Job 4–7

Here the great debate begins, built on Job's outburst. He was now completely overcome by the calamity God had allowed to fall on him. As a godly man, Job knew very well that God could have prevented it, unless He had a purpose in it. Of that purpose Job knew nothing. But it is worth noticing this before I say more: Satan completely disappears. He had been utterly defeated.

They began to think — and thinking is a dangerous thing. In God's presence we judge self and hear Him. These thoughts of ours, how often they mislead us! What we need is to pray and listen, so that we may receive His word from God. Ah, that is another thing, and exactly what is needed! Their ear was not open... The three friends first kept this dead and distressing silence toward Job. He soon learned, in bitterness, what came out of that silence. Though he began, they followed; but it was their own thoughts and not the mind of God.

They came from districts noted for men of wisdom: "Is wisdom no more in Teman? Is counsel perished from the prudent? Is their wisdom vanished?" (Jer. 49:7)... Some have defined the name Eliphaz as "God is strength," and others as "God is fine gold." Both meanings point at least to the greatness and supremacy of God. His country, Teman, means "the south," the country lying under the sun, open to the light. But we have learned that while the south country is open to the light, it is apt to be dry and arid, as Arabia indeed was. It needs, as Achsah said, "springs of water." Light without life can never help.

What he says is perfectly true. Job had comforted others in times of distress, and he should have borne up under his own trials. And yet would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend — a "brother born for adversity"? Would not grace always teach us to "weep with those who weep"? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not scold sufferers like this. Human sorrow moved Him to compassion, even to tears. It is this harshness which shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz, one that comes out more clearly as he goes on.

The silence of a week being broken, Eliphaz was moved to speak. His earliest words, at the beginning of Job 4, have a gentle and considerate spirit. He acknowledged that Job had been a helper and support to others.

Eliphaz argued from personal experience. He said, "I have seen that those who plough iniquity and sow wickedness reap the same" (Job 4:8). Bildad is the voice of tradition and the authority of the past... Zophar showed law and religiousness.

His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be true enough, as far as we are concerned. But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience. And thousands of people make that mistake. What, for instance, had the experience of Eliphaz to do with Job?

He and his companions did not understand God, nor His dealings in discipline with a righteous man... So they condemned Job as an evildoer. They took what God had brought on him as the proof. God's wrath was kindled against them, for they had not spoken correctly of Him.

He knew perfectly well what their gloomy silence meant. There was no real sympathy in their hearts toward him. There they sat, thinking their dark thoughts about Job the whole time, yet afraid to let them out. But at last Eliphaz gathers courage. He is the eldest of them, and he shows far more calmness, dignity and self-restraint than the ones who follow. He ventures to speak in a kind of apologetic tone. He says, "If one ventures a word with you, will you be impatient? Yet who can keep from speaking?"

Job's three friends could only think of God's justice in relation to Job's sufferings. They had no idea of God's love. Eliphaz no doubt thought his remarkable knowledge and speaking ability would help Job. But his diagnosis of Job's ailment was completely wrong. He begins gently and kindly. Then he rightly reminds Job that he had instructed many and had strengthened weak hands. His words had supported those who stumbled, and he had strengthened the feeble knees.

The apostle Paul quotes the words of Eliphaz in the New Testament. God Himself pronounces that what they said was not right; yet the Holy Spirit gives all by inspiration, and uses the words of one of them as Scripture. Look at the words of Eliphaz on their own, and they contain nothing but truth. But weigh them as applied to Job, and they are inexcusably wrong. How wise is the way of the Lord! In the Old Testament history the application was wrong, and God reproved the speakers for it. In the New Testament the application is as right as the words themselves; everything is in place.

What he says is perfectly true. Job had comforted others in times of distress, and he should have borne up under his trials. Yet would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend — a "brother born for adversity"? Would not grace always teach us to "weep with those who weep"? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not scold sufferers like this. Human sorrow moved Him to compassion, even to tears. It is this harshness which shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz, one that comes out more clearly as he goes on.

Instead, Eliphaz effectively thrust a sword into Job's soul. He criticised Job for being depressed when trouble comes to him. Why did Eliphaz not do as he says Job had done in the past, strengthening the weak hands and upholding those who stumbled? It is easy for us to see what we think is wrong in another without providing for him what might be for his help.

Instead of comfort, they had given heartless accusations, which Job calls "words of wind." He says that if they were in his place, he could heap up words against them in similar cruel accusation, but he would not do so: he would use his words to strengthen and encourage them in order to give them some relief. He longed for this himself, but they had nothing for him.

Eliphaz no doubt thought his remarkable knowledge and skill in speaking would help Job. But his diagnosis of Job's illness was completely wrong. He begins gently and kindly... Then he rightly reminds Job that he had instructed many. He had strengthened weak hands. His words had supported those who stumbled, and he had strengthened the feeble knees. Since this was true, should Eliphaz not have given proper weight to such fine character in Job, and shown some real appreciation of it?

What he says is completely true. Job had comforted others in their distress, and he should have held up under his own trials. Yet would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend — a "brother born for adversity"? Would not grace ever teach us to "weep with those who weep"? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not scold sufferers like this. Human sorrow moved Him with compassion, even to tears. This harshness shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz.

Why did Eliphaz not do as he says Job had done in the past, strengthening the weak hands and upholding those who stumbled? It is easy for us to discern what we think is wrong in another without providing for him what might be for his help.

Simple, all this — to see and say it about someone else! With the chill and the shadow on us, is it always so easy?... It is the same for more than Job. At the critical moment, when the demand comes for us to show strength, there is nothing but weakness. The arguments we ourselves used with others still stand where they did, but they do not help. They have not been refuted, but they do not comfort us. We need more than argument: the living strength of the God of strength alone is enough in the day of personal need. And then, perhaps, we realise a terrible thing: how much of the energy that carried us along was not that strength at all.

And now Satan renews the attack through friend Eliphaz. He shoots poisoned arrows through his lips, in chapter 4:3-8. "You have instructed many." It is terrible when Satan can fix a poor believer's thoughts on himself. "What!" he says, "is this you? You, who profess so much — you who instruct others — you who are looked up to?"... It is the first hint that Job is a hypocrite. We shall find this wedge driven, blow after blow, as we go on in the book.

The furnace usually has to set saints right. It reduces or silences some impatience, selfishness or complaint... Job was overcome. Trouble touched him and he fainted, though he had often strengthened weak hands and held up falling people with his words. "The strongest are knocked off their feet," as an old writer says. Peter sleeps in the garden, and in the judgment hall tells lies and swears to them. But there has been One whom the furnace, heated seven times, proved to be precious beyond expression.

Chapter 4:1-5. Eliphaz is the most dogmatic of the three friends, and in his first address he makes much of the greatness and justice of God. He had come to comfort, but he could bring little comfort to the afflicted man. He begins very politely: "If one replied to you (to Job's lament), would you be grieved? But who can refrain from speaking?" But at once he stabs Job to the heart.

Eliphaz the Temanite appears to be the oldest and the more dignified of the three friends. He rebukes Job first of all for a lack of firmness in facing the deep distress that had come on his family and himself. He is not content with this. He also blames Job: the man who knew so well how to meet others in their sorrows failed when the trouble came on himself.

In his opening words, Eliphaz begins the criticism that runs through everything the friends say. What he says is completely true. Job had comforted others in times of distress, so he should have borne up under his own trials. And yet would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend — a "brother born for adversity"? Would not grace always teach us to "weep with those who weep"? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not scold sufferers like this. Human sorrow moved Him with compassion, even to tears. It is this harshness that shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz, which comes out more clearly as he goes on.

Simple, all this — to see and say it about someone else! With the chill and the shadow on us, is it always so easy? "You have instructed many … your words have upheld him who was stumbling, and you have made firm the feeble knees: but now it has come upon you, and you faint." (Job 4:3-5.) So it is indeed with more than Job. At the critical moment, when we are called on to show strength, there is nothing but weakness. The arguments we used with others stand where they did, but they are of no use. No one has disproved them, yet they do not comfort us. We need more than argument: only the living strength of the God of strength is enough in the day of personal need. And it is a terrible thing, perhaps, to realise then how much of the energy that has carried us along was not that strength.

And now Satan renews the attack through his friend Eliphaz. He shoots poisoned arrows through Eliphaz's lips, in chapter 4:3-8. "You have instructed many." It is terrible when Satan can fix a poor believer's thoughts on himself like this. "What!" he says, "is this you? You, who profess so much — you who instruct others — you who are looked up to? What dishonour you will bring on the name of Christ if all that you are comes out before the world. Your sin is dreadful, because of the very profession you make." … This is the thin end of Satan's great wedge. It is the first hint that Job is a hypocrite. We shall find this wedge driven, blow after blow, as we go on in the book.

There must be school time in God's family, and everything must be fully tested and proved. If we are walking with God, are we not aware how little we are able to help one another? It is painful to see how well able we seem to be to find the weak points in one another. To tell a man he is at the bottom of a deep ditch is one thing; it is quite another to be able, through grace, to lift him out of it. We must know the hand and heart of God, and His sustaining power, for ourselves. Then we can meet others in their varied circumstances. Like a skilled doctor, we shall know what each medicine is worth and be ready to use it. The doctor must have gone to school to learn. In the same way, we must walk through this great hospital of suffering — this present world. We must taste the comfort of God ourselves before we can offer it to others.

In his opening words, Eliphaz begins the fault-finding that marks the friends' words all the way through. What he says is true. Job had comforted others in distress, and he should have borne up under his own trials. And yet, would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend — a "brother born for adversity"? Would grace not always teach us to "weep with those who weep"? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not scold sufferers like this. Human sorrow moved Him with compassion, even to tears.

Instead, Eliphaz all but thrust a sword into Job's soul. He criticised him for being depressed when trouble came to him (v.5). Why did Eliphaz not do as he says Job had done in the past, strengthening the weak hands and upholding those who stumbled? It is easy for us to see what we think is wrong in another without giving him what might help him.

Simple, all this — to see and say it about someone else! With the chill and the shadow on us, is it always so easy? So it is with more than Job. At the critical moment, when the hour calls for strength, we have nothing but weakness. The arguments we used with others still stand where they did, but they do not help. No one has refuted them, yet they bring us no comfort. We need more than argument: the living strength of the God of strength alone is enough in the day of personal need. And it is a terrible thing to realise then how much of the energy that has carried us along was not that.

In the argument of the three friends there is one unified line of thought, resting on a shared principle. That principle is this: all suffering is punishment, not instruction. It rests on God's justice rather than on His love — though the two are always joined in all His ways. Such a principle must fail to tell the sufferings of the righteous from those of the wicked. The friends carried it to its logical end. So Job's sufferings had to be for sin not yet found out, and his only hope of relief was to confess that sin and be shown mercy.

Abstract truth is completely useless to the saints of God. Truth that is misunderstood and misapplied may do more harm than many a false thing. Misapplied truth lends the apparent authority of God to an error, and it carries all the more weight because it comes as the truth. If someone says a foolish or clearly false thing, people dismiss it; but no believer can brush aside the truth of God. So when people use the truth of God wrongly, to crush someone who at that moment is an object of intense interest to God — how foreign and offensive that is to His mind!

And now Satan renews the attack through his friend Eliphaz. Poisoned arrows are shot through his lips, in chapter 4:3-8. "You have instructed many." It is terrible when Satan can fix a poor believer's thoughts on himself like this. "What!" he says, "is this you? You, who profess so much — you who instruct others — you who are looked up to?" ... This is the thin end of Satan's great wedge. It is the first hint that Job is a hypocrite. We shall find this wedge driven, blow after blow, as we go on in the book.

He asks Job, "Is not your fear of God your confidence?" Because Job had true reverence toward God, he had confidence about all his former life. He also speaks of Job's integrity — which he knew to be true — as his hope. That is, Job had a right to look forward to the future because of his integrity.

What he says is perfectly true. Job had comforted others in times of distress, and he should have borne up under his own trials. And yet would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend — a "brother born for adversity"? Would grace not always teach us to "weep with those who weep"? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not scold sufferers like this. Human sorrow moved Him with compassion, even to tears. This harshness shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz, and it comes out more clearly as he goes on. For Eliphaz, sin and suffering are root and fruit. He knows no classes of suffering and fails to tell the righteous from the wicked, so in the end he proves a false accuser of his friend.

If godly fear was his, as Eliphaz still hoped, why was it not his confidence? Why was the uprightness of his ways not his hope? It is plain that Eliphaz was as ignorant as Job of the source, the character, and the aim of the trial then going on. All he sees is the necessary triumph of righteousness and the irretrievable ruin of the wicked.

Here, we believe, he did put his finger on the weak spot in Job, as the rest of the book shows. God Himself has guaranteed that Job's character and ways were excellent. But that being so, how subtle the trap! It means making them the basis of one's confidence and hope, and building everything on them, before God as well as before men. It is what many a very godly believer has done since the days of Job.

By dwelling on the grace that had worked so much in him and through him, Job lost sight of the source of that grace. He was taken up with its effects... Instead of pointing him to the grace that is in God, Eliphaz threw him more and more back on himself and his ways. That was exactly the error Job had already fallen into.

The verse consists of only two clauses. The true meaning is, "Is not your fear of God your confidence? Is not the uprightness of your ways your hope?"... The fear of God gave him confidence that God would take care of him. "The uprightness of his ways" — yes, he was not a hypocrite; but that is a poor ground after all, when we think of a Christian. Why? Christ is our ground. Our upright ways are not the great spring of our hope. Nothing but Christ gives us firm confidence before God.

Eliphaz had told Job he was a pious and righteous man (verse 6). And now he tells him: "Remember: who that was innocent ever perished? Or where were the upright cut off?" Only those who plow iniquity and sow wickedness reap what they have sown. God makes them perish in His wrath. They are cut off even if they were like strong lions. What dogmatic logic! Job, if you are righteous and suffering like this, then God has no justice at all. But if God is just, then you have plowed iniquity and sown wickedness, and all your suffering is your own harvest.

But while these things are true, generally, Eliphaz has lost all distinction between the righteous and the wicked, and presses Job into a dilemma which he is already beginning to feel — either he or God is unjust!

These sentences make it clear. Eliphaz belonged to that class of people who argue mainly from their own experience. His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be all true enough, so far as we are concerned. But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience. It is a mistake thousands make. What, for instance, had the experience of Eliphaz to do with Job? Perhaps he had never met a case just like it. And if there is a single point of difference between the two cases, then the whole argument from experience counts for nothing.

"Remember: who that was innocent ever perished?" — now he comes to his false comfort... Well, what about Abel? I am beginning early enough in the Bible, and with a clear example... there was Abel that perished. We are speaking about perishing in this world. Job never had a question about the next, and they were looking not at the next world but at this. It is not a question of faith at all. It was a question of sight. They were drawing all their conclusions from what they saw. That is always a false ground for a believer... Abel was righteous, and the unrighteous man cut him off. Abel was completely guiltless. Cain could not endure it, because the LORD accepted Abel's offering.

No doubt he knew nothing of Genesis, since that book was likely not written in his day. Yet people still knew ancient things through tradition they had kept with care. What about Abel? He perished being innocent. The first disaster recorded after sin entered the world disproved the position Eliphaz took up.

He had no evidence at all that Job had sinned, but he treated Job's condition as evidence enough that he must have sinned. He says, "Who that was innocent ever perished?" But Job had not perished. "Where were the upright cut off?" But Job was not cut off... there was not the slightest sign that this applied to Job. God called him "a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil" (Job 1:8).

There surely, if anywhere, is the pattern of all perfection in this world. Was He to pass through without suffering? Would the serpent spare Him?... God's first revelation about the Seed of the woman, the coming Deliverer, should have guarded them, like others, from the sad mistake the book of Job sets out to correct. It is a bruised One that is to bruise Satan finally... Does suffering, even suffering no one can match, mean there was evil in Him? Not at all. So the theory is false. The theory says the only cause of a man's suffering in this world is evil that God sees in him. And the measure of truth in it does not make the falsehood less harmful. It makes it more harmful.

The word literally means to break up the ground for planting. It is also used as a picture of "plotting" wickedness. Job 4:8; Hosea 10:13. Israel, looking back on the trials they went through, says, "The plowers plowed upon my back; they made long their furrows." Psalm 129:3. This surely points to what the blessed Lord suffered on earth, above all the scourging.

These sentences make it clear that Eliphaz was one of those people who argue very much from their own experience. His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be true enough for us. But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience, and thousands still fall into it. What, for instance, had the experience of Eliphaz to do with Job? Perhaps he had never met a case exactly like it. And if there is a single point of difference between the two cases, then the whole argument from experience counts for nothing.

In this speech Eliphaz takes trouble to show Job that everyone on the earth reaps what he sows. "As I have seen, those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same" (Job 4:8). All he says is true in principle, but in Job's case it is false. It is right in itself and wrong in its application. Often the wicked grow old in sin, while the good are cut off in the strength of their youth. The ungodly often live in plenty while those who fear God have to do without the common necessities of life.

But in his next paragraph (verses 7-11) Eliphaz completely misunderstands the situation. He asks, "Who that was innocent ever perished?" ... What about Abel? He perished being innocent. Why, the first disaster recorded after sin entered the world disproved the position Eliphaz took up. The righteous Abel was cut off. So the idea, which he worked out with his picture of the lions, breaks down. Reaping disaster does not always mean that those who reap "plow iniquity and sow trouble."

This harshness shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz, and it comes out more plainly as he goes on. For him sin and suffering are root and fruit. He knows no classes of suffering. He does not tell the righteous apart from the wicked. So in the end he turns out to be a false accuser of his friend.

Quick as thought, Satan gives the thrust he gave to Job: "As I have seen, those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same." "By the breath of God they perish." This is the thin end of Satan's great wedge. It is the first hint that Job is a hypocrite. We shall find this wedge driven, blow after blow, as we go on in the book.

"Whatever one sows, that will he also reap." The sin of sowing weeds may be forgiven, but the reaping must match the sowing. The first is grace, the second is government. Each acts in its own sphere, and neither interferes with the other... God let David walk the courts of the sanctuary as a subject of grace (2 Samuel 12:20). Only later did David climb the rough slopes of the Mount of Olives as a subject of government (2 Samuel 15:30). We may safely say this: David's heart never felt divine grace more deeply than at the very time he was feeling the righteous action of divine government.

"The breath of his mouth" expresses the inner energy of divine power (whether creative, Ps. 33:6, or judicial, 2 Sam. 22:16, Job 4:9, Ps. 18:15, Isa. 11:4, Isa. 30:33) with which the Lord will dispatch the lawless one.

"The breath, or spirit of his mouth" does not, as far as I can gather from Scripture, mean "the gospel" or the "saving influences of the Spirit." Job 4:9-15, 30; Isaiah 30:28 and 33 all use the phrase of judgment on wicked persons, not of converting influences on men's souls.

Eliphaz had told Job he was a pious and righteous man (verse 6). And now he tells him: "Remember: who that was innocent ever perished? Or where were the upright cut off?" Only those that plow iniquity and sow wickedness reap what they have sown. God makes such to perish in His wrath. They are cut off even if they were like strong lions. What dogmatic logic! Job, if you are righteous and suffering like this, then God is without any justice. But if God is justice, then you have plowed iniquity and sown wickedness, and all your suffering is your own harvest.

Eliphaz shows in a very animated and striking way what is a general modern principle — "As I have seen, those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same." But it is not an absolute rule. There are those who have sown and plowed iniquity too, and yet they have reaped a good deal in this world. They have stored up wealth and honour to the highest degree, and have become kings and emperors and all the rest of it. It was extremely short-sighted to talk as he did. "By the breath of God they perish" — sometimes. That is true, and Job never denied it, without making it an absolute truth or an absolute falsehood — "and by the blast of his anger they are consumed."

In his next paragraph (verses 7-11) Eliphaz completely misunderstands the situation. He asks, "Who that was innocent ever perished?" … What about Abel? He perished being innocent. The first disaster recorded after sin entered the world disproved the position Eliphaz took. The righteous Abel was cut off. So the idea, which he developed by his figure of the lions, broke down. Reaping disaster does not necessarily mean that those who reap "plow iniquity and sow trouble."

These sentences make it clear that Eliphaz belonged to the kind of people who argue mostly from their own experience. His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be true enough, so far as we are concerned. But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience, and yet thousands fall into it.

Every word may be true in itself; all is said with the greatest dignity and force; yet it is misapplied and one-sided, and so, in effect, mistaken as a whole. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government right now, measuring out prosperity or hardship to each person exactly as they deserve. This is false ground, and it ruins the application, especially to one like Job.

Then he brings in the lions as a picture. However strong and great and matchless a lion may be, he may still be broken. And so it is with men who play the lion in the world.

He does not even consider the difference between a believer and an unbeliever in the way God deals with them. An unbeliever, because of his sin, may perish by the blast of God and by the breath of His anger. The strength of this evil may be compared to the roaring of a lion, but even the teeth of the young lions would be broken. Job could be compared to a lion in the earlier strength of his wealth, so now he was like a lion that perishes, or a lioness losing her cubs. Eliphaz does not say this to encourage Job. He says it to imply that Job must have brought this disaster on himself by secret sin.

Eliphaz shows in a lively and striking way what is a general modern principle — "As I have seen, those who plow iniquity and sow wickedness reap the same." But it is not an absolute rule. There are people who have sown and plowed iniquity too, and yet they have reaped a good deal in this world. They have piled up wealth and honour in the highest degree. They have become kings and emperors and all the rest of it. It was very short-sighted to talk as he did. "By the blast of God they perish" — sometimes.

What about Abel? He perished being innocent. The first disaster recorded after sin entered the world disproved the position Eliphaz took up. The righteous Abel was cut off. So the idea he built up with his picture of the lions broke down. Reaping disaster does not have to mean that those who reap "plow iniquity and sow wickedness."

No matter how strong and mighty they are, they are cut off, like fierce lions with their teeth broken out. These things are true in general. But Eliphaz has lost all distinction between the righteous and the wicked. He presses Job into a dilemma Job is already beginning to feel — either he or God is unjust!

What he says is true. Job had comforted others in times of distress, and he should have borne up under his own trials. Yet would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend — a "brother born for adversity"? Would grace not teach us to "weep with those who weep"? ... This harshness shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz, and it comes out more clearly as he goes on. For him, sin and suffering are root and fruit. He knows no classes of suffering. He fails to tell the righteous and the wicked apart, and so in the end he turns out to be a false accuser of his friend.

Eliphaz begins with a glance at Job's past claim to be righteous, but only to rebuke him for failing to endure... All he sees is that righteousness must win and the wicked must be ruined beyond recovery. He shows it with pictures taken not only from men, but from the wildest of beasts crushed under God's hand.

Then he brings in the lions as a picture. However strong and great and unmatched a lion may be, he can still be broken. The same is true of men who play the lion in the world.

He does not even consider the difference between a believer and an unbeliever in the way God deals with them... Since Job could be compared to a lion in the earlier strength of his wealth, he was now like a lion that perishes, or like a lioness losing her cubs. Eliphaz does not say this to encourage Job. He says it to imply that Job must have brought this disaster on himself by secret sin.

But in his next paragraph (verses 7-11) Eliphaz reads the situation entirely wrong. He asks, "Who ever perished, being innocent?"... What about Abel? He perished being innocent. The first disaster recorded after sin entered the world disproved the position Eliphaz took up. The righteous Abel was cut off. So the idea he built up with his picture of the lions broke down. Reaping disaster does not have to mean that those who reap "plow iniquity, and sow wickedness."

How often had the wicked been cut off, reaping as they had sowed. No matter how strong and mighty, they are cut off, as fierce lions having their teeth broken out. These things are true in a general way. But Eliphaz has lost all distinction between the righteous and the wicked. He forces Job into a dilemma that Job is already beginning to feel — either Job or God is unjust!

They are cut off even if they were like strong lions. What dogmatic logic! Job, if you are righteous and suffering like this, then God has no justice at all. But if God is just, then you have plowed iniquity and sown wickedness, and all your suffering is your own harvest.

Eliphaz describes in the most vivid language a night vision he had experienced in quiet secrecy, one that had a deep effect on him. No doubt God intended by this to awaken the serious attention of Eliphaz, and He succeeded.

In the days of the patriarchs, we may say that God gave no revelation of Himself except to the individual. God made His mind known this way to Noah, to Abraham, and even to those who were largely ignorant of Him, such as Abimelech and Laban (Gen. 20:3, etc.; Gen. 31:24). A dream or vision was often used, but it was a divine revelation. Eliphaz refers to such a communication, in beautiful language, but not as definitely as Elihu does here (see Job 4:12-21). Elihu makes it plain that God speaks to man in this way. When all is silent, He speaks in a still, small voice and makes His mind known. His purpose is to correct wrong thoughts and actions, to draw man back from his own plans, and to hide pride from him.

And now he brings in a vision of the night. He was very serious. And God has often used visions of the night. It is true we have something a great deal better. We have the vision of the day. We have the great vision of Christ shown in human flesh. We have the vision of God showing Himself. He speaks and acts for us in this world of sin and death... "Fear came upon me, and trembling" — clearly he did not have enough of grace; grace does not make people afraid in this way. It is judgment that does so, and this is what these good men are full of; they were full of the spirit of judgment.

Next Eliphaz sets out an oracle of the night, in a mysterious and awesome style. It impressed on his own soul the folly of one claim. Earthly, sinful, weak man claims to be more just than God by putting His dealings on trial.

This is all quite true, and in other settings entirely fitting. But it falls beside the mark, because it does not meet Job's need. Truly, in God's sight all are as an unclean thing. But does that do away with the righteousness found in the children of God? If all are unclean in God's sight, then Eliphaz must take his place beside Job. He is by no means ready to do that. So every explanation of suffering fails.

How true such words are, and how well they apply to all of mankind! But Eliphaz was applying them only to Job, not to himself. He did not consider himself "crushed before a moth" and "broken in pieces."... But a vision or dream is meant to apply directly to the one who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. In the same way, we may hear good ministry which we think fits others better than ourselves... If Eliphaz had learned the lesson God intended, he would not have spoken to Job the way he did.

From these sentences it seems very clear that Eliphaz belonged to that class of people who argue mostly from their own experience. His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be true enough, as far as we are concerned. But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on individual experience, and yet it is a mistake thousands make. What, for instance, had the experience of Eliphaz to do with Job?

A deep sleep — tardemah — is a term never used of natural sleep. It is used of sleep that is either supernatural, for a special purpose (Gen. 2:21; Gen. 15:12; Job 4:13; Job 33:15), or spiritual, part of God's governmental dealing with man. (Prov. 19:15; Isa. 29:10.)

In the days of the patriarchs, we may say that God gave no revelation of Himself except to the individual. God made His mind known this way to Noah, to Abraham, and even to those who were largely ignorant of Him, like Abimelech and Laban (Gen. 20:3, etc.; Gen. 31:24). A dream or vision was often used, but it was a divine revelation. Eliphaz refers to such a communication, in beautiful language...

God has often used visions of the night. It is true we have something a great deal better. We have the vision of the day. We have the great vision of Christ shown in flesh. We have the vision of God showing Himself, and God speaking and acting for us in this world of sin and death... Fear and trembling came on him. Clearly he did not have enough grace. Grace does not make people afraid like this. It is judgment that does so, and this is what these good men are full of; they were full of the spirit of judgment.

From verse 12 onwards, the position Eliphaz takes becomes clearer. He starts to describe a terrifying experience of his own. He saw a spirit appear, and heard a word of warning about man's frailty and impurity before his Maker. What he heard is perfectly true. No mortal man can be more pure or just than God. In both he falls infinitely short of God's glory.

Every word may be true in itself; He says it all with the utmost dignity and force. Yet he misapplies it, and it is one-sided, so as a whole it is wrong in effect. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government right now. He assumes God measures out prosperity or trouble in exact proportion to what people deserve. This is false ground. It spoils the application, above all to someone like Job, whom Satan was allowed to attack.

But a vision or dream is meant to apply directly to the one who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. In the same way, we may hear good teaching which we think fits others better than ourselves. Eliphaz could see that Job's excellence was going away. But the excellence of Eliphaz would go away too, as with all men... If Eliphaz had learned the lesson God intended, he would not have spoken to Job the way he did.

These sentences make it clear that Eliphaz belonged to the class of people who argue very much from their own experience. His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be true enough, so far as we are concerned. But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience. Yet thousands make that mistake.

Next, in words of great solemnity and lofty poetic beauty, Eliphaz describes his vision of the greatness and holiness of God. In the silent hours of the night, an apparition had come before him, making him tremble with a dread he could not name. While seeing nothing, he had felt the whisper of "a still small voice," and it made his hair stand up.

In the days of the patriarchs, we may say that there was no revelation of God except what was given to the individual. God made His mind known this way to Noah, to Abraham, and even to those who were largely ignorant of Him, such as Abimelech and Laban. A dream or vision was often used, but it was a divine revelation. Eliphaz refers to such a communication, in beautiful language, but not as definitely as Elihu does here.

Eliphaz describes in vivid language a night vision he had experienced in quiet secrecy, and it had a deep effect on him. He was evidently in a deep sleep when a fit of fear and trembling seized him (v.14). A spirit passed before his face, making his hair stand up. A form was present, but its appearance could not be made out. No doubt God intended by this to awaken the serious attention of Eliphaz, and He succeeded.

And God has often used visions of the night. It is true that we have something far better. We have the vision of the day. We have the great vision of Christ manifested in flesh. We have the vision of God showing Himself, and God speaking and acting for us in this world of sin and death... "dread came upon me, and trembling" — clearly he did not have enough of grace; grace does not make people fear in this way. It is judgment that does so, and that is what these good men were full of; they were full of the spirit of judgment.

From verse 12 onward, the position Eliphaz takes comes more clearly to light. He begins to tell of a rather terrifying experience of his own. He saw some spirit apparition, and received a word of warning about man's frailty and impurity in the presence of his Maker. What he heard is perfectly true. No mortal man can be more pure or more just than God. In both he falls infinitely short of God's glory.

This is all quite true, and in other connections most fitting; but, as already said, it misses the mark, because it does not meet Job's need. Truly, in God's sight, all are as an unclean thing. But does that set aside the fact that there is such a thing as righteousness in the children of God? If all are unclean in God's sight, then Eliphaz must take his place beside Job — something he is by no means ready to do — and every explanation of suffering fails.

They cried out in fear, for they thought they saw a ghost. The appearance of their Master filled them with more alarm than the fury of the storm seems to have done. That fear — the fear of the unknown — took hold of them, the fear Eliphaz spoke of when he said, "dread came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones shake."

With deep seriousness and great poetic beauty, Eliphaz describes his vision of the greatness and holiness of God. In the silent hours of the night, a ghostly figure came before him and made him tremble with a dread he could not name. Though he saw nothing, he felt the whisper of "a still small voice," that made his hair stand up.

Eliphaz uses vivid language to describe a night vision he had in private, and it affected him deeply. He was clearly in a deep sleep when a fit of fear and trembling shook him (v.14). A spirit passed before his face, causing his hair to stand up. A form was there, but he could not make out what it looked like. No doubt God meant this to get the serious attention of Eliphaz, and He succeeded.

God has often used visions of the night. It is true we have something far better. We have the vision of the day. We have the great vision of Christ shown in human flesh. We have the vision of God showing Himself, and God speaking and acting for us in this world of sin and death... The fear and trembling that came over him show he did not have enough grace; grace does not make people afraid like this. It is judgment that does so, and this is what these good men are full of; they were full of the spirit of judgment.

The appearance of their Master filled them with more alarm than the fury of the storm seems to have done. The same fear that Eliphaz described — the fear of the unknown — took hold of them.

He begins to tell of a terrifying experience of his own. He saw some kind of spirit, and he received a word of warning about man's weakness and impurity in the presence of his Maker. What he heard is perfectly true. No mortal man can be more pure or just than God. In both he falls infinitely short of God's glory.

Such words are true, and they apply to all mankind. But Eliphaz applied them only to Job, not to himself... But a vision or dream is meant for the person who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. In the same way, we may hear good teaching and think it fits other people better than it fits us... If Eliphaz had learned the lesson God intended, he would not have spoken to Job the way he did.

These sentences make it clear that Eliphaz belonged to the kind of people who argue mainly from their own experience. His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be all true enough, so far as we are concerned. But it is a complete mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience, and thousands make that mistake. What, for instance, had the experience of Eliphaz to do with Job? It went for nothing in Job's case. As soon as Eliphaz stopped speaking, Job went on with the tale of his own sorrows, without paying the slightest attention to his words.

Eliphaz describes in the most graphic language a night vision he had experienced in quiet secrecy, one that had a deep effect on him… A form was present, but he could not make out its appearance. No doubt God intended by this to awaken the serious attention of Eliphaz, and He succeeded.

Next Eliphaz sets out a message of the night, in mysterious and awe-filled style. It impressed on his own soul how foolish it is when man finds fault with God's dealings and so claims to be more just than God. Man is of the earth, sinful and weak.

Every word may be true in itself; it is all said with the greatest dignity and force. Yet he applies it wrongly, and he sees only one side. As a whole, then, it is wrong. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government right now. He thinks God measures out prosperity or trouble to each person exactly as they deserve. This is false ground. It ruins the application, especially to someone like Job, whom God gave up to Satan's attacks and tried to the end.

It is clear that his argument rests mainly for its force on his own powers of observation. He trusted those powers for his opinion about the meaning of the disasters that had fallen on Job.

How true and how fitting such words are for all mankind! But Eliphaz was applying them only to Job, not to himself. He did not consider himself "crushed before a moth" and "broken in pieces." This had happened to Job, so Eliphaz took his vision as applying directly to Job. But a vision or dream is meant to apply directly to the one who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. In the same way, we may hear good ministry that we think fits others better than ourselves… If Eliphaz had learned the lesson God intended, he would not have spoken to Job the way he did.

And now he brings in a vision of the night. He was very serious. And God has often used visions of the night. It is true that we have something far better. We have the vision of the day. We have the great vision of Christ made known in flesh. We have the vision of God showing Himself, and God speaking and acting for us in this world of sin and death… "Fear came upon me, and trembling" — he clearly did not have enough grace. Grace does not make people afraid in this way. It is judgment that does so, and this is what these good men are full of; they were full of the spirit of judgment.

In the days of the patriarchs, we may say there was no revelation of God except what was given to the individual… A dream or vision was often used, but it was a divine revelation. Eliphaz refers to such a communication, in beautiful language, though not as clearly as Elihu, a later speaker in this book, does here.

Yet Eliphaz for all that could say many a true thing — truth he had doubtless learned from God, and could speak as from Him; and one such saying the Holy Spirit certifies for us through the mouth of Paul. That could not certify the things the same Eliphaz said which were not right.

He refers to what he saw or heard then. "Now a thing was secretly brought to me, and my ear received a little of it. In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on men. Fear came upon me, and trembling" — clearly he did not have enough of grace; grace does not make people afraid in this way. It is judgment that does so, and this is what these good men are full of; they were full of the spirit of judgment.

"Shall mortal man be more just than God?" — or "just before God," in His presence. Compared with His holiness, even the heavenly beings are unclean. The seraphim veil their faces as they proclaim Him. How much less can mortal man, whose mortality is a witness of his sin, boast. His breath is in his nostrils. His life is like a tale soon told, over in a day — like the short-lived moth.

He begins to tell of a terrifying experience of his own. He saw some ghostly figure, and heard a warning about man's frailty and impurity in the presence of his Maker. What Eliphaz heard is perfectly true. No mortal man can be more pure or just than God. In both he falls infinitely short of God's glory.

How true and fitting such words are for all mankind, but Eliphaz was applying them only to Job, not to himself, because Eliphaz did not consider himself "crushed before a moth" and "broken in pieces." This had happened to Job, so Eliphaz took his vision as applying directly to Job. But a vision or dream is meant to apply directly to the one who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. In the same way, we may hear good ministry which we think fits others better than ourselves.

That is the very thing we must not do. "Judge not, that you be not judged." When we find evil in someone who bears the Lord's name, we are bound to judge him; but no one found any evil in Job at all. And when we find no evil, we are bound not to judge; we are not to give way to our own thoughts; we are to wait on God to make it all plain… [The vision] is all very true, but it did not apply to the case at all.

In Job 9:2 Job asks, "How can a man be in the right before God?" The answer comes from the Lord Jesus. He spoke a parable "to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous." The proud Pharisee paraded his self-righteousness before God, and he stands condemned. The repentant tax collector "beat his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me, a sinner!" He "went down to his house justified, rather than the other" (Luke 18:9–14). The Lord answered Job's question by showing that the way to be just with God is by condemning ourselves before Him, confessing in true sorrow that we are sinners, and casting ourselves on His mercy. The full answer waited for the death and resurrection of the Lord Jesus. In the letter to the Romans we learn that God justifies us by His grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, on the principle of faith.

From verse 12 onwards, we see more clearly where Eliphaz stands. He starts to tell a frightening experience of his own. He saw some kind of spirit, and he heard a warning about man's weakness and impurity before his Maker. What he heard is completely true. No mortal man can be more pure or just than God. In both he falls infinitely short of God's glory.

Psalm 102 puts it beyond question that the elect angels obey the will of God in all they do. They have no will contrary to the will of God. I take it that the angels He charged with folly (Job 4:18) were fallen angels.

No creature can keep himself in blessing by his own obedience. God's power must keep every creature He sets in blessing with Himself. All who have stood on the ground of their own responsibility have fallen. There are fallen angels as well as fallen men, and there are elect angels as well as elect men. It is impossible to imagine a creature that supports itself.

"Shall mortal man be more just than God?" — or "just before God," in His presence. Compared with His holiness, even the heavenly beings are unclean. The seraphim cover their faces as they proclaim Him. How much less can mortal man boast of himself, since his mortality is a witness of his sin. His breath is in his nostrils. His life is over in a day, like a story that is told — like the short-lived moth.

This is all quite true, and in another setting it would be fitting. But, as already said, it misses the mark, because it does not meet Job's need. In God's sight all are indeed an unclean thing. Yet does that cancel the righteousness that really exists in the children of God? If all are unclean in God's sight, then Eliphaz must take his place beside Job. He is not at all ready to do that, and so his whole explanation of suffering fails.

How true and applicable are such words to all of mankind, but Eliphaz was applying it only to Job, not to himself, because Eliphaz did not consider himself "crushed before a moth" and "broken in pieces." … But a vision or dream is intended to apply directly to the one who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. Similarly, we may hear good ministry which we think to be more applicable to others than to ourselves.

Failure clung to everyone until the Son came. Angels served man, but even angels He could charge with "folly." (Job 4:18.) … But now the Son has come, and entry, stability, and rest for eternity are ours — I mean, they belong to all believers — in association with Christ in heavenly blessing. … He is greater than the angels, for He is the Son.

Next Eliphaz gives, in a mysterious and dreadful style, a message of the night. It had pressed one thing on his own soul. Earthly, sinful, weak man is foolish to claim he is more just than God by putting God's dealings on trial.

Temporary houses and those for the poor were often built of mud. A thief could dig straight through such a wall, and left alone these houses soon became a heap of rubbish.

With all his marvellous ability, desires and far-reaching activity, he lives in a house of clay. He is a vessel made of dust, and it cannot rise above the earth it is part of. In his moral and spiritual nature he is fitted to rise up and answer the deepest thoughts of God. Yet his body ties him to the creation beneath him. Man is indeed a marvellous piece of divine workmanship.

Compared with God's holiness, even the heavenly beings are unclean. The seraphim veil their faces as they proclaim Him. How much less can mortal man, whose mortality is a witness of his sin, boast of himself. His breath is in his nostrils. His life is over in a day, like a story that is told — like the short-lived moth.

This vision describes the greatness and majesty of God and of course is again true. That it was a real vision cannot be doubted. Man's smallness, his utter nothingness, is made known in this vision. But did this meet the need of suffering Job? It could not explain the reason for Job's suffering. And something like this is suggested by these words: Job, you are just like other men before God, and your present affliction shows it. You thought you were right with God, and that He blessed and protected you. But He is holy and just, so your suffering shows you are reaping the consequences of your sin, as others do.

This is all quite true, and in another setting it would fit well. But, as already said, it misses the mark. It does not meet Job's need. True, in God's sight all are an unclean thing. But does that cancel the truth that righteousness does exist in the children of God? If all are unclean in God's sight, then Eliphaz must take his place beside Job, a thing he is by no means ready to do.

Eliphaz was applying it only to Job, not to himself. He did not consider himself "crushed before a moth" and "broken in pieces." But a vision or dream is meant to apply directly to the person who has it. Eliphaz missed that one important fact. Similarly, we may hear good ministry which we think to be more applicable to others than to ourselves. Eliphaz could see that Job's excellence was going away. But his own excellence would go away too, as it does with all men.

It is a testimony to man's lowliness, if we look at man as he is in himself — "crushed," as Job says, "before the moth." But the moment I reach God's thoughts about man, I see God setting him over the works of His hand, and crowning him with glory and honour. That has put man into a wonderful place.

"Shall mortal man be more just than God?" — or "just before God," in His presence. Compared with His holiness, even the heavenly beings are unclean. The seraphim veil their faces as they proclaim Him. How much less can mortal man, whose mortality is a witness of his sin, boast of himself. His breath is in his nostrils; like a tale that is told, his life is measured in a day — like the short-lived moth.

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with the greatest dignity and force. Yet he misapplies it and tells only one side, so in effect the whole is mistaken. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government now, and measures prosperity or hardship to men exactly as they deserve. This is false ground, and it ruins the application. It fails most of all with a man like Job, whom God gave up to be attacked by Satan and tried right to the end — an end that was not bitter, but sweet.

Abstract truth is altogether useless for the saints of God. Things which are true, but misunderstood and misapplied, may do more harm than many a false thing. Misapplied truth gives an error the apparent authority of God. The error then carries all the more weight, because it comes as the truth. Say a foolish thing, or one clearly false, and people despise it. But no believer can shrug off the truth of God. So when someone misuses the truth of God — when he uses it to crush a man whom God cares about intensely at that moment — how foreign and offensive that is to His mind!

How true and fitting such words are for all of mankind! But Eliphaz applied them only to Job, not to himself. He did not consider himself "crushed before a moth" and "beaten to pieces." That had happened to Job, so Eliphaz took his vision as applying directly to Job. But a vision or dream is meant to apply directly to the one who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. In the same way, we may hear good ministry which we think fits others better than ourselves. Eliphaz could see that Job's excellence was going away. But his own excellence would go away too, as it does with all men.

God made man in His own image. This is never said of angels… It is a testimony to man's lowliness, when you look at man as he is in himself — "crushed," as Job says, "before the moth." But the moment I turn to the thoughts of God about man, I see God setting him over the works of His hand, and crowning him with glory and honour. That has put man into a wonderful place.

This vision describes the greatness and majesty of God and of course is again true. No one can doubt it was a real vision. It makes known man's smallness, his utter nothingness. But did this meet the need of afflicted Job? It could not explain the reason for Job's suffering. These words suggest something like this — Job, you are just like other men before God. Your suffering now shows it. You thought you were right with God, and that He blessed and protected you. But He is holy and just. So your suffering shows you are reaping the consequences of your sin, as others do.

How true these words are, and how well they fit all mankind! But Eliphaz applied them only to Job, not to himself. He did not consider himself "crushed before a moth" and "broken in pieces." That had happened to Job, so Eliphaz treated his vision as pointing straight at Job. But a vision or dream is meant to apply directly to the one who has it, and Eliphaz missed that one important fact. In the same way, we may hear good ministry that we think applies more to others than to ourselves. Eliphaz could see that Job's excellence was going away. But the excellence of Eliphaz would go away too, as with all men.

This is all quite true, and in other settings it fits well. But, as already said, it misses the mark, because it does not meet Job's need. Truly, in the sight of God, all are as an unclean thing. But does that set aside the righteousness that really exists in the children of God? If all are unclean in the sight of God, then Eliphaz must take his place beside Job. He is not at all ready to do that. And every explanation of suffering fails.

And yet that is the very thing we are called not to do. "Judge not, that you be not judged." When evil shows up in someone who bears the name of the Lord, we must judge him. But there was no evil in Job at all. And where evil does not show up, we must not judge. We are not to give way to our own thoughts. We are to wait on God to make it all plain.

One thing here is too remarkable to pass by. The Spirit of God uses as Scripture the very words that Jehovah later treated as a false estimate — not only of Job, but of Himself... You only have to examine the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they contain nothing but truth. But weigh them as applied to Job, and they are wrong beyond excuse... The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz in both 1 Corinthians and Hebrews, and there the application is perfectly good. In the Old Testament story the application was wrong, and God reproved the speakers for it.

Eliphaz suggests to Job that he call out to creatures for help, even to holy ones — holy men or angels — and see if anyone will answer him (v.1). He is implying that Job is not seeking God in his affliction. In contrast, Eliphaz claims, "As for me, I would seek God, and to God I would commit my cause" (v.8).

He holds to the sure righteousness of God's way: God could never forsake the innocent, any more than He would spare the guilty… He insists on the folly of turning to creature help. All things are in the hand of Him who suddenly deals with the foolish man who thought himself secure. Last of all, he calls on Job to repent: if he would only humble himself before God, this trial would not only be turned away, but would leave him more blessed than ever.

He tells Job it will be no use to cry for aid to the "saints," the holy ones. His only help is in God. If he complains against Him, he will only lay himself open to divine anger… He is describing the result of his experience and observations: that in the end, even in this life, suffering is the portion of the sinner. It hardly needs saying how incomplete and unsatisfactory this is.

For instance, Job 5:1 reads: "Call now if there be any that will answer you, and turn to some of the saints."… It is easy to see how renderings like this make texts of Scripture appear to support the doctrines of saint-worship, the worship of Mary, and the honouring of images.

Next he gives Job some of his experience, which is very true indeed. But the insinuation is wrong. He reasons from experience that suffering is the lot of the wicked, and therefore Job must belong to that class.

Verse 3 begins, "I have seen …," and if we turn to Job 15, his second speech, again we find him saying, "That which I have seen I will declare" (verse 17). So whether his argument holds depends mainly on his own powers of observation. He trusted those powers for his opinion about the meaning of the disasters that had fallen on Job.

"I have seen the foolish taking root; but suddenly I cursed his habitation." Ah, there it is! No prayer for him — cursing his home! No pity for him! That was just the spirit produced by this readiness to judge, and to base the judgment on how things look… Sometimes a good man is in a position where appearances are very much against him. There we have to take great care. So judging by appearance is very dangerous ground. That is exactly where these friends were.

The One who takes up the part of Daysman or Mediator must Himself be God to fully represent God, and must be Man to rightly represent man. The Man Christ Jesus is He. Being Man, we have no need of further men to come in as subsidiary mediators between Him and ourselves.

He fears that Job has been guilty of resembling a foolish man too closely (v.2). So he warns him about what he had seen: the fool taking root (v.3), then suddenly exposed to a curse, his sons far from safety and crushed in the gate (v.3). Job's sons had died suddenly. Was Job therefore a foolish man? Eliphaz did not say so, but he implied that Job might be dangerously close to such a charge. He had watched foolish people suffer. So he reasoned that since Job was suffering like this, there must be something seriously wrong in Job.

"I have seen the fool taking root" — he was an old man and enjoyed looking back on his experience — "I have seen the fool taking root, but suddenly I cursed his dwelling." Ah, there it is! No prayer for him — cursing his home! No pity for him! That was just the spirit produced by this readiness to judge, and to base the judgment on appearance.

All he says is true in principle but in Job's case false. It is right in itself, but wrong in the place he puts it. The wicked often grow old in their sin, while good people are cut down in the strength of their youth. The ungodly often live in plenty while those who fear God have to do without the common necessities of life. Eliphaz and his two friends drew false conclusions, just as often happens nowadays.

Verse 3 begins, "I have seen …," and in his second speech in Job 15 he says again, "what I have seen I will declare" (verse 17). Clearly, then, his argument rests for its validity mainly on his own powers of observation. He trusted those powers to tell him what Job's disasters meant.

"Do not judge by appearances," said the law. We must wait for solid fact. Sometimes a bad man puts on a good appearance, and we are not deceived by that at all. Sometimes a good man is in circumstances where appearances are very much against him. There we have to take great care.

Would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not take sufferers to task in this way. He was moved with compassion, even to tears, at human sorrow. This harshness shows a wrong principle in Eliphaz, and it comes out more clearly as he goes on. For him, sin and suffering are root and fruit. He knows no classes of suffering. He fails to tell the righteous apart from the wicked. So in the end he proves to be a false accuser of his friend.

Look for a moment at what Scripture says about it. It is clearly forbidden (Matthew 5:22; Romans 12:19). It is a work of the flesh (Galatians 5:20). It marks out fools (Proverbs 14:29; 27:3). It brings its own punishment (Job 5:2; Proverbs 19:19).

There is no saying how far even a child of God may be led, once he willingly allows this feeling. It grows so rapidly that, from only beginning to be envious of another's success, prosperity and position, we may soon begin to hate him, and then plot against him.

Verse 3 begins, "I have seen …". Turn to Job 15, which gives his second speech, and again we find him saying, "What I have seen I will declare" (verse 17). So it is clear that his argument stands or falls on his own powers of observation. He trusted those powers to tell him what Job's disasters meant.

These sentences make it very clear that Eliphaz was one of those people who argue mostly from their own experience. His motto was, "As I have seen." Now, what we have seen may be all true enough, so far as we are concerned. But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience, and yet thousands make that mistake. What, for instance, had the experience of Eliphaz to do with Job? Perhaps he had never met a case quite like it. And if the two cases differ at even one point, the whole argument from experience counts for nothing.

He fears that Job looks far too much like a foolish man (v.2). So he warns him with what he had seen: the foolish taking root, then suddenly exposed to a curse, his sons far from safety and crushed in the gate (v.3). Job's sons had died suddenly. Was Job therefore a foolish man? Eliphaz did not say so, but he hinted that Job was dangerously close to that charge. He had watched foolish people suffer, and he reasoned that since Job was suffering like this, something must be seriously wrong in Job.

"I have seen the fool taking root, but suddenly I cursed his dwelling." Ah, there it is! No prayer for him — cursing his dwelling! No pity for him! Well, that eagerness to judge by appearance produced exactly this spirit. "Do not judge by appearances," said the law. We must wait for solid facts. Sometimes a good man is in circumstances where appearances are very much against him. There we have to take great care. So judging by appearance is very dangerous ground.

Wicked men have prospered for a little season, only to fall under the curse... He is describing the result of his experience and observation: in the end, even in this life, suffering is the sinner's lot. It hardly needs saying how incomplete and unsatisfactory this is. Even in the Old Testament the "man of the earth" prospers; the wicked spreads himself out "like a green laurel tree," and has no pangs even in death.

That principle is that all suffering is punishment rather than teaching, and that it rests on God's justice rather than on His love — though these two are always joined in all His ways. Such a principle must fail to tell the difference between the sufferings of the righteous and those of the wicked. Carried to its logical end, as the friends did carry it, this principle meant that Job's sufferings were for some sin not yet detected, and that his only hope of relief was to confess his sin and obtain mercy.

Jehovah made known to Eliphaz His anger against him and his two companions: they had not spoken to Him rightly, like His servant Job. So they had to come to Him with a sacrifice, through the very man they had so badly misjudged... And His servant Job, whose prayers they had despised, would pray for them.

He warns Job about what he had seen: the foolish man taking root, then suddenly exposed to a curse, his sons far from safety and crushed in the gate. Job's sons had died suddenly. Was Job then a foolish man? Eliphaz did not say so. But he hinted that Job might be very close to such a charge. Eliphaz had watched foolish people suffer, and he reasoned that since Job was suffering like this, something must be badly wrong in Job.

When Job saw his "help in the gate" — the judges ready to decide in his favor, not because they were bribed, but because they were giving him what he was owed — he did not press his case against the orphans.

"Do not judge by appearances," said the law. We must wait for solid facts... Sometimes a good man may be in such circumstances that appearances are very much against him. There we have to take great care. So judging by appearance is very dangerous ground. That is exactly where they were... "His children are far from safety; they are crushed in the gate, and there is no one to deliver them." That was a very painful thing for Job to hear. Job had been most careful about his children. Job watched over them with much prayer to God, and burnt offerings... Eliphaz did not make it personal; still, there are many ways of giving a hint.

So far he barely hints at Job's family, and yet verses 4 and 5 could be read as a description of them — children crushed with no one to rescue them, and harvests taken by the hungry robber... This picture of life is plainly incomplete and unsatisfactory. Even in the Old Testament the "man of the earth" prospers; the wicked spreads himself "like a green bay tree."

All he says is true in principle, but false in Job's case. It is right in itself, yet wrong in the way he applies it. The wicked often grow old in their sin, while good people are cut off in the strength of their youth. The ungodly often live in plenty, while those who fear God go without the basic necessities of life... In his view, Job's sufferings proved that his earlier righteousness was nothing but spiteful hypocrisy.

Despite all the burnt offerings Job made for his children, God did not spare their lives. It was not a divine judgment because of their sins. It was what God allowed in His government to test Job.

He looks at the other side, at the case of the prosperous wicked... They live to old age and grow mighty in power. Their families grow up around them, everything stays quiet, and the rod of God never falls on them... Their children — in sad contrast to the now childless speaker — are like a flock of lambs skipping around the home, and the home rings with the sound of tambourine, harp and pipe.

(1) A rebuke for Job's despair (Job 4:1-5). (2) God's favour to the righteous (vv. 6-11). (3) A vision of God's greatness and holiness (12-21). (4) Experience of God's ways (Job 5:1-5). (5) A call to Job to seek God (vv. 6-11). (6) God's triumph over evil (vv. 12-16). (7) What affliction is for (vv. 17-27).

Eliphaz had observed foolish people suffering, and reasoned that since Job was suffering as he did there must be something seriously wrong in Job. Job's harvest (all the substance he had gained) was eaten up… Trouble does not happen by chance. This is true, for there is no doubt that God is behind it.

As we open Job 5, we find Eliphaz going on in the same way, and again he refers to what he had seen. Verse 3 begins, "I have seen …". Turn to Job 15, where he gives his second speech, and again we find him saying, "What I have seen I will declare" (verse 17). So his whole argument clearly stands or falls on his own powers of observation.

But it is a total mistake to build a general rule on one person's experience, and yet thousands of people are prone to it. What, for instance, had the experience of Eliphaz to do with Job? Perhaps he had never met a case quite like it. And if there is even one point of difference between the two cases, then the whole argument from experience counts for nothing.

"Do not judge by appearances," said the law. We must wait for solid fact… Sometimes a good man is in such circumstances that appearances are very much against him. There we have to take great care. So judging by appearance is very dangerous ground… Eliphaz did not make it personal; still, there are many ways of giving a hint… Something very like that had happened to Job. I do not say that he charged it against him, but that was still the spirit at work.

Some of the things Eliphaz says in this chapter are quite true… But we can see that he brings all these facts forward in a way that turned them against poor Job. He had seen men take root and then suddenly come under a curse, but these were "the foolish." Their children were struck down too, and robbers swallowed up their possessions. All these remarks clearly carried a veiled charge against Job.

Suppose Abraham, Jacob, or David reasoned like this about their sufferings: then they were wicked, because they suffered! And in the New Testament, how could anyone glory in the suffering that produces patience? How could "this light momentary affliction" be said to prepare "for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison"? Eliphaz, with all his experience, shows that he knows little of God's ways with His suffering people.

This is plain from Job 42:7-8. There the LORD says to Eliphaz the Temanite, "My anger burns against you and against your two friends, for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has."… They had utterly failed to bring God before the soul of their friend, and so they failed to produce the self-judgment Job needed.

Eliphaz did not say so, but he implied that Job might be dangerously close to such a charge. He had watched foolish people suffer. So he reasoned that since Job was suffering like this, something must be badly wrong in Job. Job's harvest — everything he had gained — was eaten up (v.5). Why? Because, he says, affliction does not come from the dust, nor does trouble sprout from the ground (v.6). In other words, trouble does not happen by chance. This is true, for there is no doubt that God is behind it.

Job 5:6 says that affliction "does not come from the dust." Whatever the instruments may be, those who live in this world do not direct its course. Nor does even the enemy of our souls, in the first place. It was God who said to Satan, "Have you considered my servant Job?" God saw that Job needed the sifting. The enemy himself was only an instrument in it.

The agents of his sorrows were plain for all to see — the Sabeans, the Chaldeans, the fire, the whirlwind. But behind these lay the evil power of Satan, thrusting hard at him. And behind even this lay the chastening hand of God. Job's faith and patience showed in this: he did not look at the third cause, or even at the second. He looked straight through to God, and accepted everything as from His hand. It is just the same for us today. If we look at second or third causes when trouble sweeps in, it leaves us confused and often angry. If we bow beneath the hand of God we are greatly blessed.

Suppose Abraham, Jacob, or David had reasoned this way about their sufferings: then they were wicked, because they suffered! And in the New Testament, how could suffering that produces patience be something to glory in? How could "this light momentary affliction" prepare for us "an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison"? Eliphaz's own experience shows how little he knows of God's ways with His suffering people.

It is always good to advise people to trust in God, for He never fails those who trust in Him... So, taken on its own, this counsel is good. But remember the assumption underneath it — that Job is suffering for his sins — and it can only irritate. It is as if he said: "Sin belongs to everyone, as trouble does to everyone, so humble yourself as a sinner before God, and He will lift you up." It is all the more subtle because it comes so close to the truth.

So the trial throws us back on Him. Without Him not a sparrow falls to the ground, and by Him the very hairs of our head are all numbered. Affliction does not come from the dust, nor does trouble sprout from the ground. All of it is under the hand of the One who has made us His for glory. Meanwhile He puts our faith to the test in this present evil age, training us not only in patience but in endurance.

Some of the things Eliphaz says in this chapter are perfectly true. For instance: "man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward," in this world of sin… But we can see that he brings these facts forward in a way that turned them against poor Job.

He reasons from experience that suffering is the lot of the wicked. So Job must belong to that class. The advice he gives to Job is in full keeping with his dogmatic assertion.

"Affliction," it is said (Job 5:6), "does not come out of the dust." Whatever the instruments may be, the people who live in this world do not direct its course. Not even the enemy of our souls directs it, in the first place. It was God who said to Satan, "Have you considered my servant Job?" God saw that Job needed the sifting. The enemy himself was only an instrument in it.

Man does not look beyond the circumstances that surround him. To stay in circumstances is unbelief; affliction does not spring out of the dust. Satan is behind the circumstances to set us on; but behind all that, God is there to break our wills.

Man is very ready to blame the Creator for all such things. He forgets that God made man upright, and that God declared everything He had made, including man, very good. Sin has brought in the misery. Man became the willing servant of Satan, and so put himself into the hands of his enemy.

Trouble of one sort or another is the common lot of man… and it can hardly be contradicted. The child of God gets no special exemption in this matter. Indeed it would seem that he gets more of it. He faces opposition from the world, if not persecution. By its very nature, the child of this world never knows that opposition. With it, however, he gets the support of God, and in the end he will get a salvation equally divine.

Besides the afflictions of fallen humanity, there are afflictions that fall specially on the Christian. He may have to suffer for righteousness' sake, and for Christ's sake. Another kind of affliction comes to him directly from the hand of God, for his good.

"Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward," therefore let him commit his cause to God. It is always good to advise men to trust in God, for He never fails those who trust in Him… So, taken in itself, this counsel is good. But it rests on the idea that Job is suffering for his sins, and that can only irritate. It is as though he were saying: "Sin is common to all, as trouble is to all. So humble yourself as a sinner before God, and He will exalt you." The counsel is all the more subtle because it comes so near the truth.

Man was not made to experience only emptiness, sorrow and trouble. It is true now that "man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward." But the Scriptures introduce us to the birthday of a new humanity. They lead us on to the new heavens and the new earth, and there they leave us.

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with great dignity and force. Yet it is misapplied and one-sided, and so, in effect, wrong as a whole. Eliphaz assumes that God is running the world right now, and measuring each man's prosperity or trouble exactly to what he deserves. This is false ground, and it spoils the application. It fits worst of all a man like Job, who was handed over to Satan's attacks and tried to the end by God.

For my part, then, I would turn to God (El), and to God (Elohim) would I commit my cause. He does great things that no one can search out. He gives rain on the face of the earth, and sends water on the face of the fields. He sets the low on high, and raises up those who mourn to prosperity.

It is always good to advise men to trust in God; for He never fails those who trust in Him. "Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before Him." "Cast your burden on the Lord." He is powerful, good and kind. He can lift up those who are bowed down. He refreshes their dried-up spirits, as rain refreshes thirsty land. So, taken in itself, this counsel is good; but remembering the underlying principle that Job is suffering for his sins, it can only irritate. It is as though he were saying, "Sin is common to all, as trouble is. So humble yourself as a sinner before God, and He will exalt you." It is all the more subtle because it comes so near the truth.

Of course it is good to do this, but Eliphaz says it as though he was above Job's level. He speaks rightly of how great God is, lifting the lowly to places of dignity. But Job at the time was not lifted up, so Eliphaz thought Job was not right with God!

Does God not sometimes test people? The rains are not only for fruitful seasons; they can also destroy the fruit, and greatly try the poor farmer. What we find in these men is entirely one-sided pleading. It is not the whole case at all; it is never the full case. It is not the judge; it is the mere advocate; and in this case Job was the poor defendant. They were all set on hunting Job down. They wanted to find the secret wickedness that they believed lay behind all his trial. They were all wrong.

The apostle Paul quotes the words of Eliphaz in the New Testament. God Himself says that what they had spoken was not right. Yet the Holy Spirit gave the whole book by inspiration, and uses the words of one of them as Scripture. Certainly the two things fit together, and very simply. Look at the words of Eliphaz on their own, and they contain nothing but truth. Weigh them as applied to Job, and they are inexcusably wrong. In the New Testament the application is as right as the words themselves.

It is surely right to lay up God's words in our heart, but to accept the words of Eliphaz as God's word is a different matter. Job had not left the Almighty, so to tell him to return was insulting. Let us never treat a suffering believer as an unbeliever.

It is always good to advise men to trust in God, for He never fails those who trust in Him. "Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him." "Cast your burden on the LORD." He is powerful, good and kind. He can lift up those who are bowed down. He refreshes their dried-up spirits as the rain refreshes thirsty ground. So taken on its own, this advice is good. But the assumption underneath it is that Job is suffering for his sins. Given that, it can only irritate. It is all the more subtle because it comes so near the truth — as Job will learn in due time.

So Job should accept his suffering from God and turn to Him in prayer. God is not only great beyond anything a creature can search out. He is also generous — and generous in a moral way to the lowest and most wretched, just as surely as He defeats the crafty and the strong.

He goes on speaking truly of how great God is. God does great things, unsearchable and marvellous. He sends rain to bless man, and He lifts the lowly to places of honour (vv. 9-11). But Job at the time was not lifted up, so Eliphaz thought Job was not right with God!

But does not God sometimes try people? The rains are not only for fruitful seasons, but can destroy the fruit. The rains may greatly try the poor farmer and the labourer, and it may all turn out quite the other way. What we find in these men is entirely one-sided argument. It is not the whole case at all; it is never the full case. It is not the judge speaking; it is merely the advocate — and in this case Job was the poor defendant.

In Job 5 Eliphaz keeps to this note, and again he points to what he had seen. Verse 3 begins, "I have seen …". In his second speech he says again, "what I have seen I will declare" (Job 15:17). So his argument rests mainly on his own powers of observation. He trusted those powers for his opinion about what Job's disasters meant.

One only has to examine the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they contain nothing but truth. But if we weigh them as applied to Job, they are inexcusably wrong… The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz in both the first letter to the Corinthians and the letter to the Hebrews. There the application is perfectly right. In the history given in the Old Testament the application was wrong, and the speakers were reproved for it.

The first address of Eliphaz closes with a marvellous climax built on the same wrong assumption — that Job had sinned and must seek God. But Job had not renounced God; he had not left Him. Apart from that, this closing statement shows the gracious power of the Almighty in a most blessed way.

So Job should accept his suffering from God and turn to Him in prayer. God is not only great beyond anything a creature can search out. He is also generous, and generous in a moral way to those brought lowest, as surely as He defeats the crafty and the strong.

It is always good to advise men to trust in God; for He never fails those who trust in Him. "Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before Him." "Cast your burden on the LORD." He is powerful, good and kind. He can lift up those who are bowed down, refreshing their parched spirits as the rain refreshes the thirsty land.

But does not God sometimes try people? And the rains are not merely for fruitful seasons, but to destroy the fruit. The rains may be such as to greatly try the poor farmer; and it may all turn out quite the other way. What we find in these men is entirely one-sided pleading. It is not the whole case at all; it is never the full case. This is not the judge speaking; it is only the advocate — and in this case Job was the poor defendant.

He goes on to speak rightly of how great God is. God does great things, unsearchable and marvellous. He sends rain to bless people, and He lifts the lowly to places of dignity (vv.9-11). But Job at the time was not lifted up, so Eliphaz thought Job was not right with God!

You only have to look at the words of Eliphaz to see that, in themselves, they contain nothing but truth. But weigh them as applied to Job, and they are inexcusably wrong… In the Old Testament history the application was wrong, and God reproved the speakers for it. In the New Testament the application is as right as the words themselves; all is in place.

God is Creator and Governor of the universe, and it delights Him to pour His good gifts on people, despite their unworthiness and ingratitude. "The LORD is good to all, and His mercy is over all that He has made" (Ps. 145:9). The Lord Jesus, telling His disciples to love their enemies, said, "so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust" (Matt. 5:45). Paul and Barnabas told a crowd in the city of Lystra about the one true God: "He did not leave Himself without witness, for He did good by giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, satisfying your hearts with food and gladness" (Acts 14:17). The seasons, as they come and go, are lasting evidence of God's gracious interest in His creatures.

So Job should accept his suffering from God and turn to Him in prayer. God is not only great beyond anything a creature can search out. He is also generous, and generous in a moral way to those who are utterly low, just as certainly as He frustrates the crafty and the strong.

It is always good to advise men to trust in God; for He never fails those who trust in Him. He is powerful, good and kind, and can lift up those who are bowed down, refreshing their parched spirits as the rain refreshes the thirsty land. So, taken on its own, this advice is good. But underneath it lies the belief that Job is suffering for his sins, and that can only irritate him. It is as though he were saying, "Sin is common to all, as trouble is to all. So humble yourself as a sinner before God, and He will lift you up." It is all the more subtle because it comes so near the truth.

He goes on speaking rightly about how great God is. God does great things, unsearchable and marvellous. He sends rain to bless people, and He lifts the lowly to places of dignity (vv.9-11). But Job at the time was not lifted up, so Eliphaz thought Job was not right with God!

But does not God sometimes try people? And the rains do not only bring fruitful seasons; they also destroy the fruit. The rain may be a heavy trial to the poor farmer and the labourer, and it may all turn out the other way round. What we find in these men is entirely one-sided pleading. It is not the whole case at all; it is never the full case. This is not a judge speaking; it is a lawyer arguing one side, and in this case Job was the poor defendant.

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with the greatest dignity and force. Yet he misapplies it and tells only one side, so as a whole it is wrong. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His rule right now, measuring out prosperity or trouble to exactly what people deserve. This is false ground, and it ruins the whole application.

The humbling is to be in the presence of the Lord. It is an inward work that makes the soul aware of its own smallness next to the greatness of God. Our natural tendency is to lift ourselves up in front of one another. Only grace will lead us to humble ourselves before the Lord. As we do so, in His own time He will lift us up. Attempting to lift ourselves up, we shall be humbled.

He smashes the plans of the crafty, so that they achieve nothing. He catches the wise in their own craftiness, and He overturns the advice of the cunning. By day they run into darkness, and at noon they grope about as if it were night.

It is certainly true that God "takes the wise in their own craftiness," and that "Happy is the man whom God corrects." But we can see that all these facts are put in a way that turned them against poor Job… He had appeared to be wise, but now he was caught in his craftiness — so it seemed to Eliphaz.

He does not at first accuse Job of deceit, but he hints that this might be the case, since Job's plans had failed. Eliphaz had noticed that such things happen to crafty men. But why did he not also notice that righteous people often see their plans fail in the same way?

You only have to look at the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they contain nothing but truth. But weigh them as applied to Job, and they are wrong beyond excuse… The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz, both in the first letter to the Corinthians and in the letter to the Hebrews. There the application is perfectly good. In the Old Testament history the application was wrong, and God reproved the speakers for it.

But people often mistake inspiration for revelation, that is, for the infallible statement of divine truth. We have the inspired record of what Satan said to Eve and to our Lord, and of the words of wicked men like Pharaoh and Rabshakeh. Yet no one thinks of these words as the truth of God. In the same way, here we have an inspired record of what Job and his three friends said. Most of it was true, but it was out of place and wrongly applied.

The wisdom of this world wins the respect of the natural man. At times it may look very attractive even to the Christian, as it did to the believers at Corinth. Still, it is foolishness with God. The very wisdom of the world becomes its undoing, for it is written, "He takes the wise in their own craftiness." The wisdom of this world is mere craft, and it traps those who boast in it.

"The temple of God" is in view. As I come up to this building — and it is God's building — I see these words written over the entrance, as it were: "He takes the wise in their own craftiness." That says this to me: if you bring the wisdom of the world into this building, you will be found out.

Yes, God will triumph over evil, and He will make His people "more than conquerors through Him that loved them." But it will not be in man's way, and He alone will be exalted.

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with great dignity and force. Yet it is misapplied and one-sided, and so, in effect, wrong as a whole. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government right now, measuring prosperity or trouble exactly to what people deserve. That is false ground, and it spoils the way he applies it — above all to a man like Job, who was handed over to be attacked by Satan.

There can be no question that this book is inspired. But people often mistake inspiration for revelation, that is, for a statement of divine truth that cannot fail. We have the inspired record of what Satan said to Eve, and to our Lord. We have the recorded words of wicked men, like Pharaoh and Rabshakeh. But no one thinks of these words as the truth of God. In the same way, we have here an inspired record of what Job and his three friends said. Most of it was true, but it was out of place and misapplied.

Some of the things Eliphaz says in this chapter are perfectly true. It is certainly true that God "catches the wise in their own craftiness"... But we can see that he brings all these facts in so that they turn against poor Job... It is obvious that all these remarks carried a hint of accusation against Job. He had appeared to be wise, but now he was caught in his craftiness — so it appeared to Eliphaz.

At first he does not accuse Job of deceit. He hints that it might be true, since Job's plans had come to nothing. Eliphaz had noticed that such things happen to crafty men. Why did he not also notice that righteous people often suffer the same kind of frustration?

No matter how man may plan, no matter how cunning the enemy may be, it will all come to nothing, for the Lord is above all. Eliphaz the Temanite expressed this truth well when he said: "He catches the wise in their own craftiness, and the schemes of the wily are brought to a quick end."

What a morning of bewilderment, humiliation, and terror for Daniel's enemies! They had worked at evil, planned trouble, and given birth to lies. They dug a pit and fell into the hole they had made. The harm they planned came back on their own heads... They became easy victims of the hungry beasts of prey. How true it is that "He catches the wise in their own craftiness."

Ezekiel among the prophets, and James among the apostles, confirm the life, trials, and death of Job. Paul confirms the divine character of the book by quoting from it. He introduces the quotation with the usual formula, "it is written" (1 Cor. 3:19, with Job 5:13).

"The temple of God" is in view. As I come up to this building — and it is God's building — I see these words written over the entrance, as it were: "He catches the wise in their own craftiness." This is what it says to me: if you bring the wisdom of the world into this building, you will be found out.

He breaks the plans of the crafty to pieces, so that they can achieve nothing. He takes the wise in their craftiness, and He overturns the advice of the cunning. By day they run into darkness, and at noon they grope as if it were night.

The wisdom of this world wins the respect of the natural man. At times it may look very attractive even to a Christian, as it did to the believers at Corinth. Still, it is foolishness with God. The very wisdom of the world becomes its undoing, for it is written, "He takes the wise in their own craftiness". The wisdom of this world is mere craft, and it traps those who boast in it.

Some of the sayings of Eliphaz in this chapter are perfectly true. It is certainly true that God "takes the wise in their own craftiness." But we can see that he brings all these facts forward in a way that turned them against poor Job… Job had appeared to be wise, but now he was taken in his craftiness — so it appeared to Eliphaz.

Eliphaz had noticed that such things happened to crafty men. But why did he not also notice that righteous people often suffered the same kind of frustration?

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with great dignity and force. Yet he misapplies it, and it is one-sided, so the whole thing is wrong in effect. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government now, and measures out prosperity or trouble exactly as men deserve. That is false ground, and it spoils the application — above all to a man like Job, who was handed over to be attacked by Satan.

So this is what is left. In all the New Testament there is one somewhat doubtful reference to Job's own words, and this single quotation of the words of Eliphaz, in 1 Corinthians 3:19: "He takes the wise in their own craftiness."

Someone puts it like this: "The speaker is Eliphaz, whose reading of God's dealings with Job was condemned. His abstract principles were right, though his application of them in Job's case was wrong." But this is not true. God's own words draw a clear distinction between Job and his three friends: Job had spoken what was right about Him, and they had not.

Eliphaz begins his speech partly as a reply to Job's sad complaint, but mainly to give the help he thinks Job's spiritual condition needs. The speech, in chapters 4 and 5, has great dignity and beauty of language, and holds much truth that is plain to see. It falls into seven parts … (5) Eliphaz urges Job to seek God (verses 6-11). (6) God's triumph over evil (verses 12-16). (7) The uses of affliction (verses 17-27).

He had also observed that the Lord saves the needy from the sword, from the mouth of powerful men — that is, from their cruel accusations — and from their persecution. So the poor have hope, and injustice is silenced (verses 15-16). This is true in the long run: God will certainly silence injustice. But in the meantime injustice often seems to prevail, and for this Eliphaz had no answer.

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with the greatest dignity and force. Yet it is misapplied and one-sided, so as a whole it is in effect wrong. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government right now, and measures out prosperity or trouble to match exactly what people deserve. That is false ground, and it spoils the way he applies his words — above all to a man like Job, who was handed over to be attacked by Satan.

Eliphaz is putting together his theory: "Be good, and you will be happy in the long run." Job would then be cleared, and all evil would have to shut its mouth. Eliphaz and his friends do have to learn this later, and these words read like a prophecy of what happens when Job prays for them. Yes, God will triumph over evil, and will make His people "more than conquerors through Him who loved us." But it will not be in man's way, and He alone will be exalted.

It is hard to imagine anything more crushing to the spirit of a godly man. There is no plain, definite charge, and they bring no facts to lay on his conscience. The judging spirit that ruled them kept their hearts from waiting until God showed the truth of things. It made them quick to seize, without even knowing it, on the sufferer's wild words, and to build on them the suspicion of worse deeds behind it all.

Oppression and slander are very hard to bear, and twice as hard when they come from friends. When his friends slandered him, Job felt it deeply. But for a long time he fought for his own good name instead of committing his way to the Lord. When at last he did commit it, God soon brought forth His righteousness as the light and His judgment as the noonday.

The address, in chapters 4 and 5, has much dignity and great beauty of expression, and contains much self-evident truth. It falls into seven portions: … (4) Experience of God's ways (Job 5:1-5). (5) Exhortation to Job to seek God (vv. 6-11). (6) God's triumph over evil (vv. 12-16). (7) The uses of affliction (vv. 17-27).

He had also seen that the Lord saves the needy from the sword. He saves them from the mouth — the cruel accusations — of powerful men, and from their persecution. So the poor have hope, and injustice is silenced (vv.15-16). This is true in the long run: God will certainly silence injustice. But in the meantime injustice often seems to win, and Eliphaz had no answer for this.

Eliphaz is working out his theory: "Be good, and you will be happy in the long run." Job would then be cleared, and all iniquity would have to stop its mouth. Eliphaz and his friends must indeed find this out later. These words are like a prophecy of what happens when Job prays for them. Yes, God will surely triumph over evil, and will make His people "more than conquerors through Him who loved them." But it will not be in man's way, and He alone will be exalted.

You only have to look at the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they contain nothing but truth. But if we weigh them as applied to Job, they are inexcusably wrong… The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz, both in the first letter to the Corinthians and in the letter to the Hebrews. There the application is perfectly good. In the history given in the Old Testament the application was wrong, and the speakers were reproved for it.

But we can see that he brings all these facts forward in a way that turned them against poor Job… It is obvious that all these remarks carried a hidden charge against Job. He had seemed to be wise, but now he was caught in his own craftiness — or so it looked to Eliphaz.

"Do not judge by appearances," said the law. We are bound to wait for solid fact. Sometimes a bad man puts on a good appearance, and we are not at all deceived by that. Sometimes a good man is in such circumstances that appearances are very much against him. There we have to take great care. So judging by appearances is very dangerous ground. That is exactly where they were.

Some of the things Eliphaz says in this chapter are completely true. For example, "Man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward," in this world of sin. It is also true that God "takes the wise in their own craftiness," and that "Happy is the man whom God corrects." But we can see that he put all these facts forward in a way that turned them against poor Job.

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with great dignity and force. Yet he applies it wrongly and one-sidedly, so in effect the whole thing is wrong. Eliphaz assumes that God is displaying His government right now, and that He measures prosperity or hardship exactly to what people deserve. This is false ground. It spoils the application, especially to someone like Job, who had been handed over to Satan's attacks.

"Behold, happy is the man whom God corrects" (ver. 17). He never thought that this was true of Job. He knew that Job was very unhappy, and so he did not count him as one of these at all... Eliphaz never imagined that it would come true in Job's own case. It was a vague sort of sermon; and although he called Job to apply it, he had no idea that God would apply it.

Again, he voices an excellent principle, "Happy is the man whom God corrects" (v.17). But Job did not feel happy. Of course, God was only beginning His correcting work with Job, and Job did not discern it... If Eliphaz had spoken this to Job in a kind and encouraging way, it might have helped him. Instead he blamed Job for not gaining that blessing by confessing he was guilty of secret sin.

We have the word musahr, meaning instruction, warning, advice; it covers chastisement too; Prov. 1:3; Job 5:17.

God does not only govern the world for outward blessing. He also governs each person directly and personally — a most gracious and precious truth... The Word draws two conclusions from this truth, that it is God's love. It will not be without a cause in me. It will never be without love in God. So I am not to despise it, because there is a cause in me that makes the Holy God of love act this way. I am not to lose heart, because it is His love that does it. It is the correcting of a son in whom his Father delights.

The principle is this: "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent." (v. 19) Hardly anyone would question that this principle applies to those in relationship with Christ (compare Job 5:17-18; Proverbs 3:11-12; Amos 3:2; Hebrews 12:5-8). It lies at the very foundation of the way God governs His people in this world... So this warning comes out of the tenderness and the love of His own heart.

No matter how great the afflictions are, or how often they come, deliverance will arrive in due time... We are led to look past every apparent cause, every human instrument, and even Satan himself. We are led to see that Hand which "will never cause His child a needless tear." So our blessed Lord took that great affliction at the hands of God: "The cup which my Father has given Me, shall I not drink it?"

The relief also comes from the same blessed source: "His hands make whole." How good it is to know that all the trial and the relief — comes from Him.

Happy indeed is he who receives chastening at the loving hands of God; we are neither to despise nor to faint under such dealings. No matter how great the afflictions, or how often they come, deliverance will arrive in due time... Let the sufferer only say, "It is your hand," "I know that in faithfulness you have afflicted me." The Scriptures are full of this precious truth for the child of God. This truth leads us to look past all apparent causes, all human instruments, or even Satan himself, to see that Hand which "will never cause His child a needless tear."

Every word may be true in itself; all is said with the utmost dignity and force; yet it is misapplied and one-sided, and so, in effect, wrong as a whole. Eliphaz assumes that God at the present time is displaying His government, giving each person exactly the prosperity or trouble he deserves. This is false ground, and it spoils the application, above all to a man like Job, handed over to Satan's attacks and tested by God to the end — not the bitter end, but the sweet.

Again, he voices an excellent principle, "Happy is the man whom God corrects" (v.17). But Job did not feel happy. Of course, God was only beginning His correcting work with Job, and Job did not discern it... If Eliphaz had spoken this to Job in a kind and encouraging way, it might have helped him. Instead he was blaming Job for not gaining such blessing — for not confessing that he was guilty of secret sin.

Abstract truth is altogether useless for the saints of God. Things that are true, but misunderstood and misapplied, may do more harm than many a thing that is false. Misapplied truth gives an error the apparent authority of God. That error carries all the more weight because it comes as the truth. If someone says a foolish thing, or one clearly false, people despise it; but no believer can slight the truth of God. So if people misuse the truth of God — if they use it to crush someone who is an object of intense interest to God at the time, how foreign and offensive to His mind!

Hardly anyone will question that this principle applies to those in relationship with Christ (compare Job 5:17-18; Proverbs 3:11-12; Amos 3:2; Hebrews 12:5-8, and others). It lies at the very foundation of the way God governs His people in this world... It is therefore out of the tenderness, out of the love of His own heart, that this warning proceeds. He never afflicts willingly.

Now Jehovah can lift His hand from the sufferer, and turn all the grievous captivity into full and prosperous recovery. Job can say, I "have received double from the Lord's hand." The relatives and acquaintances who had fled from him and despised him return with gifts and sympathy.

In the end Eliphaz urges Job to submit to the correcting hand of God, who would surely deliver him from all evil and bless him with all good. And he says this not only in his own name, but in his friends' name too, counting confidently on their full agreement.

Every word may be true in itself. He says it all with great dignity and force. Yet he misapplies it, and it is one-sided, so in effect the whole thing is wrong. Eliphaz assumes that God is right now displaying His rule, measuring prosperity or hardship exactly by what people deserve. This is false ground, and it spoils the way he applies his words, especially to someone like Job.

Eliphaz could tell him, "Therefore despise not the discipline of the Almighty, for He wounds, but He binds up; He shatters, but His hands heal. He will deliver you from six troubles; in seven no evil shall touch you." If Eliphaz had said this to Job in a kind and encouraging way, it might have helped him. But he was blaming Job for not gaining that blessing by admitting he was guilty of secret sin.

So the relief also comes from the same blessed source: "His hands heal." How good it is to know that all the trial and the relief comes from Him.

Happy indeed is the one who receives correction from the loving hands of God. We are neither to despise it nor to lose heart under such dealings. However great or often repeated the afflictions are, deliverance will come in due time.

Eliphaz mentions the worst outward trials, famine and war, even to the point of destruction. He also mentions the inner, bitter pains Job was suffering at that very moment, caused by the biting tongue. No harmful animal can injure him, for when someone is right with God, He makes all things his friends… We can carry the view further, in the clearer light of the New Testament, and ask: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?"

And the remarkable thing is that this was how it ended. Little did Eliphaz think that his words would come true in Job's case. It was more of a general sermon. He called on Job to apply it, but he had no idea that God would apply it, and that God would bring Job out more blessed than ever.

As we open Job 5, we find Eliphaz continuing on this note and again he refers to what he had seen. Verse 3 begins, "I have seen …" And if we turn to Job 15, which holds his second speech, we again find him saying, "That which I have seen I will declare." So it is clear that the weight of his argument rests mainly on his own powers of observation. In those powers he trusted for his opinion of the meaning of the calamities that had fallen on Job.

Going into detail, Eliphaz mentions the worst outward trials: famine and war, even to the point of destruction. He also mentions those inner, bitter pains caused by the biting tongue, which Job was suffering at that very moment. No harmful beast can injure him, for when a person is right with God, He makes all things his friends… We can carry the view further in the clearer light of the New Testament, and ask: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."

Yet this is too remarkable to pass by. The Spirit of God uses as Scripture the very words that the LORD later treated as a false picture, not only of Job but of Himself… You only have to examine the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they hold nothing but truth. But weigh them as applied to Job, and they are wrong beyond excuse… The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz, both in the first letter to the Corinthians and in the letter to the Hebrews. There the application is perfectly right. In the Old Testament story the application was wrong, and God rebuked the men who spoke it.

Happy indeed is the person who takes correction from the loving hands of God. We are not to despise such dealings, and we are not to lose heart under them. However great the afflictions, and however often they come, deliverance will arrive in due time… Let the sufferer only say, "It is Your hand," and, "I know that in faithfulness You have afflicted me." The Scriptures are full of this precious truth for the child of God. They lead us to look past every apparent cause, past every human instrument, past even Satan himself, and to see that Hand which "will never cause His child a needless tear."

In verses 20 to 27 Eliphaz describes the many blessings that would be Job's if he took the advice of Eliphaz. God did in the end give these blessings to Job, but only after He spoke to him in chapters 38-41. God broke Job down, so that he judged the pride of his own sinful nature. Eliphaz had not seen what Job truly needed — the same need Eliphaz himself had… Can we depend on another person's word so far as to know it is fact? No: we need more than another person's observation, we need the Word of God to be certain as to any serious matter.

Every word may be true in itself. It is all said with great dignity and force. Yet it is misapplied and one-sided, and so, in effect, wrong as a whole. Eliphaz assumes that God is right now displaying His government, measuring prosperity or trouble to people exactly as they deserve. This is false ground, and it undermines the application, especially to a man like Job, who was handed over to be attacked by Satan.

Some of the sayings of Eliphaz in this chapter are perfectly true. For instance, "Man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward," in this world of sin. It is also true that God "takes the wise in their own craftiness," and that "Happy is the man whom God corrects." But we can see that he put all these facts forward in a way that turned them against poor Job.

They decided to "strike him with the tongue" and to spread false rumours about him. Backbiting and slander would stop his preaching and keep anyone from listening to his words. When David had a similar experience he prayed to God, saying, "Hide me from the secret plots of the wicked... who have sharpened their tongue like a sword, and have aimed their arrow, a bitter word" (Ps. 64:2-3). The "scourge of the tongue" is mentioned in Job 5:21.

Going into detail, Eliphaz mentions the worst outward trials — famine and war, even to destruction. He also mentions the inner, bitter pains caused by the biting tongue, which Job was suffering at that very time... We can carry the view further in the clearer light of the New Testament, and ask: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?... No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."

We are led to look past every apparent cause, past every human instrument, past even Satan himself. We are to see that Hand which "will never cause His child a needless tear." So our blessed Lord took that great affliction from the hands of God: "Shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?"

If Eliphaz had said this to Job in a kind and encouraging way, it may have helped him. Instead, he was blaming Job for not gaining that blessing by confessing that he was guilty of secret sin.

The remarkable thing is that this really was the end. Eliphaz had little idea that it would come true in Job's case. It was more of a vague sermon. He called Job to apply it, but he had no idea that God would apply it, or that God would bring Job out more blessed than ever.

Again, it is his own observation that he depends on, but he urges Job to hear it and know for himself. Can we so depend on another person's word as to know it is fact? No: we need more than another person's observation, we need the Word of God to be certain as to any serious matter.

As we open Job 5, we find Eliphaz continuing on this note and again he refers to what he had seen. Verse 3 begins, "I have seen …". Turn to Job 15, which records his second speech, and again we find him saying, "what I have seen I will declare" (verse 17). So his argument rests mainly on his own powers of observation. He trusted those powers to tell him what Job's disasters meant.

He is genuinely shocked at Job's outburst. He then sets out his law that God repays every person in this present life. He does this more to lift Job out of his wild despair into godly speech than to condemn him as ungodly. If Job did fear God, as Eliphaz still believed, why was that not his confidence? Why were his upright ways not his hope? Clearly Eliphaz knew as little as Job about where this trial came from, what it was, and what it was for.

Coming to the detail, Eliphaz names the worst trials from outside: famine and war, even to destruction. He names the inner, bitter pains too, caused by a biting tongue — the very pains Job was suffering at that moment. No harmful beast can injure such a man, for when one is right with God, He makes all things his friends. The home of the righteous stays secure, and his descendants bear witness to the faithfulness of God. Death only closes this beautiful picture in calm — the old believer gathered to his ancestors like a sheaf of grain fully ripe. We can extend the view in the clearer light of the New Testament, and ask: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us."

You only have to examine the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they contain nothing but truth. But weigh them as applied to Job, and they are wrong beyond excuse. How wise is the way of the Lord! How deep and admirable is what God has given us in the Scriptures! The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz both in the first letter to the Corinthians and in the letter to the Hebrews. There the application is entirely right. In the Old Testament story the application was wrong, and God reproved the speakers for it.

In verses 20 to 27 Eliphaz describes the many blessings that would be Job's if he took the advice of Eliphaz. In the end God did give these blessings to Job. That came after He spoke to Job in chapters 38-41 and broke him down to judge the pride of his own sinful nature. But Eliphaz had not seen what Job truly needed — the very need Eliphaz had himself.

If Eliphaz had said this to Job in a kind, encouraging way, it might have helped him. Instead he was blaming Job for not gaining such blessing, since Job would not confess that he was guilty of secret sin.

In the end, Eliphaz advises Job to submit to the chastening hand of God. God would surely rescue him from all evil and bless him with all good. And Eliphaz says this not just for himself, but in the name of his friends, whose full agreement he counts on with confidence.

Going into detail, Eliphaz mentions the worst outward trials: famine and war, even destruction. He also names the inner, bitter pains Job was suffering at that very moment, caused by the biting tongue. No harmful beast can hurt him. When someone is right with God, He makes all things that person's friends. The home of the righteous stands secure. His children will bear witness to the faithfulness of God.

God Himself declares that what they said was not right. Yet the Holy Spirit gives it all by inspiration, and uses the words of one of these men as Scripture. These two things can be reconciled, and very simply. You only have to examine the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they contain nothing but truth. But weigh them as applied to Job, and they are inexcusably wrong. The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz, in the first letter to the Corinthians and in the letter to the Hebrews — and there the application is perfectly good.

It is clear that his argument rests for its force mainly on his own powers of observation. In those powers he trusted for his opinion about the meaning of the disasters that had fallen on Job.

Can we depend on another person's word so far as to know it is fact? No. We need more than another person's observation. We need the Word of God to be certain about any serious matter.

In verses 20 to 27 Eliphaz describes the many blessings that would be Job's if he took his advice. In fact God did give these blessings to Job in the end. It happened after He spoke to Job in chapters 38-41 and broke him down, so that Job judged the pride of his own sinful nature. But Eliphaz had not discerned what Job really needed — the same need that Eliphaz himself had.

Again, the ferocity of the wild beasts is restrained, and man's supremacy established. All nature is made subject to the Son of Man — the Second Man: "all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea" (Ps. 8:7-8). So "the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat … and a little child shall lead them" (Isa. 11:6).

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."

The advice given toward the end of his speech was good. Job should not despise the chastening of the Almighty. He should accept the correction. Then the tide of evil would turn and blessing would come in. The closing verses speak of God's deliverance coming in; of renewed prosperity. Verse 24 has been rendered, "You shall know that your tent is in peace; and you will survey your fold, and miss nothing." Verse 25 speaks of many descendants. Verse 26 speaks of Job himself reaching the end of his life at a good old age.

This does not mean that Job's words, or those of his three friends, were a revelation from God. It means that God gave an accurate record of what they said, even though in some cases what they said was wrong. In other cases their words were right, but their application of the truth was not correct.

And the remarkable thing is that that was the end; and little did Eliphaz think that it would be verified in Job's case. His speech was more like a general sermon. He called Job to apply it, but he had no idea that God would apply it, and that God would bring Job out more blessed than ever.

In verses 20 to 27 Eliphaz describes the many blessings that would be Job's if he took the advice of Eliphaz. In the end God did give Job these blessings, after He spoke to him in chapters 38-41 and Job was broken down to judge the pride of his own sinful nature. But Eliphaz had not seen what Job really needed — the same need that Eliphaz himself had.

These things did mark Job's later days, as we know. But Eliphaz was hinting at something else. He meant that Job had no such prosperity at that moment because God was punishing him for sin — sin that had lain hidden under the surface of his life in the past. Eliphaz closed by confidently claiming that his words were true. "So it is," he declared, for he had searched it out and seen it for himself.

If Eliphaz had spoken this to Job in a kind and encouraging way, it might have helped him. Instead he was blaming Job for not gaining such blessing, because Job would not confess that he was guilty of secret sin.

The first address of Eliphaz closes with a wonderful climax, but it rests on the same wrong premises: that Job had sinned, and that he must seek God. Yet Job had not renounced God; he had not left Him. Apart from that, these closing words of Eliphaz declare the gracious power of the Almighty in a most blessed way. Read these verses and take the help and comfort they breathe.

The closing verses speak of God's deliverance coming in; of renewed prosperity. One translation of verse 24 reads, "You shall know that your tent is in peace; and you will survey your fold, and miss nothing." Verse 25 speaks of many descendants. Verse 26 speaks of Job himself coming to his end in ripe old age.

You only have to examine the words of Eliphaz to see that in themselves they contain nothing but truth. But if we weigh them as applied to Job, they are inexcusably wrong. How wise is the way of the Lord! How deep and admirable is what Scripture gives us! The New Testament quotes the words of Eliphaz, both in the first letter to the Corinthians and in the letter to the Hebrews. There the application is perfectly good. In the history given in the Old Testament the application was wrong, and the speakers were reproved for it.

In verses 20 to 27 Eliphaz describes the many blessings that would be Job's if he took the advice of Eliphaz. In fact, God did give these blessings to Job later, after He spoke to him in chapters 38 to 41 and Job was broken down to judge the pride of his own sinful nature. But Eliphaz had not seen what Job really needed — the same need that Eliphaz himself had.

The end would be that "your offspring shall be many, and your descendants as the grass of the earth. You shall come to your grave in ripe old age, like a sheaf gathered up in its time." The remarkable thing is that this was the end. Eliphaz had little idea that it would come true in Job's case. It was more a vague sermon. He called Job to apply it, but he had no idea that God would apply it.

We have reached the end. It is an end of peace, a perfect day. He sees four generations, and at the ripe old age of 140 years he is gathered to his fathers.

The dwelling of the righteous stays secure, and his descendants will bear witness to the faithfulness of God. Death only closes the beautiful picture with calmness — the aged saint gathered to his fathers like a sheaf of grain fully ripe. We can carry the view further in the clearer light of the New Testament, and ask: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."

The advice given toward the end of his speech was good. Job should not despise the discipline of the Almighty. He should accept the correction, and then the tide of evil would turn and blessing come in. The closing verses speak of God's deliverance coming in, and of renewed prosperity. One rendering of verse 24 reads, "You shall know that your tent is at peace, and you shall inspect your fold and miss nothing." Verse 25 speaks of many descendants, and verse 26 of Job himself coming to his end in ripe old age.

Going into detail, Eliphaz mentions the worst outward trials of famine and war, even to the point of destruction, and the inner, bitter pains Job was suffering from at that very moment, caused by the biting tongue. No harmful animal can injure him, for when a person is right with God, He makes all things his friends. The home of the righteous stays secure, and his children will bear witness to the faithfulness of God. Death only closes the beautiful picture with calmness — the aged saint gathered to his fathers like a shock of corn fully ripe.

The remarkable thing is that this was exactly how it ended. Eliphaz never thought his words would come true in Job's case. He was preaching in a vague sort of way. He called Job to apply it, but he had no idea that God would apply it, and that God would bring Job out more blessed than ever.

Notice that the Holy Spirit is pleased to endorse the words of Eliphaz. He does this not only in the earlier revelations, but in the fullest light of the New Testament. We see it in the apostle's use of them when writing to the Corinthians and to the Hebrews. And the outcome in the book itself set a remarkable seal on the truth of his closing words — a seal Eliphaz himself most likely did not expect. At the time, no doubt, those words fell coldly on the ear and heart of the sufferer.

Happy scene! Precious fruit of divine ministry! What remains? What more is needed? What is left, but for the hand of God to lay the top stone on the beautiful structure? Nor is this lacking, for we read, "the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before." But how? By what means? Was it by his own independent industry and clever management? No; all is changed. Job is on new moral ground. He has new thoughts of God, new thoughts of himself, new thoughts of his friends, new thoughts of his circumstances; all things have become new.

Yes, we may look on beyond the death of the aged saint to the glorious resurrection, and catch the light of the bright hope of the Morning Star: "the Lord Himself will descend from heaven … and we who are alive … will be caught up … to meet the Lord in the air."

The seventh and closing section of the speech is admirable in expression and excellent in its doctrine, if its inner meaning is seen. In the mouth of Eliphaz, as the high point of his masterful speech, it must be taken with all the qualifications already mentioned.

So, taken by itself, this counsel is good; but remembering the underlying principle that Job is suffering for his sins, it can only irritate. It is as though he were saying: "Sin is common to all, just as trouble is. So humble yourself as a sinner before God, and He will exalt you." It is all the more subtle because it comes so near the truth.

It is clear then that his argument mainly rests for its strength upon his own powers of observation. In those powers he trusted for his opinion of the meaning of the calamities that had fallen upon Job.

Again, it is his own observation that he depends on, but he urges Job to hear it and know it for himself. Can we depend on another person's word to the point of knowing it is fact? No: we need more than another person's observation, we need the Word of God to be certain about any serious matter.

In the end Eliphaz advises Job to submit to the chastening hand of God, who would surely deliver him from all evil and bless him with all good. And he gives this advice not only in his own name, but in the name of his friends, whose complete agreement he counts on with confidence.

There may be more harm done by things which are true, misunderstood and misapplied, than by many a thing that is false; because misapplied truth gives the apparent authority of God to an error, which has all the more weight because it comes as the truth. If a foolish thing is said, or one plainly false, people despise it; but no believer can slight the truth of God.

Similarly here we have an inspired record of what Job and his three friends said, but while most of it was true, it was out of place and misapplied.

The remarkable thing is that this was how it ended. Eliphaz little thought it would come true in Job's case. It was more a sermon in a vague way. He called Job to apply it. But he had no idea that God would apply it, or that God would bring Job out more blessed than before.

In his reply to Eliphaz, and in his replies to each of the others, notice that Job addressed them as a group and not one by one. There is, indeed, an answer to the last speaker in each case. But Job clearly recognizes a unity of feeling in the attitude of all three. Each is the mouthpiece of all, and he addresses his answer to them together.

Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar follow in regular succession, Job replying to each of them... Then follows a new person, Elihu, who silences Job as firmly as Job had silenced the three. Finally Jehovah closes everything, and solves the problem of the book at the last.

He knew Eliphaz had not truly weighed Job's grief. If he had, he would have shown more compassion for the poor sufferer. Job says, "Therefore my words have been rash." He had spoken as one in deepest anguish. So he had inferred that God was not just in allowing this suffering to one who was upright. Of course it is rash to say such a thing. But Job's friends should have seen the state he was in. It practically forced wrong words out of his mouth. Could they not make some allowance for this?

Job's piety made him own that God not only must be, but was, involved in all these calamities; and he was right so far. Job did not blame the raiders from Sheba or the Chaldeans, the lightning, the hurricane, or the disease. He looked far beyond these secondary instruments. He was right to bring God into the trouble. But he was wrong in one of two ways, as we shall find at the end. Either he supposed there was nothing to correct in his soul, or he supposed God could be something other to him than gracious while faithful, and patient while righteous. He did not take account of the power of evil and of Satan, which God allows but also limits. He did not hold fast, as he should have, that God lets His own people suffer in this world in a special way out of love to them.

Now, it was this misapplication of truth that Satan so used in the speeches of Job's friends. Chapter 6 shows that this gave Job a terrible shaking... This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had but known it, God was for him.

Eliphaz suggests to Job that he deserved these afflictions... Because of this, Job is now (Job 6, Job 7) not so much occupied with his misery. He is occupied with his right to complain, and with trying to throw his friend's suggestions back at him. He gives us a history of his troubles, with disappointment in his friends added to the list. He is busy defending himself... What lessons of anguish one has to learn before one sees the wisdom of giving up self! What must the soul pass through in discipline before it reaches that point!

One only, and He for no sin of His own, has felt the arrows of God piercing His holy soul. "Why have You forsaken Me?" He asks. But not for one moment does He doubt the holiness or goodness of God. "You are holy" is enough for Him. In meekness He drinks the bitter cup — perfect in His sufferings, as in everything else. God could not for a moment lay on poor Job the sin of mankind, though there was no one else like him on earth. Of Another He can say, "I have found a ransom."

Eliphaz had reproached Job for giving in to despair. But Job asks him only to weigh his misery. It would be found as heavy as the sand of the sea — an image used elsewhere for great numbers. That is why his words are "rash" — which is probably the better translation. Who can hold back hasty words when the arrows of the Almighty pierce him and His terrors hang over him?

"Oh that my vexation were weighed" — that is exactly where they were wrong. They only looked at the surface — "and all my calamity laid in the balances!" No, they had no proper balances. They were all one-sided.

He knew Eliphaz had not weighed Job's grief properly. If he had, he would have had more compassion for the poor sufferer (vv.2-3). Job says, "Therefore my words have been rash." He had spoken as a man in deepest anguish. So he had concluded that God was not just in allowing such suffering to an upright man. Of course it is rash to say such a thing, but his friends should have seen that his condition all but forced the wrong words out of his mouth. Could they not make some allowance for this?

Job's piety made him admit that God not only must be, but was, involved in all these calamities; and he was right so far. Job did not lay the blame on the men of Sheba or the Chaldeans, the lightning, the hurricane, or the disease, but looked far beyond the secondary instruments. He was right to bring God into the trouble. But he was wrong, as we shall find at the end. He supposed either that there was nothing in his soul to correct, or that God could be anything other to him than gracious while faithful, and patient while righteous.

Here we have the part of his suffering that was probably worse than the physical side. What gave his grief its sharp edge was the sense that God's wrath was on him. He felt the dreadful poison of His anger consuming him. We know this was a mistake. God was chastening His poor servant, and that was another proof of His love. But he did not know it, and we should not be harsh with one who felt that the Lord was dealing bitterly with him.

Satan used this misuse of truth in the speeches of Job's friends. Chapter 6 shows that it gave Job a terrible shaking… He felt the arrows of the Almighty inside him, their poison drinking up his spirit, and the terrors of God lined up against him. This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had only known it, God was for him.

So Job is now (Job 6, Job 7) taken up not so much with his misery as with his right to complain and answer back the suggestions of his friend. He is taken up with defending himself. At the same time he is only more convinced that his days are empty. What lessons of anguish one has to learn before one sees the wisdom of giving up self! How the soul is tormented by one suggestion after another. These could never reach or trouble it except for the amount of self that is there.

Job's answer is in chapter 6. "Oh that my grief were thoroughly weighed" — that is just where they were wrong. They only looked at the surface. "And my calamity laid in the balances together." No, they had no proper balances. They were all one-sided. "For now it would be heavier than the sand of the sea" — and so it was — "therefore my words are swallowed up." They were all confused. He admits his language was not what it ought to be. Inward suffering and desperate pain pressed him so hard that his words were quite confused. They were not quietly spoken, but swallowed up in the violence of his emotion.

Eliphaz had reproached Job for giving in to despair. Job asks him only to weigh his misery. Weighed, it would prove as heavy as the sand of the sea — an image used elsewhere for great numbers. That is why his words are "rash" — which is probably the better rendering. Who can hold back reckless words when the arrows of the Almighty pierce him and His terrors overshadow him?

Job's godliness made him own that God not only must be, but was, concerned in all these calamities; and he was right so far. Job did not blame the Sheba or the Chaldeans, the lightning, the hurricane, or the disease. He looked far beyond these second causes. He was right to bring God into the trouble. But he was wrong, as we find at the end. He either supposed that nothing in his soul needed correcting, or that God could be anything other than gracious while faithful, and long-suffering while righteous. He left out the power of evil and of Satan, which God permits but also measures. And he did not hold on, as he ought, to this: God allows His own to suffer in a special way in this world, and He does it in love.

Satan used this misapplied truth in the speeches of Job's friends. Chapter 6 shows that it gave Job a terrible shaking. He said, "For the arrows of the Almighty are in me; my spirit drinks their poison; the terrors of God are arrayed against me." This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had but known it, God was for him.

He knew Eliphaz had not truly weighed Job's grief. If he had, he would have shown more compassion for the poor sufferer (vv.2-3). Job says, "Therefore my words have been rash." He had spoken as a man in deepest anguish. Out of that anguish he had concluded that God was not just in letting an upright man suffer like this. Of course it is rash to say such a thing. But Job's friends should have seen his condition. It almost forced the wrong words out of his mouth. Could they not make some allowance for this?

Eliphaz had reproached Job for giving way to despair. Job asks him only to weigh his misery. It would be as heavy as the sand of the sea — an image used elsewhere for great numbers. This is why his words are "rash," which is probably the better rendering. Who can hold back wild words when the arrows of the Almighty pierce him and His terrors hang over him?

Scripture uses the poison of serpents and of asps as a symbol of the judgement of God, and of the malice found in the wicked... Job 6:4 apparently alludes to arrows being poisoned.

Shaddai, "the Almighty," is another name of God. It is often translated that way, especially in Job, with no other name attached... It was the name by which He was especially known to the patriarchs, as El Shaddai, God Almighty.

Job's piety made him acknowledge that God not only must be, but was, involved in all these calamities. He was right so far. Job did not blame the Sabeans or the Chaldeans, the lightning, the hurricane, or the disease. He looked far beyond these secondary causes. He was right to bring God into the trouble. But he was wrong, as we shall find at the end. He supposed either that there was nothing to correct in his soul, or that God could be something other than gracious while faithful, and long-suffering while righteous.

Here we have the part of his suffering that was probably sharper than the physical pain. What gave his grief its edge was the sense that God's wrath was upon him, and that the dreadful poison of His anger was consuming him. We know this was a mistake. God was chastening His poor servant in this way, and that was only another proof of His love. But he did not know it, and we should not be harsh with one who felt that the Lord was dealing bitterly with him... Dreadful doubts about God's love and goodness have begun to gnaw at his heart. That pain goes beyond the loss of his loved ones and his sores.

Job was stirred to reply. He begins by acknowledging that the arrows that had struck him came from the Almighty. But these friends of his had no proper sense of the weight of his calamity and grief.

Satan used this wrong handling of truth in the speeches of Job's friends. Job 6 shows that this gave Job a terrible shaking... This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had but known it, God was for him.

One only, and He for no sin of His own, has felt the arrows of God piercing His holy soul. "Why have you forsaken me?" He asks. But not for one moment does He doubt the holiness or the goodness of God. "You are holy" is enough for Him, and in meekness He drinks the bitter cup; perfect in His sufferings, as in all else. God could not for a moment lay the iniquity of mankind on poor Job — though there was not another like him on earth.

They had been talking about the lions — Eliphaz had, at any rate. But Job brings in a case that fits much better. "Does the wild donkey bray when he has grass?" If he has his proper food, does he bray as if he were starving? "Or the ox low over his fodder?" No, he eats it with thanks.

Job uses several pictures to show that he has good reason for the complaints his friends blame him for. Even a donkey or an ox will be content if it has its proper food. If it complains, we know it has not had its food.

Here we come to the part of his suffering that was probably sharper than anything he felt in his body. What gave his grief its sting was the sense that God's wrath was on him, that the dreadful poison of His anger was eating him up. We know this was a mistake. His poor servant was being disciplined, and that was one more proof of God's love. But Job did not know it, and we should not be harsh with a man who felt that the Lord was dealing bitterly with him.

Job did not blame the Sabeans or the Chaldeans, the lightning, the hurricane, or his disease. He looked far past these second causes. He was right to bring God into the trouble. But he was wrong in two ways, as we find at the end. He supposed there was nothing in his soul that needed correcting. And he supposed God could be something other than gracious while faithful, and patient while righteous. He also left out the power of evil and of Satan — a power God permits, but also measures. And he did not hold on, as he should have, to this: it is in love that God allows His own to be sufferers in this world in a special way.

God's word allows a groan, but never a grumble... Sadly, we as believers too often talk among ourselves about the failures of God's people in such a bitter spirit that the groaning becomes mere grumbling, or complaining about what God allows in His dealings with His people. It is good for us if we escape these traps by pouring out the anguish of our spirits, and the exercises of our souls, before the LORD.

One only, and He for no sin of His own, has felt the arrows of God piercing His holy soul. "Why have you forsaken me?" He asks. But not for one moment does He doubt the holiness or goodness of God. "You are holy," is enough for Him, and in meekness He drinks the bitter cup.

"Does the wild donkey bray when he has grass?" If he has got his proper food does he bray as if he were suffering from great hunger? "Or does the ox low over his fodder?" No, he thankfully eats it. "Can that which is tasteless be eaten without salt?" Here am I. Not one scrap of food comes to me without pain. I have nothing to make it pleasant, no salt with it. It is all poison, so to speak — poison that entered and drank up his spirit. "Or is there any taste in the white of an egg?" The best thing he could get was that which was altogether insipid and disagreeable.

Job uses several pictures to show that he has good reason for the complaints his friends criticize him for. Even a donkey or an ox will be content if he has his proper food. If he makes complaint, we know he has not received it. And can anyone expect Job to take his sufferings as if they were pleasant food — swallow them down, more sickening than the slime of the egg? It is as though he said, "See what loathsome things are set before me, and can you expect me to eat them without a murmur?"

Here we have the part of his sufferings that was probably more intense than the physical pain. It was the sense that God's wrath was upon him, that the dreadful poison of His indignation was consuming him, that gave a sharpness to his grief. We know this was a mistake, and that it was another proof of God's love that He was chastening His poor servant in this way. But he did not know it, and we should not be harsh with one who felt that the Lord was dealing bitterly with him.

This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If only Job had known it, God was for him.

One only, and He for no sin of His own, has felt the arrows of God piercing His holy soul. "Why have you forsaken Me?" He asks. But not for one moment does He doubt the holiness or goodness of God. "You are holy," is enough for Him, and in meekness He drinks the bitter cup; perfect in His sufferings, as in all else. God could never lay the sin of mankind on poor Job, though there was no one else like him on earth. Of Another He can say, "I have found a ransom."

But is this the language of faith — even of Old Testament faith? What of that noble army of martyrs? They "were tortured, refusing to accept release." They "suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment," and were "destitute, afflicted, mistreated" (Heb. 11:35–38). Would we expect to hear from these the complaints which fall from Job's lips? Paul could "take pleasure" in what fell upon him. But Job needs light, and must learn to trust God when he cannot understand Him.

Job uses several figures to show that he has just cause for the complaints his friends reproach him for. Even a donkey or an ox will be content if it has its proper food. If it complains, we know it has not been fed. And can Job be expected to take his sufferings as if they were pleasant food — to swallow them down, more sickening than the slime of an egg? It is as though he said, "See what disgusting things are set before me. Can you expect me to eat them without a murmur?" His "sorrowful food" was the things his soul hated.

Here am I, and not a morsel of food that does not cost me pain, and I have nothing to make it agreeable; no salt with it; it is all poison, as it were — poison that entered and drank up his spirit. The best thing he could get was completely tasteless and unpleasant.

Severe chastening pains come upon him, and his bones seem to wither in a struggle for life. He is brought so low that he hates even the food that would sustain his life.

Does he not have a perfect right to complain? He would not complain if all were well with him. But his afflictions are like disgusting food, and should he not murmur and complain? It is all the language of despairing grief.

That Eliphaz's argument counted for nothing in Job's case is clear. As soon as he stopped speaking, Job went on with the tale of his own sorrows. He gave no attention at all to those words, and mixed in much self-defence and bitter complaints against God's dealings (Job 6:7).

Here we have the element in his sufferings that probably exceeds the physical side in intensity. It was the sense that God's wrath was on him, that the dreadful poison of His anger was consuming him, that gave his grief its sharpness. We know this was a mistake, and that his being chastened like this was one more proof of God's love. But he did not know it, and we should not be harsh with a man who felt that the Lord was dealing bitterly with him. He could not have the full light that is ours now, so he could not "count it all joy" that he had fallen into such trouble. Dreadful doubts about God's love and goodness had begun to gnaw at his heart, with a pain beyond his losses and his sores.

One only, and He for no sin of His own, has felt the arrows of God piercing His holy soul. "Why have you forsaken Me?" He asks. But not for one moment does He doubt the holiness or goodness of God. "You are holy" is enough for Him, and in meekness He drinks the bitter cup; perfect in His sufferings, as in everything else. God could not for a moment lay on poor Job — though there was no one else like him on earth — the sin of mankind.

All this stirred Job to reply. He begins by acknowledging that the arrows that had struck him came from the Almighty. But these friends of his had no proper sense of the weight of his calamity and grief. He was being fed on sorrowful food, and he wanted God to cut him off completely rather than prolong his misery.

You see he had not the slightest fear of death. He was far above it. He did not look at death as gain — he could not do that, because he did not have Christ to make it gain. He looked to death as the end of his trouble, the end of his suffering. And so it would be. That, of course, was a very partial way of seeing it, and by no means up to what God was going to show him. But I mention it to show that he had no fear at all of the unseen world. What weighed on him was the trial he could not solve in this present tangled life.

In Elijah we see the man of God, but also the man who was tired of life. That was not a feeling of faith. There is very often much more faith in being willing to live than in wishing to die. … Having known the Saviour, we may flinch under the trials of this world. Elijah did, and he wished to die, wished to get out of the trial — a most unbelieving wish… Death to a believer is gain, but we ought not to wish for that gain until the Lord's time comes. We ought to wish to do His will — the only right wish for a saint.

Job has only one thing to ask of God: that He would take his life. This, he says, would be a comfort, because his conscious uprightness would sustain him. He has not rejected God's words, and he has not rebelled against Him. That was true, and indeed the fruit of God's grace in him. But Job is using this righteousness in a self-righteous way, to justify himself at the expense of God's righteousness. He follows this course until he grows bolder in it.

Again he expresses his desire for death, which he had prayed for before. He could not understand why God did not answer such a prayer. He was sure death was better than the anguish he was suffering (vv. 8-9). Yet he did not think of suicide as an option. He says he has not concealed the words of the Holy One. He had not been guilty of covering up anything God has spoken (v. 10): could God not then listen to Job's prayer for death?

Poor Job! How much he would have missed, and how much the whole family of faith would have missed, if God had taken him at his word!

Weighed in the light of the New Testament, all these expressions fall short. Death is not a friend whose visit is to be desired, but an enemy. The hope of God's people in affliction and sorrow, in the light of the gospel, is not relief by death, but 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 fears a hopeless future.

Again he expresses his desire for death, for which he had prayed before. He could not understand why God did not answer such a prayer, for he was sure death was preferable to the anguish he was suffering (vv.8-9). Yet he did not think of suicide being an option.

Here is the part of his suffering that was probably more intense than the physical side. What gave his grief its sharpness was the sense that God's wrath was on him, that the dreadful poison of His anger was eating into him. We know this was a mistake. The discipline God's poor servant was going through was one more proof of God's love. But he did not know it, and we should not be harsh with a man who felt that the Lord was dealing bitterly with him.

You see, he had not the slightest fear of death. He was well above that. But he did not look at death as gain. He could not; he did not have Christ to make it gain. He looked to death as the end of his trouble, the end of his suffering. And so it would be. That, of course, was only a partial view, and nowhere near what God was going to show him. But I mention it to show that this was not any fear of the world beyond death. It was the trial he could not solve in this tangled life.

It is good, however, that he does not even consider suicide, as many would do today who are in such a condition. God had told Satan to spare Job's life, while allowing him to make Job suffer so terribly, and God knew Job's sufferings were needed to bring about results of great blessing. So that Job's wish for death was not according to the will of God. Job would not die until God ordained it so.

When you wake up to the full sense of your own misery, the first thought, and the most bitter one, is to curse the day you were born. It is a terrible feeling, and when 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... He does not know that God seeks to make him a witness of dependence on Himself against Satan. But this is God's way. Discipline may have the effect of making us feel that death is better than life, but it is working out God's purpose.

This is still greater despair. And that is what he looks on as comfort; he would even rejoice in pain that does not spare him. It would end his sufferings, and after death he would have nothing to fear. He was sure that he was right with God. "For I have not denied the words of the Holy One." Here is the first note of self-righteousness, of justifying himself, which becomes more marked later in his answers.

You see, he had not the slightest fear of death. He was far above it. But he did not look at death so much as gain — he could not do that. He did not have Christ to make it gain. He looked at death as the ending of his trouble, the end of his suffering. And so it would be. That, of course, was a very partial view, and by no means up to the level of what God was going to show him. But I mention it to show that it was not any fear of the unseen world at all. It was the trial he could not solve in this present tangled life.

The ordinary meaning of "concealed" is not the idea here at all. "I have not violated" — I have not denied — "the words of the Holy One." That is what they were doing. They were denying the words of the Holy One. In their zeal, and in their shallow judgment, they were not guided by the Holy One at all. They were acting on their own thoughts. They judged by their own feelings, on the mere surface of poor Job's intense affliction.

Again he expresses his desire for death, for which he had prayed before. He could not understand why God did not answer such a prayer. He was sure death was better than the anguish he was suffering. Yet he did not think of suicide as an option. He says he has not concealed the words of the Holy One. He had not been guilty of covering up anything God has spoken: could God not then listen to Job's prayer for death?

Job has only one thing to ask of God: that He would take his life. This, he says, would be a comfort, because his conscious uprightness would sustain him. He has not rejected God's words, and he has not been rebellious against Him. Here, as all through his long conflict, we have a statement of conscious uprightness. It is true — indeed it was the fruit of God's grace in him. But Job is using this righteousness in a self-righteous way, to justify himself at the expense of God's righteousness. He follows this course until he grows bolder in it. His friends have no answer for it, but God will vindicate Himself.

But is this the language of faith — even Old Testament faith? What about that noble army of martyrs? They "were tortured, refusing to accept release … suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment … destitute, afflicted, mistreated" (Hebrews 11:35–38). Would we expect to hear from these the complaints that fall from Job's lips? Paul could "take pleasure" in what fell upon him. But Job needs light, and must learn to trust God when he cannot understand Him.

His grief was sharp because he felt that God's wrath was upon him. He felt that the dreadful poison of His indignation was consuming him. We know this was a mistake. God was chastening His poor servant in this way, and that was one more proof of His love. But he did not know it, and we should not be harsh with a man who felt that the Lord was dealing bitterly with him.

He felt he had no strength even to hope for anything better on earth, and no prospect worth living on for (v.11). Was he as strong and hard as stone or bronze, able to bear all his affliction with no feeling? (v.12). He could not look inside himself for any help, and soundness — even sound reasoning — was almost impossible for him (v.13).

Again he expresses his desire for death, for which he had prayed before. He could not understand why God did not answer such a prayer, for he was sure death was preferable to the anguish he was suffering (vv.8-9). Yet he did not think of suicide being an option.

Was his strength the strength of stone? Was his flesh bronze, able to bear all this without any feeling? Their lack of pity is what hurt him. Next to the great riddle of why God allowed all this to come on him, this is what he could not explain: not one word of real pity from them; not one word that was not very shallow, because of the bad judgment, the misjudgment, that lay underneath it.

Job has only one thing to ask of God: that He would take his life. This, he says, would be a comfort, because his clear conscience would hold him up. He has not rejected God's words, and he has not rebelled against Him… That is true — it was indeed the fruit of God's grace in him — yet Job is using this righteousness in a self-righteous way, to justify himself at the expense of God's righteousness. He keeps on this way until he grows bolder in it. His friends have no answer for it, but God will vindicate Himself.

But is this the language of faith — even of Old Testament faith? What about that noble army of martyrs who were tortured and refused release, who suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and prison, and were destitute, afflicted and mistreated (Heb. 11:35–38)? Would we expect to hear from them the complaints that fall from Job's lips? Paul could take pleasure in what fell on him. But Job needs light, and must learn to trust God when he cannot understand Him.

Job did not feel happy while this trial tested him almost beyond what he could bear. He was happy because he was in the Lord's care, and because the Lord was leading him to a sure and certain goal of blessing. For the present his affliction was painful, not joyful. Yet it was about to yield him the peaceable fruit of righteousness, because it was training him… "The end of the Lord" is found in the last chapters of Job's story, where we see him restored to blessing and to the favour of the Lord, who blessed Job now that the discipline had reached its end.

He felt he had no strength even to hope for anything better on earth. He saw nothing better ahead that his life should be prolonged for (v.11). Was he as strong and hard as stone or bronze, that he could bear all his affliction with no feeling? (v.12). He could not look within himself for any help. Soundness — even sound reasoning — was almost impossible for him (v.13).

What is my strength that I should wait, / And what is my end that I should be patient? / Is my strength the strength of stones? / Is my flesh copper? / Truly, is there no help at all in me, / And is my substance driven away from me?

"Is my strength the strength of stones, or is my flesh bronze?" — to be able to endure all this without any feeling... Their lack of pity is what hurt him. Next to the great riddle of how God allowed all this to come upon him, this is what he could not explain: not one word of true pity from them. Not one word that was not very shallow, because bad judgment — misjudgment — lay underneath it.

But is this the language of faith — even of Old Testament faith? What of that noble army of martyrs who "were tortured, refusing to accept release… suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment… destitute, afflicted, mistreated" (Heb. 11:35–38)? Would we expect complaints like Job's from them? Paul could "take pleasure" in what fell upon him. But Job needs light, and must learn to trust God when he cannot understand Him.

Now, it was this misapplication of truth that Satan so used in the speeches of Job's friends. Chapter 6 shows that this gave Job a terrible shaking... "For the arrows of the Almighty are in me; my spirit drinks their poison; the terrors of God are arrayed against me." This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had but known it, God was for him.

God wants us to know the experience of weakness well. It is the healthy condition of a creature, and necessary because he is a creature. As we come to know God as the One in whom "we live and move and have our being," weakness brings no distress but the opposite. Then we can be still and let Him show His might, and find refuge under the shadow of His wings.

He felt he had no strength even to hope for anything better on earth, and no prospect worth staying alive for. Was he as strong and hard as stone or bronze, so that he could bear all his affliction and feel nothing? He could not look inside himself for any help, and soundness — even sound reasoning — was almost impossible for him.

Truly is not the nothingness of help with me, and substance driven away from me?

This part closes with a pitiful plea of his utter weakness and helplessness. It should move the heart of his friends.

A man in trouble should get pity from his friend. That they should be so lacking in pity — that is what galled him. Next to the great riddle of how God allowed all this to come upon him, this was the thing he could not explain. There was not one word of true pity from them. Every word they spoke was shallow, because bad judgment — misjudgment — lay underneath it.

Job's claim to be upright is true. It was the fruit of God's grace in him. But he is using this righteousness in a self-righteous way, to justify himself at the expense of God's righteousness. He keeps on this course and grows bolder in it. His friends have no answer for it, but God will vindicate Himself.

Job did not blame the raiders from Sheba, the Chaldeans, the lightning, the storm, or the disease. He looked far beyond these second-hand causes. He was right to bring God into the trouble. But he was wrong in two ways, as we find at the end. He thought there was nothing in his soul to correct. And he thought God could be something other than gracious while faithful, and patient while righteous. He also left out the power of evil and of Satan, which God permits but limits. He did not hold on, as he should have, to the truth that God lets His own suffer in a special way in this world out of love for them.

Is this the language of faith? Think of the martyrs who were tortured, mocked, whipped and imprisoned. Would we expect to hear from them the complaints that fall from Job's lips? Paul could take pleasure in what fell upon him. But Job needs light, and must learn to trust God when he cannot understand Him.

Think of it: the best man on earth repenting, the best man on earth loathing himself and coming to the end of himself. Then you find God for him. That is the secret of our deliverance as well as Job's. First you learn what you are. You learn what your good self is as well as your bad self. You learn to put no confidence in yourself. Then God can come in. He turns all Satan's attacks, and everything you have found out about yourself, humbling as it is, into blessing for you.

That they should be so lacking in pity — that is what galled him. Next to the great riddle of how God allowed all this to come upon him, this was what he could not explain: there was not one word of true pity. Not one word that was not very shallow, because of the bad judgment, the misjudgment that was underneath it.

But the hard principle they were applying knew no mercy, felt no sympathy. At the time of his dire need they showed themselves utterly unfit to be friends. They are not the "brother born for adversity." These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen by melting snow and ice in winter. It promises a steady supply for the thirsty. But when the troops of travellers come, they find only the dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable from them — no money, no rescue from the enemy, only a little sympathy.

To the despairing there is gentleness from his friends, even to one forsaking the face of the Almighty.

In verse 14 Job rightly protests that friends ought to show kindness to someone who is afflicted, even if that person had gone so far as to "forsake the fear of the Almighty." Job had not done so, but Eliphaz suspected he was on the verge of it.

He was the afflicted one. His friends should have shown him pity, if they wanted to walk in the fear of God. Instead, they were beginning to deal deceitfully with him.

We deceive ourselves if we think we must be right when we grieve those whom God is disciplining. This is often very far indeed from being the case. … We are more commonly, perhaps, in God's mind, and act as living vessels of the Spirit, when we soothe such people. And I am sure it was so in Job's case. Had his former friends known God's way, they would have dealt very differently with him. They would not have left him. "The hand of God" had touched him, as he so strongly puts it. That fact alone should have drawn "pity" from his friends, as he goes on to say.

How differently Paul speaks: "At my first defence no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

How incomplete is the sympathy of the dearest friend you may have! There are experiences, a sense of weakness, needs you are ashamed to speak of. Or you see how useless it is to tell your dearest friend on earth about them. How blessed it is to know that there is not an atom of experience we may have that is beneath the notice of our blessed High Priest!

nachal, Gen. 32:23, etc., a mountain torrent often dry in summer, and so often disappointing, as in Job 6:15. There are many of these in Palestine. The same thing is called in the New Testament χείμαρρος, "winter flowing," John 18:1. Its Eastern name is wady.

These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen by melting snow and ice in winter. It promises an endless supply for the thirsty. But when the crowds of travellers come, they find only the dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable from them — no money, no rescue from the enemy, only a little sympathy.

It is a basic principle that pity should be shown to a sufferer by his friends... But the hard principle they were applying knew no mercy and felt no sympathy. At the time of his terrible need they showed themselves completely unfit to be friends. They are not the "brother born for adversity."

That they should be so lacking in pity — that is what galled him. Next to the great riddle of how God allowed all this to come upon him, that is what he could not explain. There was not one word of true pity. Every word was very superficial, because of the bad judgment, the misjudgment, that lay underneath it... They were of no use to him whatever.

He says, "It is not that I have the least need of anything, and yet you are treating me as if I wanted to draw on you in my trouble. No, I ask nothing of you except that you should not misjudge me."

All merely human efforts to comfort, apart from God and the truth, are ineffective because they are more or less ignorant. And the failure is all the more obvious the more bitter the trial to be faced. This is shown in the history of Job. His three friends were clearly sincere in their concern for the sufferer, and eager to serve him in the hour of his sorrow. But the cause of his affliction completely baffled them... They did not understand the ways of God with His own at all. By their false and unworthy suggestions they made Job feel how unable they were to help him — and they threw Job back on God Himself.

Paul sounds very different: "At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me... But the Lord stood by me" (2 Timothy 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God. "Earthly friends may fail and leave us, One day soothe, the next day grieve us, But this Friend will never deceive us, Oh, how He loves!"

nachal, Gen. 32:23, and so on: a mountain torrent often dry in summer, and so often disappointing, as in Job 6:15. There are many such streams in Palestine. The New Testament calls the same thing cheimarros, "winter flowing" (John 18:1). Its Eastern name is wady.

Crossing the desert in winter is a very different thing from crossing the same desert in summer. In winter people do not need the refreshment of water so much. In the heat of summer they feel the great need of even a drop of water to cool their tongue.

They were like brooks that promised plenty of refreshing water in the winter, when it was not needed.

The streams in winter, swollen by snow and ice, promise blessing and refreshment, but they soon dry up and leave nothing of blessing behind (vv.16-17). Travellers may come expecting water. They find nothing, and they are disappointed and confused. So Job expressed his own confusion at the words of Eliphaz (vv.19-20).

A basic principle says that a sufferer's friends should show him pity… But the hard principle they were applying knew no mercy and felt no sympathy. When his need was desperate, they showed themselves completely unfit to be friends. The "brother born for adversity" they are not. These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen by melting snow and ice in winter. It promises a never-failing supply for the thirsty. But when the crowds of travellers come, they find only the dry stones to mock them.

There was not one word of true pity. Every word was shallow, because of the bad judgment, the misjudgment, that lay underneath it.

Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable from them — no money, no rescue from the enemy, only a little sympathy.

Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

We make a most serious mistake when we turn to any created thing for help or sympathy in a time of need or pressure. We are sure to be disappointed. The streams that creatures offer are dry. Their props give way. Our God will make us prove the emptiness and folly of all trust in created things, all human hopes, and all earthly expectations. On the other hand, He will prove to us, in the most moving and powerful way, that His own Word is true and full of blessing: "Those who wait for Me shall not be put to shame."

nachal, Genesis 32:23, etc., a mountain torrent often dry in summer, and thus often disappointing, as in Job 6:15. Such are numerous in Palestine. The same is called in the New Testament χείμαρρος, "winter flowing," John 18:1. Its Eastern name is wady.

The winter streams, swollen by snow and ice, promise blessing and refreshment. But they soon dry up, leaving nothing of blessing behind. Travellers may come expecting water, only to find nothing. The disappointment leaves them confused.

He compares it to the desert. He knew the desert well, as they all did. It is a very different thing to cross the desert in winter and to cross the same desert in summer. In winter people do not want the refreshment of water so much. In the heat of summer they feel the great need of even a drop of water to cool their tongue. Then those brooks that cross the desert for a time — the "wadies", as they call them — are completely sucked up by the sand or drawn off by the power of the sun. That is what he compares this to.

At the time of his dire need they showed themselves utterly unfit to be friends. The "brother born for adversity" they are not. These "brethren" are like a summer stream, swollen by melting snow and ice in winter. It promises a lasting supply for the thirsty. But when the crowds of travellers come, they find only the dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable of them — no money, no rescue from an enemy, only a little sympathy.

Eliphaz might speak in lofty language about the greatness and faithfulness of God. But what about himself? Was he acting the part of a true friend? Job might say of them, "Lover and friend You have put far from me." And when these failed, he could not add, "You are with me." Paul's experience was different: "At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me" (2 Timothy 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

One should hold this clearly before the soul: in anything we are doing, we are just going through it with Christ. And the waters will flow freely. No frost ever freezes them. No heat ever dries them up. You may have sorrow, temptation, and everything to try you, but nothing can touch those living waters. And why? Because we are loved with an everlasting love, and it is Christ the fountain of living water who leads us.

Job says, "My brothers have dealt deceitfully like a brook, like the streams of the brook that pass away." In winter these streams are swollen by snow and ice. They promise blessing and refreshment, but they soon dry up and leave nothing behind. Travellers may come expecting water, only to find nothing, and it leaves them confused.

Possibly it may mean the streams, not caravans, that wind about.

The hard principle they were applying knew no mercy, felt no sympathy. At the time of his dire need they showed themselves completely unfit to be friends. They are not the "brother born for adversity." These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen by melting snow and ice in winter. It promises a steady supply for the thirsty. But when the troops of travellers come, they find only the dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable from them — no money, no rescue from an enemy, only a little sympathy.

And what had his friends done for him during the sifting he was passing through? Well might he say, "Miserable comforters are you all." They had no true grasp of God's character, and so were unable to understand His dealings with a soul. They had no proper sense of sin, and therefore did not know that if God would deal in blessing with man, it must be entirely on the ground of grace. They did not know how to meet his case. They had said many true things, but not one single right thing that fitted Job, because they did not understand him.

Purely human efforts to comfort, apart from God and the truth, fail, because they are more or less ignorant. The more bitter the trial, the more obvious the failure. Job's history shows this. His three friends were clearly sincere in their care for the sufferer. They were eager to serve him in the hour of his sorrow. But the cause of Job's suffering completely baffled them… They did not understand the ways of God with His own at all. So their false and unworthy suggestions made Job feel how unable they were to help him, and threw him back on God Himself.

How differently Paul speaks: "At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

Caravans turn aside out of their way, they go up into the wasteland and vanish. The caravans of Tema looked, the companies of Sheba hoped for them; they were put to shame because they had trusted; they came to the spot and turned red with shame.

Possibly it may mean the streams, not caravans, that wind about.

They were of no use to him at all. He compares this to the desert, which he knew well, as they all did. Crossing the desert in winter is one thing. Crossing the same desert in summer is another. In winter people do not need the refreshment of water so much. In the heat of summer they feel the great need of even a drop of water to cool their tongue. Then the brooks that cross the desert for a time are completely soaked up by the sand or dried out by the power of the sun. … So the same company from Tema, or from Sheba, passing through the desert might remember that this is where we should find water in the middle of all this trouble: "We hope we are nearing it now." Not a drop! Not a drop! That is what you are like. There was a time when I could have got comfort from you, but now everything has changed.

Travellers may come expecting water, but they find nothing. They are disappointed and confused. In the same way Job expressed his own confusion at the words of Eliphaz.

It is a basic principle that friends should show pity to a suffering man — otherwise, under the strain of trial, as some have rendered it, "he should forsake the fear of the Almighty." … When his need was at its worst, they showed themselves completely unfit to be friends. They are not the "brother born for adversity." These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen in winter by melting snow and ice. It promises a never-failing supply for the thirsty. But when the bands of travellers arrive, they find only dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable from them — no money, no rescue from the enemy, only a little sympathy.

Eliphaz might speak in lofty language of the greatness and faithfulness of God, but what about himself; was he acting the part of a true friend? … And when these friends failed him, he could not add, "You are with me." Paul speaks very differently: "At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

nachal (Gen. 32:23 and elsewhere) is a mountain torrent, often dry in summer, and so often disappointing, as in Job 6:15. There are many such streams in Palestine. Its Eastern name is wady.

Job's friends were of no use whatever to him. He compares this with the desert; he knew the desert well, as they all did. Crossing the desert in winter is a very different thing from crossing the same desert in summer. In winter people do not want water so much. In the heat of summer they feel the great need of even a drop of water to cool their tongue.

Caravans turn aside out of their way, they go up into the waste, and vanish. The caravans of Tema looked, the companies of Sheba hoped for them. They were put to shame because they had trusted; they came up to it, and became red with shame.

Travellers may come, expecting water, but they find nothing. This disappoints and confuses them. So Job expressed his own confusion at the words of Eliphaz.

It is a basic principle that a sufferer's friends should show him pity. But the hard principle they were applying knew no mercy, felt no sympathy. At the time of his dire need they showed themselves utterly unfitted to be friends. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable of them — no money, nor rescue from the enemy, only a little sympathy.

Their lack of pity is what galled him. Next to the great riddle of how God allowed all this to come upon him, this was what he could not explain: there was not one word of true pity. Every word was very superficial, because of the bad judgment, the misjudgment, that lay underneath it.

Now, it was this misapplication of truth that Satan so used in the speeches of Job's friends. "For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; their poison drinks up my spirit. The terrors of God line up against me." This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If only Job had known it, God was for him.

Paul speaks very differently: "At my first defence no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

We make a most serious mistake when, in any time of need or pressure, we turn to the creature for help or sympathy. We are sure to be disappointed. Creature streams are dry. Creature-props give way. Our God will make us learn by experience the emptiness and folly of all creature-confidences, human hopes, and earthly expectations. On the other hand, He will show us, in the most moving and powerful way, the truth and blessedness of His own Word: "Those who wait for Me shall not be ashamed."

For truly you have become nothing, you see a terror, and are dismayed.

They were of no use whatever to him. "The paths of their way are turned aside; they go to nothing, and perish." He compares it with the desert; he was familiar with it, as they all were. It is very different to cross the desert in winter and to cross the same desert in summer. In winter people do not need water so much. In the heat of summer they feel the great need of even a drop of water to cool their tongue. That is when the sand completely swallows up the wadis — those brooks that for a time cross the desert of despair — or the heat of the sun dries them up. Travellers who had crossed before might say, 'Ah! we hope we are nearing the water now.' Not a drop; not a drop! That is like you. Time was when I could have got comfort from you, but now everything is changed. You have nothing now but an evil lurking suspicion that has no foundation at all.

A sufferer's friends should show him pity. This is a basic principle. Otherwise, under the stress of trial — as some have rendered it — "he should forsake the fear of the Almighty."… But the hard principle they were applying knew no mercy, felt no sympathy. At the time of his dire need they showed themselves utterly unfitted to be friends. The "brother born for adversity" they are not. These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen by melting snow and ice in winter, which gives promise of a lasting supply for the thirsty; but when the crowds of travellers come, they find only the dry stones to mock them.

Yes, that was their state; they were shocked; they did not even want to get near him. They did not wish to have even the sense of the poor sufferer's foul breath, or to touch his skin, for fear of catching something themselves. They kept away from it; they were afraid.

Job asks, "Did I ever say, 'Bring something to me?'" (v.22). Job had not even asked his three friends to come, let alone asked them for some benefit from their hands. Why did they then accuse him when all he needed was a little sympathy?

Now, it was this misapplication of truth that Satan so used in the speeches of Job's friends. Chapter 6 shows that this gave Job a terrible shaking… "For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; their poison drinks up my spirit. The terrors of God set themselves in array against me." This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had only known it, God was for him.

As things now stood, Job might say of them, "Lover and friend You have put far from me." And when these failed, he could not add, "You are with me." How differently Paul speaks: "At my first defence no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

"Is my strength the strength of stones, or is my flesh bronze?" — to be able to endure all this without any feeling. That they should be so lacking in pity — that was what stung him. Next to the great riddle of how God allowed all this to come upon him, this was the thing he could not explain: there was not one word of true pity from them. Not one word that was not very shallow, because of the bad judgment, the misjudgment, underneath it.

Job asks, "Did I ever say, 'Bring something to me?'" (v.22). Job had not even asked his three friends to come, let alone asking them for some benefit from their hands. Why did they then accuse him when all he needed was a little sympathy?

They were shocked; they did not even want to get near him. They did not want to smell the foul breath of the poor sufferer, or to touch his skin for fear of catching something bad themselves. They kept away; they were afraid. "Have I said, 'Make me a gift'? Or, 'From your wealth offer a bribe for me'?" He says, "It is not that I need anything at all. Yet you are treating me as if I wanted to draw on you in my trouble. No, I ask nothing of you except that you should not misjudge me."

Eliphaz had spoken of what he had seen and experienced. Job now asks them to apply a true test to his own case. Let them prove, by their rigid rule of "punishment for sin," that he is the sinner. Theories are all very well in their place, but if they rest on false premises they completely fail. "How forceful are upright words!" Let them teach him according to truth, and he will be silent. But what is all their arguing worth? They are taking his poor, rash, desperate speeches, forced out of him by the desperation of his sufferings, and treating them as the carefully weighed statements of a man putting forward some philosophic principle. Why could they not make allowance for the anguish that wrings such empty words out of him? They were treating him with the same unfeeling spirit that marks people who would rob orphans. A little later it will be seen that they speak exactly as Job here accuses them; he is only anticipating their full meaning.

Eliphaz might use grand words about the greatness and faithfulness of God, but what about himself? Was he acting the part of a true friend? ... Paul speaks very differently: "At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me ... But the Lord stood by me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

Yes, that was their state; they were shocked; they did not even want to get near him. They did not wish to have even the sense of the foul breath of the poor sufferer, or to touch his skin for fear of catching something themselves. They kept away from it; they were afraid. "Did I say, 'Bring me something'? or, 'Give a bribe for me out of your wealth'?" He says, "It is not that I have the least need of anything. Yet you are treating me as if I wanted to draw on you in my trouble. No, I ask nothing of you except that you should not misjudge me."

In his time of great need they showed themselves wholly unfit to be friends. They are not the kind of brother who is born for times of trouble. These "brothers" are like a summer stream. Melting snow and ice swell it in winter, and it promises an endless supply for the thirsty. But when the caravans of travellers arrive, they find only dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable of them — no money, nor rescue from the enemy, only a little sympathy.

Job had not even asked his three friends to come, let alone asking them for some benefit from their hands. Why did they then accuse him when all he needed was a little sympathy?

He had asked nothing like this of them; all he longed for was kind and tender sympathy. He urges them to teach him, to show him where he has sinned, if he is suffering for his sins. He urges them to look straight into his face and see whether he is lying. He solemnly assures his friends of his innocence.

If they had something profitable and true to teach him, Job would willingly hold his tongue and listen. If he had erred as they supposed, why did they not tell him in what way he had erred (v.24). Right words would have been forceful and effective, but their arguments proved nothing (v.25).

It was indeed most disappointing. Eliphaz might speak in grand language about the greatness and faithfulness of God. But what about himself? Was he acting the part of a true friend? Seeing them like this, Job might say of them, "You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me." And when they failed, he could not add, "You are with me." Paul speaks very differently: "At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between us and God.

If they had something profitable and true to teach him, Job would willingly hold his tongue and listen. If he had erred as they supposed, why did they not tell him in what way he had erred (v.24). Right words would have been forceful and effective, but their arguments proved nothing (v.25).

At verse 24 a more direct appeal begins. He challenged his friends to stop hinting and make a direct charge. He was right to say, "How forcible are right words," but what did Eliphaz's arguing or scolding achieve? Among Christians, vague hints or even accusations have often done damage. "Right words," based on specific facts, would have proved forceful and done good.

He says, "It is not that I need anything at all. Yet you are treating me as if I were someone wanting to draw on you in my trouble. No, I ask nothing of you except that you should not misjudge me." "Did I say, Bring to me? or, Give a reward for me of your substance? or, Deliver me from the enemy's hand? or, Redeem me from the hand of the mighty? Teach me, and I will hold my tongue; and cause me to understand where I have erred."

Job now asks that true tests be applied to his own case. Let them prove, according to their rigid rule of "punishment for sin," that he is the sinner. Theories are all very well in their place, but if based on false premises they utterly fail. "How forcible are right words!" Let them teach him in line with the truth, and he will be silent. But what is all their arguing worth? They are taking his poor, rash, desperate words, forced out of him by his suffering. They treat them as if they were the carefully weighed statements of someone putting forward some philosophical principle.

"Return, I pray you, let it not be iniquity" — he begs them to come back to a sound judgment of the case. Their poor friend had been put to a tremendous trial, and he could not see why it had come upon him. "Let it not be iniquity." It has nothing to do with that. He had to learn that his own righteousness, however real, could be no ground. He needed the righteousness of God to stand on, though he hardly knew how that could be.

Elihu indicates that God was testing Job. If Job was failing the test, he must be tested further. Could Job not say to God, "I have borne correction; I will offend no more. Teach me what I do not see. If I have done wrong, I will do it no more"? It was plain that Job did not see the reasons for God's dealing with him. Why not then humbly appeal to God to teach him, rather than criticise God?

If they had something true and useful to teach him, Job would gladly keep quiet and listen. If he had erred as they supposed, why did they not tell him in what way he had erred (v.24). Right words would have been forceful and effective, but their arguments proved nothing (v.25). They rebuked words that came out of his desperation. They gave no thought to the depth of his suffering (v.26).

How forcible are right words (Job 6:25) — the right word, at the right time, delivered in the right spirit, that is, a word coming from His presence. Sadly we often feel, minutes after a conversation, that if only I had had this right word — the word that now comes to mind — I could have met that situation!

At verse 24 a more direct appeal begins. He challenged his friends to leave vague insinuations for direct accusation. Let them show where he had erred, so that, taught by them, he might hold his tongue. He rightly remarked, "How forcible are right words," but what did Eliphaz's "arguing," or "upbraiding," achieve? How often, among fellow Christians, have vague insinuations or even accusations done great damage! "Right words," based on specific facts, would have proved forceful and done good.

Let them prove, according to their rigid rule of "punishment for sin," that he is the sinner. Theories are all very well in their place, but if based on false premises they utterly fail. "How forcible are right words!" Let them teach him according to truth, and he will be silent; but of what value is all their arguing? They are taking his poor, rash, desperate speeches, forced out of him by the desperation of his sufferings. They treat them as if they were the well-considered statements of a man setting out some philosophical principle.

Now, it was this misapplication of truth that Satan so used in the speeches of Job's friends. Chapter 6 shows that this gave Job a terrible shaking… "For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; the poison of which drinks up my spirit. The terrors of God set themselves in array against me." This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had but known it, God was for him.

"Return, I pray you, let it not be iniquity" — he begs them to come back to a sound judgment of the case. Their poor friend had been put to a tremendous trial, and he could not see why it had come upon him… He had to learn that his own righteousness, however real, could be no ground. He must have the righteousness of God to stand upon, though he hardly knew how that could be. That is what comes out later in the book.

They are taking his poor, rash, desperate speeches, forced out of him by the desperation of his sufferings. They treat them as if they were the well-considered statements of someone putting forward a philosophical principle. Why could they not allow for the anguish that wrings such "windy words" out of him?

He admits his language was not what it ought to be. He was so hard pressed by inward suffering and desperate pain that his words were quite confused. They were not quietly spoken, but simply swallowed up in the violence of his emotion.

If they had something useful and true to teach him, Job would gladly hold his tongue and listen. If he had erred as they supposed, why did they not tell him in what way he had erred (v.24). Right words would have been forceful and effective, but their arguments proved nothing (v.25). They rebuked the words that came out of his desperation, with no thought for the depth of his suffering (v.26).

He had broken out in these violent words, and they pounced on them at once and said, "Ah, yes! There is old Job beginning to show himself. Now that he is in this state, just think what the world would say if it heard or saw Job now!"

He challenged his friends to drop vague insinuations for direct accusation. How often among Christians have vague insinuations, or even accusations, done damage. Yet "right words," based on specific facts, would have proved forcible and done good.

These answers do not always come from coarse brutality, as one might think. They generally come merely from levity, heartlessness, and self-sufficiency. "My dear brothers," as Cromwell used to say, "I beg you to consider that it is possible you may be wrong." And consider too that whether you are wrong or not, such explanations are only likely to fill the sufferer with indignation. They are likely to bring down a rebuke from God on the Zophars, Bildads and Eliphazes who torment His stricken servants with their shallow ideas.

Would we not expect some words of sympathy from a friend? Would not grace always teach us to "weep with those who weep"? The blessed Man of Sorrows did not take sufferers to task in this way, but was moved with compassion, even to tears, at human sorrow.

He had to learn that his own righteousness, however real, could be no foundation. He must have the righteousness of God to stand on, though he hardly knew how that could be. That is what comes out later in the book.

If they had something true and useful to teach him, Job would gladly keep quiet and listen. If he had erred as they supposed, why did they not tell him in what way he had erred (v.24). Right words would have been forceful and effective, but their arguments proved nothing (v.25). They rebuked words that came out of his desperation. They gave no thought to the depth of his suffering (v.26). They sought to overwhelm the fatherless. This seems to suggest that Job's father had died, so he had no father to help him. And they were undermining their own friend — a heartless attitude, in contrast to their former friendship (v.27).

So Job pleads for a fairer view of his terrible trial and of his random words. It was easy for others to moralize when they were at ease. But his crying out was as inevitable as the cry of an animal with no food.

You would even let fall on the orphan, and would traffic for your friend.

They were treating him in the same unfeeling way that marks those who rob the fatherless. Were they not trying to swallow up their own friend, and make him out to be like the wicked? These are strong words, but there is good reason for them. There was a studied heartlessness in the cold words of Eliphaz, and it seems to give ground for the bitterness of Job's charge. A little later they speak just as Job here accuses. He only says in advance what they fully mean.

It is a basic principle that a sufferer's friends should show him pity. Otherwise, under the stress of trial — as some have rendered it — "he should forsake the fear of the Almighty." ... But the hard principle they were applying knew no mercy, felt no sympathy. At the time of his dire need they showed themselves completely unfit to be friends. The "brother born for adversity" they are not. These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen by melting snow and ice in winter. It promises a steady supply for the thirsty. But when the groups of travellers come, they find only the dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable from them — no money, no rescue from the enemy, only a little sympathy.

In contrast with their injustice, let them look deliberately at him: is he lying when he protests his uprightness? Let them return from their wholesale charges of evil against him, to the simple and self-evident fact that he is upright, with no iniquity that can explain the tortures to which he is now subjected. He can discern evil, and would not hide it, though it were in himself.

"Look at me — you can see for yourselves if I lie." He begs them to look at him. Then, "Return, I pray you, let it not be iniquity." He begs them to return to that, and to a sound judgment of the case: here was their poor friend, put to so tremendous a trial, and he could not see why it had come upon him. "Let it not be iniquity." It has nothing to do with that. He had to learn that his own righteousness, however real, could be no ground. He must have the righteousness of God to stand on, though he barely knew how that could be. That is what comes out later in the book.

"Now therefore, be willing; look at me" — yes, he begs them to look at him — "for it is clear to you if I lie." That is, "if there is something hidden underneath. That is what you suspect." "Please turn back; let it not be wrongdoing." He begs them to come back to that, and to a sound judgment of the case. Their poor friend had been put to a terrible trial, and he could not see why it had come on him.

But now be pleased to face me, / And to your faces it will be if I lie. / Return, I pray, let there be no wrong; / Yes, return; I am still right in this.

At the time of his dire need they showed themselves utterly unfitted to be friends. They are not the "brother born for adversity." These "brothers" are like a summer stream, swollen in winter by melting snow and ice. It promises the thirsty a steady supply. But when the caravans of travellers arrive, they find only the dry stones to mock them. Yet he had asked nothing unreasonable from them — no money, no rescue from an enemy, only a little sympathy.

Then Job pleads with them to just look at him. Did they see deceit in his face? He insists, "I would never lie to your face;" yet they were certain he must be concealing sin in his life (v.28). "Yield now," he tells them; let them not be guilty of injustice in their attitude. "Yes, admit that my righteousness still stands!" Had his character changed since they last saw him?

He challenged his friends to leave vague insinuations for direct accusation. Let them show where he had erred, so that, taught by them, he might hold his tongue. He was right to say, "How forcible are right words." But what did Eliphaz's "arguing," or "upbraiding," achieve? How often among believers in Christ have vague insinuations, or even accusations, caused damage. In those cases "right words," based on specific facts, would have been forceful and done good.

Eliphaz might speak in lofty language about the greatness and faithfulness of God. But what about himself? Was he acting the part of a true friend? Seen like this, Job might say of them, "Lover and friend You have put far from me." And when these failed, he could not add, "You are with me." Paul speaks very differently: "At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me… But the Lord stood by me" (2 Tim. 4:16-17). Let us learn from Job's failure not to put the dearest earthly friend between ourselves and God.

"Return, I pray you, let it not be iniquity" — he begs them to return to a sound judgment of the case. Their poor friend was under a terrible trial and could not see why it had come upon him. "Let it not be iniquity." It has nothing to do with that.

In contrast with their injustice, let them look at him carefully. Is he lying when he insists that he is upright? Let them return from their wholesale charges of evil against him, to the plain and self-evident fact that he is upright. No iniquity in him can explain the tortures he now suffers. He can discern evil, and would not hide it, even in himself.

They are taking his poor, rash, desperate speeches, forced out of him by his suffering. They treat them as if they were the well-considered statements of someone putting forward a philosophic principle. Why could they not make allowance for the anguish that wrings from him words that are like "windy words"? They were treating him as unfeelingly as those who would rob orphans. Were they not trying to swallow up their friend, and make him out to be like the wicked?

In all the debate he never once allowed that his suffering came from hidden wickedness, or from the smallest tinge of hypocrisy. No, no, no; they were all wrong about that, and he would never give it up until weeds turned into barley. He knew perfectly well that that could not be.

He felt the arrows of the Almighty inside him, and the terrors of God lined up against him. This was a great mistake. They were the arrows of Satan. God was not against Job. If Job had only known it, God was for him.

Job was upright, but he began to make this his righteousness. That clearly proves he had never really been in the presence of God.

He had to learn that his own righteousness, however real, could be no ground. He must have the righteousness of God to stand upon, though he hardly knew how it could be.

And what had his friends done for him during the sifting he was passing through? Well might he say, "Miserable comforters are you all." They had no true grasp of God's character. So they could not understand His dealings with a soul. They had no proper sense of sin. So they did not know that if God deals with man in blessing, it must be entirely on the ground of grace. They did not know how to meet his case. They had said many true things, but not one single right thing that applied to Job, because they did not understand him.

Set against their injustice, let them take a careful look at him. Is he lying when he insists that he is upright? Let them turn back from their sweeping charges of evil against him to the simple, obvious fact that he is upright. There is no sin in him that can explain the torments he is now suffering. He can recognise evil, and he would not hide it, even if it were in himself.

So he tells them to "try again," as some translate the word. Let them be fair in their judgment. Let them see if they can explain the strange puzzle of a good man suffering as he does. It is as great a mystery to him as to them.

"Return, I pray you, let it not be iniquity" — he begs them to come back to that, and to come back to a sound judgment of the case. Here was their poor friend, put to a tremendous trial, unable to see why it had come upon him. "Let it not be iniquity." It has nothing to do with that. He had to learn that his own righteousness, however real, could be no ground to stand on. He needed the righteousness of God to stand on, though he hardly knew how that could be. That is what comes out later in the book.

Return, I pray; let there be no wrong. Yes, return; I am still in the right here. Is there wrong in my tongue? Does not my palate discern calamities?

He asks for an open judgment of his ways, and a kind estimate of his complaints.

At verse 24 a more direct appeal begins. He challenged his friends to drop their vague hints and make a direct accusation. Let them show where he had gone wrong, so that, taught by them, he might keep quiet. He was right to say, "How forcible are right words," but what did Eliphaz's "arguing," or "scolding," achieve? How often among Christians have vague hints, or even accusations, done great harm, where "right words," based on specific facts, would have proved powerful and done good.

Here we see the settled state of Job's mind all through his dispute with his friends. He has a sense of moral uprightness, of genuine fear of God, which he cannot deny. It is the testimony of a good conscience, and it stands like a rock against all the outrageous suspicions and accusations. He holds fast to his integrity, and so proves that Satan's malicious charge was false and that his friends' principles were wrong.

Overlooking a very ordinary use of the word tzava (host) has made another passage needlessly hard... Job 7:1 seems to open up the force of the word: "Is there not an appointed time to man? His days also as the days of a hired worker?" ... I gather that its force is "an appointed time" of subjection to evil.

Has not man a warfare on earth, and are not his days like the days of a hired worker? Like the slave panting for the shade, and like the hired worker longing for his wages.

"As a servant longs for the shadow" — the shade of evening, when his work is done — "and as a hired worker looks for the reward of his work; so I must live through months of emptiness, and weary nights are appointed to me." Servants had their daily break from work. The work may be hard, but they still had their night of ease and rest. "But I have nothing, day or night. It is all the same terrible, non-stop suffering."

Job's questions in verse 1 show why God's dealings distressed him so much... How many people are like Job in this. They think of their relationship with God as being like that of a hired man working for a righteous employer. If they do right, their pay should be good; if they do wrong, they expect painful pay. But Job was suffering agonising pain. Was this the pay for the good he had done?

God was seeking to teach Job something. His relationship to Him must not be that of a man working for wages. It must be that of one whom God loved and who loved God. He would then do good out of a heart of love, expecting no payment for it. Job did not understand this at the time, and neither did his friends.

Sleepless nights of tossing to and fro, month after month of pain that never lets up, make him long for that "appointed time" set for all flesh. He longs for it the way a hired worker waits for the end of his day's work... Like the swift passing of the shuttle in the weaver's loom, so pass his painful days. Soon they will see him no more, and his life will melt away as the cloud in the blue sky.

But God was putting him into the furnace in order that he might come out purer than ever.

You cannot read the first part of this chapter without being struck by the sadness of his plight... He describes his pitiful state in the most vivid way, and his friends should have been far more full of compassion.

So Job pleads for a fairer judgment of his heavy trial, and of the wild words that came with it. It was easy for others to hand out moral lessons while they sat at ease. For him, crying out was as unavoidable as it is for a starving animal. He admitted the blows came from God, and he only wanted to be crushed, since his conscience was clear. Hope for this life was gone… When a man has served out his time as a soldier or a slave, may he not retire? It was his grief that he could not, after days and nights of misery beyond words.

"Like a slave who longs for the shadow" — the shade of evening, when he has finished his work — "and like a hired hand who looks for his wages, so I am allotted months of emptiness, and nights of misery are apportioned to me." Each day the servant and the hired man had their break from work. The work may have been hard, but they still had their night of ease and rest. "But I have nothing, day or night. It is all the same terrible, unbroken suffering."

"Has not man a hard service on earth, and are not his days like the days of a hired hand?" How many people are like Job in this. They see their relationship with God as that of a hired man working for a righteous employer. If they do right, they should be paid well. If they do wrong, they expect to be paid back with pain. But Job was suffering agonising pain. Was this his pay for the good he had done?

God was trying to teach Job that his relationship to Him must not be that of a man working for wages. It must be that of a man whom God loved and who loved God back. Such a man does good out of a heart of love, and expects no payment for it. Job did not understand this at the time, and neither did his friends.

You cannot read the first section without being struck by the sadness of his plight. He felt it deeply himself, so he put it into moving words. "Months of emptiness" and "nights of misery" had been his lot. Just as a servant or hired man longed for the evening shade and for his wages, Job was longing for the end. Like a weaver's shuttle his days raced away, and he was hopeless. He describes his pitiful state very clearly, and his friends should have been far more full of compassion.

This is beautifully poetic, and true as far as man's view goes… It is the funeral song of human life ever since sin brought in death. "But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him" (Ps. 103:15-18). Ah, Job sees only the dark side. He turns to God here, but he speaks of wrath and not of mercy.

"Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth?" (Job 7). There he has another ground; his trial was so prolonged. It was not merely a huge trial of the kind that usually passes very quickly in this world… A servant longs for the shade of evening, when he has finished his work. A hired worker looks for the reward of his work. "So I am made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me." Servants and hired workers had their break from work every day. The work may have been hard, but they still had their night of ease and rest. Job could only say: "I have nothing day or night; it is all the same terrible unbroken suffering."

Job's questions in verse 1 show why he was so upset at God's dealings… Many people are like Job here. They think of their relationship to God as that of a hired man working for a fair employer. Do right, and the pay should be good. Do wrong, and they expect a painful return. But Job was in agonising pain. Was this the pay for the good he had done? He had looked eagerly for his wages for doing good (v. 2), and found himself enduring months of futility and wearisome nights, tossing to and fro in his bed.

God was seeking to teach Job that his relationship to Him must not be that of a man working for wages. Job was one whom God loved and who loved God. So he was to do good out of a heart of love, expecting no payment for it. Job did not at this time understand this, and neither did his friends.

Having challenged his friends to test him, Job now dwells on his sufferings, with the shortness of life in view. His nights are sleepless, full of "tossings to and fro," and his months of pain never let up. So he longs for that "appointed time" set for all flesh, like a hired worker waiting eagerly for the close of his day's work.

No one can read the first section without being struck by the sadness of his plight. He felt it deeply himself, and he expressed it in a moving way. "Months of vanity" and "wearisome nights" had been his portion. A servant or hired worker longs for the shade of evening and for his wages; in the same way Job was longing for the end… He paints his pitiful state in the clearest colours, and his friends should have been more filled with compassion.

But God was putting him into the furnace in order that he might come out purer than ever.

He would put the precious ore into the crucible. He knew how much unsuspected evil lay hidden under all that outward excellence, mixed even with the inner piety of this good man. He would show that even piety cannot feed upon itself, nor righteousness lean upon its own arm.

Your time is measured. Infinite wisdom considered your days and hours of suffering from eternity.

Here he has another reason to complain: his trial lasted so long. It was not just a huge trial, which is usually very brief in this world. If people have great agony, say in the foot or the head, very often they become unconscious if it is the head. If it is the foot, no doubt it is very trying, but it passes. The attack passes. "But how is it that I from head to foot am nothing but a mass of sores, and inwardly suffering the deepest agony?"… Hired workers had their daily break from work. The work may be hard, but still they had their night of ease and rest. "But I have nothing day or night, it is all the same terrible suffering that never lets up."

We can see that it was divine wisdom that chose these three things to represent the whole range of human suffering. First there was the sudden loss of all his possessions… Then the total loss of his family, which was bereavement. Then there was terrible pain. It is very hard to imagine the painful state he describes: ulcers covering him from head to foot, and no relief from pain day or night… And when the day comes it is just the same thing over again (Job 7:4-6). Job's sufferings were of a kind very well known to us.

Many people consider their relationship to God to be like that of a hired man working for a righteous employer. If they do right, their pay should be good; if they do wrong, they expect painful repayment. But Job was suffering agonising pain. Was this the pay for the good he had done?… God was seeking to teach Job that his relationship to Him must not be that of a man working for wages. It must be that of one whom God loved and who loved God, doing good out of a heart of love, expecting no payment for it. Job did not at this time understand this, and neither did his friends.

God is his enemy, watching as if he were the tossing sea, ready to overleap its bounds, or some monster of the waters to be taken and destroyed. Day and night His hand was heavy upon him. The broken sleep as he tossed on his bed was unbearable, because of the terrifying dreams God sent. So strangling was better than the choking dread that filled his soul with terror. Poor sufferer! And he was attributing it to his best Friend!

At first sight the difficulty grows when we remember how precious he was to God, and God's tender mercy to His children. Think of such a trial on earth, right after hearing what God said about him in heaven. But much of the profit this book gives depends on one thing: God made known both His estimate of Job and Satan's trial of him only in heaven. The reason for the trial stayed a secret for the present — a secret on earth, not in heaven. Neither Job nor his friends knew anything of what God had said about him.

If Job had only realised that it was because of God's pure love to him that He allowed such things to try him, how different would his attitude have been! In the end he was brought to that conclusion, so the story closes bright with God's praise and Job's great blessing.

Job has challenged his friends to test him. Now he goes back to dwelling on his sufferings, thinking how short life is. Sleepless nights of tossing to and fro, through months of pain that never lets up, make him long for that appointed time set for all flesh. He longs for it as eagerly as a hired worker waiting for the end of his day's work.

Suppose people are in great agony, say in the foot or the head. If it is the head, they often lose all feeling. If it is the foot, no doubt it is very trying, but it passes; the attack passes. "But how is it that I am nothing but a mass of sores from head to foot, and suffering the deepest agony inside?"… Hired workers had their rest from work each day. The work may be hard, but they still had their night of ease and rest. "But I have nothing, day or night. It is all the same terrible, unbroken suffering."

The image is of the sea raised into wild, tumbling waves. So in Job 7:5 he compares his skin to this — it was split, broken up, and rough… and put away as bad.

Already the signs of the grave are on him — the worm and the clod. Any slight healing of his sores is only the signal for a fresh outbreak.

God gave permission to Satan to deal with Job's body, short of taking his life. At Satan's bidding, boils broke out on Job from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. Can you imagine a more terrible plight? Stripped of property and family in one short day, now he has lost his health. His illness meant terrible fever and agonising pain. Nothing is more wearing than pain.

Note carefully here that the spring and source of all these dealings is not Satan's accusations, but God Himself. God knew what His servant Job needed. He Himself brings Job's case forward and sets everything in motion… Satan is only an instrument, an ignorant though clever instrument, to bring about God's purposes of grace… But for Job's good, Satan is allowed his own way up to a certain point. The aim is to bring Job to know his own heart, and so to a deeper ground of practical relationship with God.

Job was a model man in his day. But he was never at rest until he learned what a mass of moral corruption he was in the sight of God. Satan was used to bring out the boils that covered his body from head to foot. The purpose was to make his moral condition plain, so that he might appear outwardly, in the sight of man, what he was inwardly, in the sight of God… Once he accepted God's estimate of himself, he no longer defended himself. He judged himself as one who had deceived himself in the past. Afterwards he received abundant tokens of God's favour.

But God was putting him into the furnace so that he might come out purer than ever. "My flesh is clothed with worms." Think of that — clothed with worms, not with wool or linen.

"My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope." That is, something was always coming — as fast as a weaver passes his shuttle, moment by moment. "Oh, remember that my life is wind; my eye shall no more see good. The eye of him that has seen me shall see me no more; Your eyes are upon me and I am not. As the cloud is consumed and vanishes away" — that is what he compared himself to.

When a man has served his time as a soldier or a slave, may he not retire? It was Job's grief that he could not, after unspeakable days and nights of hopeless misery. Yet he was only a wind or a cloud. As he thought of it, he had to speak again in his anguish.

Job has challenged his friends to test him. Now he goes back to dwelling on his sufferings, in view of how short life is. These sleepless nights of "tossings to and fro" run on through months of unrelieved pain. They make him long for that "appointed time" set for all flesh. He longs for it with the eager desire of a hired worker waiting for the close of his day's work. Already the signs of the grave are on him, the worm and the clod. Any slight healing of his sores is only the signal for a fresh outbreak.

His days were spent without hope, expecting never to see good again (vv.6-7). So to him his future appeared bleak and hopeless. How wrong he was! — for God had designed greater blessing for him in the future than he had ever known before; and in fact eternity has infinitely greater blessing yet.

But God was putting him into the furnace so that he might come out purer than ever.

The Old Testament hope was like Job's. Outside the present scene there was little light. Death was a deep, dark "shadow," almost impossible to see through. Resurrection, and restoration to a scene of blessing on earth, was the tangible, plain thing.

We pause to ask a question. Have we ever thanked God enough that we walk in the light of the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ from the dead? ... What was not made known was this: for the saint, resurrection will mean entering a new and incorruptible order of things. Our Lord showed this when He rose from the dead.

Job himself was in the dark about these things. In this chapter he even shows how ready he was to argue with God, and almost to accuse Him. That was so even though he knew God's eyes were on him (v. 8), that He was with him (v. 19), and that He had set His heart on man (v. 17). ... Day gave him no pleasure, night no rest; he prefers death to the life he "loathes" (vv. 15, 16). Yet he is unbroken. ... Not until he says, "My eye sees You," does he say, "Therefore I despise myself."

Job's reply has two general features, one for each of the two chapters given to it (Job 6, 7). In chapter 6 he speaks mainly to the friends. In the second half of the following chapter he speaks to God... (5) The brevity of life (Job 7:1-11). (6) God his enemy (verses 12-19). (7) The appeal in view of sin (verses 20, 21).

Already the signs of the grave are on him, the worm and the clod. Any slight healing of his sores is only the signal for a fresh, sickening outbreak. His painful days pass like the swift passing of the shuttle in the weaver's loom. Soon they will see him no more, and his life will melt away like a cloud in the blue sky.

He felt his suffering deeply himself, and so expressed it in a moving way. His life had been "months of emptiness" and "nights of misery." Just as a servant or hired worker longed for the shadow of evening and for his wages, he was longing for the end. His days fled away, and he was hopeless. His friends should have been more filled with compassion.

Job himself was in the dark about these things. In the chapter referred to he even shows how ready he was to argue with God, and almost accuse Him. Yet he knew that God's eyes were upon him (v. 8), that He was with him (v. 19), and that He had set His heart upon man (v. 17)... In chapter 7 he knew he had sinned (v. 20), and tasted great bitterness, despite his sense of the Lord's nearness. That sense only added to his distress.

God is his enemy, watching him as if he were the tossing sea, ready to break past its limits, or some sea monster to be caught and destroyed. Day and night His hand was heavy upon him... Poor sufferer! And he was attributing it to his best Friend!

Sometimes we have a little of that experience. But how little it is next to Job's, and how quickly it passes. But God was putting him into the furnace so that he might come out purer than ever.

Job was to be raised and live again, and to live in a glorious way, in power and incorruption. "Whom I shall see for myself." He was not in the least afraid of the Lord. He loved to think of Him, and looked for His intervention with certainty. "And my eyes shall behold, and not another."

Not until chapter 40 does Job discover that he is vile and stop speaking. It is then that he begins to understand what man is... Not until he says, "now my eye sees you," does he say, "therefore I despise myself."

Job now returns to dwell on his sufferings in view of the brevity of life. His sleepless nights of "tossings to and fro" run through months of unrelieved pain. They make him long for that "appointed time" for all flesh. He wants it as eagerly as a hired worker waiting for the end of his working day. Already the signs of the grave are on him: the worm and the clod. Any slight healing of his sores only signals a fresh, disgusting outbreak. Like the swift passing of the shuttle in the weaver's loom, so his painful days pass. Soon they will see him no more, and his life will melt away like the cloud in the blue sky.