Job 19:1–6

This was the worst of the speeches so far. So God's hand leads Job far out of and beyond himself. It may be slowly, and only for a little. Still, after this comes a bright glimpse of Him who is coming — the Seed of the woman, for whom saints had waited from the first. "How long," answered Job, "will you vex my soul, and break me in pieces with words?" — for he felt that in their reproaches there was no weight, nothing but words.

Bildad's cruel language may have pained him deeply. Still, Job's reply shows not the slightest sense of the guilt laid at his door... And yet it is wonderful to see the poor crushed spirit rise from the dust. It rises in those words of faith and hope: "I know that my Redeemer lives." His appeal to the friends for pity is most touching, though useless... (1) Reproach (Job 19:1-6). (2) God's hand (vv. 7-11). (3) The scorn of man (vv. 12-20). (4) The plea for pity (vv. 21-24). (5) The triumph of faith (vv. 25-27). (6) The close (vv. 28, 29).

We must take Job's words as literally true: the speeches of Bildad and the others crushed him by their cruel severity. "Ten times" — a complete number — they had heaped reproaches on him. Their unjust charges astonished him, and they made them without shame. What proof had they of sins in his past? If he had really erred, the secret lay in his own heart, where they had no right to intrude.

It is remarkable that when Job's three friends come — Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar — we hear no more of Satan. And what better weapons can Satan use than the words of mistaken friends? To be misjudged and misunderstood by those we love — surely this is bitterness.

Friends may charge you with deserving hopeless misery. Fighting off such charges is painful, cruel work for the spirit. Job knew he had done nothing to deserve it. What he had to learn was that he had a claim to nothing. His friends knew this no better than he did; they stood on righteousness alone.

He says: "Even if I have erred, my error remains with myself." He felt they had done nothing to correct it. "If indeed you will magnify yourselves against me, and plead against me my reproach, know now that God has overthrown me." They were too quick to seize on his deep and piled-up afflictions. How boldly he speaks out! As far as it goes, this could only come from real faith. Yet it fell far below the meek submission of our blessed Lord.

He had to pass through the deepest trouble. But the man famous for his patience broke out in total impatience. Even a godly man failed completely... to think that a man so noted for his patience should fail under trial! Ah, in Christ there is the contrast. That is where people are so wrong to make this man a type of Christ. No, he is a sample of failure, a man born of God failing. We want Christ, and cannot do without Christ. That is the true moral of the book of Job.

This was the worst of the speeches so far, and under God's hand Job is led far out of and beyond himself… "How long," Job answered, "will you torment me and break me in pieces with words?" — for he felt that in their reproaches there was no weight, nothing but words.

Job did not lose his temper at Bildad's unjust accusations. Still, he shows here that his friends' reproaches have struck deep into his soul. His appeal is simple: the best he can say of their words is that they are unfair. Ten times they had reproached him. Should they not be ashamed that they had wronged him? They accused him of evil without knowing of any evil in him. So if he had gone wrong, only he knew it. They were only making thrusts in the dark.

"Ten times" — a number that means completeness — they had heaped reproaches on him. They shocked him with unjust charges they were not ashamed to make.

Job had not learnt what his own righteousness was worth. He had not learnt how God shows a soul its real state. Neither Job nor his friends understood God's way of grace — how God could ride over the sin by meeting it in grace. Job's friends could philosophise. They could state plenty of truths. But what comfort was that to a broken heart?

Their principle is that all suffering is punishment, not teaching. It rests on God's justice, not on His love — though the two are always joined in all His ways. Such a principle cannot tell the suffering of the righteous apart from the suffering of the wicked.

These answers do not always come from plain cruelty, as you might think. Usually they come from nothing worse than flippancy, a hard heart, and self-sufficiency. "My dear brothers," as Cromwell used to say, "I beg you to consider that it is possible you may be wrong." And consider this too. Whether you are wrong or not, such explanations will most likely fill the sufferer with anger. They will also bring down a rebuke from God on the Zophars, Bildads and Eliphazes who torment His stricken servants with their shallow opinions.

However much Bildad's cruel language pained him, Job's reply shows not the slightest sense of the guilt they had laid at his door… And yet it is wonderful to see this poor crushed spirit rise from the dust in those words of faith and hope: "I know that my Redeemer lives."

He takes it all as from God, without knowing what had taken place in heaven. He had to pass through the deepest trouble. But the man who would become a byword for patience broke out in total impatience… that a man so famous for his patience should fail under trial! Ah, in Christ there is the contrast. This is where people go so wrong: they make Job a picture of Christ. No, he is an example of failure — a man born of God who fails. We want Christ, and cannot do without Christ. That is the true moral of the Book of Job.

We must take Job's words as literally true: the speeches of Bildad and the others crushed him by their cruel severity. "Ten times" — a complete number — they had heaped reproaches on him, and had stunned him with the unjust charges they had made against him without shame. What proof did they have of sins in his past? If he had really done wrong, the secret lay in his own heart, where they had no right to look.

This was the worst of the speeches so far, and under the hand of God Job is led far out of and beyond himself… "How long," answered Job, "will you torment me and break me in pieces with words?" — for he felt that in their reproaches there was no weight, nothing but words.

Job did not lose his temper at Bildad's unjust accusations. But he shows here that his friends' reproaches have struck deep into his soul… He is pointing out that the best he can say of their words is that they are unfair. Ten times they had reproached him. Should they not be ashamed that they had actually wronged him? They had accused him of evil without knowing of anything evil in him. If he had done wrong, then he alone knew of it. They were only striking in the dark.

It is remarkable, that when the three friends of Job come, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, we hear no more of Satan. And what better weapons can Satan use, than the words of mistaken friends? To be misjudged and misunderstood by those we love; surely this is bitterness.

What the storm Satan raised against Job failed to do, the sympathy of his friends brings about. Poor heart of man! Job's uprightness and even his patience had been shown, and Satan had no more to say. But God alone can search out what the heart really is before Him… God did this with Job. At the same time He showed that in such cases He acts in grace, for the good of the soul He loves.

No doubt the friends were wrong, quite wrong, — wrong in their notions about God, wrong in their method of dealing with Job. But their being wrong did not make him right. If Job's conscience had been in the presence of God, he would have made no reply to his friends. It would not have mattered if they had been a thousand times more mistaken and harsh in the way they treated him. He would have bowed his head in meekness… He would have put the very harshness of his friends to good use, treating it as healthy moral discipline for his heart.

And yet it is wonderful to see the poor crushed spirit rise from the dust in those words of faith and hope, "I know that my Redeemer lives." There is a deeply moving, though useless, appeal to the friends for pity… (1) Reproach (Job 19:1-6). (2) God's hand (verses 7-11). (3) The scorn of man (verses 12-20). (4) The plea for pity (verses 21-24). (5) The triumph of faith (verses 25-27).

They accused him of evil without knowing of any evil in him. So if he had gone wrong, only he knew it. They were just making thrusts in the dark.

So Job pleads against the constant suspicion that follows him, despite his solemn declarations of innocence. If his trouble really was punishment for evil, that was his own affair.

What proof did they have of sins in his past? If he had truly gone wrong, the secret lay in his own heart, where they had no right to intrude. They drive him to say, as he had said already, that the wrong was not his but God's. It is this root of suspicion against the Almighty that has to be searched out, and these men's false charges will never do it.

Bildad's fierce speech did not humble Job. He admits their words troubled his soul and broke him in pieces, but he does not change his view. He rejects the guilt they charged him with, and goes on blaming God.

He had the same mistaken idea as his friends: that God handed out suffering in proportion to a man's guilt. So he concluded that in his case God had been unfair.

There was a fault in Job, but not at all the kind they expected. Job's fault was this: he had a good opinion of himself, and he took great pleasure in everybody thinking so highly of him. I wonder whether any of us have that? I am afraid it is a very common thing. And that is just what people do not find out.

No doubt the friends were wrong, quite wrong — wrong in their ideas about God, wrong in the way they handled Job. But their being wrong did not make him right. If Job's conscience had been in God's presence, he would have given his friends no answer at all, even if they had been a thousand times more mistaken and harsh. He would have bowed his head quietly and let the flood of rebuke and accusation roll over him. He would have put their harshness to good use, treating it as healthy moral training for his heart.

Who can claim to be free of the sins he commits without knowing it? Here you see two things at once. There is the integrity of a man who has searched and judged himself, free from every offense he knows of. And there is also the full admission that there might well be things wrong in him that he knew nothing about. As for those, trusting His grace, he could commit himself to the One who will one day bring everything to light. If none of us ought to be able to say less than this, who can say more?

They used Job's disgrace as evidence that he was guilty, so they felt safe in taking a superior position over him (v.5). But he insists that God has wronged him and has all but tied him up in a net (v.6).

The men who heard of Job's disasters seem to have taken this ground: that God's ways and dealings must always be read by whether a man deserves them or not. They clearly had certain standard cases in mind. Some men were godly, and their circumstances showed every mark of God's favour. Others were wicked, and public judgments swept them away. Their knowledge of the wisdom of the Almighty, and of the reasons for His discipline, was shallow. Yet they worked out their own conclusions and pressed them on Job in a galling way: that he fully deserved all he was suffering.

Bring Christ in. Was it any lack of God's delight in Christ that allowed Christ to be the greatest sufferer, far beyond Job? So it was a completely false judgment, resting on a false principle, to imagine that there must be evil in the person who came to this depth of suffering.

What proof did they have of sins in his past? If he had really done wrong, the secret lay in his own heart, where they had no right to intrude. They goad him into saying again what he had already said: that the wrong was not his but God's! This root of suspicion of the Almighty is what must be dug out, and these men's false charges will never do that.

"If indeed you magnify yourselves against me and make my disgrace an argument against me" — they were too quick to seize on his deep, piled-up afflictions — "know now that God has overthrown me." How boldly he speaks! And this, as far as it goes, could not have come without real faith, though it was far below the meek submission of our blessed Lord. Did they say that God was against Job? "God has overthrown me," he acknowledges. If it was any comfort for them to know, he confesses that his trouble came from His hand.

Job throws off the charge that he was caught in his own snare. He says, "Know now that God has overthrown me, and has hemmed me in with His net." He traces it to God, but cannot see any reason for it. Yet even while this probing of the wound deepens his sense that God is afflicting him unfairly, his spirit is still growing stronger in hope, as we can see in his words: "I know that my Redeemer lives."

A man does badly in business, has illness in his family, loses loved ones — and people jump to the conclusion that God is chastening him for some imagined faults. How cruel this is, and how contrary to the plain direction, "Every charge must be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses." Let us be slow to suspect, and slower still to charge someone with evil we do not know about. Leave that to the Searcher of hearts.

He tells him that the wicked man is driven into the net by his own feet. His twisted ways carry him down paths that end in destruction. True, he was stating a solemn fact about the wicked, but nobody had yet proved that Job was such a man... The snare lies cleverly hidden in the ground, ready for him. The net in his path is ready to close over him like a bird that suspects nothing.

Job rejects the charge that he was caught in his own snare. He answers, "Know now that God has overthrown me, and has closed his net about me." He traces it to God, but he cannot see any reason for it.

It was He who had hurled him down, and closed His net around him so that he could not get free. It was He who refused to listen to his cry, and gave no ear to his appeals. It was God who had fenced up his way so that he could not escape. He covered his path with darkness, stripped him of honour, and took the crown from his head.

"Know now that God has overthrown me." How boldly he speaks out. And this, as far as it goes, could not have been without real faith, though it was far below the meek submission of our blessed Lord. Did they say that God was against Job? "God has overthrown me," he acknowledges. If it was any comfort for them to know, he confesses that his trouble came from His hand.

But he insists that God has wronged him and has, in effect, bound him in a net (v.6). This is strong language against God. He felt that his troubles were not deserved. He shared the same mistaken idea as his friends: that God measured out suffering according to the measure of a man's guilt. So he concluded that in his case God had been unfair.

"Know now that God has overthrown me" — it is perfectly true, it must have been God allowing all this... "He has destroyed me on every side, and I am gone; and my hope he has removed like a tree. He has also kindled his wrath against me" — there he was wrong — "and he counts me to him as one of his enemies."

They push him into declaring, as he had already done, that the wrong was not his but God's! This root of suspicion of the Almighty is what must be dug out — and these men's false charges will never do it.

God takes away Job's hedge and allows Satan wide limits within which to deal with him. The end is, of course, blessing for the sufferer and full vindication of God's perfect ways.