Job 3:13–19

We hear the outburst of passionate grief at last from Job. He could not stand the presence of his friends. He had borne many sorrows and bitter suffering. But these friends came and looked at his misery without a word. It was too much for Job. Did they suspect him? He could not endure doubts about God's view of him, especially from them. Were they not friends? If they loved him, why that silence — that ominous silence for seven days and seven nights?

Job had never really been brought into the presence of God. There had been a certain work in his soul, which produced fruits... He was resting in what he was to others, and not in the favour of God Himself... So God goes on dealing with Job, till in the very thing in which Job was most famous he is brought to nothing. Job, the most patient man, curses the day of his birth. Why is this? Because we must be broken down. We must come to a sense of what we are, as well as of what we have done. Then God can deal with us out of His own heart.

Death is described here as a rest that all share equally. The old and the young, even the unborn baby, are at rest. So are the great and the small. Kings whose palaces have crumbled into ruins, and princes who left all their wealth behind, lie here at last in deep and equal rest. The wicked cannot trouble them. No master can demand work from his slave. Prisoners and their captors are no different in the presence of death, that great leveler of mankind.

Everywhere the righteous and the wicked stand in contrast, morally unlike each other. This points clearly to very different futures: "The wicked is overthrown through his evildoing, but the righteous finds refuge in his death" (Prov. 14:32). In blurring the future in this way, Job shows how far his soul had drifted from the truth of God. In plain language he is longing for annihilation.

But here I see no reason to blame these words on the unbelief that worked in Job's heart alongside much right feeling. This was simply how death appears. A man died, and no one saw him again until the end of all things... he uses words that fit with ignorance of another world and of the state between death and resurrection. But they certainly do not say the dead have stopped existing. They imply the opposite.

So Job's words do not contradict what we have seen elsewhere to be the revealed truth about those who have died. To a man as weary as he was, the unseen world was indeed a place of "rest". But "rest" is not extinction. And even if it were also a "land of darkness", darkness and non-existence are completely contradictory ideas.

Job's own words refute his unbelief here: "For I know that my Redeemer lives" (Job 19:25). David also said, "when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness" (Ps. 17:15)... The New Testament letters speak of being "away from the body and at home with the Lord," and of "My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better." Do such words echo Job's unbelieving laments?

First: Job curses the day of his birth (vv. 1-9). Second: He wishes he had died in infancy (vv. 10-12). Third: Death is described as a rest (vv. 13-19). Fourth: He longs for death (vv. 20-23). Fifth: He is oppressed by terror (vv. 24-26).

He asks why he had ever been born, one destined to such misery. Why was he not left instead, as he says so sharply, "with kings and counsellors of the earth, who build desolate places"? Is this what the greatness of this world comes to — kings building ruins for themselves? "Or with princes who had gold, who filled their houses with silver?" But gold and silver cannot buy escape from sorrow or death. Was this life? Was this the work in which the kings of Egypt sought fame, the building of their own tombs?

Death is here described as a rest (vv. 13-19) in which all have an equal share. The old and the young, even the unborn baby, the great and the small, are alike at rest. Kings whose palaces have crumbled into ruins, and princes whose vast wealth has all been left behind, are here at last in deep and equal repose. The wicked cannot trouble them. A master cannot demand service from his slave. Prisoners and their captors find no difference in the presence of death, that great leveller of mankind.

Job goes further and puts all in an unconscious sleep, "as infants who never see the light." Is there no difference between the condition of the wicked and of the righteous after death?… By blurring the future in this way, Job shows how far his soul had drifted from the truth of God. In plain language he is longing for annihilation.

Job's own words disprove his unbelief here: "I know that my Redeemer lives" (Job 19:25). David also said, "when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness" (Ps. 17:15).

If only he had died, he says, he would be at rest. In death at least, he claims, the wicked stop troubling, the weary are at rest, the prisoners are released and the slave is free from his master. But wishing is not facing facts as they are. Faith faces facts and gives God credit for doing what He knows is best. But Job's faith had become very weak.

Job had never really been brought into the presence of God… He was resting in what he was to others, and not in the favour of God Himself… So God keeps dealing with Job, until He brings him to nothing in the very thing for which Job was most famous. Job, the most patient man, curses the day of his birth. Why is this? Because we must be broken down. We must come to a sense of what we are, as well as of what we have done. Then God can deal with us out of His own heart.

Death is here described as a rest (verses 13-19) in which all have an equal share — the old and the young, even the unborn baby. The great and the small alike are at rest. Kings whose former palaces have crumbled into ruins, and princes who have left all their vast wealth behind, are here at last in deep and equal rest. The wicked cannot trouble them, and a master cannot demand service from his slave. In the presence of death, prisoners and their captors are no different — death is the great leveller of mankind.

He asks why he had ever been born, if he was destined to such misery. Why was he not left instead, in his cutting words, "with kings and counsellors of the earth, who build desolate places?" Is this what the greatness of this world comes to, kings building ruins for themselves? "or with princes who had gold, who filled their houses with silver?" But gold and silver cannot redeem from sorrow or death. Was this life? Or was life the work by which the kings of Egypt sought fame — building their own tombs?

If corruption expresses the effect of a mortal condition, dishonour is a confession of its moral degradation. Our bodies are bodies of humiliation, and the grave is their hiding-place of shame. Human pride may refuse to admit this. Princes who had gold may try in vain to keep a shadow of their rank in the desolate houses they build for themselves. But the worm is their brother still... But if sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory.

Why did he not share the quiet of the grave with earth's great ones, who spent life building monuments that decay themselves, or stuffing their houses with silver and gold they must leave behind?

Mr. Roberts may say, "There (in the grave) the weary are at rest," but Job does not say "in the grave"... Mr. Roberts would give righteous and wicked alike rest in non-existence in the grave. But is this "rest"? Who rests? Can a thing that is not, rest? I think not, if words have meaning.

In Job's day there was not much light about the unseen world. Yet he knew that death did not mean the end of existence. For the saint it meant rest, and freedom from the trouble caused by the wicked, such as he had suffered from the Sabeans and Chaldeans. "There the wicked cease from troubling" — they stop troubling other people, but they are not free from trouble themselves.

Job's own words disprove his unbelief here: "I know that my Redeemer lives" (Job 19:25)... And do the full Christian statements of the letters echo Job's unbelieving laments? Think of "away from the body and at home with the Lord," or "my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better."

Taking up now the lament, we may divide it into five parts. First: Job curses the day of his birth (vv. 1-9). Second: he wishes he had died in infancy (vv. 10-12). Third: death described as a rest (vv. 13-19). Fourth: he longs for death (vv. 20-23). Fifth: he is oppressed by terror (vv. 24-26).

Death is here described as a rest (vv. 13-19) in which all have an equal share — the old and the young, even the unborn baby. The great and the small alike are at rest. Kings whose palaces have crumbled into ruins, and princes who left behind all their vast wealth, are here at last in deep and equal repose. The wicked cannot trouble them. A master cannot demand service from his slave. Prisoners and their captors find no difference in the presence of death, that great leveller of mankind.

He asks, in the anguish of his soul, why, if this was to be his lot while living, did he not die from the womb? Why was he cared for so tenderly, only to meet such agony at last?… Or why was he not like a stillborn baby that never saw light, and so be where the wicked trouble no more, and the weary are at rest?

Job did not even now charge God foolishly, but he did curse the day of his birth. This was not directly blaming God. But however little he realised it, he was indirectly blaming God, for it was God who gave him life… Later Job would thank God for his birth, and that thankfulness will last for eternity. When trouble comes like the trouble God called Job to bear, we do not tend to think soberly and calmly. And wishful thinking will never do anything.

Job goes further and puts everyone into an unconscious sleep, "as infants who never see the light." Is there no difference between the condition of the wicked and of the righteous after death?… By blurring the future like this, Job shows how far his soul had drifted from the truth of God. In plain language he is longing for annihilation. Materialists and believers in conditional immortality have turned to these and similar sayings to support their unscriptural views.

"Infants who never see the light," despite Mr. R.'s protest, are beings that have begun to live. His argument from Job's reference to them has no foundation. Besides, that is not the point. Job speaks of non-existence as to the present scene, not absolute non-existence.

To weariness like his, the unseen world was indeed a place of "rest." But "rest" is not extinction. And if it were a "land of darkness" too, darkness and non-existence are flatly contradictory thoughts.

The great point is his mourning over his terrible situation: that he was ever allowed to come into the world to bear such awful suffering. Where do you find that in Christ? "For this purpose I was sent." The Lord accepts it. He felt it, and felt it deeply. He was troubled in spirit. He felt it, but He also accepted it. For this purpose He had come. But not so Job.

Job's own words are a refutation of his unbelief here: "I know that my Redeemer lives" (Job 19:25)… And what of the full Christian statements in the letters? Do words like "away from the body and at home with the Lord," or "my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better," echo Job's unbelieving laments?

Their presence, their tears, their torn robes and the dust on their heads affected Job. At last he broke the silence. He opened his mouth and cursed his day. He did not curse God, note that. He called down a curse on the day he was born, regretting that he had not died when his mother gave him birth. In Job's day people had little light about the unseen world. Yet he knew that death did not mean the end of existence. For the believer it meant rest, and freedom from the trouble caused by the wicked — the kind of trouble he had suffered from the Sabeans and Chaldeans.

"There the wicked cease from troubling" (Job 3:17) — from troubling other people, not from being troubled themselves. There those whose strength is worn out are at rest.

There the wicked cease from raging, and there the weary are at rest.

Death is described here as a rest (verses 13-19) that all share equally. The old and the young, even the unborn baby, the great and the small, are all at rest. Kings whose palaces have crumbled into ruins, and princes who left all their vast wealth behind, are here at last in deep and equal repose. The wicked cannot trouble them. A master cannot demand service from his slave. Prisoners and their captors are no different in the presence of death, that great leveller of mankind.

If only he had died, he says, he would be at rest (v.13). In death at least, he claims, the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. The prisoners go free, and the slave is free from his master (vv.17-19). But wishing is not facing facts as they are. Faith faces facts and gives God credit for doing what He knows is best. But Job's faith had become very weak.

Is there no distinction between the condition of the wicked and of the righteous after death? … The righteous and the wicked are always contrasted, and they are morally unlike. This points clearly to very different futures. By blurring the future in this way, Job shows how far his soul had drifted from the truth of God.

He was surely thinking of his own sorrows. About the "wicked," all he says is that they "cease from troubling." … He was not thinking about the portion of the wicked, but about what his own portion would be. In death a "land of darkness" stretched before him, and his eye could see very little into it. Yet he had something of the Psalmist's confidence in One who would be with him there.

One writer says, "There — in the grave — the weary are at rest." But Job does not say "in the grave." That writer would give the righteous and the wicked alike rest in non-existence in the grave. But is this "rest"? Who rests? Can a thing that is not, rest? I think not, if words have meaning.

Job's own words disprove his unbelief here: "I know that my Redeemer lives" (Job 19:25). … Then there are the full Christian statements of the letters. Do words like "My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better" echo Job's unbelieving laments?

And so he asks, in the anguish of his soul, why, if this was to be his lot while living, did he not die from the womb? Why should he have been so tenderly cared for, only to meet such agony at last?

Death is described here as a rest (verses 13-19) in which all have an equal share. The old and the young, even the unborn baby, the great and the small, are alike at rest. Kings whose palaces have crumbled into ruins, and princes who left all their vast wealth behind, lie here at last in deep and equal repose. The wicked cannot trouble them, and no master can demand service from his slave. Prisoners and their captors find no difference in the presence of death, that great leveller of mankind.

Is there no difference between the condition of the wicked and of the righteous after death? … The righteous and the wicked stand in constant contrast, and they are morally unlike. That points clearly to very different futures: "The wicked is overthrown through his evildoing, but the righteous finds refuge in his death" (Prov. 14:32). By blurring the future like this, Job shows how far his soul had drifted from the truth of God. In plain language he is longing for annihilation. Materialists, and those who say the soul is not immortal, have used these and similar words to support their unscriptural views.

We see from these words that his mind turned to death as the great emancipator. Moses and Elijah show the same drift of thought and weakness. So did the disappointed Jonah, who said, "it is better for me to die." … The New Testament weighs all these words and finds them wanting. Death is not a friend whose visit you should want. It is an enemy. In the light of the gospel, God's people in affliction and sorrow do not hope for relief by death. Their hope is the coming of the Lord.

The last verses (20-26) ask the question, first in general, and then about Job himself: why should he live, when he is this miserable? … The full answer could only come in a dead and risen Christ. If it were not so, the most miserable of all men would be the Christian. But now He is risen, and has become the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. Fear of evil is gone for ever for the one who now walks by faith.

If this slave had died suddenly in his master's house, instead of running away, it might have been called "a happy release." By his death his master would have lost the power to control him, and the freed slave would never again dread his master's approach.

Romans 6 views sin as a "master." The whole of Adam's race is in bondage to him, and his rule reaches to the ends of the earth. Prisoners have slipped out of dungeons quietly and suddenly, have climbed prison walls, and have got away. But where is the person who ever escaped the captivity of sin by his own efforts? … Christ died to take them out of the service of sin, so that they might live in association with Him, and bear fruit for God.

Death is described here as a rest (vv. 13-19) in which all have an equal share — the old and the young, even the unborn baby. The great and the small are alike at rest. Kings whose palaces have crumbled into ruins are here at last. So are princes who left all their vast wealth behind. All lie in deep and equal repose. The wicked cannot trouble them, and no master can demand service from his slave. Death is the great leveller of mankind. In its presence prisoners and their captors are no different.

No child of Adam or believer had ever been so afflicted as Job. And he did not yet know the end — that the Lord is very compassionate and full of tender mercy. He was in the depth of his trial, made worse by the silence of his friends. Soon they would add to it with the drawn swords of their growing suspicion. And so he asks, in the anguish of his soul, why, if this was to be his lot while living, did he not die at birth?

If the slave we are speaking of had died suddenly in his master's house instead of running away, it might have been called "a happy release." By his death his master would have lost all power to control him, and the freed slave would never again have dreaded his master's approach.

We see from these expressions that his mind turned to death as the great emancipator. Moses and Elijah show the same trend of thought and weakness. So did the disappointed Jonah, when he said, "It is better for me to die."

If only he had died, he says, he would be at rest (v. 13). In death at least, he claims, the wicked stop troubling and the weary are at rest. The prisoners are released and the slave is free from his master (vv. 17-19). But wishing is not facing facts as they are. Faith faces facts and gives God credit for doing what He knows is best. But Job's faith had become very weak.

Is there no difference between the condition of the wicked and of the righteous after death? … Scripture constantly contrasts the righteous and the wicked, and shows how unlike they are morally. That points clearly to very different futures: "The wicked is overthrown through his evildoing, but the righteous finds refuge in his death" (Proverbs 14:32). By blurring the future like this, Job shows how far his soul had drifted from the truth of God. … Job's own words refute his unbelief here: "I know that my Redeemer lives" (Job 19:25).

The full answer could only come in a dead and risen Christ. If it were not so, the Christian would be the most miserable of all men. But now He is risen, and has become the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. Fear of evil is gone forever for the one who now walks by faith.

Death is not a friend whose visit is to be wished for, but an enemy. In the light of the gospel, the hope of God's people in affliction and sorrow is not relief through death. It is the coming of the Lord.