‘I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.’ (Job 3:26)
The book of Job is the first of the five Books of Wisdom in the Old Testament. These books are very distinctive, using a specific form of writing, including much poetry, which offer godly advice and seek to offer answers (or at least to raise questions) about the meaning of life. This literature should not be taken out of context - not every verse can be applied directly as a maxim for Christian living - it includes human thinking and reasoning, as well as questions concerning a range of issues. A thorough reading of these five books, in context, offers profound insights into how we should live as God’s people. The wisdom literature includes songs of praise, poetry, profound “thoughts”, and commentary upon the human experience.
The book of Job is quite possibly the oldest book in the Bible. The text and content certainly suggest that it pre-dates the time of Moses and the giving of the Law. Quite possibly, it is as old as the time of Abraham. It is set in the land of Uz, which cannot be easily located. The best biblical evidence suggests that it was somewhere east of the River Jordan, close to Edom, in the south of modern-day Jordan.
Quite appropriately, for such an old book, the story in Job concerns one of the very oldest questions to face mankind: why do good people suffer?
It tells the story of Job - an honest, upright, God-fearing citizen, who is suddenly stricken by appalling tragedy. All his animals are killed, his servants are either stolen or destroyed, his family wiped out by a tornado, and finally, he is covered with ‘painful sores, from the soles of his feet to the top of his head ‘ (2:7).
Why? Why do the innocent suffer?
Not surprisingly, Job himself experiences a range of emotions. He gets angry with God and with himself, and lapses into self-pity. Yet, despite all these adversities, his basic faith in God remains unshaken.
'For I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth' (19:25).
The burning question of the book is 'Why?' Why is there so much injustice in the world?
Perhaps the first question to ask is: did Job really exist? Certainly, this is a well-crafted book. It begins with a short section of prose, (chapters 1 and 2) in which we meet with God and Satan, engaged in dialogue, concerning the hapless Job who, unknown to himself, is prescribed a series of endurance tests to assess the strength of his faith. Then follows the main body of the book, written in poetry, in which we meet Job’s three friends, who all offer sincere, but unhelpful advice. The dialogues are neatly arranged into three cycles of three. Then we meet a fourth ‘comforter’, a younger man, who offers his own advice. He speaks with the confidence of youth but ultimately, has little that is new to add to the discussion. Finally, God Himself appears to address Job, before a second section of prose concludes the book, in which everything is restored to Job, in even greater measure than he had at the beginning of the story. Surely, it all seems too neat, too precise, too well ordered to be a true story?
Although we can speak with no certainty, it would seem as if the ‘truth’ in this story consists in the underlying message. There may well have been a man called Job who actually existed, but the truth in this book is the universal experience of human suffering. There have always been people like Job, who have suffered unmercifully, and have been forced to face up to the question, ‘Why is this happening to me?’
As the catalogue of ‘woes’ begins, Job certainly feels sorry for himself:
‘Why did I not perish at birth, and die as I came from the womb? (3:11)
Immediately, we meet Job's comforters, who attempt to answer the question, ‘why?’ and come out with many of the standard, timeless platitudes, which can be summarised in familiar ways: ‘pull yourself together’, ‘you must surely deserve it’ and ‘it must be a consequence of your sin’ – all statements designed to make anybody who is feeling down feel even worse; guilty, as if they are responsible for their ill-fortune, and consequently in a worse state than they were in before. Hence the expression: 'Job's comforter', which describes someone who leaves a person feeling worse than when they first began. What these ‘comforters’ actually say is not necessarily wrong; it is more the case that they say it at the wrong time and offer nothing that is of any help to Job.
Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar maintain that Job’s afflictions are a direct consequence of his sin. E.g.:
As I have observed, those who plough evil and those who sow trouble reap it. (4:8)
Surely God does not reject one who is blameless or strengthen the hands of evildoers. (8:20)
But the eyes of the wicked will fail, and escape will elude them; their hope will become a dying gasp.” (11:20)
The story of Job reminds us that there is no such thing as a direct equation between suffering and sin. We know that even the best people do suffer. Faith in God does not provide us with miraculous exemption from the pain and suffering of this world. Job's comforters are no help at all. In fact, they do more harm than good. They stand as a warning to all potential counsellors: beware of giving glib answers. Perhaps their most useful action is recorded in chapter two – they sit in silence with Job for seven days and nights, simply sharing with him in his pain.
But if suffering is not a punishment for sin, then what is it? Perhaps God allows suffering in order to help us strengthen and improve ourselves? That is the solution offered by the fourth of Job's comforters, Elihu. 'God is a teacher', is the gist of his discourse. 'Sometimes He has to chasten us through suffering.'
The Almighty is beyond our reach and exalted in power; in his justice and great righteousness, he does not oppress. (37:23)
Elihu, this fourth comforter, says more to commend himself than the other comforters, but he still falls short of the mark. True, many people do come closer to God when they learn to trust him through the difficult times of life, but it would be a strange God who deliberately brought suffering upon people in the hope that it will make them turn to Him. Would anyone really want to worship such a vindictive God?
So, what is the purpose of the book of Job?
A more helpful way of addressing this issue of suffering is to recognise that when we suffer, God suffers alongside us. Where is God when we are going through the storms of life? The answer is that He is right there, supporting us in every step of the way, weeping with us, and offering us His support and His help.
So how do we cope with the problem of suffering? Job's friends are not much help to him - human reasoning fails. Job is left to listen to the voice of God, and he is granted the privilege of a divine audience.
But God doesn't give him a three-point sermon about the meaning of pain and suffering. What He does is turn the question around. He simply reminds Job that He is Lord over all that there is. In effect what God is saying is this: 'there is no point in asking why - you wouldn't understand if I told you. All you need to do is trust - trust in me; trust that I am with you, in good times and in bad'.
Then the LORD spoke to Job out of the storm:
‘Brace yourself like a man; I will question you,
and you shall answer me.
Would you discredit my justice?
Would you condemn me to justify yourself?
Do you have an arm like God’s,
and can your voice thunder like his? (40:6-9)
Think of a baby who has toothache. You cannot explain to him that he is going through the process of teething, and that soon the benefits of new teeth will outweigh the pain involved in growing them. The child cannot understand the answer. That, in effect, is what God is saying to Job. 'Don't try to understand. Just know that I love you, and that I am with you.' God, who is the omnipotent, all-mighty God, is also the close, personal God who loves and accepts each one of us - Jesus says that the very hairs of our head are counted - God the Almighty is the same God who sits alongside us, and shares with us in all that we do.
Jonathan Sacks, a former Chief Rabbi, wrote:
‘The religious question is, therefore, not ‘Why did this happen?’, but ‘What then shall we do?’ …The religious response is not to seek to understand, but to accept. We are not God. Instead, we are His people. He has called on us to be His partners in creation. The only adequate response is to say, ‘God, I do not know why this terrifying disaster has happened, but I do know what You want of us: to help the afflicted, comfort the bereaved, send healing to the injured, and aid to those who have lost their livelihoods and homes.’
We cannot understand God, but we can strive to imitate His love and care.
The amazing reality is that when we turn to God for help, He is always there. Through his love and goodness, He reaches out to us in our needs. God is always more willing to give than we are to receive.
So where was God when Job suffered? Where is God when we suffer? The answer is that He is here, right alongside us. As long as we live on this mortal earth, we know that we will face problems, but we don't face them alone. God is with us; He will support us and bring us through them. Ultimately, God will have the last word. God, who expressed his solidarity by suffering and death upon the cross, is the same God who came back to life and offers us the assurance that the best is yet to come. He calls us to trust in Him.
Job dared to challenge God on the question of suffering and ended up speechless.
‘I am unworthy, how can I reply to you?’(40:4)
‘Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know……
My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.
Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.’ (42:3,5)
All he could do was to bow his head and acknowledge, 'I have experienced God.' Let us pray that we may be aware of God within us, that we may be strengthened by His presence, and experience His love. Like Job, we cannot begin to understand God's ways, or to comprehend questions that lie beyond human understanding, but we can trust in the greatness of God and the privilege of knowing him as our Redeemer.
Michel Quoist, in his Prayers of Life, imagines God speaking to him:
Son, I am here.
I haven’t left you, how weak is your faith!
You are too proud. You still rely upon yourself......
You must surrender yourself to me.
You must realise that you are neither big enough
nor strong enough.
You must let yourself be guided like a child.
My little child, come, give me your hand, and do not fear.
If there is mud, I will carry you in my arms.
But you must be very, very little,
For the Father carries only little children. Amen
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