: someone to arbitrate between a man and God. Job could not see it granted.
- Clinging. He blames God and appeals to God at once. That stubborn hold gives him more faith than all three of his accusers.
Oh that there were arbitration for a man with +God, as a son of man for his friend!
Job is broken, and his friends mock him. In the middle of that he wishes for someone to argue his case with God, the way a man speaks up for a neighbour — a longing commentators tie to the mediation of Christ.
Job's three friends had one explanation for his ruin: great suffering means great wickedness. That pressure pushed him inward, and out of it the cry went upward.
His friends harassed him. They directed and confined his mind to this one point: God's doings were all according to man's acts. So, since he suffered so much, he must have been wicked to an extraordinary degree… He feels how terrible his affliction and suffering is. Yet now and again the link he has with God, as a soul born again, slips out. He has not yet seen himself in the sight of God. So he holds that there is no injustice in his hands and that his prayer is pure, and he looks to plead with God, as a man pleads for his neighbour. He has a partial sense of God's greatness, but not of His holiness. The reason is that he has never been near enough to God, for it is nearness to Him that produces the sense of His holiness.
Job had made this wish once before, and now, close to death, his mind returns to it.
Some translate the opening words of verse 21 as, "Oh that there were arbitration for a man with God!" So his mind went back to his desire for the "Daysman," recorded at the end of Job 9. A man might plead for his neighbour or friend, but he felt there was no one to step in between God and himself, and he could only expect a short time before his end.
The wish follows Job's claim that his witness is in heaven. One writer sees faith waking up in a man who is otherwise raving.
But in all these ravings, faith, which lies asleep in his heart, asserts itself and tries to wake up. He says, "my witness is in heaven, and He that vouches for me is on high." So he clings to God. This word suits us well — we know Him who has gone on high and who vouches for us there. But Job did not know Him as we know Him.
Some readers have dismissed Job's words as a sad oddity. One commentator objects, and points to where the longing is met.
In any rendering, Job is certainly looking for God to plead as well as judge. It is strange that any Christian should think Job said this "with melancholy quaintness." The better view sees in it a remarkable longing after what was more fully realised in the mediation of Christ with God — a man for men, and God with God. But truth must first be learned in the soul's guilt and need, not by the flickering lamp of the scholar. Only then is it prized and really known.
Job could only wish for such a person. Another writer contrasts what Job knew in part with what believers now hold.
He knows, though not fully, for he has not yet seen, that there is One who pleads for him before God. What he longs for, we know that we have — One who pleads for us with God as a man pleads for his neighbour. We know a High Priest who feels our weaknesses. He "always lives to make intercession for us."
Later in the book another speaker, Elihu, takes up Job's case. He opens by answering this very wish, quoted here from an older translation.
He reminds Job of his own desire for such a person: "Neither is there any daysman between us, who might lay his hand upon us both" (Job 9:33); "Oh that one might plead for a man with God, as a man pleads for his neighbour" (Job 16:21). To this desire Elihu now replies: "Behold, I am according to your wish, in God's stead; I also am formed out of the clay. Behold, my terror shall not make you afraid, neither shall my hand be heavy on you."
- The pressure. Friends who insisted his suffering proved his guilt drove Job in on himself — and out of that squeeze came the wish for someone to argue his case.
- The wish. He asks for arbitration: a go-between who can step in between God and himself, the "daysman" he had already looked for in Job 9.
- The faith. Under the raving, faith stirs: his witness is in heaven, and he clings to the God he is complaining about.
- The answer. Elihu steps up first, "in God's stead." The full answer is Christ's mediation — a man for men, and God with God.
- The possession. Job longed; believers hold. We have a High Priest who feels our weaknesses and always lives to intercede — the wish of Job 16 answered in fact.