Job 3:3–14

But nothing had yet reached the depths of Job's heart, and God's purpose was to reach them, whatever Satan's thoughts may have been. Job did not know himself. Up to this time, for all his godliness, he had never been in the presence of God... Satan is defeated, because the grace of God kept Job's heart from complaining. But God still has His own work to do. What the storm Satan raised against Job failed to do, the sympathy of his friends does.

If the trial had stopped here, the book would have lost its lesson. We would have missed the ways and the end of the Lord.

Job mourns and curses his day — not God, nothing of that kind. Yet he speaks in a way he should not, showing his horror of the day that announced his birth. The whole scene of his birth stood before him in gloom. Everything to do with his coming into the world looked horrible to him... He asks why he was ever born, when he was destined for such misery.

Even now Job did not accuse God of wrong, but he did curse the day of his birth. He was not blaming God openly. Yet, little as he saw it, he was blaming God all the same, because it was God who gave him life... How could the day perish on which Job was born (v.3)? How could history run backwards? That day had passed long before, and at the time it was a day of light, because a boy had been born into the world... Later Job would thank God that he had been born, and that thankfulness will last forever... But anguish moved him, not faith.

To poor Job his birthday seemed a moment to mourn and curse. In his days of plenty he had feared that some trouble might come. Now it had come on him with a force beyond anything known. His words of agony in Job 3 still move us to sympathy, some four thousand years after he spoke them.

Only of one man has it ever been said — by our Lord — "It would have been better for that man if he had not been born" (Matthew 26:24). Judas had turned away from the faith. Satan entered his heart, and he sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver... For a child of God to wish he had never been born shows a total, though only temporary, eclipse of faith.

But the great point is his mourning over this terrible lot of his: that he was ever allowed to come into the world to bear such awful suffering. Where do you find that in Christ? "I was sent for this purpose." The Lord accepts it. He felt it, and felt it deeply. He was troubled in spirit. He felt it, and yet He accepted it. This was why He had come. Job was different. He could not understand why a holy God should allow such suffering, though his own sufferings were nothing beside those of Christ.

Job had begun to take pleasure in his own goodness and to trust his own righteousness. So, to destroy Job's confidence in himself, God allows Satan's malice, within set limits, to sift him with terrible trials. The result was twofold. Job triumphed over all the power of the enemy. He also learned, through the trials, to judge the secret and unsuspected evil of his own heart.

It may have been the pride of his heart, which could not bear to be found in such a state by people who had known his greatness. It may have been their sympathy, which weakened that pride and left him feeling his misery in full. Either way, it was the presence and the words of his friends that brought out all that was in his heart. The depths of Job's heart had not yet been reached, and reaching them was God's purpose. He acts in grace in cases like this, for the good of the soul He loves.

That day — let it be darkness; Let not God from above ask after it; And let not light shine upon it.

How could the day perish in which Job was born? (v.3). How could history reverse itself? That day had passed long before, and at the time it was a day of light that a man-child had been born into the world. Could Job's words change that light to darkness? He mentions God once in this section, wanting God to ignore that day (v.4). Later Job would thank God he had been born, and that thankfulness will last for eternity. But when trouble comes like Job's, we do not tend to think calmly and carefully. Wishful thinking will never achieve anything... he was moved by his anguish, not by faith.

Notice this. Job gives way to his feelings in this passionate outburst, yet he did not renounce God. There is not a word of rebellion against Him. All through his reply to his friends' arguments he does not lose sight of God. Again and again he expresses confidence in the unseen One.

Of only one man has it ever been said, by our Lord, that it would have been better for him if he had not been born: Judas, who sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver, betrayed Him with a kiss, and then went and hanged himself. For a child of God to wish he had never been born shows a complete, if only temporary, eclipse of faith.

The great point is what he mourns: that he was ever allowed to come into the world to bear such awful suffering. Where do you find that in Christ? "For I was sent for this purpose." The Lord accepts it; He felt it, felt it deeply; He was troubled in spirit. He felt it, but He also accepted it. For this cause He had come. Not so Job. His sufferings were nothing compared to those of Christ. Even so, he could not understand why a holy God should allow such suffering. It was inexplicable to Job.

When you wake up to the full sense of your misery, the first thought — and the most bitter one — is to curse your day. It is a terrible feeling, and where God is not known it is the thought that leads to suicide. But where God is known, as with Job, it is the start of healthy action. Not because of the discontent and wretchedness it uncovers, but because you now know and feel what death is: being cut off from everything... Discipline may have the effect of making us feel that death is better than life, but it is working out God's purpose.

That day! let it be darkness; let not God from above ask after it; and let not light shine upon it. Let darkness and death's shadow reclaim it; let clouds settle over it; let the darkenings of the day terrify it. That night! let thick darkness seize it.

In this first part Job curses the day of his birth, wishes that it could be blotted out of the calendar, because it allowed his birth. He desires that that day and night never come into remembrance — so that the very recurrence of the day that was a reminder of his existence might cease.

Job's grief was so deep that he did not even consider that what he was saying was an impossibility. How could the day perish in which Job was born? How could history reverse itself? That day had passed long before and at the time was a day of light that a man-child had been born into the world. Could Job's words change that light to darkness? He mentions God once in this section, desiring that God would ignore that day. Later Job would thank God he had been born, and that thankfulness will endure for eternity… But he was moved by his anguish, not by faith.

Of only one man has it ever been said — by our Lord "It would have been better for that man if he had not been born" (Matthew 26:24). Judas was an apostate. He was the "son of destruction," and Satan entered into his heart… For a child of God to wish he had never been born shows a complete, though only temporary, eclipse of faith.

A terrible blow can shut a man off from everything around him so completely that he does not even try to complain or to speak… But the moment he wakes up to where he stands in relation to everything here, self must occupy him — unless he is done with himself. God sends this discipline to set aside self, and to bring the heart into its true relation with God, apart from self. So the discipline exposes the secret workings and feelings of self. Otherwise they would never be detected or known — and if not known, never renounced.

"You have heard of the patience of Job?" Yet he opened his mouth to curse his day. He complained that the Preserver of man had set him up as a target, so that he was a burden to himself. In Christ nothing was brought out but what was perfect.

In this first part Job curses the day of his birth. He wishes it could be wiped off the calendar, because it allowed his birth. He wants that day and night never to come into remembrance. Then the day would stop returning to remind him that he exists.

The silence is broken by Job. Sadly, his lips do not utter praises now — he cursed the day of his birth. It was a painful trial for Job to look into the faces of these devout friends. They stood there in full health and strength. He was more devout than they were, yet God had stricken him and struck him down.

Job did not even now charge God foolishly, but he did curse the day of his birth. This did not blame God directly. Yet it blamed Him indirectly, however little Job realised it, for it was God who gave him life… Job's grief was so deep that he did not even consider that what he was saying was impossible. How could history reverse itself?… Later Job would thank God that he had been born. That thankfulness will last for eternity. But he was moved by his anguish, not by faith.

Job then did not curse God. No, he did not fall into what the devil thought he would do, but he cursed his own day, cursed his own lot. I do not say that this was right; I do not say so, far from it. But that was how it came out, that Job then opened his mouth. It came after seven days of silence. For seven days his dearest friends sat stunned at the size of his sufferings! Well, we must not be surprised that he broke out.

Trials come. Job remains as exemplary in adversity as he had been in prosperity… But at last God permits his friends to visit him and offer comfort. Then Job, so noted for his patience, curses the day of his birth. What afflictions we can endure in secret! But as soon as our friends become witnesses of them, our pride is stirred. Man's compassion excites impatience.

The great point is his mourning over this terrible lot. He grieves that he was ever allowed to come into the world to bear such awful suffering. Where do you find that in Christ? "For this cause was I sent." The Lord accepts it; He felt it, deeply felt it; was troubled in spirit. He felt it, but He also accepted it. For this cause He had come. But not so Job. His sufferings could not compare with those of Christ. Still, he could not understand why a holy God should allow such suffering. It was inexplicable to Job.

Weighed in the light of the New Testament, all these expressions are found wanting. Death is not a friend whose visit is to be desired, but an enemy. In the light of the gospel, the hope of God's people in affliction and sorrow is not relief by death. It is the coming of the Lord… Job's language is that of a man in despair. He seems to have quite forgotten the bright and blessed days of the past, and he fears a hopeless future.

Job then mourns and curses his day — not God, nothing of that kind. Yet he still speaks out his horror of the day his birth was announced, and that is unfitting. His whole birth-scene was before him, wrapped in gloom. Everything connected with his coming into the world was horrible in his eyes.

Almost everywhere, a birthday is an occasion of remembrance and rejoicing. To poor Job it seemed a moment to be deplored and cursed. In his days of prosperity he had feared that some trouble might come. Now it had come upon him with unequalled force. His agonized words in Job 3 surely move our sympathy. We read them some four thousand years after he spoke them.

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.

Job's grief was so deep that he did not even consider that what he was saying was an impossibility. How could the day perish in which Job was born? How could history reverse itself? That day had passed long before. … Later Job would thank God he had been born, and that thankfulness will endure for eternity. But he was moved by his anguish, not by faith.

One of two things upset the mind of Job, or perhaps the two together. It may have been the sympathy of his friends — for alone, and from God in His presence, we can bear what we cannot bear once we have the chance to complain in front of man. Or it may have been pride, which is not roused while we are alone but is wounded when others witness our misery. And so he curses the day of his birth. The depths of his heart are displayed. It was this that he needed.

The great point is the mourning over this terrible lot of his, that he was ever allowed to come into the world to bear such awful suffering. Where do you find that in Christ? "For this cause was I sent." The Lord accepts it; He felt, deeply felt; was troubled in spirit. He felt it, but He also accepted it. For this cause He had come. But not so Job. He could not understand why a holy God should allow such suffering, though his own sufferings were nothing compared with those of Christ.

Indeed there had never been a child of Adam or a believer so visited as Job; and as yet he did not know the end, that the Lord is full of pity, and of tender mercy. He was in the depth of his trial, and the silence of his friends made it worse. Worse still was coming: their suspicion, spoken more and more openly, like drawn swords.

What a contrast is the joy of the believer as he dwells on his spiritual birthday. … So in the many persecutions and afflictions which happened to Paul for the gospel's sake, we hear not the faintest approach to these laments of Job. He and Silas were beaten, thrown into prison, their feet fast in the stocks. Their thoughts were not of cursing the day of their birth; they brought songs in the night.

In Isaiah 27:1 it also stands for Satan: "Leviathan the fleeing serpent, Leviathan the twisting serpent," whom God will punish… In Job 3:8 it should be translated "leviathan" instead of "their mourning." This confirms the general meaning of some monster.

One translation of verse 8 reads, "Let those who curse the day curse it, who are skilled in stirring up leviathan." It points to the pagan myth that a dragon swallowed the sun and moon and so stopped the day. If this is correct, it shows how far Job had drifted in his thoughts, to turn to pagan superstitions.

He opened his mouth and cursed his day. He did not curse God, note it well. He called down a curse upon the day he was born, grieving that he had not died when his mother gave him birth.

Job did not even now charge God foolishly, but he did curse the day of his birth. This was not blaming God directly. But however little he realised it, he was blaming God indirectly, because it was God who gave him life… How could the day of Job's birth perish? How could history reverse itself? That day had passed long before… But anguish moved him, not faith.

The first thought after waking to a full sense of one's misery, and the most bitter one, is to curse one's day. That is a terrible impression, and where God is not known it leads to suicide. But when God is known, as in Job's case, it is the beginning of healthy action. Not because of the discontent and misery it uncovers, but because he knows and feels the sense of death, of being utterly wiped out from everything… He does not know that God seeks to make him a witness of dependence on Himself against Satan.

God now shows Job, under the figure of leviathan, that Satan's power is too great for him. What a terrible being he is, this king over all the proud… But what could be God's object in describing the power of the enemy? Surely it was to lead Job into complete dependence on Himself. "I know," says Job, "that You can do all things."

The great point is his mourning over this terrible lot of his — that he was ever allowed to come into the world to bear such awful suffering. Where do you find that in Christ? "I was sent for this purpose." The Lord accepts it. He felt it, and felt it deeply; He was troubled in spirit. He felt it, but He also accepted it.

As we go through this book, we must not miss the exquisite beauty of the expressions, both of Job and of all who speak. For if the Spirit of God has seen fit to inspire a writing, He would have us note its form as well as its contents. So in verse 9 the margin of our version reads, "Neither let it see the eyelids of the morning." Another rendering has, "Let it not refresh itself with the eyelids of the dawn" — poetry indeed of exquisite beauty.

In this first part Job curses the day of his birth, wishes that it could be blotted out of the calendar, because it allowed his birth. He desires that that day and night never come into remembrance — so that the very recurrence of the day that was a reminder of his existence might cease.

This was not directly blaming God. But however little he realised it, he was blaming God indirectly, because it was God who gave him life… He was moved by his anguish, not by faith.

He felt himself as if in the hands of arbitrary power, suffering for what he had not done. He sees no way of escape, and so he wishes for death… As long as his sufferings were outward, or physical, Job was calm. But when he let doubts of God's goodness in, he collapsed.

But notice this. Though Job gives way to his feelings in this passionate outburst, he did not renounce God. There is not a word of rebellion against Him. All through his answers to the arguments of his friends he does not lose sight of God. Again and again he expresses confidence in the unseen One, as in that matchless saying, "Though He slay me, I will hope in Him" (13:15).

We can say with confidence: no one who had learned even a little to say "Your will be done" could ever curse his day, or use the language of Job 3… Job was a true saint of God. But he needed to learn himself, as we all do. He needed to see the roots of his own moral being laid bare, so that he might truly abhor himself and repent in dust and ashes.

Let us contrast all these godly men with the matchless Sufferer. "Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name." Ah, He never failed. The intensity of His sufferings only gave the occasion for the display of His sinless perfection.

Paul and Silas were beaten and thrown into prison, with their feet fast in the stocks. Their thoughts were not of cursing the day of their birth. They brought songs in the night.

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

Job did not even now charge God foolishly, but he did curse the day of his birth. This did not blame God directly. But however little he realised it, it blamed God indirectly, for it was God who gave him life... Later Job would thank God he had been born, and that thankfulness will endure for eternity... The doors of Job's mother's womb had been opened long ago (v.10), and Job knew this could never be reversed. But he was moved by his anguish, not by faith.

It is sad when a man cannot look back on those early days of helplessness with tender thoughts. Loving care watched over him when he was too young to know it. Of all creatures, man is the most helpless and dependent in infancy. It is to "hide pride" from him, and to call forth love on his behalf. To curse his infancy like this was to trample on what is best in our fallen humanity. It shows a soul far from communion with God. Job had forgotten all the past; the sorrow of the present had eclipsed everything else.

The original cause of such despair lies deeper. If the creature had not turned away from his Creator in the beginning, he would not now curse his existence. When men like Job and Jeremiah could curse the day of their birth, it only proves how far man has drifted away from God. As long as all goes well, the rebellion and sullenness of the human heart stay hidden. Trials bring them to light. Temptations are therefore good and necessary — not so that God may find out what is in man's heart... but so that man may learn to know himself.

One great object in God's dealings with souls is to produce real brokenness and humility. He strips us of all false righteousness, empties us of all self-confidence, and teaches us to lean wholly on Christ. Everyone must pass through what we may call the process of stripping and emptying.

What a contrast this is to the joy of the believer as he dwells on his spiritual birthday. How Paul loved to look back to the time when the light above the brightness of the sun shone into his darkened heart... So in the many persecutions and afflictions that came on him for the gospel's sake, we hear not even a hint of these laments of Job. He and Silas were beaten and thrown into prison, their feet fastened in the stocks. Even then their thoughts were not of cursing the day of their birth. They brought songs in the night.

Job remained as exemplary in his adversity as he had been in his prosperity. The root of sin was not yet reached. He then became more remarkable for his patience than even for his goodness. Scripture bears this testimony to it: "You have heard of the steadfastness of Job." God at last permits his friends to come and offer him comfort. How many hardships we can endure alone; but as soon as our friends see them, our pride stirs. The compassion of man often provokes our impatience; and Job, so distinguished for patience, at last curses the day of his birth!

He was in the depth of his trial, and the silence of his friends made it worse. Soon they would make it worse still, attacking him with suspicion they voiced more and more openly. And so he asks, in the anguish of his soul, why, if this was to be his lot in life, he did not die at birth. Why should he have been so tenderly cared for, only to meet such agony in the end?

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 he had been born, and that thankfulness will last for eternity. But when trouble comes like the trouble Job had to bear, we do not tend to think soberly and calmly. Yet wishful thinking never achieves anything. The doors of his mother's womb had been opened long ago, and Job knew this could never be reversed. But he was moved by his anguish, not by faith.

It is sad indeed when someone cannot look back on those early days of helplessness with tender thoughts. Loving care watched over him while he lay there unaware. Of all creatures, man is the most helpless and dependent in infancy. It is to hide pride from him, and to call out love on his behalf. To curse his infancy in this way was to trample on what is best in our fallen humanity. It shows a soul far from communion with God.

Job puts everyone into an unconscious sleep, "as infants who never see the light." Is there no distinction between the condition of the wicked and of the righteous after death?... The constant contrast between the righteous and the wicked, and their moral unlikeness, points quite clearly to very different futures. Scripture says: "The wicked is overthrown through his evildoing, but the righteous finds refuge in his death." By blurring the future in this way, Job shows how far his soul had drifted from the truth of God.

Every question can be asked in two ways. One person asks in humility, with a sincere desire to learn. Another asks in presumptuous rebellion against the answer, whatever it may be. In the first case the questioner honestly takes the place of a learner, which is the right thing for him to do. In the second case he assumes there is no satisfactory answer, or that the answer is withheld.

Job must know himself, in a way he never could have imagined otherwise. To know yourself is a very different thing from being converted to God, and it is necessary if we are to be fully blessed... A man might be pious and yet never have really stood in God's presence for himself. I mean a thorough judgment of self, measured by God Himself.

And so he asks, in the anguish of his soul, why, if this was to be his lot in life, did he not die from the womb? Why should he have been so tenderly cared for, only to meet such agony in the end? Why did he not share the quiet of the grave with the great ones of the earth? They spent their lives building monuments that decay, or cramming their houses with silver and gold they must leave behind.

In the second part of his lament (verses 10-12) Job wishes he had died at birth, or that no one had cared for him or fed him. It is sad when someone cannot look back on those early days of helplessness with tender thoughts. Loving care watched over those hours he cannot even remember. Of all creatures, man is the most helpless and dependent in infancy. It is to hide pride from him, and to call out love on his behalf. To curse his infancy in this way was to trample on what is best in our fallen humanity. It shows a soul far from communion with God.

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... The doors of Job's mother's womb had been opened long ago (v.10), and Job knew this could never be reversed. But his anguish moved him, not faith.

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.

But notice this. Job gives way to his feelings in this passionate outburst, yet he did not renounce God, and there is not a word of rebellion against Him. All through his answers to the arguments of his friends he does not lose sight of God. Again and again he expresses confidence in the unseen One, as in that matchless saying, "Though he slay me, I will hope in him" (13:15).

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 goes on dealing with Job, until He brings him to nothing in the very thing Job was most famous for. Job, the most patient man, curses the day of his birth. Why is this? Because we must be broken down. We must be brought 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.

He was dependent, sorrowful, made to suffer and despised, but He never murmured and was never embittered. No despairing words fell from Him like those we may hear from a Moses or an Elijah, a Job or a Jeremiah (Num. 11:11-14; 1 Kings 19:4; Job 3:3-14; Jer. 20:14-18).

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.