And Eliphaz the Temanite answered and said,
Job has poured out his grief in chapter 3, and now the silence breaks: Eliphaz the Temanite speaks first. What comfort does he bring, and why does a speech full of true sentences end up wrong?
This one line opens the long argument of the book. As it opens, one figure drops out of the story.
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.
The friends sat with Job for a week without a word. What broke the silence was not a message from God but their own thoughts.
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.
"Temanite" tells us where Eliphaz came from: Teman, a place known for its wise men. His name and his country both carry meaning.
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.
The speech that follows this verse is not crude abuse. What Eliphaz says is true, yet something in it is missing.
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.
Commentators differ in tone here. One notes that Eliphaz at least begins gently before the argument hardens.
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.
Each of the three friends argues from a different base. Eliphaz builds on what he has seen.
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.
The flaw is not that what he saw was false. It is that he made it a rule for everyone.
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?
All three friends start from the same assumption.
That assumption led them to a verdict God Himself rejected.
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.
- Silence — Seven wordless days ended here; what filled the gap was thinking, not listening to God.
- Source — Eliphaz spoke his own thoughts, not the mind of God, and that is where the failure began.
- Standard — His rule was "as I have seen." He made his own experience a law for another man's life.
- Sympathy — His words were true, but true words without compassion wound. Light without life can never help.
- Sentence — The friends read Job's suffering as proof of guilt. They condemned an innocent man, and God's anger fell on them, not on him.
If a word were essayed to thee, wouldest thou be grieved? But who can refrain from speaking?
Job's friends have sat with him in silence, and Eliphaz is the first of them to speak. He opens with a polite question rather than a charge — but polite words are not always the right words for a suffering man.
One writer describes what the friends' silence meant, and what it cost the eldest of them to speak at all:
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?"
His opening is gentle, and his next words praise Job. But the kindness rests on a wrong reading of what was wrong with him.
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.
What Eliphaz goes on to say is not false. That is what makes his speech so hard to answer.
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.
Eliphaz was right to expect strength from a man who had strengthened others. Still, a friend at a sickbed owes more than accuracy.
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.
Eliphaz had just praised Job for lifting people who were falling.
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.
Later in the book, Job answers all of this by naming what the friends had become — and by saying what he would have done in their place. Commentators note that his own reply exposes the gap between speech and comfort:
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.
- Permission — Eliphaz asks before he speaks, then admits he cannot stay silent. His tone is apologetic, and he is the calmest of the three friends.
- Diagnosis — his courtesy covers a wrong reading of the case. The friends saw only God's justice in Job's suffering, and nothing of His love.
- Application — his words are true in themselves, and the New Testament later quotes them. Aimed at Job, they were inexcusably wrong.
- Sympathy — true words without compassion turn harsh. Grace weeps with those who weep.
- Help — Eliphaz praised Job for strengthening weak hands, then failed to do it himself. Seeing a man's fault is easy; giving him help is the hard part.
Behold, thou hast instructed many, and thou hast strengthened the weak hands;
Eliphaz answers Job by looking back at the man Job used to be — a teacher of many, and a support to weak hands. Is that praise meant as comfort? Or is it the first move in a case against his friend?
Eliphaz is not flattering. His picture of Job's past is accurate. One commentator says that fact should have shaped how Eliphaz went on to speak.
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?
The compliment is a run-up. Eliphaz recalls what Job gave others, then asks why Job cannot supply it to himself. One commentator names what is missing.
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.
The irony turns back on the speaker. Eliphaz describes help he is not giving.
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.
Job had words that lifted falling people. Now those same words cannot lift him — and that experience, one writer says, is not unique to Job.
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.
On its own, the sentence sounds like a tribute. One commentator sees a darker source behind it.
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.
Job could not do for himself what he had done for others. One writer sets that failure beside a greater sufferer.
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.
- Gave — Job's record was real: he taught many, steadied weak hands, and held up people who were falling.
- Got — Job did not receive what he gave. Eliphaz offers criticism where a friend owed sympathy, and never strengthens the hands he praises.
- Failed — the arguments that once helped others did not help Job. Only the living strength of God is enough in the hour of personal need.
- Turned — the compliment opens a case. behind it lies the first hint that Job is a hypocrite, a wedge driven harder as the book goes on.
- Contrast — Job fainted when trouble touched him. One alone went through the furnace and came out precious beyond words.
Thy words have upholden him that was stumbling, and thou hast braced up the bending knees
Job has just broken a week of silence with a lament so dark that his friends cannot sit still. Eliphaz answers first. He opens with no accusation at all, but with praise for the good Job once did for other broken people.
Eliphaz's first words sound like respect. One writer traces how quickly the tone changes once the courtesy is spent.
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.
The praise here is not a gift. It sets up the reproach that follows.
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.
Nothing Eliphaz says here is false. The problem is what he leaves out.
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.
Job's words had propped up people who were slipping. Now the same words fail to comfort the man who spoke them.
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.
A record of helping others can become a weapon against the helper. One writer reads this passage as an attack coming through a friend's mouth.
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.
Words that hold up a falling man must carry more than good advice.
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.
- Strength given — Job's help was real. His words steadied people who were stumbling, and even his critic admits it.
- Strength tested — the arguments we once used on others still stand. Yet they give no comfort when the shadow falls on us.
- Strength misused — every word Eliphaz says is true. But truth without sympathy turns harsh. The Man of Sorrows wept with sufferers instead of lecturing them.
- Strength attacked — the enemy turns "you have instructed many" into self-accusation. It is the first wedge in the charge that Job is a hypocrite.
- Strength renewed — only the living strength of God is enough in the day of personal need. Only those who have tasted His comfort can pass it on.
But now it is come upon thee, and thou grievest; it toucheth thee, and thou art troubled.
Eliphaz speaks first, praising the Job everyone knew — the man whose words held up others who were falling. Then he turns that record into a question: why does the comforter collapse when the trouble is his own?
Eliphaz has his facts right. Job had strengthened weak hands. But a true statement can still be the wrong thing to say to a suffering man.
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.
The irony goes deeper. Eliphaz describes the very help Job once gave others, and then withholds it.
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.
The verse is not only about Eliphaz. The counsel we gave others with ease may not hold us up when the blow lands on us.
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.
Behind the praise lies a fixed rule. If suffering always punishes sin, Job's collapse must expose hidden sin in him.
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.
The friends said many true things. The harm lay in where they aimed them.
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!
One writer traces the strategy behind the words. Eliphaz uses Job's own reputation to turn Job's thoughts back on himself.
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.
- Touched. The trouble Job once helped others through has now reached him. The man who steadied the falling is himself dismayed.
- Tested. Job's pain does not refute the arguments he once used. They just fail to comfort him. Argument was never the strength that carried him.
- Twisted. Eliphaz's facts are true. But his rule — suffering means punishment — cannot tell a righteous sufferer from a wicked one.
- Turned into a weapon. Truth aimed wrongly does more harm than open error. It lends God's authority to a wrong conclusion.
- Turned inward. The reproach makes Job look at Job; real help would have pointed him instead to the living strength of God.
Hath not thy piety been thy confidence, and the perfection of thy ways thy hope?
Seven days of silence end, and Eliphaz opens with a question, not a charge: why is Job's reverence for God not steadying him now? Much of what he says is true, and that is what makes it worth weighing, because he has misread Job's trial.
The verse names two things Job had: reverence toward God, and a clean record. Eliphaz says each one gave Job something.
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.
Eliphaz says nothing untrue here. But saying true things is not the same as helping a suffering man. The way he opens already shows where he will end up.
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.
Eliphaz still hopes well of Job. But he asks about a trial whose purpose he cannot see.
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.
Even so, the question lands close to something real in Job.
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.
Having spotted the weak spot, Eliphaz then presses on it. His cure is the disease.
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 asks two questions. The second is where Eliphaz's ground gives way.
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.
- Fear. Job's reverence toward God was real, and it gave him confidence about his past life. Eliphaz did not invent that fact; he misapplied it.
- Confidence. Eliphaz asks in ignorance of the source, character, and aim of Job's trial. He knows one rule only: the righteous triumph and the wicked come to ruin.
- Hope. Resting your hope on your own upright ways is a poor foundation. Christ, not our conduct, gives firm confidence before God.
- Snare. God Himself had guaranteed Job's character. That is what made building everything on it such a subtle trap — one many godly people have fallen into since.
- Ground. Eliphaz threw Job back on himself instead of pointing him to the grace that is in God. So he deepened the very fault he had spotted.
Remember, I pray thee, who that was innocent has perished? and where were the upright cut off?
Eliphaz asks Job a question that sounds like comfort but works like an accusation. He challenges Job to name one innocent person who was ever destroyed. Behind it lies a rule about how God runs the world. The book of Job sets out to correct that rule.
The question is not really a question. It is a trap. If God is just and Job is suffering, only one conclusion is left.
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.
The pressure of that logic is felt by Job long before he can answer it.
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!
Notice what Eliphaz appeals to. Not to a word from God, but to what he has watched happen.
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.
Eliphaz meant the question to be unanswerable. The Bible answers it early, in the death of Abel at his brother Cain's hand.
"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.
There is an obvious objection: Eliphaz lived long before Genesis was written down.
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.
Eliphaz never produces a charge. He reads Job's ruined circumstances backwards into Job's character.
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).
One case destroys the rule completely. God pointed to it in His very first promise of a Deliverer.
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.
- Rule. Eliphaz assumes the innocent are never destroyed. So suffering must mean guilt. It is a rule built from one man's observation.
- Trap. That rule forces Job into a dilemma: either he is a secret sinner, or God is unjust.
- Refutation. Abel answers it. He was righteous and guiltless, yet an unrighteous man cut him off — the first disaster after sin entered the world.
- Assumption. Eliphaz had no evidence against Job. He treated Job's suffering as the proof. God had called Job blameless and upright.
- Test. Measure the rule against Christ. He suffered more than anyone, yet no evil was in Him. The rule is false, whatever truth it holds.
Even as I have seen, they that plough iniquity and sow mischief, reap the same.
Eliphaz, the first of Job's friends to speak, ends his opening argument with a picture from farming: the harvest tells you what was planted. The question is whether that saying, true as it sounds, explains why Job lost everything.
The word for "plow" carries more than farming. It is also used as a picture of plotting evil.
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.
Eliphaz builds his case on one phrase: "As I have seen." His own experience is his whole authority.
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.
The saying itself is sound. The error is the man Eliphaz pins it on.
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.
Eliphaz had already asked who ever perished being innocent. The very first death recorded after sin entered the world answers him.
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."
The mistake is not only in the logic. It shapes how Eliphaz treats his friend.
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.
The words never name Job. One writer sees Satan himself behind the thrust.
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.
The law of sowing and reaping is still true. Forgiveness does not cancel it, and it does not cancel forgiveness.
"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.
- Plowing — The word for tilling soil also pictures plotting evil. Wrong deeds start as plans.
- Seeing — Eliphaz argues from what he has watched happen. One case unlike his own, and the argument counts for nothing.
- Sowing — The saying is true in principle but false about Job. The wicked often grow old in plenty while those who fear God go without.
- Accusing — Treat suffering and sin as root and fruit, and you stop comforting your friend and start accusing him.
- Reaping — The harvest is real, but it is God's government, not our verdict on a friend. Forgiven sin still has a harvest, and grace is felt most deeply there.