When the ear heard [me], then it blessed me, and when the eye saw [me], it gave witness to me;
Job is deep in suffering. He looks back to the days when the world thought much of him. His own report of that reputation raises two questions. Was it true? And was it right for him to make it?
One writer says the ear and the eye belong to the people Job had rescued. He hears in Job's words a man who enjoyed being thought so much of.
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.
Older translations end the verse "it gave witness to me."
The praise had a cause. The people Job lifted out of trouble did not forget 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?
Job did not begin this speech unprovoked. His friend Eliphaz had accused him of exactly the cruelties this chapter denies.
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.
Everything Job claims here is true. What spoils it is that he says it himself. One writer takes the rule about the left hand further than keeping a deed secret from others.
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.
Another writer names who should have done the praising.
It is indeed a beautiful picture, but spoiled by the pride of personal recital. "Let another praise you, and not your own mouth."
Read the whole speech and one word dominates.
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.
The book does not leave Job here. Job's eye ends up on God instead of on himself.
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.
- True eye — the ear and the eye belong to the poor Job had rescued. They praised a real kindness, and God does not let the memory of unselfish goodness die.
- Provoked eye — Eliphaz's false charges about the widow and the fatherless pushed Job into listing his own good deeds.
- Watching eye — the fault is not the kindness but the telling of it. "Let another praise you, and not your own mouth." Better still, do not think about it yourself.
- Self-filled eye — Job 29 is the chapter of the self-satisfied "I." The self-condemned "I" of Romans 7 is far better. Best of all is the self-eclipsed Paul of Philippians 3.
- Opened eye — the trial ends when Job's eye moves off himself onto God. "Now my eye sees you; therefore I despise myself." Only then can God bless him.
For I delivered the afflicted that cried, and the fatherless who had no helper.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
The blessing of him that was perishing came upon me, and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy.
Job is looking back at his best years, and what he remembers is not his wealth but the people he rescued. The good he did was real — so why did God still have to deal with him?
One writer sums up who Job helped, and who could speak for 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?
Job told the truth about himself. One writer asks where that goodness came from, and what Job then did with it.
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.
The deeds were right. One writer asks what went on in Job's heart as he listed them.
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?
There is a simple test of this speech: count how often Job names himself, and how often he names God.
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.
The saying about the left hand and the right hand is usually read as a rule about keeping giving quiet. One writer reads it as a rule about memory instead.
"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.
Job's position in life never made him proud or careless about others. One writer finds the problem somewhere else.
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.
One writer sets this chapter beside Romans 7 and Philippians 3, and ranks the ways "I" can fill a life.
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.
- Real. The dying blessed him and the widow sang. Job really was the deliverer of the poor, the orphan and the widow.
- Given. The good in him was the grace of God at work. It did not belong to him naturally.
- Recited. The fault was not the doing but the dwelling — the left hand knowing what the right hand had done.
- Counted. He names himself more than forty times in this chapter, and God only five. The count shows what the speech is about.
- Eclipsed. To be self-condemned is far better than to be self-satisfied. Best of all is to be self-eclipsed, as Paul was.
I put on righteousness, and it clothed me; my justice was as a mantle and a turban.
Job looks back on his best years and pictures his own goodness as clothing he put on. Every word of it was true, so why does the same speech end with him saying, "I abhor myself"?
Job was not exaggerating. His record of kindness was real. But see where the long defence of it ends.
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.
A dictionary of Bible words explains the head-dress named in this verse.
Imperial crown or crown of honour.
So Job is not only saying that he acted justly. He is describing how he looked to himself. One writer finds it hard to hear a man praise himself like this.
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's uprightness was real. The fault lay in what he did with it.
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."
Job's friends had accused him of hypocrisy. He was right to deny it — but being right about that settles less than he assumed.
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.
The trouble is not only in what Job says but in where his eyes are fixed while he says it.
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.
Scripture has its own version of this image, and the difference is who does the dressing.
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.
(The "filthy rags" wording is from an older translation. The ESV reads "a polluted garment" at Isaiah 64:6.)
- True — Job's account of his justice and mercy was accurate. It was no idle boast.
- Worn — He speaks of his goodness as clothing and as a crown of honour. He had been looking at himself, and he liked what he saw.
- Claimed — He moved from being upright to making his uprightness his righteousness. That move showed he had not yet stood in God's presence.
- Not enough — Outward correctness is real, but it does not count as righteousness before God.
- Given — The robe that covers is the one God puts on us. It is the best robe, and it is Christ.
I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame;
Job is looking back at his best days and listing the good he once did. Verse 15 names two of those good things, and the whole book presses one question: why did such a record leave him with no peace?
The picture is of a man who made the weakness of others his own responsibility. One commentator gathers the whole scene in a single sweep:
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.
Nobody in the book contradicts Job's account of himself. Commentators are agreed that his record was accurate, and one states it bluntly before going on to show where it failed him:
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.
Where did a life like that come from? One writer traces it back past Job himself, and then names what Job still lacked:
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?
The trouble is not the kindness. It is the pleasure Job takes in remembering it. One commentator names the thing God had against him:
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.
So the verse carries a warning for anyone who serves the helpless well. One writer draws the lesson straight from Job's example:
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.
Serving people who cannot see or walk is more than kindness. It matches God's own heart. One writer shows which people God singles out:
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.
Job's defence runs on for three chapters and settles nothing. What finally quiets him is not a better argument but a meeting:
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.
(Older translations read "Behold, I am vile.")
- Real — Job really did serve as sight and strength for people who had neither. No one in the book denies it.
- Given — the kindness came from grace working in him, not from resources of his own.
- Wide — the blind, the lame, the orphan and the widow are God's special care. Serving them is fellowship with His heart.
- Spoiled — telling the story spoiled the good; the left hand was never meant to know.
- Silenced — a flawless record of good deeds gave him no rest; only God's presence ended the argument.
I was a father to the needy, and the cause which I knew not I searched out;
Job has lost everything, and his friends accuse him of crushing the weak. Here he remembers the days when the helpless ran to him — a record of goodness that still gave him no peace.
This verse is one line in a long list of kindnesses Job recites. One writer asks what became of the people who brought Job their trouble:
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.
The chapter opens with the respect people paid Job. One writer traces that respect back to something other than his rank:
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).
Nothing in the verse is false. Job really did these things. But one writer, quoting this very passage, finds the trouble somewhere else:
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?
The problem is not the kindness but the pleasure Job took in telling it. One writer presses the question:
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.
Job's defence is the strongest case for a life of good works that any person could make — and it still fails to settle him:
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.
The deeds were right. The question is what we do with them afterwards:
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.
- Search. Being a father to the needy meant more than money. Job searched out the truth of a case that was not obvious.
- Reach. He was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. He also broke the power of those who preyed on the weak.
- Honour. People respected him for steady kindness, not for his position. God does not let the memory of unselfish goodness die.
- Blind spot. The deeds were real, and grace produced them. What Job lacked was knowledge of himself before God. His pleasure in telling it was the very thing God had a controversy with.
- Rest. The best record of good works anyone could recite gave his troubled spirit no rest. Real faith bears fruit without keeping count.
And I broke the jaws of the unrighteous, and plucked the spoil out of his teeth.
Job is looking back. He lists the good he did in his best days. The last item on that list is not gentleness but force. He broke an oppressor's teeth and made him give up what he had seized.
The words picture the wicked man as an animal with prey already in its teeth. One writer sums up what Job did about such men.
He opposed the wicked. He broke their fangs — their power to profit by oppression — and rescued their victims from their grip.
Job is not speaking into empty air. His friend Eliphaz had accused him of the opposite — of mistreating the helpless. The list in this chapter is Job's reply, point by point.
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.
The rescues were real, and God did delight in Job. The harm lay in what the praise did to him.
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.
Rescuing the prey from the oppressor was right. Filing it away as a credit was not. One writer applies the words of Jesus about the left hand and the right hand to precisely this.
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.
Job's defence is true as far as it goes. But it stays on the level of outward behaviour, and one writer shows why that is not far enough.
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.
Read the whole chapter and one word dominates it. Count how often Job says it.
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.
One writer sets Job 29 beside three other chapters full of "I":
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.
- True. Job really did break the oppressor's fangs and pull the victim free. God's own testimony at the start of the book stands behind the claim.
- Provoked. He lists it because Eliphaz had accused him of failing the needy, the widow and the fatherless. Job 29 is his answer.
- Counted. The deed was right; keeping score of it was the flaw. The left hand was never meant to know what the right hand did.
- Not enough. Outward correctness is not righteousness in the presence of God. The searching light of God had not yet reached Job's soul.
- Eclipsed. Self-satisfied is a poor place to stand, self-condemned is far better, and self-eclipsed — as Paul was in Philippians 3 — is best of all.