Doth the papyrus shoot up without mire? doth the reed-grass grow without water?
Bildad answers Job by reaching for a picture from the natural world: a marsh plant can only live where the marsh is. His point is about roots. What a life leans on will show itself in the end, and he means Job to feel it.
One reference work defines the word behind "reeds":
achu, a soft reed that can only grow in moist ground: it is eaten by cattle. Job 8:11.
The plants stand tall and green, but the height is not their own. One writer traces where it comes from, and how fast it goes:
The papyrus does not lift its head so high by any strength of its own. It rises from the abundant mire in which it thrives its little day. The same is true of the flag or bulrush of the East: it grows from sheer excess of moisture, not from solid ground. This is so true that they do not decay slowly, like other plants. They are the first to wither, even without being cut down.
Bildad is not speaking from what he has seen. He is passing on what earlier generations taught, and that sets him apart from the friend who spoke before him:
Eliphaz argued from his own observation — from what he had seen. Bildad argued from tradition — from what could be learned in the records of earlier days. He distrusted conclusions drawn from personal experience, since the days of a man on earth are only "a shadow."
Another writer questions the appeal itself:
Bildad here seeks confirmation of his contention from the wisdom of past ages. He goes beyond Eliphaz: "For we are but as children of yesterday." That is true. But what does the stored-up wisdom of all the past give us when the question is God's truth? It is not to the past that we are to turn, but to God and His word.
Nothing in the verse is factually wrong. The failure is in the use made of it:
Yet Bildad had much to say that was right and good. There is always a reason for things developing, but Bildad did not read that reason correctly in Job's case. Also he says that a reed may wither while yet green, and he uses this as a picture of those who forget God (vv.11-12). True enough. But he was wrongly suggesting that Job had forgotten God. He treated Job's perishing hope as a sign that Job must be a hypocrite (v.13). It is certainly true that the hypocrite's hope shall perish, but to apply this to Job was totally unfair.
Bildad never says this outright. The illustration carries it:
And here we have the wisdom of Bildad as he learned it from the past. It is all true and sublimely stated: the wicked cannot prosper, their doom is certain. On the other hand God will not cast off the perfect man. But Job is in the position of a man God has cast off. So he must belong to the wicked who do not prosper. Bildad hides this beneath his fine words.
One writer turns Bildad's image back on the three friends:
Well, that is just what their condition was — mire and water. There was no substance at all, just mire and water. Their thoughts were no better than the flag that grew out of the water, or the reed that grew out of the mire. And he talks about the hypocrite being no better than a spider's web. That is exactly what they were, though they were not hypocrites. Still, they were all wrong in their reasonings, and wrong reasoning is never better than a spider's web.
Applied to the wrong person, the picture becomes a weapon. One writer warns believers who look to their own greenness for proof:
This is all true of the stony-ground hearers. But it is not true of Job, and not true of the soul that sincerely trusts in Christ. The water that is in him is a well of water, springing up into everlasting life. "The hypocrite's hope shall perish", but the feeblest sheep of Christ shall never perish. But if he looks at his own imagined greenness — at his own boasted goodness — it will fade away. And so Satan gets the advantage. There may be much freshness of soul at conversion, like the green flag; but beware of trusting in this.
- Root — The reed borrows its height from the mud beneath it. It stands by its element, not by its own strength, so it is the first to wither.
- Source — Bildad's saying comes from earlier generations, not from God. Stored-up human wisdom is not the standard when God's truth is the question.
- Misuse — Every part of the verse is true. The fault lies in the unspoken conclusion: that Job's failing hope proved him a hypocrite.
- Mirror — The friends' own reasoning had no more substance than the reed they described. A wrong argument is as flimsy as a spider's web.
- Living water — The warning fits a shallow, rootless faith. The one who trusts Christ carries a well of water springing up to everlasting life. He should not rest his confidence on his own greenness.
Whilst it is yet in its greenness [and] not cut down, it withereth before any [other] grass.
To answer Job, Bildad borrows the wisdom of earlier generations and points to a marsh plant: still green, still uncut — and already dying. But does fast growth prove anything about the life underneath it, and does Job really fit the picture?
Where does the papyrus get its height? One commentator points not to the plant but to the soft mud under it, and shows why such a plant dies before the rest.
The papyrus lifts its head so high by no strength of its own. Its height comes from the plentiful mud where it thrives for its short day. The same is true of the reed or bulrush of the East, which grows from sheer excess of moisture, not from solid ground. This is so true that they do not decay slowly, like other plants, but are the first to wither without being cut down.
Nothing cuts it down. The water goes, and what the water held up goes with it.
Bildad applies the picture to a life lived away from God, where wealth can vanish faster than the ordinary lives around it.
The water-reed, or papyrus, grows thick and lush while water is around its roots. As soon as the water is gone, it withers faster than any other plant. So is the prosperity of the wicked, who for a time spreads himself as a green bay tree. The hope of the ungodly — not merely the hypocrite — perishes.
The proverb is sound. The problem is the man Bildad aims it at.
Things always grow for a reason. But Bildad read that reason wrongly in Job's case. He also says that a reed may wither while still green, and he uses this as a picture of those who forget God. True enough. But he was wrongly suggesting that Job had forgotten God. Job's hope seemed to be perishing, so Bildad took him for a hypocrite. It is certainly true that the hypocrite's hope will perish, but to apply this to Job was totally unfair.
Kelly turns this into a warning for anyone facing what he cannot yet explain.
A believer should not make haste; he should wait where he does not have the assurance of God's mind. Least of all should he have put the worst possible construction on what he did not understand. He did just that. It made Job's trial harder and provoked his spirit, which then gave an appearance of evil to those who suspected evil. So the confusion grew worse, and the true answer lay hidden in deeper darkness from their eyes. Did it ever occur to the three friends that the wise thing would have been to pray, instead of talking, judging, and condemning?
The verse has a use Bildad never intended. It shows what happens when a person's confidence rests on his own freshness instead of on Christ.
This is all true of the stony-ground hearers. But it is not true of Job, and not true of the soul that truly trusts in Christ. The water that is in him is a well of water, springing up into everlasting life. "The hypocrite's hope will perish" — but the feeblest sheep of Christ will never perish. But suppose he looks at his own imagined greenness, at his own boasted goodness. Then it will fade away, and Satan gains the advantage. At conversion there may be much freshness of soul, like the green reed. But beware of trusting in it. When the real character of the flesh comes out, the setback is often as great as the joy was. Then the darts fly: "Have I deceived myself?" "Perhaps I have no root in Christ." Then what darkness of soul, what confusion! The eye is off Christ, and the heart is listening to Satan. Even the very first question, that of justification, is no longer settled. It was just so with Job at the end of Bildad's speech.
So Bildad's blow lands hardest on an honest conscience, not a guilty one. It can unsettle even the question of how a person stands right with God.
- Root — the marsh plant borrows its height from the mud around it. No strength of its own lifts it.
- Speed — a borrowed life dies fastest. Still green and uncut, it withers before hardier plants.
- Reach — the picture fits the prosperity and hope of people who live without God. Both drain away the moment the supply stops.
- Misuse — a true saying turns cruel when aimed at a sufferer. Bildad judged by what he saw, when he should have prayed.
- Supply — the believer's water is not under him but inside him: a well springing up to eternal life. So never lean on your own greenness.
So are the paths of all that forget God; and the profane man's hope shall perish,
Bildad has just pointed Job to the wisdom of past generations, and now he draws his lesson from a reed that withers as soon as the marsh dries up. The words are true, but who did Bildad mean by them — and does a suffering man's fading hope prove anything about his heart?
Bildad's argument runs on a simple rule: God pays each man what he deserves, so a ruined life proves a rotten heart.
So in the rest of the chapter he summarised what tradition would teach. He illustrated his point with things in nature, like the rush and the spider's web. He claimed that all history showed that God repaid man according to what he deserved. If evil, he is cut off. If good, he is prospered. To tell Job that "the hypocrite's hope shall perish" was a cut this time not at Job's children but at Job himself.
Older translations read "hypocrite" here, where the ESV has "the godless." One writer takes the word wider than play-acting. His pictures show what Bildad had in mind: a plant with no water under it, and a man leaning on threads.
In this section Bildad traces the way of the wicked; and there is much truth in what he says, though it is not all the truth. Can the water-reed, or papyrus, flourish without moisture? It grows thick and fast while water is around its roots. Once that water is gone, it withers faster than any other plant. So is the prosperity of the wicked, who for a time spreads himself like a green bay tree. The hope of the ungodly — not just the hypocrite — perishes. Changing his picture, Bildad compares the confidence of the wicked to a man leaning on a spider's web. What a pitiful state, clinging for nothing to something so frail!
Where the pretence is real, it runs deep. Religious work does not cure it.
There always was and always will be such a generation — people who mix in with the saints of God. They make a show of heaven, with heavenly speeches, while their hearts are lined with hypocrisy. By it they deceive others, and most of all themselves. Such people may be the world's saints, but in Christ's account they are devils. "Have I not chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil?" And truly, of all devils, none is so bad as the professing devil, the preaching, praying devil.
The saying holds true. It just does not fit the man Bildad aimed it at.
Also he says that a reed may wither while still green, and he uses this as a comparison for those who forget God (vv. 11-12). True enough, but he was wrong to suggest that Job had forgotten God. He was also wrong to treat Job's hope, which seemed to be perishing, as proof that Job must be a hypocrite (v. 13). It is certainly true that the hypocrite's hope shall perish, but to apply this to Job was totally unfair.
Bildad's picture of the wicked was sound. The problem lay in his own thoughts.
So it is with the wicked, both in their rise and in their ruin: the paths of all who forget God end this way, surely and miserably, and the hope of the impure is just as fleeting... If Job really is a perfect man, God will not cast him away until He gives him the fullest grounds for thankful praise, confounds his enemies, and destroys the wicked for ever. (But neither does He grasp the hand of evil-doers.) But when he applied this to Job, there was no fellowship with God in Bildad's thoughts, and no gracious consideration for the sufferer. He judged by appearances, and so his judgment was unrighteous.
True words can still wound. One writer traces how Satan turns this line into a dart against a troubled believer.
"The hypocrite's hope shall perish;" but the feeblest sheep of Christ shall never perish. But if he looks at his own imagined greenness — at his own boasted goodness — this will fade away; and so Satan gains the advantage. There may be much freshness of soul at conversion — like the green flag; but beware of trusting in this... Then showers of darts come: "Have I deceived myself?" "I do not feel as I did." "Perhaps I have no root in Christ." "The hypocrite's hope shall perish." Then, oh, what darkness of soul — what perplexity! The eye is off Christ; the heart is listening to Satan.
- Root — the reed is green only because of the marsh under it. What matters is what a life rests on, not how green it looks today.
- Reach — the ESV reads "the godless" where older versions read "hypocrite." Ridout widens it to the ungodly: everyone who forgets God, not only the pretender.
- Reality — hypocrisy is a heart lined with pretence while the mouth speaks of heaven. Preaching and praying do not touch it.
- Reversal — the saying is true, but Bildad worked backwards from Job's ruin to Job's character. He judged by appearances, with no fellowship with God and no pity for the sufferer.
- Rest — the hypocrite's hope perishes, but the weakest sheep of Christ never does. When this verse troubles you, stop inspecting your own greenness and look to Christ.
Whose confidence shall be cut off, and his reliance is a spider's web.
Bildad is the second of Job's three friends. He argues from old sayings about how God deals with people. Here he picks one of the frailest things in nature to picture what a godless man leans on. The picture itself is true. The question is whether it was true of Job.
Bildad's earlier words struck at Job's children. Now the aim shifts.
So in the rest of the chapter he summarised what tradition would teach, illustrating his point by things in nature, like the rush and the spider's web. He claimed that all history showed that God repaid man according to what he deserved. If a man is evil, God cuts him off. If he is good, God makes him prosper. To tell Job that "the hypocrite's hope shall perish" was a cut this time not at Job's children but at Job himself.
The picture turns on a gap. A man can grip his trust as hard as he likes, and the thread still gives way.
The object of their confidence is no firmer than a spider's web, though he may cling to it ever so tightly. It has no more permanence than the rank weed which spreads over a garden and twists its shoots into a stone-heap.
A Bible dictionary identifies the creature from the web the verse mentions. That web fails twice over: it holds nothing, and it covers nothing.
We know this creature is the spider, because Scripture mentions its web. The web is very frail, so it pictures the trust of the hypocrite. It also pictures the weaving of the wicked, which will not give them a garment. Job 8:14; Isa. 59:5.
Older versions call this man a hypocrite, which narrows the verse to people putting on a false front. One writer reads Bildad's target more widely.
So is the prosperity of the wicked, who for a time spreads himself like a green bay tree. The hope of the ungodly — not merely the hypocrite — perishes. Then Bildad changes the picture. He compares the confidence of the wicked to someone leaning on a spider's web. How pitiful is the state of a man clinging in vain to something so frail!
Bildad rests his case on human tradition. One writer turns the picture back on the friends themselves.
They were all arguing on the ground of righteousness. Not one of them had taken in any thought of grace, up to this point and for long after… Bildad talks about the hypocrite being no better than a spider's web. That is exactly what they were, though they were not hypocrites. They were all wrong in their reasoning, and wrong reasoning is never better than a spider's web.
Bildad's verdict came from what he could see. The same writer says why that made it wrong.
Applied to the present case, there was no fellowship with God in Bildad's thoughts, and no gracious consideration for the sufferer. So his judgment, going by appearances, was unrighteous.
This warning still unsettles sincere believers. One writer shows where it applies, and where it does not.
This is all true of the stony-ground hearers. It is not true of Job, and not true of the soul that sincerely trusts in Christ… "The hypocrite's hope shall perish." But the weakest sheep of Christ shall never perish. If he looks at his own imagined greenness — at his own boasted goodness — this will fade away, and so Satan gets the advantage. There may be much freshness of soul at conversion, like a green reed. But beware of trusting in this.
Bildad expected the collapse in this life. One writer applies the same picture to a day still ahead.
This is man's day, a day in which he has thrown off all law and followed the dictates of his own evil heart… But God's day is coming. In that day everything man trusts in will be like a spider's web, blown to pieces by the first blast of His withering wrath. He will find himself homeless, exposed to the eternal condemnation of his Creator, whose mercy he has so despised.
- Cut — Bildad aims his proverb about a perishing hope straight at Job, no longer at his children.
- Web — the picture works two ways: a thread that holds no weight, and a weaving that clothes nobody.
- Grip — the tragedy is not a weak hold but a tight hold on something that cannot carry it. How hard you cling changes nothing.
- Misfire — the friends argued only from righteousness, with no thought of grace. Their own reasoning was the flimsy web, and their verdict went by appearances.
- Anchor — the warning is real for empty profession. But the weakest sheep of Christ will never perish. Test what you lean on now, before the day that blows every false shelter apart.
He shall lean upon his house, and it shall not stand; he shall lay hold on it, but it shall not endure.
Bildad is speaking. This verse sits in the middle of his picture of the man whose confidence collapses — a man leaning on a house that will not hold him. The question the verse forces is not whether the picture is accurate, but who it is aimed at, and whether Job is that man.
Bildad is the second of Job's friends to speak. He comes at Job with less patience than Eliphaz, who spoke first. One writer traces his motive and the flaw under it.
Bildad now takes up what is fast becoming a dispute. There is perhaps less of the courtesy and dignity that marked the speech of Eliphaz, and there is some harshness toward Job, apparently caused by Job's bitter charge against God. For all that he does not know about God's ways, Bildad cares deeply about God's honor, and cannot allow Him to be accused. In this he is right. But he fails to convince Job, because of the error at the root of the thinking of all of them: God must punish sin, so Job must be a sinner, since he is being punished.
Bildad keeps changing the picture. A web, then a vine in full sunshine — each one shows something that cannot last.
Changing his picture, Bildad compares the confidence of the wicked to a man leaning on a spider's web. How pitiful is the state of someone clinging to something so frail, and all for nothing! Piling up images again, he compares this passing prosperity to a lush vine spreading over a heap of stones in the garden, full of sap and strength in the bright sunshine. Soon God cuts him off, and the place that once knew him will know him no more. Others will take his place.
"House" here means more than a building. Another writer ties it to what Job had just lost.
Bildad saw that Job's confidence had been shaken. He treated that confidence as "cut off," as though Job had been trusting a spider's web (v.14). He further says, "He leans against his house, but it does not stand" (v.15). Of course he is thinking of how Job had leaned on the stability of his house, but it had collapsed: all his family was gone.
That is what makes the words so cruel. Bildad points at a grave and calls it evidence.
Almost nothing Bildad says here is false in itself. The error lies in the application.
It is certainly true that the hypocrite's hope shall perish, but to apply this to Job was totally unfair.
There is a turn in the argument that the speakers never saw. The image they used against Job described their own case better than his.
And he talks about the hypocrite being no better than a spider's web. That is exactly what they were. They were not hypocrites, but they were all wrong in their reasoning, and wrong reasoning is never better than a spider's web.
The same writer names what was missing from every speech, and what it took for Job to find it.
They were all arguing on the ground of righteousness. Not one of them had taken in, up to this point and for long after, any thought of grace. And Job only arrived at it at last when God stepped in. There he was dust and ashes. There he took the place of nothingness, and worse than nothingness. Then he was blessed; then he was vindicated by God, and not till then.
These words still get turned against people who truly trust God.
"The hypocrite's hope shall perish," but the weakest sheep of Christ shall never perish. Yet if he looks at his own imagined greenness — at his own boasted goodness — that will fade away, and so Satan gains the advantage. There may be much freshness of soul at conversion, like the green reed; but beware of trusting in this... Then come showers of darts, such as: "Have I deceived myself?" "I do not feel as I did." "Perhaps I have no root in Christ." "The hypocrite's hope shall perish." Then, oh, what darkness of soul — what confusion! The eye is off Christ; the heart is listening to Satan.
- Root error. Bildad's whole case rests on one assumption — God must punish sin, so a suffering man must be a sinner. Everything else he says stands on it.
- The web. Bildad's picture is a man putting his whole weight on something that cannot hold it. The sunlit vine and the leaning house end the same way.
- The wound. The "house" that would not stand was Job's own — his family, already gone. Bildad turned Job's loss into proof against him.
- The misfire. The sentence about the hypocrite's hope is true. Aimed at Job, it was unfair. True words can still wound the wrong man.
- The mirror. The friends were not hypocrites. Still, their reasoning was the very web they described, and wrong reasoning holds no more weight than a spider's thread. Not one of them had reached any thought of grace. Look away from your own greenness to Christ, and the darts lose their point.
He is full of sap before the sun, and his sprout shooteth forth over his garden;
Bildad is arguing that God pays every man back for what he is. Here he draws a picture from the garden: a plant thriving in full sun, its shoots running everywhere, its roots gripping a pile of stones. Is that thriving real strength? And did Bildad have any right to aim the picture at the man in front of him?
One commentator takes the picture phrase by phrase, and explains why the plant grabs at stones. His wording follows an older translation:
"He is green before the sun, and his branch shoots forth in his garden. His roots are wrapped about the heap" — to get a little strength from the heap — "and sees the place of stones." That is what the reed does to get a firm hold.
So the green spread proves nothing about depth. The roots are only borrowing a hold from a stone heap.
Another commentator weighs how much of Bildad's argument is sound:
There is much truth in what he says, though it is not all the truth... Once more he reaches for a picture. He compares this passing prosperity to a rich vine covering a heap of stones in the garden, full of sap and strength in the bright sunshine. Soon God cuts him off, and the place that once knew him will know him no more.
So prosperity can be full of sap and have nothing underneath it. The error is not the picture. It is the use Bildad makes of it.
Bildad did not mean this as general wisdom. It was a hint, and he meant Job to feel it:
In verses 16 and 17 he speaks of the hypocrite. At first he grows green in the sun, his branches spreading out and his roots wrapped around the rock heap, and he appears to be doing well. But he may be destroyed from his place, and his place denies that it ever saw him (v.18) — that is, there is no evidence left that he was ever prosperous. This may well be true of the hypocrite when he is finally exposed and shamed. But Bildad hinted that Job had suffered things like the destruction he describes, so Job must be a hypocrite! But Bildad did not yet know the end of the story, and his assumptions were ill-considered and false.
Job had flourished. Then Job lost everything. Bildad joined the two facts with a rule.
That rule is where the whole speech goes wrong. All three friends hold it:
For all his ignorance of divine principles, Bildad cares deeply about the honour of God, and cannot let anyone accuse Him. In this he is right. But he fails to convince Job, because of the root error in the thinking of all of them: God must punish sin, and Job must be a sinner, because God is punishing him.
Bildad could not see what God was doing. A better response than speech was open to him:
We need not be surprised that he could not see in advance the lessons God meant this very book to teach. But a believer should not rush. He should wait where he is not sure of God's mind. Least of all should he have put the worst possible meaning on what he did not understand. That is what he did, and it made Job's trial heavier and provoked his spirit... Did it ever occur to the three friends that the wise thing would have been to pray, instead of talking, judging and blaming?
The withering plant still has a use, if you turn it on yourself and know what part of you it describes:
This is all true of those who hear the word on stony ground. It is not true of Job, and not true of the soul that truly trusts in Christ... But if he looks at his own imagined greenness — at his own boasted goodness — that will fade away, and so Satan gains the advantage. There may be much freshness of soul at conversion, like the green reed. But beware of trusting in that. Very often the reaction is as strong as the joy was great, when the true character of the flesh comes to light.
- Green. The plant looks strongest in full sun. It spreads across the garden, and nothing on the surface shows that anything is wrong.
- Gripping. Its roots wrap a stone heap to borrow a hold. The vigour is real; the foundation is not. In the end the ground that carried it denies it was ever there.
- Aimed. Bildad pressed this at Job. You flourished, then you fell, so you must be the hypocrite in the picture. The assumption was false.
- Root error. He defended God's honour by one fixed rule: suffering proves sin. That rule misread Job.
- Better. Where God's mind is not clear, wait and pray instead of talking, judging and blaming. Turn the withering plant on your own boasted goodness, not on a suffering friend.
His roots are entwined about the stoneheap; he seeth the place of stones.
Bildad is in the middle of a word-picture of the godless man. He draws a plant that looks lush and well-rooted, its roots gripping a pile of stones. Does such visible strength prove anything about a person's standing with God? And does Job's ruined life prove the opposite?
The plant in Bildad's picture is not strong in itself. It borrows its grip from the rubble it has wound itself around.
"His roots are wrapped about the heap" — to get a little strength from the heap — "and sees the place of stones." That is what the reed does to get a firm grip.
Kelly quotes an older translation here; the ESV says the roots entwine the stone heap. Commentators differ on the plant — some call it a reed, others a vine. Either way the grip is borrowed, not grown.
The stone heap belongs in a garden, and Bildad piles his images high: sap, sunshine, sprawling cover. Then the picture turns.
Bildad's images keep pouring out. He compares this short-lived prosperity to a lush vine covering a heap of stones in the garden, full of sap and strength in the bright sunshine. Soon God cuts him off, and "the place that once knew him shall know him no more." Others take his place.
The verse has two halves: roots gripping a stone heap, and a plant looking out on a house of stones. Neither hold lasts.
It lasts no longer than the coarse weed that spreads over a garden and winds its shoots into a stone heap. But it is all in vain. He may look on a house of stone, but he is soon destroyed, like a harmful weed that only takes up space in the ground. The ground then denies him, as if it had never seen him. This is the joy of his way and the bitter end of godless prosperity. Yet such men keep coming, just as such weeds do: one springs up after another out of the dust, only to pass away even faster.
Taken on its own, Bildad's description is not wrong. What ruins it is the person he aims it at.
In verses 16 and 17 he speaks of the hypocrite. At first he grows green in the sun, his branches spread out, and his roots wrap around the rock heap. He seems to be doing well... This description may indeed be true of the hypocrite when he is finally exposed and humbled. But Bildad hinted that since Job had suffered things like the destruction he describes, Job must be a hypocrite! Bildad did not yet know the end of the story, and his assumptions were careless and false.
The logic runs backwards from the wreckage to the man's heart. Job had lost everything, so — by Bildad's rule — Job must have been rootless all along.
The fault is not in the picture but in how Bildad uses it. He measures Job by what he can see.
But applied to Job's case, there was no fellowship with God in Bildad's thoughts, and no gracious care for the sufferer. So his judgment went by appearances, and it was unrighteous.
Bildad's wisdom is borrowed too. He leans on the sayings of earlier generations. That is why his picture can be vivid and still miss the man in front of him.
The authority of many "fathers" carries far more weight and respect than the experience of one person... But the fact is that neither experience nor tradition will do. Experience may be true, as far as it goes, but you can hardly find two people whose experience matches exactly. As for tradition, it is a mass of confusion — one father differs from another. Nothing is more slippery or uncertain than the voice of tradition, the authority of the fathers.
If neither tradition nor experience settles the matter, what does?
Even so, what does all the gathered wisdom of the past give us when the question is God's truth? We are not to turn to the past, but to God and His word.
- Borrowed grip. The roots do not hold the plant up; the stone heap does. Bildad's image is of strength taken from outside, not life from within.
- Borrowed vigour fades. The sap and sunshine are real for a season, then God cuts him off and another springs up in the same spot.
- Borrowed memory fails. The very ground it clung to will deny it — no trace left that the prosperity was ever there.
- Borrowed logic misfires. The description fits a hypocrite exposed; it did not fit Job, because Bildad did not know the end of the story.
- Borrowed wisdom is not enough. Tradition sounds stronger than one man's experience. Neither settles God's truth. Only God and His word do.
If he destroy him from his place, then it shall deny him I have not seen thee!
Bildad has compared the wicked to a plant that thrives for a season, then is torn out so completely that the ground where it grew says it never saw him. The picture is vivid and mostly true, but does it fit Job, the man sitting in ashes in front of him?
The removal is total. The ground itself turns witness and disowns him, as if he had never grown there. One writer traces the plant's grip on the stones — verse 17 in an older wording — then the sudden end:
"His roots are wrapped about the heap" — to get a little strength from the heap — "and sees the place of stones." That is what the reed does to get a firm hold... The same is true of man on the earth. He passes away, and his memory is so forgotten that the place itself says it never saw him — it is all completely forgotten.
Bildad piles up one image after another. The verse itself does not name who does the destroying; this writer reads the act as God's, and the emptied place does not stay empty:
In this part Bildad traces the way of the wicked, and there is much truth in what he says, though it is not all the truth... Once more his images come pouring out. He compares this passing prosperity to a lush vine covering a heap of stones in the garden, full of sap and strength in the bright sunshine. Soon God cuts him off, and "the place that once knew him shall know him no more." Others shall take his place.
The height was never the plant's own achievement:
The papyrus does not lift its head so high by any strength of its own. It does so because of the deep mud in which it thrives for its little day... And this is so true that these plants do not decay slowly, like other plants. They are the first to wither, though no one has cut them down.
The description itself is sound. The damage lies in where Bildad aims it. A man who only looked prosperous can end with no trace that he ever existed:
But he may be destroyed from his place, and his place then denies that it ever saw him (v.18). Nothing remains to show that he was ever prosperous. This description may indeed be true of the hypocrite when he is finally exposed and shamed. But Bildad hinted that Job had suffered things like the destruction he describes, so Job must be a hypocrite! Bildad did not yet know the end of the story, and his assumptions were poorly thought out and false.
Bildad is defending God's honour. But one fixed assumption controls everything he says:
For all his ignorance of God's principles, Bildad is zealous for the honour of God and will not let anyone accuse Him. In this he is right. But he fails to convince Job, because of the root error in the thinking of all of them: God must punish sin, and Job must be a sinner, because he is being punished.
So Bildad judged Job by what he could see of a ruined life:
He may look on a house of stone, but he is soon destroyed — a harmful weed that only takes up room in the ground, and the ground then denies him as if it had never seen him... But applied to Job, Bildad's thoughts held no fellowship with God and no kindness for the man who was suffering. So his judgment went by appearances, and it was unrighteous.
The mistake did not stop with Bildad. The warning cuts both ways: we can misjudge others by their troubles, and misjudge ourselves the same way:
The lesson of the first importance here is that outward calamities do not prove that a man is in the wrong place... Nor is outward success a necessary evidence of God's approval. This is a very basic lesson, yet it cannot be repeated too often. We have such a strong tendency to judge in that crude and childish way. So we are likely to accept the verdict of Job's comforters when we judge the lives of others — and to let the same tests mislead us about our own path.
- Rooted in nothing — the plant's height came from the mud around it, not from any strength of its own. Nothing cut it down, yet it withers first.
- Uprooted — take the plant from its place, and the place itself denies it. The man passes away, and even his memory is gone.
- Replaced — God cuts him off, and others step into the spot he held.
- Misapplied — the picture fits a pretender exposed at last, but Bildad aimed it at Job. He did not know the end of the story, so his assumptions were false.
- Warned — judging by outward disaster or outward success is judging "according to appearances." It is unrighteous, whether we aim it at others or at ourselves.
Behold, this is the joy of his way, and out of the dust shall others grow.
Bildad ends his picture of the fast-growing, fast-dying plant with a line that sounds almost cheerful, but he means the opposite. Is his rule true, and did it have anything to do with the man sitting in ashes in front of him?
The verse closes a run of pictures: a spider's web a man leans on, a weed sprawling over a pile of stones. Bildad's point is that such growth is quick, shallow, and easily replaced.
What a wicked man trusts in is no firmer than a spider's web, however tightly he clings to it. It lasts no longer than the coarse weed that spreads over a garden and winds its shoots into a heap of stones… He is quickly destroyed, as a useless and harmful thing taking up room in the ground, and the ground then disowns him as if it had never seen him. Although this is the joy of his way and the bitter end of godless prosperity, there is a succession of such men, just as there is of such weeds. One springs up after another out of the dust, only to pass away even faster.
"Joy" here is not a compliment. The pleasure Bildad describes is short, and the man who enjoyed it does not stay in anyone's memory.
"Behold, this is the joy of his way" (v.19), that is, the joy of the hypocrite is only brief and ends abruptly. "And out of the soil others will spring." The hypocrites will be forgotten, for others will be born to take their place.
Bildad is not speaking from his own experience. He leans on what earlier generations taught and on pictures from nature. Then he aims a line from earlier in the chapter at Job himself, quoted here in an older translation.
So in the rest of the chapter he summarised what tradition would teach, illustrating his point by things in nature, like the rush and the spider's web. He claimed that all history showed that God repaid man according to what he deserved. If a man is evil, God cuts him off. If he is good, God makes him prosper. To tell Job that "the hypocrite's hope shall perish" was a cut this time not at Job's children but at Job himself.
Much of what Bildad says about the wicked is sound. The problem is that he treats a partial truth as the whole explanation.
Here Bildad traces the way of the wicked. There is much truth in what he says, though it is not all the truth… Soon God cuts him off, and "the place that once knew him will know him no more." Others will take his place.
A right principle in the wrong case still does damage. Bildad judges Job by what he can see.
But applied to this case, there was no fellowship with God in Bildad's thoughts and no gracious concern for the sufferer. So his judgment went by appearances, and it was unrighteous.
Bildad's whole argument runs on one track: reward and punishment. One thing is missing from it — and from every other speech too.
They were all arguing on the ground of righteousness. Not one of them had taken in, up to this and for long after, any thought of grace. And Job only arrived at it at last by the intervention of God. There he was dust and ashes. There he took the place of nothing at all, and worse than nothing. Then he was blessed. Then God vindicated him — and not before.
Words like these can frighten a sincere believer. The answer is not to check how fresh your own faith feels.
"The hypocrite's hope shall perish"; but the feeblest sheep of Christ shall never perish. But if a believer looks at his own imagined greenness, at his own boasted goodness, it will fade away, and Satan gains the advantage. There may be much freshness of soul at conversion, like the green flag; but beware of trusting in this.
- Picture. The verse ends Bildad's plant image: shallow growth, a quick collapse, and new weeds in the dust where the last one stood.
- Irony. The "joy" is short. The "others" simply take his place, and the man himself is forgotten.
- Source. Bildad argues from tradition and from nature: history proves God pays each man what he deserves.
- Half-truth. Much of it is true, but not all the truth. Judged by appearances, it becomes an unrighteous verdict on a suffering man.
- Grace. Every speaker reasons from righteousness, none from grace. Job was blessed only when God stepped in and he took the place of nothing at all.
Behold, God will not cast off a perfect man, neither will he take evil-doers by the hand.
Bildad ends his first speech with a saying that sounds like solid truth. God stands by the blameless man and gives no support to the evildoer. The problem is the man he says it to. God was testing Job at that very hour, so the saying landed as a hint that Job's ruin proved his guilt.
Read on its own, the verse is a statement about God's character. Read in Bildad's mouth, it carries a condition he never says out loud.
"Behold, this is the joy of his way" (v.19), that is, the joy of the hypocrite is short and soon over. In contrast to this, "God will not reject the blameless," while He will not uphold evildoers (v.20). If Job were blameless, God would fill Job's mouth with laughing and his lips with rejoicing (v.21). No doubt Bildad was implying that Job could even yet find such blessing if he would return to living a blameless life.
The man in front of Bildad was the living exception. God was troubling a blameless man at that very hour.
"Behold, God will not reject a blameless man." But God was trying and troubling the blameless at that very moment. Job's friends could never take this into their minds. They did not understand it or believe it in the slightest degree. So their reasons were all false, and more than that, unkind through and through. It is a sad thing to be unkind to what is good and true. It is just as sad to be very kind to what is not good and not true.
The verse has two halves: God does not reject the blameless, and He gives the evildoer no hand. Bildad said both with no thought of God, so his comfort came out as a verdict.
If Job really is a blameless man, God will not reject him — and neither does He take the hand of evildoers. He will not cast Job off until He gives him the fullest grounds for thankful praise, defeats his enemies, and destroys the wicked forever. But applied to this case, Bildad's thoughts held no fellowship with God and no gracious care for the sufferer. So he judged by appearances, and his judgment was unrighteous.
Bildad allowed for reward and for punishment. He had no room for a hard trial sent to a man God is pleased with.
Job knew that much of what Bildad said was true. God will not reject a blameless man. He will fill the blameless man's mouth with laughter and his lips with shouts of joy, and those who hate him will be clothed with shame (Job 8:20–22). All of this happened to Job once his days of testing were over. But Bildad did not understand that God could test a man hard — a man whose life already pleased Him — so that it might please Him still more.
Job did not argue with the saying. He asked who could ever meet it.
It was all very well for Bildad to say "God will not reject a blameless man." No one ever thought He would. But where is the blameless man to be found? Job himself felt that he was not that man. God gives His answer to the guilty man's "hard question" in Romans 3:21-26. The redemption that is in Christ Jesus lets God justify by His grace, as a free gift, everyone who owns his guilt and believes in His Son.
Bildad offered mercy on his own terms: turn to God in prayer, and prove pure. Job's restoration came another way.
Next, he argues that God's ways are just by telling Job there is restoring mercy for him, if he will only turn to God in prayer. "If you are pure and upright" — those words carry a strong hint of suspicion — then God will restore everything and bless Job's later days. This did come true, but in a very different way from what Bildad expected. God blessed Job not for his purity, and not because he confessed the evil Bildad suspected.
- True — the saying itself is sound. God will not throw away a blameless man, and He gives the evildoer no support.
- Wrongly timed — said over a suffering blameless man, the same words became an accusation. God was troubling the blameless at that very moment.
- Blind — Bildad had no room for a hard test sent to a man whose life already pleased God, to make it please Him more.
- Exposed — the saying raises Job's own question: where is the blameless man to be found? The answer is that God justifies guilty people by His grace, through Christ.
- Fulfilled — God filled Job's mouth with laughter at last, but not for his purity and not on Bildad's terms.
Whilst he would fill thy mouth with laughing and thy lips with shouting,
Bildad ends his first speech with a bright promise: the day is coming when Job will laugh again and shout for joy. The words came true — yet they came from a man who had misread Job's suffering, and a true word can be the wrong comfort.
The promise closes a speech by Bildad, the second friend to speak. His tone was sharper than Eliphaz's.
Next comes Bildad the Shuhite (Job 8). He follows Eliphaz, but with much more harshness, and so he draws a sharper reply out of Job. While rebuking Job, he does not hesitate to suppose that Job's children had brought on themselves what their deeds deserved. He also hints that Job himself could not be what he seemed. He speaks and thinks only of justice. Yet he urges Job to repent, and more blessing than ever would surely follow. The greenest, freshest plant is the first to wither. The hope of the hypocrite or the impure is no more than a spider's web, and the place where he stood will deny it ever saw him, while the upright is filled with joy.
Bildad attaches a condition to the laughter. His logic runs like this. God does not abandon a blameless man, and He does not take the hand of evildoers. So if Job really is blameless, laughter is where he ends up. The writers quoted below say "perfect man" where the ESV says "blameless" (Job 8:20).
If Job really is a perfect man, God will not cast him away. Neither does He take the hand of evildoers. God will keep him until He gives him the fullest grounds for thankful praise, confounds his enemies, and destroys the wicked forever. But in Job's case, Bildad's thoughts had no fellowship with God and no gracious care for the sufferer. He judged by appearances, and so his judgment was unrighteous.
Ridout sums up the same speech, and it stops on that one small word.
Lastly Bildad reminds Job of the sure reward for the righteous. God will not join hands with evildoers by punishing the righteous. He will fill Job's mouth with laughter and his tongue with singing, and all wickedness will stop its mouth, if —
Job did not deny these words. The trouble lay in the theory Bildad attached to them.
Job knew that much of what Bildad said was true. God will not cast away a perfect man. He will fill the mouth of the perfect man with laughter and his lips with rejoicing. Those who hated Job would be clothed with shame (Job 8:20–22). This is what happened to Job after his days of testing were over. But Bildad did not understand one thing. God could test very severely the man whose life was pleasing to Him, so that his life might please Him still more.
Bildad was not a godless man. He had a conscience toward God, and that was still not enough.
The reasoning of Bildad rests on exactly the same principle as that of Eliphaz. It is all founded on God's moral government. No one can grieve God or cast a truly righteous man to the ground, and God is sure to bring every wicked man to nothing. It is all founded on what is going on in the world now. There was no faith in it. There was conscience, conscience toward God. But conscience never reveals God and never can, however useful and important it is for the soul.
Job did laugh again, at the end of the book. Kelly points to the root of it.
Yet the Lord does not let His saint go without proof of His interest and blessing. Job therefore received even then this testimony of what God is. He did not forget the man who had passed through such a storm of trial. Job had held on to Him even when He seemed to be against His servant… But Job only held on to God because God held on to Job. That was the real root of the matter. It is grace after all that gives and keeps integrity.
- True words. The promise of laughter and shouting is genuine — Job himself agreed with it, and it came true for him in the end.
- Wrong theory. Bildad tied that promise to an "if": prove you are pure, and the laughter follows. Job's suffering was never a receipt for hidden sin.
- No grace in it. Bildad reasoned only from how God governs the world now. He had a conscience toward God, but conscience can never show you who God is.
- Severe testing. God can test very severely a man whose life already pleases Him, so that it may please Him still more.
- Held, not earned. God filled Job's mouth with laughter at last. The root of it was God holding Job, not Job holding on. Grace gives integrity and keeps it.
They that hate thee shall be clothed with shame, and the tent of the wicked be no more.
Bildad ends his first speech to Job with a picture of reversal: enemies covered in shame, and the wicked's home wiped out. It sounds like comfort. But it rests on a condition, and on which side of that condition Job stands.
The word "tent" here means more than a cloth shelter. In Hebrew it covers the whole place where a person lives.
The word usually translated "tent" is ohel. The Authorised Version often translates it "tabernacle." It also stands for "dwelling" or "habitation," as in Job 8:22 and Psalm 91:10.
So the picture is not a folded tent. It is a whole home wiped out.
The verse is the last line of a chain that starts with "if." Bildad offers Job this picture of shamed enemies only on terms. One commentator notes that he offered those terms with no real sympathy.
If Job is really a perfect man, God will not cast him away — though neither does He grasp the hand of evildoers. He will not cast him away until He has given him the fullest grounds for thankful praise, shamed his enemies, and destroyed the wicked for ever. But applied to Job's case, Bildad's thoughts held no fellowship with God and no gracious care for the sufferer. So his judgment went by appearances, and it was unrighteous.
Bildad's argument runs underneath his fine closing words. His logic puts Job on the wrong side of his own promise.
It is all true and grandly stated: the wicked cannot prosper, and their doom is certain. On the other hand, God will not cast off the perfect man. But Job is in the place of a man cast off. So he must belong to the wicked who do not prosper. That is hidden beneath Bildad's rhetoric. Yet the closing sentences of his first speech are beautiful, and Job fully acknowledged their truth in his reply.
Commentators differ on how far Bildad's charge goes. Another writer reads him at face value: he is not calling Job wicked, but describing what would happen to Job's opponents if Job proved blameless.
If Job were blameless, God would fill Job's mouth with laughing and his lips with rejoicing. Bildad was surely hinting that Job could still find such blessing if he returned to a blameless life. Then even those who hated Job would be clothed with shame, and the home of the wicked would come to nothing. He did not mean that Job was wicked. He meant that the wicked who opposed Job would be subdued.
Nothing in this verse is false as a statement about God. The damage lies in where Bildad aimed it — at a man God held dear.
Things that 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. That error carries all the more weight, because it comes as the truth. If someone says a foolish thing, or something clearly false, people despise it. But no believer can brush aside the truth of God. So when someone uses the truth of God wrongly — using it to crush one who is an object of intense interest to God at the time — how foreign and offensive to His mind!
The book ends with laughter, singing, and Job's critics silenced. What Bildad could not see was that God tests the man He is pleased with. This writer quotes an older translation of verse 20: where he says "perfect man," the ESV says "blameless man."
Job knew that much of what Bildad said was true: that "God will not cast away a perfect man," that He will fill the perfect man's mouth with laughter and his lips with rejoicing, and that those who hated him would be clothed with shame. This is what happened to Job once his days of testing were over. But Bildad did not understand that God could test a man very hard when that man's life pleased Him, so that it might please Him still more.
But the road there was not the one Bildad laid out.
This was indeed fulfilled, but in a very different way from what Bildad expected. Job is blessed not for his purity, and not for confessing the evil Bildad suspected.
- True. Every line of the verse is sound: God does shame those who hate His own, and He does end the home of the wicked.
- Conditional. It hangs on an "if." Bildad's "if" carries a suspicion, and he shows no real care for the sufferer. So his verdict follows appearances instead of God.
- Aimed wrongly. True words aimed at the wrong man do more harm than open error. They borrow God's authority to crush someone God holds dear.
- Misread. Bildad reasoned backwards, from Job's ruin to Job's guilt. His beautiful closing lines hide that argument.
- Fulfilled. Job did get the laughter and the shamed accusers. It came after testing, not after confessing invented sin, and by a road Bildad never imagined.