Job 4:3–5

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.