Job 29:1–20

The Old Testament uses the word 'parable' many times for figurative language where no distinct parable is told. So Balaam 'took up his parable', Numbers 23:7, 18, and Job 'continued his parable', Job 27:1; Job 29:1.

A fresh discourse of Job begins here, and it is his final one. It divides into the three chapters that follow. Each presents a distinct portion, and the whole is a very complete summary of the case as it now appeared to the sufferer's spirit. He looks back over his past life, when divine favour lavished on him every enjoyment an upright soul could desire on earth. That favour showed in the relief of the needy and distressed quite as much as in the honour he had from everyone who knew him. Then in Job 30 he contrasts his present degradation. He is an object of scorn even to the young, and has no comfort within. The bitterest part of his cup is that he cries to God and gets no answer, while God's strong hand puts him down. Yet in Job 31 he denies, with the utmost detail and solemnity, any awareness of secret sin.

Eliphaz did not deal in vague hints. He stated Job's wrongdoing toward the needy, the naked, the weary, the hungry, the widow and the fatherless. In Job 29, Job answers these charges, and he is just as clear in declaring how well he had acted toward these very people.

If we have to look back to the past for marks of God's favour, that is nearly always a sign of present weakness. It tends to go with pride in that past and discouragement in the present… The manna of yesterday will not do for today. The bright light of yesterday's candle is the burnt wick of today. A present Christ in all His fulness, and a present Spirit bringing the Word to our need — these are the believer's proper subject and business. So from the very start Job is looking in the wrong direction.

The words Job had spoken were wholesome words, but now he goes back to the old complaint of self-occupation, self-pity and self-vindication. Some twenty times he says 'I' in this chapter. Looking back is good if we do it with praise and humility. Not once does Job utter a word of praise. It is all spoken to remind his friends, as well as himself, what a great man he was. How often it happens with the Lord's servants that they live in the past and then nourish a most subtle pride.

Turn for a moment to Job 29. You will see plainly what a strong and deep root of self-satisfaction there was in the heart of this dear and valued servant of God. The very tokens of divine favour that surrounded him fed that root. This chapter is a moving lament over the faded light of other days. Its very tone and character prove how necessary it was that Job should lose everything, so that he might learn himself in the searching light of God's presence.

Job now gives his last speech — his greatest effort to justify himself. Read chapters 29–31, and you will say that if any man could have justified himself by good works, Job was the man. There is not a man in your whole town who can say as much as Job said, and say it truly. As to his kindness to the poor, he was the very opposite of the lying charges brought against him. So he lets memory recount every good act of his life, but it all fails to give rest to his troubled spirit. I, I, I — I did this, I did not do that. But it is all of no use.

Job now gives his last speech — his greatest effort to justify himself. Yes, this was the reason all his trial and sorrow were needed. His words are very touching. "Oh, that I were as in the months of old … as I was in my prime." It is not, Oh that it were with me, but, Oh that I was. How like the mistaken longings of a soul being driven from self to Christ. There is a peculiar, deceptive pleasure in being satisfied with oneself.

Job then sets before us a beautiful account of his earlier life. God shone on the days and months as they glided by. His lamp was above his head, and His light let him walk through darkness. He especially recalls the days of his harvest — the days of maturity, not youth. Then he enjoyed the familiar presence and counsel of God over his tent life.

This is truly a remarkable speech. We look in vain for any breathing of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no signs of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. In this single chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while the references to God are only five.

Job 29 has become one of the great "I" chapters of the Bible. Ecclesiastes 2 is Solomon's "I" chapter. That pronoun occurs 16 times in the first 9 verses. It is the true chapter of the self-gratified "I". Job 29 is the chapter of the self-satisfied "I". Romans 7 is of course the chapter of the self-condemned "I". And to be self-condemned is far better than to be self-gratified or self-satisfied. Best of all is to be self-eclipsed, as we find Paul to be in Philippians 3.

Job was a godly man. There was no one like him in his generation. But in his soul a rapid current was flowing. Not that he was self-righteous or worldly in the usual sense. He was truly a believer, and a generous friend and benefactor. But he valued his circumstances in life, and his standing among men. In the hidden workings of his heart, he used to survey his fine condition with satisfaction. His neighbours had not traced the course of that stream, but his heavenly Father had. He loved him, and He wanted him to share His holiness. All this was inconsistent with that holiness, so He put him into His own school to exercise him.

And so he looks back: "Oh, that I were as in the months of old." God was going to do far better. Job went through very severe sifting, but that was all for his good. … "When the Almighty was yet with me, when my children were about me." Was He not with him then? That is exactly what he did not see or know. "Whom He loves He chastens" — and that is one of the great lessons of the Book of Job. I admit it was terrible chastening. And that is where the friends were all wrong; it was so severe that they thought it was punishment.

It is disappointing that some Christians seem so satisfied when they speak of a power they knew in early years long past. They gravely tell us that it has now passed away. They are ready to cry out with Job, "Oh, that I were as in the months of old." All this is sad, since it helps neither themselves nor anyone who hears them. Job's experience was very different from that of the wise man who lived even earlier than Paul. That man declares that "the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day." As you come nearer to what you long for, the way grows brighter and brighter.

Job gives us a beautiful account of his earlier life. God shone on the days and months as they slipped by. His lamp stood above his head, and His light let him walk through darkness. He especially recalls the days of his harvest — his maturity, not his youth — when he enjoyed the familiar presence and counsel of God over his tent life.

Used in the Old Testament for any light, either real or symbolic. Job said of God, "when his candle shined upon my head" (Job 29:3). Of the wicked it says, "the candle of the wicked shall be put out" (Proverbs 24:20). But of the wise woman it says, "her candle goes not out by night" (Proverbs 31:18).

It is nearly always a sign of present decline if we have to look back to the past for marks of God's favour. It usually goes with pride in that past and with discouragement in the present. In the things of God, we enjoy His personal favour. His lamp shines about us now. His blessing rests on our trouble, and the future opens sweetly before us — "we rejoice in hope of the glory of God." … The manna of yesterday will not do for today. The bright light of yesterday's candle is the burnt wick of today.

Now it is always a bad sign when people look back to dwell on the past. Are people not to grow? … No doubt it is very true that one is plucked out of the teeth of Satan; but what is that compared with the positive knowledge of God? … It is a sad thing when a person looks back on that rescue as the brightest of all things. Why, that means he has made no progress at all.

"When the Almighty was yet with me, when my children were all around me." Was He not with him then? That is just what he did not see or know. "The Lord disciplines the one He loves" — and that is one of the great lessons of the Book of Job.

This is truly a most remarkable thing to say. We look in vain for any sign of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no evidences of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find so much as a single expression of conscious weakness and nothingness. In the course of this single chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while the references to God are only five.

Job's experience was very different from that of the wise man, who lived long before Paul. He declares that "the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day." And this is how it should be. As we come nearer to what we long for, the way grows brighter and brighter. However bright His presence made the past, I am nearer to Him now. So why should I long for the return of those days of shadow and darkness, days He once led me through?

Verse 4 says, word for word, "in the days of autumn." It does not point to the start of the civil year. It points to the rich time of harvest, of ripe maturity, when everything around him was prosperous. His children, as described in the first chapter, were around him, and he enjoyed his resources in full abundance.

He lived here with his children in tents, and died in faith, longing for a heavenly country... But God was clearly with him. His lamp, as Job puts it, shone on his head, and it is wonderful and blessed indeed that the secret of God was on his tent. This was all the glory he had now, but it was holy glory. The Lord told him of His ways, and promised him everything.

After these wise words, Eliphaz plunged into a series of accusations against Job. God Himself had spoken well of Job at the start of the story, so the charges must have been completely false... Eliphaz did not deal in vague hints. He stated Job's wrongdoing toward the needy, the naked, the weary, the hungry, the widow and the fatherless. In Job 29, Job answers these things, and he is just as plain in declaring how well he had acted toward these very people.

It is nearly always a sign of present weakness when we have to look back to the past for marks of God's favour. It usually goes with pride in that past, and with discouragement in the present... The manna of yesterday will not do for today. The bright light of yesterday's candle is the burnt wick of today. A present Christ in all His fulness, and a present Spirit ministering the Word to our need — these are the believer's proper theme and occupation. So Job, right at the start, is looking in the wrong direction.

Sometimes under pressure I see more of the wisdom of God and His way. The more I see, the more depressed I become, if I cannot connect myself acceptably with God. So I turn back to my own history, and become taken up with myself. That is why Job in Job 29 dwells on the past. This is always evidence that the soul is not right with God. If it were going on with Him, it would have greater things than the past to tell.

This is truly a most remarkable statement. We look in vain here for any sign of a broken and contrite spirit. There is no self-loathing, not even self-distrust, and not one word of conscious weakness and nothingness. In the course of this single chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while the references to God are only five.

Job 29 has become one of the great "I" chapters of the Bible. Ecclesiastes 2 is Solomon's "I" chapter... the chapter of the self-gratified "I." Job 29 is the chapter of the self-satisfied "I." Romans 7 is of course the chapter of the self-condemned "I." And to be self-condemned is far better than to be self-gratified or self-satisfied. Best of all is to be self-eclipsed, as we find Paul to be in Philippians 3.

Some Christians seem satisfied as they speak of a power they knew in years long past, and which, they gravely tell us, has now passed away. All this is sad, since it helps neither themselves nor anyone who hears them... "the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day." And surely this is as it should be. As we come nearer to the object of desire, the way becomes brighter and brighter. However bright the past was through His presence, I am nearer to Him now. So why should I miss those days of shadow and darkness, or long for them to come back — days He once led me through?

Verse 4 literally says, "in the days of autumn." It does not mean the start of the civil year. It means the rich time of harvest, of ripe maturity, when everything around him was prosperous. His children, as the first chapter describes, were around him, and he took full delight in his abundant resources.

When His lamp shone over my head — / by His light I walked through darkness; / as I was in the days of the harvest, / when God's close friendship was over my tent; / while the Almighty was still with me, / my young ones around me.

His circumstances were so pleasant that he took them as evidence of God's presence with him. But now his children were gone. His home life was in ruins. Even his wife had been no help to him in his trouble (ch.19), though he does not even mention her.

"When the Almighty was yet with me, when my children were all around me." Was He not with him then? That is just what Job did not see or know. "Whom He loves He disciplines"; and that is one of the great lessons of the Book of Job. I admit it was terrible discipline. And that is where the friends were all wrong. It was so terrible that they thought it was punishment for sin. They thought no one could suffer that much unless he had been extremely wicked.

In this single chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while God is mentioned only five times. All the "I" reminds us of Romans 7. But there is an immense difference. In Romans 7, "I" is a poor, weak, good-for-nothing, wretched creature standing before the holy law of God. In Job 29, "I" is a most important and influential man, admired and almost worshipped by those around him.

In Job 29 you can see clearly what a strong, deep root of self-satisfaction there was in the heart of this dear and valued servant of God. You can see how the very signs of God's favour all around Job fed that root.

If we have to look back to the past for marks of God's favour, it is almost always a sign that we are weak right now. It usually goes with pride in that past and with discouragement in the present. In the things of God, we enjoy His personal favour now. His lamp shines on us now. His blessing rests on our present trouble... Yesterday's manna will not do for today. The bright light of yesterday's candle is today's burnt wick.

Because Job's conduct had been a model to others, and he could be relied on, he felt quite sure that his prosperity would go on without a break... How differently things turned out! Do we also think we can lean on past experience to carry us into the future? If so, we forget that we depend on the grace of God at every moment.

This was curdled milk. Genesis 18:8; Deuteronomy 32:14. Jael brought Sisera "butter" to drink, Judges 5:25; and Job in Job 29:6 speaks of his steps being washed with butter when the Almighty was with him in prosperity. The promised land was to flow with milk and honey: compare Job 20:17. Curdled milk is a common drink in the East, and when mixed with honey is very pleasant.

His circumstances were so pleasant that he considered this as evidence of God's presence with him. But now his children were gone. His home life was all but destroyed, and even his wife had been no help to him in his trouble (ch. 19) — though he does not even mention her. But in contrast to his present circumstances, his steps were bathed with cream and he was figuratively blessed with "rivers of oil."

It is nearly always a sign of present weakness if we are forced to look backward to the past for marks of God's favour. It tends to be joined with pride in that past, as well as with discouragement in the present. In the things of God, we enjoy His personal favour. His lamp shines about us now. His blessing rests on our trouble, and the future opens out before us — "we rejoice in hope of the glory of God." … The manna of yesterday will not do for today. The bright light of yesterday's candle is the burnt wick of today. … Job at the outset is looking in the wrong direction.

This is truly a most remarkable utterance. We look in vain for any breathings of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no evidences of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find so much as a single expression of conscious weakness and nothingness. In the course of this single chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while the references to God are only five. It reminds us of Romans 7, where "I" also dominates. But there is a huge difference. In Romans 7, "I" is a poor, weak, good-for-nothing, wretched creature standing before God's holy law. In Job 29, "I" is a most important, influential person, admired and almost worshipped by those around him.

He took pleasure in his good character. … Job did have great grace, and he did sustain a very admirable character; but why should he talk about it? why should he think upon it? why should he not think of the source of all the blessing? Why should he not be boasting in the Lord — instead of an implied boasting in himself? That was the very thing God had a controversy with.

"When I washed my steps with butter" — of course it is not literal — "and the rock poured me out rivers of oil." … All that was exceedingly pleasant to Job. And we are apt to think so too. Nothing succeeds like success, men say. There is no more wicked saying, and none more completely opposed to God. Nothing denies more fully that our place now is one of suffering, of being despised and rejected for Christ's sake.

Now Job speaks of going out to the gate of the city, the place of public administration (v.7), and taking his seat there. His dignity was such that young men instinctively drew back, and old men stood up to honour him (v.8). The leading men would not speak first, for everyone waited for Job (vv.9-10)... Though these things might be perfectly true, he ought not to have dared to glory in such honour. In fact, the honour men give to us should only humble us to the dust.

Honour did not fail him outside his own lands either. When he went from the gate up into the city and took his seat in the open square or market, young men hid themselves in awe. Old men rose and stayed standing until he sat down. Leading men and rulers said nothing and kept a respectful silence. The nobles and men of note, whose voices were usually heard, fell silent, unable to speak a word. Such was the reverence that met Job when he came among them — and his influence counted all the more because he held no office.

This is truly a most remarkable statement. We look in vain for any breathing of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no signs of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find so much as a single expression of conscious weakness and nothingness. In the course of this one chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while the references to God are only five.

It is pitiful to hear a truly great man describing his supremacy over others. The young men hid themselves, the elders rose up and remained standing until he took his seat. Ah, had not this sense of his greatness fostered a pride in Job which made his downfall a necessary dealing of God? He was a prince of princes; nobles were struck dumb in his presence!

All that was very pleasant to Job. And we are apt to think so too. There is nothing, men say, that succeeds like success. No maxim is more wicked, or more completely against God. Nothing denies more thoroughly that our place now is one of suffering, of being despised and rejected for Christ's sake.

Now one of the beautiful features about Job was that he did not pretend to be noble, and he did not seek to be a prince... he was truly noble in his ways; and all that would have been admirable if he had not said or thought it; for that is the important point. "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." It does not mean that other people do not know about it. The wrong is that our own left hand should know what our right hand does. That is, we ought not to think about it.

Now Job had to lose all this. Compare Job 29 with Job 30, and we can form some idea of how painful that stripping must have been. There is a particular force in the words, "But now." Job draws a striking contrast between his past and his present... The very men who flattered him in the day of his prosperity treat him with contempt in the day of his trouble.

Nor did honour fail outside his own lands. If he went from the gate up to the city and took his seat in the market square, young men hid themselves in awe. The grey-headed rose and stood until he was seated. Leading men and rulers stopped speaking and kept a respectful silence. Those men of rank whose voices were usually heard fell quiet, their tongues sticking to the roof of their mouths. So great was the reverence that met Job's presence among them. It carried all the more weight because it was unofficial.

Job has looked back over his former prosperity at home. Now, in memory, he walks out of his gates to take his leading place among his fellows. It is pitiful to hear a truly great man describing his supremacy over others. He is describing his place among the councillors of the city; he was their president and chief.

If someone other than Job had said this, it would be impressive. But when Job speaks this way, he exposes the pride of his self-importance. That shows why it was necessary for God to bring him down. These things might be perfectly true, yet he should not have dared to glory in such honour. In fact, the honour men give us ought only to humble us to the dust. How good it is for every believer to take to heart the words of the Lord Jesus, "I do not receive honour from men" (John 5:41).

This is a most remarkable speech. We look in vain for any breath of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no signs of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. In this one chapter Job refers to himself more than forty times, while the references to God are only five.

Job was a godly man. There were none like him in his generation. But a fast current was flowing in his soul. He valued his character and his circumstances. Not that he was self-righteous or worldly in the usual way. He was truly a believer, and a generous friend and benefactor. But he valued his circumstances in life, and the esteem he had among men. In secret, in his own heart, he was in the habit of surveying his fine condition with satisfaction (Job 29). That was a strong undercurrent. His neighbours had not traced the course of that stream; but his heavenly Father had. He loved him, and He wanted him to share His holiness. All of this was inconsistent with that holiness. So He put him into His own school to train him.

Now Job had to be stripped of all this; and when we compare Job 29 with Job 30 we can get some idea of how painful the stripping must have been. There is particular force in the words, "But now." Job draws a striking contrast between his past and his present. In Job 30 he is still occupied with himself. It is still "I" — but how changed! The very men who flattered him in the day of his prosperity treat him with contempt in the day of his trouble. So it always is in this false, deceitful world, and it is good to be made to prove it.

If he went from the gate up to the city, and took his seat in the open square or market, youths hid themselves in awe, and the grey-headed rose and stood until he was seated. Leading men or rulers held back from speech and imposed a respectful silence on themselves. Those nobles or men of mark whose voices were usually heard fell quiet, their tongues sticking to the palate. So great was the reverence that greeted Job among them. His influence was all the stronger because it was unofficial.

What a prominent place he used to occupy, and the good works he did! The words need no further comment; what he means is on the surface. He glories in his good character and in his good works. Self is triumphant. His friends well knew that every word he spoke of his past greatness was true and not a lie.

Now Job speaks of going out to the gate of the city, the place of public business, and taking his seat there. Authorities would not take the lead in speaking, for everyone would wait upon Job. If someone other than Job had said this, it would be impressive, but when Job speaks this way, he exposes the pride of his self-importance in such a way as to reveal why it was necessary for God to bring him down. Though these things might be perfectly true, he still ought not to have dared to glory in such honour. Actually, the honour men give to us should only humble us to the dust.

One of the beautiful features about Job was that he did not pretend to be noble, and he did not seek to be a prince. He was like a king in the nobility of his character — what a king ought to be. He was truly noble in his ways. All that would have been admirable if he had not said it or thought it. That is the important point.

This truly is a most remarkable statement. We look in vain for any breathings of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no signs of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find so much as a single expression of conscious weakness and nothingness. In this one chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while he mentions God only five times.

Now Job had to be stripped of all this. Compare Job 29 with Job 30, and we can form some idea of how painful the stripping must have been. There is peculiar emphasis in the words, "But now." Job draws a most striking contrast between his past and his present. The very men who flattered him in the day of his prosperity treat him with contempt in the day of his adversity.

Job had wished to come near His seat and plead his own cause. Here He was now, if Job could answer, in keeping with the boldness of his reproofs. The only answer he makes is to admit he is vile. He had no reply to the divine challenge beyond the confession implied in laying his hand on his mouth. Once he had spoken, but he would not reply; twice, but he would add no more. Now he sees the folly of refusing to submit. He had spoken too much, so silence suited him. It was for the LORD to speak.

When he went from the gate up into the city and took his seat in the open square, young men hid themselves in awe. Grey-headed men rose and stood until he sat down. Leading men and rulers held back from speaking and kept a respectful silence. The nobles and men of note, who usually did the talking, went quiet, their tongue sticking to the roof of their mouth. Such was the reverence that met Job among them — and his influence was all the greater because he held no office.

Job now, in memory, passes out of his gates to take his leading place among his fellows. It is pitiful to hear a truly great man describing his supremacy over others. The young men hid themselves, the elders rose up and remained standing until he took his seat. Had not this sense of his greatness fostered a pride in Job which made his downfall a necessary dealing of God? He was a prince of princes; nobles were struck dumb in his presence! He is describing his place among the councillors of the city; he was their president and chief.

Authorities would not take the lead in speaking, for everyone would wait on Job. Though these things might be true, he ought not to have dared to boast in such honour. The honour men give to us should only humble us to the dust.

We look in vain for any breathings of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no signs of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. In this one chapter Job refers to himself more than forty times. He mentions God only five times. It reminds us of Romans 7, where "I" dominates in the same way. But there is this immense difference. In Romans 7 "I" is a poor, weak, good-for-nothing, wretched creature standing before the holy law of God. In Job 29 "I" is a most important and influential figure, admired and almost worshipped by his fellow men. Now Job had to be stripped of all this. The very men who flattered him in the day of his prosperity treated him with contempt in the day of his adversity.

One of the beautiful features about Job was that he did not pretend to be noble, and he did not seek to be a prince. He was like a king in the nobility of his character — what a king ought to be. He was noble in his ways. All of it would have been admirable if he had not said it or thought it. That is the important point. "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." That does not mean other people do not know about it. The wrong is that our left hand should know what our right hand does — that is, we ought not to think about it.

How was Job's mouth stopped? Through long chapters in his book he argues out his own righteousness. He boasted that he was eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, and a father to the poor. He boasted that he made the widow's heart sing, and that he put on righteousness as a garment and justice as a crown. And it was no idle boast. At last he comes into God's presence and says, "Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth." In God's presence his mouth is stopped.

Job was highly pleased, and took great pleasure in the world thinking so much of him. "When the ear heard, it called me blessed" — now he is looking at what you may call the objects of his kindness and love. For there was both kindness and love in Job. "And when the eye saw, it approved." He was referring to the people who had been helped out of their many troubles... God delighted in Job; that was all right; and he found at last that God did delight in him, but he did not find that until after the trial. The homage people paid him, and the sense of his own great kindness, lifted him above the ordinary occupations of men. All that lifted him up. Well, that is a very natural thing; but it is not spiritual; and it is the very thing that God was putting down severely in him.

The people he helped were moved whenever they saw or heard the man who had rescued them, even though his left hand did not know what his right had done. God does not let the memory of unselfish goodness die. The poor can give as true a witness to loving-kindness as the rich can to a greatness beyond their own. And was not Job the deliverer of the poor, the orphan, the perishing, and the widow?

Eliphaz had just spoken wise words. Then he plunged into a series of accusations against Job. God had given His own testimony about Job at the start of the story, so these charges must have been completely unfounded. Reading them, we can see what provoked Job to sing his own praises, as he does in Job 29. Eliphaz did not deal in vague hints but stated Job's wrongdoing towards the needy, the naked, the weary, the hungry, the widow and the fatherless. In Job 29 Job answers these charges and is just as explicit in declaring how well he had acted towards these very people.

One beautiful thing about Job was that he did not pretend to be noble, and he did not seek to be a prince. He was like a king in the nobility of his character — what a king ought to be. He was truly noble in his ways. All that would have been admirable if he had not said it or thought it. That is the important point. "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." It does not mean that other people do not know about it. The wrong is that our left hand should know what our right hand does. We ought not to think about it. It is done to God.

It is indeed a beautiful picture, but spoiled by the pride of personal recital. "Let another praise you, and not your own mouth."

Job 29 has become one of the great "I" chapters of the Bible. Ecclesiastes 2 is Solomon's "I" chapter. That pronoun occurs 16 times in the first 9 verses. It is the true chapter of the self-gratified "I." Job 29 is the chapter of the self-satisfied "I." Romans 7 is of course the chapter of the self-condemned "I." And to be self-condemned is far better than to be self-gratified or self-satisfied. Best of all is to be self-eclipsed, as we find Paul to be in Philippians 3, where he mentions "I" a good many times.

That will not do, says God. That is all I, I, I. So He lets the devil loose on him, until Job curses the day he was born. But at last he says, "now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself." That will do, says God; now I can bless you. And He did bless him.

What distress ever sought his help in vain? What story of grief did he brush aside? What sight of misery did he forget? The people he helped were moved when they saw him or heard him, even if his left hand did not know what his right had done. God does not let the memory of unselfish goodness die. The poor can bear as true a witness to loving-kindness as the rich can to a greatness beyond their own. And was not Job the deliverer of the poor, the orphan, the perishing, and the widow?

I suppose that everything Job said about himself was true. It was the effect of the grace of God in him; it did not belong to him naturally. And God, in the middle of His dealings with him and by those dealings, was letting him feel this. He recounted his good deeds, dwelt on them, and called them to mind. He recited them to his friends, who did not want to hear them… He seeks to adorn himself with his good deeds.

Job had acted well, for grace had acted in him; but he did not know himself before God. So he speaks: "When the ear heard, it called me blessed… I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy…" All very right and gracious. But was that all that was in Job's heart? What did thinking about it produce there? What did it show?

This is a most remarkable statement. We look in vain for any breathing of a broken and contrite spirit here. There are no signs of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find even one expression of conscious weakness and nothingness. In this one chapter Job refers to himself more than forty times. He mentions God only five times.

"Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." It does not mean that other people should not know about it. The wrong is that our left hand should know what our right hand does — that is, we ought not to think about it. We do it to God. We are only paying back a very little interest on the wonderful capital — the spiritual capital — that the Lord has put in our hands.

His condition in life did not make him proud, or self-indulgent, or indifferent to others. But he valued his condition… He loved his condition and circumstances in life — his place, his character, the respect people gave him, his honours and the praise of men. He was godly, truly and admirably so. There was none like him on the earth. But his place on the earth mattered to him. He was very ready to share and to serve, but he shared and served as a patron or a benefactor.

Job 29 has become one of the great "I" chapters of the Bible… Job 29 is the chapter of the self-satisfied "I." Romans 7 is the chapter of the self-condemned "I." To be self-condemned is far better than to be self-gratified or self-satisfied. Best of all is to be self-eclipsed, as we find Paul to be in Philippians 3, where he mentions "I" a good many times.

How was Job's mouth stopped? Through long chapters in his book he argues out his own righteousness. He boasted that he was eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, and a father to the poor. He made the widow's heart sing, he said, and put on righteousness as a garment and judgment as a crown. And it was no idle boast. At last he comes into God's presence and says, "Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer You? I will lay my hand on my mouth." In God's presence his mouth is stopped.

Imperial crown or crown of honour.

It is indeed a beautiful picture, but marred by the pride of personal recital... Job had won the respect and affection of all. He had been a helper of the helpless, a friend of the orphan and the widow. He clothes himself with righteousness as with a garment, and binds it as a crown on his brow. These are strong words, with little of the humility that suits us.

Job was upright, but he began to make this his righteousness. That clearly proves he had never really been in God's presence. The result was this. He reasoned more correctly than his friends. His heart felt far more than theirs did what God was. Yet he charged God with injustice, and with wanting to trouble him without cause... God was bringing him to say, "Now my eye sees You, and I abhor myself."

This "righteousness," as Job 29 shows us, had to do with his outward conduct. The searching light of God had not yet entered his soul. He had been charged with being a deceiver and a hypocrite. He knew he was not, and he was not going to plead guilty to it for a moment. We too know that he was not. But outward correctness does not by itself count for righteousness in God's presence.

Everything he said may have been true, and we have no reason to doubt that he meant it. Even so, it does not suit a man to dwell on his own state. Before the fall, man's happiness was to continue in God's goodness. When he turned from that, he fell into disobedience. For a sinner to dwell on his own goodness — and he has none — is repulsive. When a child of God does the same, it shows clearly that he has not yet learned his lesson.

Here let us notice an important distinction. In Zechariah 3:4 iniquities are called "filthy garments." In Isaiah 61:10 righteousnesses are described as "filthy rags." Garments cover us. Rags are things men try to cover themselves with, but in vain. Our iniquities do cover us... But when we foolishly try to cover our nakedness with works of our own, we put on nothing but tatters. In reality they do not cover us at all. But God puts on the returning son "the best robe," and that is Christ. As He is, so are we in God's sight from now on and for ever.

What distress had ever sought his help in vain? What tale of sorrow had he ever ignored? What sight of misery had he forgotten? Those he helped were moved whenever they saw or heard their benefactor, even if his left hand did not know what his right had done. God does not let the memory of unselfish goodness die. The poor can give as true a witness to loving-kindness as the rich can to a greatness beyond their own. Was not Job the deliverer of the poor, the orphan, the perishing, and the widow? … He was eyes to the man who had none, feet to the lame, and a father to the needy. He spared no effort to look into a case he knew nothing about.

He boasted that he was eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, a father to the poor, that he caused the widow's heart to sing, and put on righteousness as a garment, judgment as a crown. And it was no idle boast.

Job had acted well, for grace had acted in him; but he did not know himself before God. … All very right and gracious; but was it all that was in Job's heart? What did the thinking of it produce there? What did it show?

He took pleasure in his good character. He was therefore in spirit too much of a Pharisee. "I thank you that I am not like other men." There really was great grace in Job, and he really did keep up an admirable character. But why should he talk about it? Why should he think about it? Why should he not think of the source of all the blessing? Why should he not be boasting in the Lord — instead of an implied boasting in himself? That was the very thing God had a controversy with.

The Lord Jesus said, "do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" (Matt. 6:3). Job badly needed to learn that lesson. There is never a reason that we should advertise the good things that we do. If we do it "unto the Lord" — and that should always be the case — then He knows it. He weighs its value far more accurately than we could.

It is always so in the Scriptures: those who are lonely, sorrowful, or oppressed are the special objects of His tender mercy… We can learn from such a scripture. It teaches us how to have practical fellowship with the heart of God. If we would walk with Him, His interests and His aims must be ours too. So a field of service opens to God's people — a field that has no limit and surrounds us on every side.

Through long chapters in his book he argues out his own righteousness… At last he comes into God's presence and says, "Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth." In God's presence his mouth is stopped.

What distress had ever sought his help in vain? What tale of sorrow was ever brushed aside? What sight of misery was ever forgotten? Those he helped could not see or hear him without being moved, even if his left hand did not know what his right hand had done. God does not let the memory of unselfish goodness die. The poor can bear as true a witness to loving-kindness as the rich can to a greatness beyond their own.

People did not honour Job only for his high position. It was his consistent kindness toward others... He was zealous for the cause of righteousness and justice (v.14), and was in effect "eyes to the blind and feet to the lame" (v.15). He was in practice "a father to the needy," searching out the truth of a case that might not be easily apparent (v.16). He opposed the wicked. He broke their fangs — their power to gain by oppression — and rescued the victims from their clutches (v.17).

Now Job needed, and God saw that he needed, this. He was gracious and pious, but he did not know himself. He had never seen God in a way that brought him to a real knowledge of himself in His presence... All very right and gracious; but was it all that was in Job's heart? What did the thinking of it produce there? What did it show?

There was great grace in Job, and he did keep up a very admirable character. But why should he talk about it? Why should he dwell on it? Why should he not think of the source of all the blessing? Why should he not be boasting in the Lord — instead of an implied boasting in himself? That was the very thing that God had a controversy with.

Now, just read chapters 29-31, and you will say, if any man could have justified himself by good works, Job was the man. There is not a man in all your town that can say as much as Job said, and say it truly. As to his kindness to the poor, he was the very opposite of the lying charges brought against him. So he lets memory recount every good act of his life, but it all fails to give rest to his troubled spirit. I, I, I, I did this, I did not do that. But it is all of no use.

We are never called to show our good works, or even to be conscious of them. The Lord's lesson about giving to the poor is the perfect example of the rule for all such things: "do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." We may be sure He is not teaching a contradictory principle here. He takes it for granted that there will be good works: true faith in Him is sure to bear fruit. But faith is the very opposite of being taken up with self, and certainly the opposite of self-satisfaction.

He opposed the wicked. He broke their fangs — their power to profit by oppression — and rescued their victims from their grip.

After these wise words, Eliphaz launched into a series of accusations against Job. God's own testimony about Job at the start of the story shows they must have been completely false. Reading them, we can see what pushed Job to sing his own praises, as he does in Job 29. Eliphaz did not deal in vague hints. He stated plainly that Job had wronged the needy, the naked, the weary, the hungry, the widow and the fatherless. In Job 29, Job answers these charges, and he is just as plain in declaring how well he had treated these very people.

He was pointing to the people he had helped out of their many troubles. And that was really true. God delighted in Job; that was all right. He found at last that God did delight in him, but he did not find that out until after the trial. The honour people paid him, and his sense of his own great kindness, raised him above the ordinary business of other men. All that lifted him up. Well, that is a very natural thing. But it is not spiritual, and it is the very thing that God was firmly putting down in him.

One of the beautiful things about Job was that he did not pretend to be noble, and he did not try to be a prince. He was like a king in the nobility of his character — what a king ought to be. He was truly noble in his ways. All that would have been admirable if he had not said it or thought it. That is the important point. "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." It does not mean that other people must not know. The wrong is that our own left hand should know what our right hand does — that is, we ought not to think about it. The deed is done to God. It is only a little interest paid back on the wonderful spiritual capital that the Lord has put in our hands.

This "righteousness," as Job 29 shows us, was about his outward conduct. The searching light of God had not yet entered his soul. He had been accused of being a deceiver and a hypocrite. He knew he was not, and he was not going to plead guilty to it for a moment. We know he was not either. But outward correctness does not in itself count as righteousness in the presence of God.

This is a truly remarkable speech. We look in vain here for any breath of a broken and repentant spirit. There is no sign of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find even one word of felt weakness and nothingness. In this one chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while he refers to God only five times.

So Job 29 has become one of the great "I" chapters of the Bible. Ecclesiastes 2 is Solomon's "I" chapter — the true chapter of the self-gratified "I." Job 29 is the chapter of the self-satisfied "I." Romans 7 is the chapter of the self-condemned "I." To be self-condemned is far better than to be self-gratified or self-satisfied. Best of all is to be self-eclipsed, as we find Paul to be in Philippians 3.

All this honour, together with his own generosity, made life very attractive to Job. He pushed the end far off into the distance. When it came, it would find him comfortable in his "nest." He would stretch out the days of his life like countless grains of sand. Some read the word instead as the phoenix, the immortal bird of legend. The reading in our version gives a simpler and worthier sense. It also matches the way Scripture uses this picture elsewhere (1 Kings 4:29; Gen. 22:17). Another suggestion is that Job refers to the palm tree — "The righteous flourish like the palm tree." Either way the meaning is clear. He would live on without interruption, like a well-watered tree.

He said himself, "I shall die in my nest," Job 29:18; and it is recorded again that "he was righteous in his own eyes," Job 32:1. In the first statement Job was in danger of putting his confidence in the wealth God had blessed him with. In the second he was sure he deserved it. But it was God, and not the nest, who kept him safe. And it was God's estimate of his righteousness that counted, not his own. Job needed to learn these two things, and for his own safety and blessing God was about to teach him… Satan set about to destroy everything Job had put his confidence in — his family, his wealth, his health. But the one thing he could not destroy was his faith.

Job 29 has become one of the great "I" chapters of the Bible. Ecclesiastes 2 is Solomon's "I" chapter: that personal pronoun appears 16 times in the first 9 verses — the chapter of the self-gratified "I." Job 29 is the chapter of the self-satisfied "I." Romans 7 is of course the chapter of the self-condemned "I." And to be self-condemned is far better than to be self-gratified or self-satisfied.

"Then I thought, I shall die in my nest." No, no; God was going to disturb that nice nest of his that was so warm and comfortable. "And I shall multiply my days as the sand." Why, he had been very eager for God to cut his days short. That was the only way he could see out of all the trouble he was going through.

And it was a hard lesson for him, difficult to learn and take in. He did not like — and which of us does? — to accept the sentence of death in himself. Yet that was the point: he was not to trust in himself, or in his circumstances in life, or in his natural condition, but in God who raises the dead. "I shall die in my nest" was his thought and his hope. But he was to see his nest stripped bare. Nature had filled it and circumstances had decorated it, and all of it was taken away.

There is a difference — I would even say a distance — between a righteous man and a devoted man… At the beginning of this history, Job was a righteous man. He was spoken well of again and again, right in front of his accuser. But he was not a devoted man. The whisper of his heart, as I noticed before, was this: "I shall die in my nest."

But should we not be using our wings now? Yet how ready we are to make our nest here! Job thought he would die in his nest (Job 29:18), but what a shaking poor Job got! Yet was it not in love, for his ultimate good? So it always is when the Lord stirs up our nest and shakes everything here. Is it not so that we may learn to fly?

Job had been an example in his conduct and his reliability. So he felt quite sure this prosperity would continue undisturbed… How differently things turned out from what he thought! Do we also think we can depend on past experience to sustain us for the future? If so, we forget that we are always totally dependent on the grace of God.

All this honour, along with his kindness to others, made life very attractive to Job. The end that must come was pushed far into the distance. It would find him comfortable in his "nest." He would stretch out the days of his life like countless grains of sand... In any case the meaning is obvious: he would live on without interruption, like a well-watered tree. So the freshness of the dew would be his, and his bow would stay strong.

It is a blessing, a refreshment sent by God, and withheld as punishment or in discipline... It pictures how God refreshes and strengthens His people through the night, while their Lord is away. It will not be needed when the day breaks and the Sun of righteousness rises with healing in His wings.

Certainly, if any mortal was entitled to look for a peaceful future from God and before men, it was the man of Uz.

He did not like — and which of us does? — to accept the sentence of death in himself. That way he would not trust in himself, or in his circumstances in life, or in his natural condition, but in God who raises the dead. "I shall die in my nest" was his thought and his hope. But he was to see his nest stripped of everything nature had filled it with and circumstances had decorated it with.

This is a truly remarkable statement. We look in vain here for any breathing of a broken and repentant spirit. There are no signs of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find a single expression of any sense of weakness and nothingness. In this one chapter Job refers to himself more than forty times, while the references to God are only five.

Job had been exemplary in his conduct and his reliability. So he felt quite confident that this prosperity would continue without a break... How differently things turned out from what he thought! Do we also think we can depend on past experience to carry us into the future? If so, we forget that we are totally dependent on the grace of God always.

The comfort of this! What a story it tells of grace — tireless, patient grace! And so Job flourishes again. The Lord is as the dew to him. He grows like the lily, his branches spread, his beauty is like the olive tree, his fragrance like Lebanon... and others even live under his shade, reviving like grain and growing like the vine.

Job had been exemplary in his conduct and his reliability, so he felt quite sure this prosperity would go on unbroken. His days would be greatly multiplied, and his death would be one of comfort in his nest (v.18). His root and his branch would be well watered, even at night (v.19). The freshness of vibrant life would continue as before, and his ability for conflict — his bow — would be renewed again and again (v.20). How different things turned out from what he expected! Do we also think we can depend on past experience to carry us through the future? If so, we forget that we always depend entirely on the grace of God.

Throughout Scripture the bow is the symbol of strength to conquer the enemy. The sword is used in hand-to-hand combat; the bow attacks from a distance, opposing the enemy's approach... The bow takes more skill than the sword. But above all it is the symbol of strength, because it takes powerful arms and hands to draw a bow and use it properly.

We look in vain here for any breath of a broken and contrite spirit. There is no sign of self-loathing, or even of self-distrust. We cannot find a single expression of conscious weakness and nothingness. In this one chapter, Job refers to himself more than forty times, while he refers to God only five times.

He took pleasure in his good character... It is not that there was no great grace in Job, or that he did not keep up a very admirable character. But why should he talk about it? Why should he dwell on it? Why should he not think of the source of all the blessing? Why should he not boast in the Lord, instead of an unspoken boast in himself? That was the very thing God was taking issue with.

Job was a godly man. There were none like him in his generation. But a rapid current was flowing in his soul. He valued his character and his circumstances. He valued his position in life, and his standing among people. In the hidden workings of his heart, he used to look over his fine condition with satisfaction (Job 29). That was a strong undercurrent. His neighbours had never traced where that stream ran, but his heavenly Father had. He loved Job, and He wanted him to share in His holiness. All of this got in the way of that, so He put him into His own school to train him.

We cannot question the truth or the sincerity of all that he says. But we may well ask: is his conclusion a happy one even for himself? He shuts the mouths of his friends and seems fully satisfied with himself. Suppose God let it rest there. Is a completely self-vindicated man a pleasant sight? Divine truth, as well as divine love, will not let him wrap himself in these weeds of self-righteousness. They are, for the most part, borrowed garments belonging to God, to whom Job gives not one bit of glory.

I do not go on in my own strength. I may be weary or weak, but it is God. I may be faint in my mind; but "when I am weak, then I am strong." "Our inner self is being renewed day by day." Dependence is renewal. You never get in the grace of today strength for tomorrow... If the manna was kept a day it went bad — it became self-righteousness. You must be dependent every instant.