And Jehovah answered Job out of the whirlwind and said,
Job and his friends have argued for chapter after chapter, and Elihu has spoken last. Now God answers for Himself. Why does He speak out of a storm? And why does the man who begged for this meeting end up wishing he had stayed silent?
Job had cried out for a hearing with God. One writer notes how that cry was answered: by word, not by sight, and only once Elihu had finished.
One more thing crowns Elihu's work: the incomparable favour Job had also, in a frantic way, begged for. He asked that a man rather than God might meet him; but he asked that he might find God too. And so he does. God appears. Jehovah Himself gives His answer from the whirlwind... this is the special value at the close of the book of Job: God does not wait until the day of judgment to decide where there is faith to look for Him. Only now it is His word, and in no way an appearance of God in visible form. Jehovah meets him here, when Elihu's word had done its work.
The Hebrew name behind "the LORD" has been almost absent since chapter 2. Here it returns, and with it a rebuke that is better than God's silence.
Here, then, we have Jehovah — notice that this name has not appeared after Job 2 (except in Job 12:9) in the historical part... He speaks according to His authority and His relationship. That is exactly what "Jehovah" means. It is God not merely in the abstract, but God in relation to man upon the earth. And so He answers Job. But He answers him here because it was a rebuke out of the whirlwind... And it is a terrible thing when God does not rebuke a soul upon the earth. What does it mean? It means judgment by and by for ever. Everyone God brings into living relationship with Himself has His interference.
The storm is not just scenery. God speaks from the very thing that pictured Job's confusion.
The whirlwind had continued a long time, and is still blowing when the Lord speaks in these verses. The whirlwind itself was meant to impress on Job that all his swirling troubles and confusion stood under the Creator's controlling hand. "The LORD has His way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of His feet" (Nahum 1:3).
Another writer notes what the roar of that wind really was, and who it was for.
Wind is not visible; yet when it blows hard, men feel its pressure and hear its roar. As the whirlwind came near, its roar was the voice of Jehovah Himself. He spoke to Job alone.
God's opening question is aimed at Job, not at Elihu. It exposes what all his words had achieved.
Out of that whirlwind Jehovah replies to Job's empty questions and laments — not to Elihu, who had been God's spokesman leading up to this. So it was not Elihu who darkened counsel. "My desire is that the Almighty would answer me," was Job's closing word (Job 31:35). He is now to have his wish granted; but how different the effect! "As a prince would I go near to Him" (v. 37), he had declared. "I am vile" is what he has to say when he hears His voice. Jehovah asks, "Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?" To darken counsel is to hide the purposes of God and the truth. Job had poured out a flood of words — laments, protests, accusations. Much was true and excellent. But as far as God's purposes went, it was all spoiled by one thing: he exalted his own righteousness at the expense of Jehovah's.
What follows this verse is striking for what it leaves out.
The other very striking thing comes at the end. All the cloud of words had died away, and Jehovah answers Job out of the whirlwind. What will He say?... He didn't do it! Not one word of explanation of Himself did God utter. Not one word to answer the questions that Job had asked. His words were entirely concerned with the things of this earth and nature.
Where all the arguing had failed, God's presence succeeded.
These moments in the presence of God produced a result that all the talk of the three friends, and even of Elihu, had not achieved. Here was a man who stood out among men, with a good word from God Himself. Now he had discovered his own utter sinfulness in the deepest springs of his being. A discovery we all in our turn have to make!
- Asked — Job begged for a hearing with God, and he got it: by God's word, not by a vision.
- Answered — God speaks out of the whirlwind. The swirling trouble that had spun Job's life around was always under the Creator's hand.
- Named — the name "Jehovah" returns after chapter 2. It means God in relationship, so even His rebuke proves that relationship is alive.
- Silent — He explains nothing about Job's suffering. He speaks only of earth, sky and creatures.
- Seen — that presence did what three friends and Elihu could not. Job saw his own sinfulness and called himself vile.
Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?
After chapters of argument, and then Elihu's speech, God answers Job out of the storm — and His first word is a question, not comfort. Who is He rebuking, what does it mean to "darken counsel," and why does He open with a challenge instead of an answer?
Job had begged for a hearing from God. He gets it — but not the effect he expected. God's question exposes who is speaking.
"My desire is that the Almighty would answer me," was Job's closing word (Job 31:35). He is now to have his wish granted; but how different the effect! "As a prince would I go near to Him" (v. 37), he had declared. "I am vile" is what he has to say when he hears His voice. Jehovah asks, "Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?" To darken counsel is to hide the purposes of God and the truth. Job had poured out a flood of words — laments, protests, accusations. Much of it was true and excellent. But as far as God's purposes went, he spoiled it all by exalting his own righteousness at the expense of Jehovah's. Instead of light, the clear flame of divine truth, it was all a smoke-cloud of unbelief that blotted out the sun in the sky. Who is this? Is it some divine being, Jehovah's equal, calling the other's acts into question? Was it some mighty angel, gifted with heavenly wisdom, that dared lay a charge against his Maker? No, it was a man, frail, ignorant, sinful.
Some read this opening line as a rebuke of Elihu, the young man who spoke last. The words themselves point elsewhere.
It should be very clear to everyone that God is not speaking to Elihu. He confirms what Elihu had said, and He answers Job directly (v. 1). Most of what God says is in the form of questions. His first question is, "Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?" (v. 2). In other words: "Who do you think you are, Job?" Job's words lacked the knowledge he ought to have had, and God will drive that home to him.
The charge is not that Job was godless. It is about the limits of what he knew. God now turns the questions back on the man who had been asking them.
"Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?" He does not mean that Job did not know Him at all. He did mean that Job's knowledge was limited, and that he knew nothing like enough about God's dealings… God is going to ask him many questions. Job had been questioning the dealings of God. Now God turns it back on him; now He says, I am going to ask you, and answer Me like a man if you can.
This rebuke is not God abandoning Job. It is proof of a living link between them.
It was meant to be a rebuke and that Job should really feel it and profit by it. And it is a terrible thing where God does not rebuke a soul upon the earth. What does it mean? It means judgment by and by for ever. God steps into the lives of those He has brought into living relationship with Himself. That is not just the fact that they are in relationship — it is the proof of it.
Notice, too, how God speaks — He asks what a man can follow.
And yet Jehovah is not seeking to crush Job, but rather to bring him to a true knowledge of himself and of God. God will not ask questions which a man cannot understand… When Jehovah speaks to Job like this, it shows His purposes of mercy for him. His appeal is to reason, and so to conscience.
What follows this question is striking for what it leaves out. Job is never told why any of it happened.
The other very striking thing comes at the end. All the cloud of words had died away, and Jehovah answers Job out of the whirlwind. What will He say? How will He explain what Job's friends failed to explain? How will He finish the explanations Elihu began? He didn't do it! Not one word of explanation of Himself did God utter. Not one word to answer the questions that Job had asked. He spoke only about the things of this earth and nature.
God spoke to one man, but the question reaches far past him.
This is God's question to all the vain words of men. They may be the cries of imagined wrong. They may be the empty efforts of human reason to explain the state of the world around us, and of the human family in particular. Whatever form they take, they only darken true wisdom. Write this divine question over the doorway of every library. Its volumes of human science, history and philosophy shut out the revelation of God, whether on purpose or in ignorance.
- Darkening — to darken counsel is to hide God's purposes and the truth. Job spoiled his flood of words by exalting his own righteousness at God's expense.
- Addressed — the rebuke lands on Job, not Elihu. God confirms what Elihu said, then turns to the man who demanded an answer.
- Limited — the charge is not that Job knew nothing of God. It is that he knew far too little of God's dealings to say what he said.
- Merciful — God is not crushing Job but bringing him to know himself and God. He asks questions a man can follow. Where God never rebukes a soul, that silence is far worse.
- Unexplained — Job gets a voice, not a reason. God speaks of earth, sea and creature, and never tells him why the suffering came.
Gird up now thy loins like a man; and I will demand of thee, and inform thou me.
Job had ended his defence, sure that he could face God and win. God's answer comes back as a summons: stand up, and take questions.
Job had challenged the Almighty to meet him face to face. He thought he had spoken his last word.
Calamity had not broken him. Insult and scorn could not subdue his proud spirit. He would hold his head up without fear before the best of his fellow men. Even in the presence of the Almighty he would stand up as a prince. What could a man say after that? That surely was the climax, the limit, and Job felt it so to be, for he added, "The words of Job are ended." But they were not. The Almighty took up his challenge. He had heard all his proud words and now He answers him and demands that Job should open his mouth again.
The word for "man" in God's reply is not the word Job had used of himself.
If he had longed wistfully to find God, Jehovah does answer him... He had asked God, challenging Him to such a meeting. God replies: "Gird up now your loins like a man." It is not now, "What is mortal man?" as Job had said... He used the word "man" in the sense of mortality or weakness. But God uses a very different word: "Gird up now your loins like a hero," for that is pretty much the force of the word. It means a strong man. He had challenged God to this judicial trial, and he was now heard.
Older translations read "gird up your loins" where the ESV has "dress for action." The picture comes from everyday clothing. The New Testament uses the same figure for a heart put in order before any work starts.
"Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth." This is the first thing... Our state comes first, and there is no divine activity until the heart is perfectly in order. The loins are the seat of strength when they are properly tied up. But they stand for the deep affections and movements of the heart. This picture comes from the customs of the country where these instructions were given. People there wore long garments, which got in the way of their work unless they tied them up. We get the expression in Job 38:3 — "Gird up now your loins like a man" — that is, to see what he had to say to God.
Job had been putting God's dealings on trial. Now God turns the questioning around and tells Job to make things known to Him.
And Jehovah does answer out of the storm. He challenges Job to gird up his loins as a hero: let the creature then make the Creator know, seeing that He now asks questions of him! What a proud thing the flesh is, and no better in the saint than in the sinner! Would Job also set aside the moral dealings of Jehovah? Worse still, would he condemn Him so as to justify himself? Grace produces the exact opposite in every soul born of God. It makes a person ready to take God's part against self, to judge his own ways, and to bow to the word.
The summons sounds severe. Writers read it as kindness rather than crushing.
And yet Jehovah is not seeking to crush Job, but rather to bring him to a true knowledge of himself and of God. Let him gird up his loins like a man. God will not ask questions which a man cannot understand. His loins are girded with truth, and he can answer — as indeed he does — these questions. The very fact that Jehovah addresses Job this way shows His purposes of mercy for him. His appeal is to reason, and so to conscience.
One writer draws out the limit God sets on what He asks.
God expects Job to take only a man's place. The questions God asks are simple enough for a man to understand. Yet Job would find himself helpless to answer them.
- Challenge — Job demanded that the Almighty answer him and said he would approach Him as a prince. This verse is God accepting that challenge.
- Strength — The word for "man" here means a hero, a strong man, not the frail mortal Job had called himself.
- Girding — People tied up their long robes before work. The picture is a heart set in order, the same figure as the belt of truth.
- Reversal — God now asks the creature to inform the Creator. Grace produces the opposite instinct: taking God's part against self.
- Mercy — God does not ask what a man cannot understand. The appeal to reason and conscience shows His purpose was Job's recovery, not his ruin.
Where wast thou when I founded the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding.
Job had defended his innocence at length and questioned God's fairness. God answers at last — not with an explanation of Job's suffering, but with a question about how the earth began.
God's reply is made of questions. They test whether Job is fit to judge God at all.
The whole address is largely in the form of questions. Job had presumed to sit in judgment on the Lord and His ways; his competence for this is tested: what does he know? What can he do? The creature is so small in power, so ignorant, and yet so full of empty pride. Shall he presume to instruct God about His duties, to point out His failures, in fact to take over what belongs to Him alone?
God speaks like a builder laying a foundation. Yet the earth hangs in space with nothing under it. One writer asks how that can be, and who was there to watch it happen.
"Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?" (v.4). Does the earth have foundations — an earth that turns in space with nothing to hold it up? Yes, it could not even exist without a basic foundation of truth, but could Job explain this? Can anyone today explain it? No! For one thing, none of us was present when God laid these foundations. And who can understand how creation came into existence? "For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm" (Psalm 33:9). The earth's foundations and the earth itself were created at the same instant, simply by the word of God.
Many readers expect God's speech to explain why Job suffered. One writer notes it does not — not even to finish what Elihu, the last man to speak before God, had started.
When, in the end, all the cloud of words had died away, the Lord answers Job out of the whirlwind. What will He say? How will He explain the things that Job's friends have failed to explain? How will He complete the explanations that Elihu began? He didn't do it! God did not utter one word of explanation about Himself. Not one word to answer the questions Job had asked. His words were entirely about the things of this earth and of nature.
Some assume science has now answered what Job could not. One writer replies that naming a law is not the same as naming the Law-giver.
Present-day knowledge can talk in a learned way about nebulae and the solar system, about attraction and the laws of gravitation. It can explain how these laws work together to give the earth its shape and its stable place among the heavenly bodies. It can explain how the particles of the earth hold together, by the laws of cohesion and chemical affinity. But law means a Law-giver. Who established these laws? How do they act without ever failing? Revelation, and revelation alone, gives the answer — "in him all things hold together" (Col. 1:17). Where was Job, where was man, when the Lord established and set these laws in motion?
God's questions stay on the outward world. One writer weighs that world against something far greater.
In these words God takes up only a small part of His wisdom and power in the outward world. He does so because that part is so small a thing compared with the ways of His grace. They are no more than what, so to speak, His fingers have formed... Do you suppose that His ways with us are merely the product of such skill? They speak of incomparably more. His heart, His thoughts, His plan of love and goodness — all that God is — has come out in the blessing of His saints.
Job already believed God existed. The verse still asks him to answer "if you have understanding" — and one writer points to what his faith was missing.
"Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?" "By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God." This is where faith begins. So is the truth that whoever comes to God must believe that He is. Job did believe in God as existing, but his faith was not simple and settled in the might of God, in His greatness. He is now called to consider whether he could explain or know the origin of any of God's works.
- Absent — Job was not there when the earth was founded. He judged how God runs a world whose first moment he never saw.
- Unanswerable — Neither Job nor modern science can say who laid the earth's foundation. Describing a law is not the same as naming the Law-giver.
- Unexplained — God never tells Job why he suffered. He answers a demand for reasons by displaying Himself instead.
- Outer edge — Creation is only the fringe of God's wisdom. If the fringe silences us, His deeper ways in grace are far beyond our judgment.
- Faith — Job's need was not more facts but settled trust in God's greatness. That trust is where real understanding begins.
Who set the measures thereof -- if thou knowest? or who stretched a line upon it?
At last God speaks to Job, and He answers with questions instead of explanations. They start with the earth: who measured it, and who stretched the line across it — and the aside "surely you know!" shows he cannot say.
Job had spent chapter after chapter demanding that God explain Himself. When God answers, He reverses the roles and puts Job in the witness box.
"Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?" He does not mean that Job did not know Him at all. But He did mean that his knowledge was limited, and that he had no adequate knowledge of the dealings of God. Job had been questioning the dealings of God. Now God turns it back on him; now He says, I am going to ask you, and answer Me like a man if you can. "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?" What an overwhelming question! What did Job know about it? "Who determined its measurements — surely you know!" He did not know. "Or who stretched the line upon it?"
The words "surely you know" invite an answer Job cannot give. He knows only that God could have done it.
"Who determined its measurements — surely you know!" (v.5). Of course Job knew that only God could do this. "Who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened?" (v.6). Certainly the foundations of the earth are not fastened to anything visible to us. Whether Job knew this at that time or not, he could not answer God's question.
One writer hears an echo of this verse in Paul's own talk of measure.
It almost looks as if Paul were alluding to God's work in creation, as stated in Job 38:5, where God Himself asks, of the earth, "Who determined its measurements — surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?" He is a God who works by measure and by line, whether in creation or in the administration connected with His grace.
Later generations can describe how the earth holds together far better than Job could. Describing is not the same as answering.
Present day knowledge can speak in detail about nebulae and the solar system, about attraction and the laws of gravitation. It can explain that the working together of these laws has given the earth its shape and its steady relation to the heavenly bodies. It can explain that the particles of the earth cling together by the laws of cohesion and chemical affinity. But law means a Law-giver. Who has established these laws? How do they act unfailingly? Revelation, and that alone, gives the answer — "By Him all things consist" (Col. 1:17). Where was Job, where was man, when the Lord established and set in motion these laws and principles? The form of the question met Job's knowledge at that time; it equally meets man's advanced knowledge at the present.
One writer hears in God's "who?" a hint of Someone else present at creation.
Who, Jehovah further asks, has laid down the measures of this great fabric and set His line upon it? The question suggests the possibility of another Presence. It points to One who was with Him, and who acted for Him in laying down and carrying out the whole vast plan. Who was this? "The Lord possessed Me in the beginning of His way, before His works of old… Before the mountains were settled, before the hills was I brought forth" (Prov. 8:22, 25). Or in the language of the New Testament, "All things were made by Him" (John 1:3).
The tone sounds crushing. The aim is not.
And yet Jehovah is not seeking to crush Job. He is seeking to bring him to a true knowledge of himself and of God… The very fact that Jehovah addresses Job in this way shows His purposes of mercy for him. His appeal is to reason, and so to conscience. He leads Job through the vast, and yet familiar, scenes of creation. Can he solve one of ten thousand of its riddles?
The questions do their work. By the end Job is not better informed; he is changed.
Though Job had heard something about the Lord, it was not enough to meet Job's actual need. Now the Lord brought him face to face with His own greatness and glory. The result was, "I abhor myself." It was not simply a matter of what he had done that he abhorred, but himself. This was the root of what he may have done, and God was dealing with that root: the pride of Job's very character. Every believer needs to be brought down to this very point.
- Reversal. Job demanded answers from God; God answers by asking, and the first question is one Job cannot touch.
- Silence. "Surely you know" asks for an answer Job cannot give. He knows only that God did it.
- Measure. The line and the measurements show a God who works by exact proportion, in creation and in His dealings of grace alike.
- Law-giver. Science can describe the laws that hold the earth together. It still cannot say who set them, so the question meets today's reader as it met Job.
- Mercy. The questions are not meant to crush, but to bring a man to know himself and God. They end not in information but in "I abhor myself."
Whereupon were the foundations thereof sunken? or who laid its corner-stone,
God finally answers Job out of the storm, and He begins not with Job's suffering but with the making of the world. The verse reads like a builder's challenge — footings, a cornerstone, a site no human being ever saw.
These questions are not curiosity. God aims them at a man who had argued with Him about His government. They show how little Job knows of even the outer edge of God's power.
God appears on the scene for the express purpose of flattening the pretensions of man. He does it in the most magnificent language, as far as I know, that was ever spoken on such subjects — language worthy of Him who is said to have spoken it. Jehovah appears to put Job in his true place, and that place was dust and ashes. Jehovah only touches the skirts of His power, the outer edge of His glory; yet what had man to say? And did he who could not explain God's least things presume to judge the deepest part of His ways and designs?
Footings for the earth raise an obvious problem. What could they rest on? One writer, whose translation reads "foundations" where the ESV has "bases," finds two truths here. He notes that Scripture stated the second long before anyone else did.
"To what were its foundations fastened?" Two things are true of the earth. Stability for the time — that is the point here, and that is why the verse speaks of foundations. But this same book of Job gives another view: the earth hangs on nothing. That never entered anyone's mind until recent times. Even scientists have only just arrived at it. But there it was in Scripture before them.
Ordinary builders sink footings into rock or sand. God had neither.
Jehovah begins with the earth, the home of man. Does Job know the history of his own dwelling place? Where was he when the great Architect laid its foundations? They were sunk not in shifting sand, nor on lasting rock, but in the empty space of apparent nothingness.
The measuring line of the previous verse hints at more than one worker on the project, and commentators trace that hint through the rest of Scripture.
Who, Jehovah further asks, has laid down the measures of this great structure and set His line upon it? The question suggests the possibility of another Presence, of One who was with Him, His agent in laying down and carrying out the whole vast plan. Who was this? "The LORD possessed Me at the beginning of His work, the first of His acts of old… Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth" (Prov. 8:22, 25). Or in the language of the New Testament, "All things were made through Him" (John 1:3). Here was a truth more wonderful even than creation.
Job could not answer. Neither, says one writer, can the laboratory — and the search for the bottom-most law drives the reader past nature to Christ.
The corner stone, the foundation of the earth — who laid it? Where is it? What is the basic law of physics or of chemistry? Does science know any more now than Job did then? Atoms and ions are grouped together, clasped and unclasped, as other great laws are brought to bear on them. Where is the foundational law? "For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 3:11). To be brought to God, to know Him, is the object of all facts.
Job was absent, but the site was not empty. The singing of verse 7 tells us who stood there.
God is speaking here to Job, a man on earth. He names sons of God who were present, and who showed their delight, when He made the foundation of the earth firm and laid the corner-stone. Intelligent creatures, heavenly beings, already existed then, and they watched God prepare the earth for man.
- Who asks — God meets Job's complaints with questions. They put a man who judged His deepest ways back where he belongs: dust and ashes.
- Who founded — the earth stands firm, yet hangs on nothing. Scripture said so long before science caught up.
- Who else was there — the question hints at Another present at the work, spoken of in Proverbs 8 and in "All things were made through Him."
- Who laid the cornerstone — no chemistry or physics reaches the foundational law. The only foundation anyone can build on is Jesus Christ.
- Who watched — heavenly beings already existed. They showed their delight as God prepared the earth for man, and man himself was nowhere on the scene.
When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?
God answers Job by asking about the day He laid the earth's foundations. Job was not there to see it, but others were — and they sang.
Job had spoken and murmured against God. God's reply strips away every claim man makes for himself.
God appears on the scene for the express purpose of destroying the pretensions of man. Here the Lord uses the most magnificent language I know of on such subjects. He appears to put Job in his true place, and that place was dust and ashes. Who and what was Job to speak or murmur against God? The Lord only touches the skirts of His power, the outer edge of His glory; yet what had man to say? And did the man who could not explain God's least things presume to judge the deepest part of His ways and designs?
The verse names two choirs. One is named "sons of God." Who they are answers another question: when did angels come into being?
There is no doubt the sons of God are angels (Job 1:6), who were therefore created before the earth was. If "the morning stars" are literal stars, then the stars too were created before the earth was. Some may object that Genesis 1:16 seems to place the making of the stars on the fourth day, when the earth was made over. But that notice is likely not in time order. It records a creation earlier than the history of the fourth day. We may question whether literal stars can sing, but science tells us a harmony of sound comes from the stars. At the very least there was a great celebration among God's creatures when He created the earth.
Commentators differ here. The next writer reads the stars' song as poetry, and the angels' shout as a sound truly heard.
Job 38:7 seems to express in poetry the joy of the heavenly bodies when God first brought them in as the hosts of heaven. With it came the audible shout of the angels, whom this book, like Genesis, calls God's sons.
The name given to these beings says something about their character. Their joy also stands in contrast with a confession that is forced.
The expression "sons of God" seems to suggest not merely a spirit-nature, but moral likeness to God as well. The mention of "Satan" in contrast underlines this further. "Sons of God" shouted for joy when God founded the material universe. We know too that infernal beings will also own that Jesus Christ is Lord (Philippians 2:10-11). But that is by compulsion; the worship of the "sons of God" flows out of their hearts.
That first chorus did not last. One writer follows what became of creation's music, and what will become of it.
There has been a creation song, when the earth came fresh from the hands of God and "the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy." But sin spoiled that beautiful creation, and singing gave way to weeping, and songs to groans. In the thousand-year day to come, earth will become new. Creation's groan will stop, and heaven and earth will unite in a new song.
The song here answers a question God asks just before it: who laid the earth's corner stone? Science still has no answer.
The corner stone, the foundation of the earth — who laid it? Where is it? What is the basic law of physics or of chemistry? Does science know now any more than Job did then? Other great laws come to bear on atoms and ions, grouping them, clasping and unclasping them. Where is the foundation law? "For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ" (1 Corinthians 3:11). To be brought to God, to know Him, is the object of all facts, and nature is only in harmony with the great mediatorial law when it leads us to Him. Only when seen this way do we hear the morning stars sing together. Only then do the sons of God shout aloud for joy.
- Foundation. God answers Job's complaint by pointing back to the day He founded the earth. Job never saw it, and he was in no place to judge the One who did.
- Witnesses. The "sons of God" are angels, so angels existed before the earth did. Some take the "morning stars" as literal stars; others as poetry for the same heavenly host.
- Worship. Their shout was not forced. Evil powers will one day confess Christ because they must; these sang out of their hearts.
- Silence. Sin broke the song: singing gave way to weeping, and songs to groans.
- New song. The corner stone question points past physics to Christ. The earth that lost its music will join heaven in a new song.
And who shut up the sea with doors, when it burst forth, issuing out of the womb?
God answers Job out of the storm with questions, turning from the earth's foundations to the birth of the sea. The sea bursts out like a newborn, and God shuts the doors on it — so why ask a man crushed by suffering about waves?
Job wanted an answer about his suffering. What he gets is an examination paper on creation he cannot begin to fill in.
What questions these are. They cover every field of what man calls "natural sciences" — geology, meteorology, geography, oceanography, astronomy, and so on. Job had not a single answer to these questions, and if he had spoken his words would have been folly... But what is the aim of the Lord in putting these questions? To show that God is greater than man and to humble man, to bring Job to the needed true knowledge of himself and to deliver him from the pride of his heart.
The imagery of the verse is birth. Something enormous and untamed bursts into being, and God treats it the way a mother treats an infant.
Well, it was a very bold child, this new ungovernable creature that came into existence! And so He speaks about covering it up and swaddling it. "And prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors, and said, Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed." For who can control the ocean?
One writer traces the same scene back to a world with no dry land.
Jehovah passes from the earth to "that great and wide sea." He describes it not in its original creation, as part of the heavens and the earth, but as gushing out from its mother's womb. It covered the whole face of the world, and "darkness was over the face of the deep." Left to itself it would have swallowed everything. But its Maker was its Master. He set bounds to it, breaking the land, as it were, into great mountain chains to make a place for it, barred and closed so it could not escape. Its storms and fury in His almighty hands are only the wailings of a newborn baby. He wraps it in the swaddling clothes of clouds and thick darkness, and hushes it to rest.
Job faces a force he can sail on but never command.
Man gazes on it with awe, but cannot control its power. His "thousand fleets sweep over it in vain"; he "marks the earth with ruin," but his control stops at the shore.
The God who set limits on the water sets limits on wickedness too.
So too in the ocean of evil — the pride of Satan which burst out in rebellion against God, when the angels did not keep their first position. God's restraining hand holds it all in check. The wicked, like the foaming sea, seem to rise higher and higher in their violence and pride. But God says to them, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther." In this way He shows His power to restrain evil. Job watched evil seem to win. He looked into the dark surging of his own self-willed heart. He might well have been appalled. Who but God can control evil?
The same restraint protects God's people when the world threatens to overwhelm them.
The great Sea is a picture of the Gentile nations (Rev. 17:15). It is so often in a state of upheaval and unrest, seeking to push into the land, but the power of God holds it in check... Though the world may threaten to swamp the testimony of the people of God, yet God is greater than the world, and will preserve His people.
Commentators differ on how far to press these images. One writer keeps the chapter to one theme — the greatness of God in nature. He writes: "Some see something typical in them but I do not believe there is the slightest justification for this" (Truth & Testimony). Another hears in the wrapping of the sea an echo of a later birth.
Creation itself is, we would reverently say, a divine humbling... The swaddling bands of Ocean are only a figure of those bands which He who made all things took upon Himself, when He became flesh. The whole universe, immense and boundless, forms the garments of the infinite God, who reveals Himself in this way.
- Birth. God pictures the sea bursting out like a child from the womb — not a rival power, but a creature with a beginning.
- Doors. The One who made it wrapped it in cloud and darkness and set bars around it; its fury is only an infant's crying in His hands.
- Limits. Man sails the ocean but cannot govern it. His control stops at the shore, and so does his knowledge.
- Evil. The same hand that bounds the water bounds wickedness and Satan's pride: thus far, and no farther.
- Aim. God asks it all to humble a suffering man into true knowledge of himself — the reply Job needed, not the one he asked for.
When I made the cloud its garment, and thick darkness a swaddling band for it;
God answers Job's complaint with questions about the ocean: where it came from, and who dressed it. Here the sea, the one thing no man can control, is a newborn baby, and God wraps it in cloud.
The verse belongs to a birth scene. The sea bursts out "from the womb" in verse 8. A swaddling band is the strip of cloth wrapped tightly round a newborn, and that is what God reaches for.
"Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst out from the womb? When I made clouds its garment and thick darkness its swaddling band." Well, it was a very bold child, this new creature that came into existence and would not be controlled! And so He speaks about covering it up and swaddling it. "And I marked out for it the limit I had decreed, and set bars and doors, and said, Thus far shall you come, and no farther; and here shall your proud waves be stayed" — for who can control the ocean?
The same image explains why the sea has never swallowed the land.
Left to itself it would have covered everything. But its Maker was its Master, and He set bounds to it. He broke the land, as it were, into great mountain chains to make a place for the sea, barred and closed so nothing could escape. In His almighty hands its storms and fury are only the wailing of a newborn baby. He wraps it in the swaddling clothes of clouds and thick darkness, and hushes it to rest.
One writer places this moment in the creation account. It is not the first act of creation, he says, but the day God divided the waters and dry land appeared.
"Who shut in the sea with doors?" (v. 8). God is not speaking here of the original creation. He is speaking of His separating the waters above from the waters beneath (Gen. 1:6-7). At first the earth was covered with water. Then He separated the waters and the dry land appeared. As the Word of God caused the appearance of the land, so His Word caused the waters to be gathered "into one place" (Gen. 1:9).
Job had set himself up as judge of how God runs the world. The question about the sea answers him by asking where he was.
God's first move is to overwhelm the man who claimed to sit in judgment on His moral ways. He makes Job feel his complete ignorance and powerlessness in the smallest works of divine power, even in creation. Where was Job when Jehovah founded the earth?… And where when He set limits to the sea? A man left baffled by such a question was in no position to judge God's deep things. Angels were there to shout for joy when the sea was born and wrapped in clouds and thick darkness. Its wild lawlessness fought to rise against God's restraint, but He set bars and doors.
The line drawn for the sea is also drawn for evil.
It is the same with the ocean of evil — the pride of Satan that burst out in rebellion against God, when the angels did not keep their first place. God's restraining hand holds all in check. The wicked, like the foaming sea, seem to rise higher and higher in their violence and pride, but God says to them, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther." Job watched wickedness that seemed to be winning. He looked into the dark surging of his own self-willed heart. He might well have been appalled. Who but God can control evil?
One writer takes the verse to the disciples, alarmed by a storm at sea with their Lord in the boat.
Had they considered that He was the Creator of the universe, would they have felt a moment's alarm? Was it not He who, ages before, shut in the sea with doors and made clouds its garment? Was it not He who said, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther; and here shall your proud waves be stayed"? Would, or could, the sea swallow its own Lord and God?
- Born. The sea bursts out of the womb — a new, bold creature no one can control.
- Wrapped. God's answer to that eruption is clothing, not combat: cloud for a garment, thick darkness for a swaddling band.
- Hushed. What overwhelms us is an infant's wailing in His hands; He wraps it and quiets it.
- Bounded. The same hand that dressed the ocean set bars and doors and a line it cannot cross. That restraint holds evil and the proud too, not just water.
- Silenced. Job had judged God's ways, but he was not there at the swaddling. The question leaves him no ground to judge God's deep things.
When I cut out for it my boundary, and set bars and doors,
God speaks out of the storm and turns Job's attention to the ocean — asking who fixed its limit and hung its gates. This is not a lesson in geography. God is questioning a proud man, and the answer reaches every force that rages and cannot be tamed.
The bars and doors of the verse are the coasts and mountains that hold the water in. One commentator goes back to the moment God shaped them.
The Lord turns from the earth to "that great and wide sea." He does not describe it in its original creation, as part of the heavens and the earth, but as gushing out from its mother's womb. It covered the whole face of the world, and "darkness was over the face of the deep." Left to itself it would have swallowed everything. But its Maker was its Master. He set bounds to it, breaking the land, so to speak, into great mountain chains to make a place for it, barred and shut so that it could not escape.
A modern reader may say that physics holds the tides, not a word from God. One writer answers that.
People may speak of "natural laws" as causing this phenomenon, but who is the Author of natural law?
Man can sail across the limit God set, but he cannot move it.
At the beginning God restrained this restless mighty ocean. He restrained it again when in judgment He let it swallow the earth. Man gazes at it with awe, but cannot control its power. His "thousand fleets sweep over it in vain"; he "marks the earth with ruin," but his control stops at the shore.
God's speech is a string of questions Job cannot answer. One commentator states the purpose behind them, and notes that time has not improved our position.
Job had not a single answer to these questions, and if he had spoken, his words would have been folly. And we, 3000 years or more later, with all our boasted progress and scientific discoveries of the great laws of nature, still cannot answer these questions in a satisfying way. … But what is the Lord's aim in putting these questions? To show that God is greater than man, and to humble man. To bring Job to the true knowledge of himself that he needed, and to free him from the pride of his heart.
One writer applies the same limit to something Job found far more troubling than tides.
So too in the ocean of evil — the pride of Satan that burst out in rebellion against God, when the angels did not keep their first position. God's restraining hand holds everything in check. The wicked, like the foaming sea, seem to rise higher and higher in violence and pride. But God says to them, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther." This shows His restraining power over evil. Job watched wickedness that seemed to be winning, and he looked into the dark surging of his own self-willed heart. He might well have been horrified. Who but God can control evil?
The same limit reaches Job's own suffering, and every believer's.
How striking is the spiritual meaning of God's control of the seas! Job felt as though the waves of the sea were swallowing him in a string of painful troubles that seemed out of control. Believers may pass through times of turbulent unrest and distress, as though tossed by the waves of a rolling sea. But God is in perfect control of it all, and He can quiet the sea at once, just as the Lord Jesus did when His disciples were so alarmed: "He awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Peace! Be still!' And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm" (Mark 4:39).
- Limit. God carved out a place for the sea and barred it shut; left to itself the water would have covered everything.
- Limit set by a Person. Behind what we call natural law stands an Author — the boundary is a decree, not an accident.
- Limit man cannot move. Ships cross the ocean, but man's control stops at the shore. God's questions expose that and humble our pride.
- Limit on evil too. Satan's rebellion and human wickedness rise like foam. God says to them what He says to the surf: this far and no farther.
- Limit as comfort. The troubles that seem to be swallowing you are inside the boundary, and the One who set it can say "Peace! Be still!" and bring a great calm.
And said, Hitherto shalt thou come and no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?
God answers Job out of the storm with question after question, and one is about the sea: who shut it in, and who told it where to stop? The answer is a boundary set by a voice — and Job's own life felt as wild as the surf.
The speech is not a lecture on geography. Kelly reads it as God dismantling the confidence of a man who had been arguing his own case:
God appears on the scene for the express purpose of destroying the pretensions of man. Here He uses language more magnificent than any I know of on such subjects — language worthy of Him who is said to have spoken it. The LORD appears to put Job in his true place, and that place was dust and ashes. He only touches the edges of His power, the outer border of His glory; yet what had man to say? What could Job answer? Not a word. And did the man who could not explain God's least things presume to judge the deepest part of His ways and designs?
The picture in these verses is birth. Ridout follows it through to the calm at the end:
Left to itself it would have covered everything; but its Maker was its Master, and set bounds to it, breaking the land as it were into great mountain chains to make a place for it, barred and closed so it could not escape. Its storms and fury, in His almighty hands, are only the wailing of a newborn baby; He wraps it in the swaddling clothes of clouds and thick darkness, and hushes it to rest.
The sea's limit can look like nothing more than physics. Leslie Grant asks who stands behind the physics:
This is confirmed in verses 10 and 11. God "prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors" and said, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther." People may speak of "natural laws" as causing this, but who is the Author of natural law?
The Gospels record that voice again. One writer ties this line to the moment the disciples watched a storm die at a word:
The disciples marvelled as He rebuked the winds and the sea. They did not understand that with them was the same blessed Person who once said to the sea, when God formed the earth, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed" (Job 38:11).
Ridout carries the boundary from water over into the moral world, where Job's own heart lay:
So too in the ocean of evil — the pride of Satan which burst out in rebellion against God, when the angels did not keep their first position. God's restraining hand holds it all in check. The wicked, like the foaming sea, seem to rise higher and higher in their violence and pride, but God says to them, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther." Job watched wickedness appear to win. He looked into the dark surging of his own self-willed heart. He might well have been horrified. Who but God can control evil?
The same limit runs around a believer's suffering. Fereday ties the sea's fixed shore to Job's measured trial:
He who sits on the throne will never let the enemy seize the reins of government. His controlling hand measures everything that must fall upon His own, and the enemy has no power to go beyond that measure. When Satan sought Job's ruin, God allowed him to afflict Job only step by step, exactly as He prescribed.
For now the waves are held back rather than removed. Ridout looks ahead to a state where the barrier is no longer needed:
We look forward to the time when this control will be absolute, in that new heavens and new earth, when "there shall be no more sea." On that day God will banish evil to its eternal home, away from His redeemed creation. Looking ahead to it, we can own Him as supreme alone.
- A line is drawn. God shut the sea behind bars and doors and told it where to stop — the coastline is a spoken command, not a coincidence.
- The line silences pride. God touches only the edges of His power, and Job has no answer. A man who cannot explain the tide cannot judge God's ways.
- The line has a voice. The One who hushed the newborn sea in clouds and darkness is the One the disciples watched still a storm with a word.
- The line runs around evil. Wickedness and Satan rise like surf and stop at the same command; God measured Job's own trial step by step.
- The line becomes absolute. In the new heavens and new earth there is no more sea — God banishes evil, and He alone is supreme.
Hast thou since thy days commanded the morning? hast thou caused the dawn to know its place,
God speaks to Job out of the storm. Instead of explaining his suffering, He asks questions about the world — the earth's foundations, the sea's limits, and now the daily arrival of light. The question is simple and unanswerable: has Job ever once given the order that started a morning?
Job had set himself up to judge God's ways, and this is the answer he gets. The questions are not for information. They are meant to expose how little he knows about the ordinary workings of the world he lives in.
This is the man who claimed to sit in judgment on God's moral ways. The first thing done is to overwhelm him with the sense of his utter ignorance and powerlessness in the smallest things of divine energy, even in creation. Where was Job when Jehovah founded the earth? ... He whose understanding stood baffled at such a question was not in a position to judge of His deep things.
The sunrise is the most familiar event there is. No one has ever caused one or delayed one.
Has Job ever commanded a single morning to appear, or caused the dawn to know the place of its appearing? With all his supposed knowledge and power, man cannot command the forces of nature to do his bidding. Day by day the light appears in its appointed place. It floods the earth with light, and the guilty flee from it. Evening falls, and no word of man can stop or hurry this constant action. Only One gave His command at the beginning: "Let there be light." Since that time evening and morning have known their appointed time and place.
Ridout notes two exceptions. Joshua halted the day, and the shadow moved back on King Hezekiah's sundial. Both happened at God's word, not man's.
The question lands hard because Job had been sitting in darkness, longing for relief. If commanding the morning were in his power, his troubles would already be over.
Did Job decide when the morning was to dawn? What a question for the man who thought he could in effect make God accountable to him! The morning always follows the night, and what man can change this amazing fact? Job had been feeling the darkness of night in the hard experiences he had suffered. If he could command the morning, then he could bring complete relief to the trials of darkness. But only God can cause the dawn to know its place.
Daylight reaches the ends of the earth and ends the cover that night gives to evildoers.
"…that it might take hold of the ends of the earth" — that is, when the sun rises to gild it — "that the wicked might be shaken out of it?" The darkness of night gives the opportunity for murder and burglary and all the other crimes of men, more than any other time. "It is turned as clay to the seal." When the earth is in darkness, you can no more make it out than clay before the seal is pressed into it. But the moment the light shines, there you find its shape and its beauty as God fixed it.
Commentators read the sunrise here as a picture as well as a fact.
When the millennial day dawns it will embrace "the ends of the earth," and the wicked will be shaken out of it. The wicked love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil. At that day the light of "the Sun of righteousness," rising with "healing in His wings," will expose them. The Lord Jesus, the true Light, will so expose the wicked as to shake them out of the earth.
The questions humble Job, but there is kindness in the choice of subject. God picks the one thing that always ends — night.
This appeal to day and night is most effective. Shall Job accuse One who is Light, who sees all things as they are? Shall he doubt One who knows the secrets of his heart, and the reason for these chastenings? Do not these questions give a hint that God will cause Job's night to end, and at the appointed time cause His dawn to visit the poor sufferer?
- Command. The morning comes by an order Job never gave. Only One said "Let there be light," and evening and morning have kept their appointed time ever since.
- Place. The dawn "knows its place." It rises where and when God appoints, and no human word can hurry it or hold it back.
- Exposure. Night is the cover for crime. When light takes hold of the ends of the earth, the world's shape stands out like clay under a seal, and evildoers are shaken out.
- Prospect. Writers see in that sunrise a picture of a coming day. The Sun of righteousness will rise, and the true Light will expose the wicked who loved darkness.
- Comfort. The same God who ends every night can end Job's. The question that humbles him also hints at a dawn appointed for him.
That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked might be shaken out of it?
Out of the storm, God asks Job whether he has ever ordered a sunrise, sent its light to the far edges of the earth, and shaken the wicked off the ground. The question is not astronomy but a test: if Job cannot govern one daybreak, how can he judge the One who governs them all?
Job had been demanding an explanation from God. God answers by asking who runs the daybreak.
Did Job decide when the morning was to dawn? (v.12). What a question for the man who thought he could in effect make God accountable to him! The morning always follows the night, and what man can change this amazing fact? Job had been feeling the darkness of night in the hard experiences he had suffered. If he could command the morning, then he could bring complete relief to the trials of darkness. But only God can cause the dawn to know its place.
First light spreads until it grips the far rim of the world — the "skirts", or ends, of the earth. With light comes a plain effect on how people behave.
"That it might take hold of the ends of the earth" — that is, when the sun rises to gild it, as it were — "that the wicked might be shaken out of it?" This is because the darkness of the night is exactly what gives the opportunity for murder and burglary and all the other crooked dealings of men more than any other time.
Nothing changes shape at sunrise; only what can be seen changes. The next verse compares this to soft clay taking the mark of a seal.
As the mark of the signet-ring on the formless clay, so the light stamps on the face of the earth the varied forms and colours of all things. They stand out like a lovely garment — or the reverse, a scene of ruin — under the light. The light shows all things as they are: "Anything that becomes visible is light" (Eph. 5:13). The night is the light of the wicked; they hate the light, and will not come to it, in case their deeds should be exposed. The coming of the light stops their deeds. Their uplifted arm is broken.
Commentators also read this sunrise as the preview of a far larger daybreak.
Verse 13 reminds us that when the millennial day dawns it will embrace "the ends of the earth," and the wicked will be shaken out of it. The wicked, who love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil, will at that day be exposed by the light of "the Sun of righteousness" arising with "healing in His wings." The Lord Jesus, the true Light, will so expose the wicked as to shake them out of the earth.
The light that exposes evil also shapes how God's people live now, and where they will live at last.
So the light of God's presence detects evil. When He causes the dawning of a new day — "The day of the Lord" — evildoers will be shaken out of the earth. For this reason, His people, who are "children of light, children of the day," order their life by the light. For this reason, in that fair land where there is no night, nothing unclean can enter. It is the home of the light. None could remain there but the sons of light. "Its lamp is the Lamb."
The question that silences Job also carries a promise. The God who never fails to bring a morning has one for him too.
This appeal to day and night is most effective. Shall Job accuse One who is Light, who sees all things as they are? Shall he doubt One who knows the secrets of his heart, and the reason for these chastenings? Do not these questions give a hint that God will cause Job's night to end, and at the appointed time cause His dayspring to visit the poor sufferer?
- Whose morning — Job wanted his darkness to end, but he could not command a single sunrise; only God causes the dawn to know its place.
- What light does — daybreak changes nothing on the ground. It stamps the earth like a seal on clay, so everything stands out as it is.
- Why the wicked scatter — night covers murder, theft and crooked dealing. When light takes hold of the earth's far edges, the raised arm is broken.
- The larger dawn — the same pattern points ahead to a day when the Sun of righteousness rises, exposes evil and shakes the wicked out of the earth.
- The believer's answer — children of the day live by the light now. They are heading for a land where night never falls and the Lamb is its lamp.
It is changed like the signet-clay; and [all things] stand forth as in a garment
God's questions to Job move from the earth's foundations to something Job saw every morning: daybreak. Why point a suffering man to a sunrise, and what does a seal pressed into clay have to do with it?
The verse sits inside a run of questions about day and night. God asks Job who commands them:
Has Job ever commanded a single morning to appear, or caused the dawn to know the place of its appearing? With all his supposed knowledge and power, man cannot command the forces of nature to do his bidding. Day by day the light appears in its appointed place. It floods the earth, and the guilty flee from it. Evening falls, and no word of man can stop or hurry this constant action. Only One gave His command at the beginning: "Let there be light." Since that time evening and morning have known their appointed time and place.
The image comes from ordinary business in the ancient world. A seal was a stone with a design cut into it, and it left its mark on soft clay:
Stones with words, letters, or symbols cut into them. In ancient times people pierced these stones and hung them from the arm or the neck by a cord or chain, or set them in rings and wore them on the finger. They pressed the design into pieces of clay attached to official documents. In the East such a document is not considered genuine unless it carries a seal.
At night the earth is the blank clay. The dawn is the stamp:
"It is turned as clay to the seal." While the earth lies in darkness, you cannot make it out at all. It is like clay before the seal is pressed into it. But the moment the light shines, there you find its shape and its beauty as God fixed it.
(Kelly quotes an older translation of the phrase; the ESV reads, "It is changed like clay under the seal.")
The verse adds a second picture: clothing. What the light uncovers is not always lovely:
The signet-ring leaves its mark on formless clay. In the same way, the light stamps the varied forms and colours of all things on the face of the earth. They stand out like a lovely garment — or the reverse, a scene of ruin — under the light. The light shows all things as they are: "Anything that becomes visible is light" (Eph. 5:13). The night is the light of the wicked; they hate the light and will not come to it, in case their deeds should be exposed.
(The older translation reads "whatsoever doth make manifest is light.")
Ridout reads this daybreak as a picture of a larger one. What sunrise does to those who work in the dark, God's own day will do to evil everywhere:
So the light of God's presence detects evil. When He causes a new day to dawn — "the day of the Lord" — evildoers will be shaken out of the earth. For this reason His people, who are "children of the light and of the day," order their life by the light. For this reason, in that fair land where there is no night, nothing that defiles can enter. It is the home of the light. None could remain there but the sons of light. "The Lamb is the light of it."
These questions are aimed at a suffering man who had argued with God. Inside the challenge is a promise:
This appeal to day and night is most effective. Shall Job accuse One who is Light, who sees all things as they are? Shall he doubt One who knows the secrets of his heart, and the reason for these chastenings? Do not these questions hint that God will end Job's night, and at the appointed time send His dawn to visit the poor sufferer?
- Whose morning — Job never commanded a single sunrise. God said, "Let there be light," and evening and morning have kept their appointed time and place ever since.
- Light stamps — the dark earth is blank clay. Daylight presses down like a seal, and shape and beauty appear as God fixed them.
- Light clothes — the same light brings out forms and colours like a garment. What it uncovers may be lovely, or a scene of ruin.
- Light exposes — this is why the wicked prefer night and will not come to the light: it shows all things as they are.
- Light dawns — a greater morning will shake evildoers out of the earth. The God who sends it can also end the night of a sufferer like Job.
And from the wicked their light is withholden, and the uplifted arm is broken.
God is questioning Job out of the storm about the daybreak — who commands the morning, and what it does when it comes. This verse is the last line of that picture: light is bad news for those who needed the dark, and the lifted arm is broken.
The verse assumes the wicked have a light of their own, and it is not daylight. Ridout names what it is:
The night is the light of the wicked; they hate the light, and will not come to it, in case their deeds should be exposed. The coming of the light stops their deeds. Their uplifted arm is broken.
This is not poetry alone. Kelly reads the dawn's shaking of the wicked as something anyone can observe about human behaviour at night:
Because the darkness of the night is exactly what gives the opportunity for murder and burglary and all the other dishonest dealings of men, more than any other time.
Withholding the wicked man's light is not God adding a punishment from outside. It is what light does when it arrives. Light shows everything as it really is, beautiful or ruined.
A signet ring stamps its mark on shapeless clay. In the same way, the light stamps the varied forms and colours of all things on the face of the earth. Under that light they stand out like a lovely garment — or the opposite, a scene of ruin. The light shows all things as they are: "Anything that becomes visible is light" (Eph. 5:13).
The second half of the verse pictures a raised arm. Grant reads it as the arm of opposition to God, and then applies it to Job himself, who had come near to doing the same thing:
Because the wicked love darkness, light is withheld from them (v.15). Their arm, lifted up in opposition to God, is simply broken. Job should certainly have been deeply impressed by this. He had been dangerously close to raising his arm against God, and in this way acting as the wicked do.
Ridout reads this daybreak as a picture of a larger morning still to come.
So the light of God's presence detects evil. When He causes a new day to dawn — "the day of the Lord" — evildoers will be shaken out of the earth. For this reason His people, who are "children of light, children of the day," order their lives by the light. For this reason, in that fair land where there is no night, nothing unclean can enter. It is the home of light. None could remain there but the sons of light. "Its lamp is the Lamb."
The picture cuts both ways. The God who brings morning to expose evil is the God who can bring morning to a suffering man.
This appeal to day and night is very effective. Will Job accuse One who is Light, who sees all things as they are? Will he doubt One who knows the secrets of his heart, and the reason for these chastenings? Do these questions not hint that God will bring Job's night to an end, and at the appointed time cause His dawn to visit the poor sufferer?
- Night — Darkness is the only "light" the wicked have. They use it as cover, and Kelly notes that night is when crime happens.
- Dawn — Light does not debate evil. It exposes evil, stamping everything into view like a seal pressed into clay.
- Withheld — Losing that light is not an extra penalty. God simply removes the cover their deeds required.
- Broken — The arm raised against God is broken at daybreak. Grant applies this to Job, who had come close to raising his own.
- Morning — The same light that shakes out evildoers is the light that ends Job's night. God's people, children of the day, order their lives by it.