Job 4:1–5

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.