PART I, ARTICLE V: THE HOLY USE OF A CONFESSION OF FAITH, SECTION I

Even a man who is both holy and good can, because of undue trust in a denomination, lead us astray in a capital matter. This happened to me through my spiritual mentor by the use of a Brethren pamphlet that he gave me to read. Thankfully, the false teachings in this pamphlet were soon overruled by Creeds that the Holy Spirit conspicuously led me to adopt for my protection. 

“God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth” (John. 4.24.)

To be holy has much to do with being separate—set apart from what is untrue and impure. As God is far removed from sin and error of every kind, he would have his worshippers abstain from the same, and to worship him in spirit and in truth. A pure God can be pleased only by what is pure. He who is Spirit must be approached in the right spirit. He who is truth is adored only through truth. To bring purity of spirit to the worship of a pure Spirit is the obvious necessity and aim in religious exercise; and this purity of spirit is either more or less, depending on our knowledge and acceptance of who God really is and what God really does. The affections are drawn to God through the mind. The more the mind has a right view of God, the more purely the affections may ascend to him, though for solemn reasons God may withdraw from persons who apprehend him most properly, as, for a season, he did from Job. We are stimulated to worship God by apprehending the character of his person and the workings of his providence. If we misunderstand truth, we think falsely of God, since truth is about God, and God is truth. 

Our worship is graciously accepted through faith in Jesus Christ; we worship the Father through the Son, whose righteousness is ours through this faith. Salvation is worked into us by the Holy Ghost in regeneration; this begins our sanctification, or progress in our faith. Then we are called to ‘work salvation out with fear and trembling’ (Philippians 2.12.) In other words, the Christian who is sanctified by God by being renewed in regeneration must then sanctify himself by progressive obedience. To make progress in obedience, we must learn what to obey and who this God is to whom we owe obedience. So, is our worship as sanctified as it could be when we think that God is such a person that he is not, or when we suppose that God did this or that when he didn’t? Our worship then is mixed with lies about God. We tell people that he is this way when he isn’t, and that he does this and that when he doesn’t. More than anything else, we need to be right about the character of God. We need wisdom and understanding in proportion to the zeal with which they should be sought: “Get wisdom, get understanding: forget it not; neither decline from the words of my mouth” (Proverbs 4.5.) Communion between us and God is undermined by untruth. It is the same between all partners in relationship. Cold religion comes by thinking that God is who he is not, and that he does what he does not. He will draw closer when we impute to him no lies. 

“But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him” (John 4.23.) The hour for true worship has come, Jesus says. It ‘now is.’ If it could be said to be ‘now is’ in Jesus’ day, how much more in ours, twenty centuries later? Has the hour for true worship come for us personally? Are we enjoying this hour? The Father wants true worshippers. He wants us to worship him ‘in spirit and in truth.’

But why bring a Confession of Faith into this, and have that come between us and God, and between us and God’s truth, the Bible? Why not go straight to the Bible to know God, and never mind other avenues? This objection is more often emotional than thoughtful, and is a popular one among Dispensationalists and Fundamentalists; that is, among most pastors and Christian writers of the 20th century. There is nothing wrong with a passion for the infallible truth and nothing but. A person might do well who reads only his Bible. William Tiptaft (b. 1803) did that: “His studie was on litel but the Bible” (J. H. Philpot, The Seceders, p. 15.) William Tiptaft is piously remembered for having lived on this unmixed diet, notwithstanding that his partner in secession from the Church of England, J. C. Philpot, is probably more piously remembered, though he imbibed a little theology on the side. I have no doubt that a Christian with just his Bible, if he will be led by the Spirit in humble submission to his Lord, should do as much good as anyone, and be more holy than the average pastor or seminary professor. But a Christian typically attends church. And what church has no ‘Statement of Faith,’ which is nothing else than a term for ‘Confession of Faith’ or ‘Creed.’ And where is the Christian who reads only his Bible? And who can or should, neglect Christian history? If, in addition to reading the Bible, a Christian reads religious books, or if he listens to the sermons of his pastor, this extracurricular material, whether he has subscribed to it or not, is, to some degree, his Confession of Faith. We adopt the opinions and interpretations of others, almost without our notice or consent. The adoption of a Confession will offset and override what we unwittingly absorb. If what we read or hear does not come through men who are tethered to a good Confession, we are likely being led astray. Writers of Confessions were well-instructed scholars, even masters in the word of God. They were learned men; they were good men; they were praying men; they were holy men. Their works are what the Bible would call ‘bulwarks’: defensive structures built to resist assaults. 

What follows from the use of a Confession for self-defense is circumspection. To be circumspect is ‘to be watchful on all sides’; this exercise is for the purpose of standing fast against winds of false doctrine. Circumspection leads to confidence concerning one’s beliefs; this, in turn, leads to ability and positive influence. Christians who are remembered for the impact that they have had, were usually catechized through the use of a Confession. They were effective Christians because they were circumspect and confident, which fitness had much to do with the Confession that they were catechized with. To worship in spirit and in truth, contrary winds need to be withstood. There is a biblical warrant for the use of a Confession. Here it is:

“And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ: till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ: that we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive; but speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ” (Ephesians 4.11-15.)

Apostles and prophets are not with us anymore. Most of us will be agreed on that. But evangelists, pastors, and teachers are still being given to the Church. They are still given, “for the perfecting of the saints…till we all come in the unity of the faith…that we henceforth be no more children…carried about with every wind of doctrine.” This is the object of a Confession of Faith—to grow us up in the unity of our faith and to separate us from error. We might even say that the object of a Confession is to grow us up in the unity of our faith by separating us from error, or, ‘for the establishing of consent touching true religion,’ which amounts to the same thing (William Cunningham, The Reformers and the Theology of the Reformation, p. 166.) And this is why teachers and pastors have composed these Confessions. It is always the business of church leaders and fathers of families to lead the effort toward unity of faith; and they would do well to use faithful, well-formulated Confessions to do it. As a Christian becomes acquainted with Protestant history, he cannot but recognize that the pastors of our day do not compare well for excellence beside the men who drew up the old Creeds, Catechisms, Canons, and Confessions. Such articles cannot be surpassed nor equaled for concise, correct theology, especially as they deal with doctrinal matters of the utmost gravity. Reliable Confessions of Faith require the precision and caution that can be executed only by Assemblies of the soberest heads and warmest hearts. Where one man is weak, another is strong, and the whole together form a vanguard and a rereward to defend what is most holy. Together they are bands of critics and judges, making sure that nothing indispensable is missed; that nothing secondary supersedes; that nothing superfluous is allowed; that no pet dogmas are trumpeted; and that falsehoods are marked, disproved, and then routed by properly interpreted Scripture proofs. All that we do as Christians should be to the purpose of securing and maintaining close communion with God. Whichever doctrines are indispensable to this connection between God and man, the Reformed Confessions are excellent on. If a Christian knows these truths and meditates on them, he will experience better relations with God by such knowledge and exercise than by all the new Bible-study workbooks together: those popular fads (like the Alpha course) that are continuously being pressed upon churches by enthusiastic, though ignorant, pastors. To get the understanding that Solomon recommends in Proverbs, we need to know what to reach for. By gathering with others to apprehend something of the essentials of our faith, a bond of love may happen that is sweeter than average Christian unity, just as John was loved by Jesus in a special way. And this is best accomplished through the use of our Bible, with a reliable Confession to assist. 

I come now to my intention in this article. Separation from—this is what I mean to emphasize as the way to holiness by the use of a Confession. There are three huge clogs to worship that a Confession may help to separate us from: Error, Uncertainty, and Inability. In the first head I aim to show how, by the use of a Confession, error is beaten down and cast aside.

PART I, ARTICLE IV: FOUR CIRCUMSTANCES AGAINST JOB, SECTION VI

Conclusion 

Tribulation begets perseverance; perseverance begets blessing. Job did not persevere in vain. It is better to persevere out of gratitude to God for grace received, not because we seek a reward. God will distribute treasures in heaven for works done in faith; and the greatest work of faith is to persevere in tribulation. What did it profit Job to persevere? One, his good character was improved, and he grew in his knowledge of the LORD.  Two, his request, as unusual as it was notable, was granted: “Oh that my words were now written!  oh that they were printed in a book!  That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock for ever!” (Job 19.23, 24.) Now Job’s words are engraved forever as part of Holy Scripture. We should imitate Job, and ask as uncommonly and stupendously as he did. Three, the LORD accepted Job and set him up as a mediator for his three friends. After they were told to offer sacrifices to God, they were directed to reckon Job’s prayers as their means of mediation: “for him will I accept: lest I deal with you after your folly, in that ye have not spoken of me the thing which is right, like my servant Job” (42.8.)  It is hard to know whether the LORD was referring, by ‘the thing which is right,’ to Job’s confession, or to his confession and his lines of dialogue.  Due to Job’s confession, the LORD might have disregarded Job’s hard words that are found in the dialogue.  Regardless, Job’s role as intercessor at the end befits his sacrificial worship at the start. Job was a high priest outside and before, the institution of the Mosaic Law for Israel. He was singled out as blameless by God, chosen to suffer, tempted by the devil directly, obliged to defend his honor, ordained to intercede, and blessed in his latter end; and therefore it is difficult to resist the deduction that he is a type of Christ. Not many men are thus distinguished. And four, not only was Job completely restored, he was given double the measure of his lost fortune and as many children as he had lost.  Indeed, “the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before…He had also seven sons and three daughters” (42.10, 13.) As if that were not enough, “In all the land were no women found so fair as the daughters of Job” (verse 15.) And Job “saw his sons, and his sons’ sons, even four generations” (verse 16.) We may assume that Job was physically restored as well. “So Job died, being old and full of days” (verse 17.) Is this not the happiest close to the story of a man’s life in all of literature? In getting a double portion of what he had lost, Job is a type of each and every saint. To become a good type is the best that a person can do for his fellow man. The ‘hundred and forty years’ (42.16) that were added to Job’s life amounts to a second life, and should remind us of life everlasting for those who persevere in faith until the end. “And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpillar, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you” (Joel 2.25.) Job’s devouring insects were the Sabeans, wind and fire from the sky, and the Chaldeans: the army of Satan appointed by God. We all have insects appointed to our hurt, for our own good: an army assigned by God to vex us onward.  

Job was separated from his family, his belongings, and his popularity in order to separate him from the worst in himself. And this is the purpose of tribulation. As R. C. Trench points out in his Study of Words, the word ‘tribulation’ is derived from the Latin word, ‘tribulum,’ a thrashing instrument used to separate corn from husks. The book of Job might well be called, The Tribulation of Job or even The Thrashing of Job. “In the world ye shall have tribulation” (John 16.33.) In the world, we must undergo some thrashing.    

Like in the trying life of Job, our circumstances are overcome by perseverance in the LORD.  Perseverance is never in vain. “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 15.58.) Our stories are not written into Revelation as a book in the canon. That distinction is Job’s to enjoy. But each Christian is written in the book of life alongside the ‘yokefellows’ and ‘fellowlabourers’ of the Lord (Philippians 4.3) and each one can have an assurance of that by the Holy Ghost on this side of the grave. This assurance happened one time in a Brethren study group that I was in. While we were discussing ‘how wonderful to be one of the persons mentioned in Romans 16’ in the list that is given there, the Spirit came gently down upon us as if to say: “Romans 16 is just a shortlist; I ‘salute’ you with ‘an holy kiss.’” 

The life that is gained through Christ is as far above what is mortal as his sacrifice is greater than our death; our death is made stingless by his. While Job may be a type of Christ, Christ is the way of life, for his obedience unto death has merited heaven for appropriators of his blood.

PART I, ARTICLE IV: FOUR CIRCUMSTANCES AGAINST JOB, SECTION V

Circumstance Four: Satan’s Assaults

Job was assaulted by Satan twice. The first time, Satan used storms and marauders; and through this Job lost his belongings and his family, save his wife. The second time, Satan broke his health. Twice when Satan presented himself before God, he came, “From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it” (Job 1.7; 2.2.)  This action agrees with what the New Testament warns us of: the “adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour” (1 Peter 5.8.) There was nobody on earth that Satan wanted more to devour than Job, the servant of the LORD, because Job served the LORD the best. He was the holiest man on earth in his day, and for this reason was approved by God in the very face of Satan. And this laid the trap for God to make Satan a righteous mockery of through the holy strength of Job.  God used his servant to put the devil down, and he used the hand of Satan upon his servant to do it.  Job was not aware of any of this. And, depending on who wrote the book of Job, it may be that he never found out until his entry into Paradise. We must learn a lesson from that. We might not, in this life, find out what afflicts us and why the affliction is allowed. If our drama may be likened to a paint-by-number canvas, Job’s was painted in plenty of spots, but ours is colored in to reveal a fuller picture. Who among us, notwithstanding, has more than weak faith when compared to the faith of Job? Do we know enough to resist the devil so that he will, according to God’s word, flee from us?

A direct attack from Satan must be devastating, if anything is.  Satan is the most ancient, most persistent, most experienced persecutor. Having taken away Job’s possessions, his servants, and his sons and daughters, Satan wanted more because as long as Job remained faithful to God, the devil remained unsatisfied and defeated. Satan took all that he could, by the permission of God, get. So, accepting whatever grant that God would give, he took Job’s health.  He would have taken Job’s life, but God forbad him.  God gave Satan the power to take nearly everything from Job.  But the old serpent is cunning.  He did not kill all of Job’s servants; neither did he kill Job’s wife. His plan was to use the remaining servants to make Job’s life as miserable as possible and to use the wife to tempt him to curse God (Job 19.16; 2.9.) Though Satan accused Job to God, he did not ask God for anything—at least the narrative does not tell us that he did. Rather, God goaded the devil with the story of Job’s uprightness; and, in turn, the devil goaded God to stretch out his hand against Job. The devil wants nothing more than to set God against his saints.  

Job was unaware of Satan’s involvement.  He attributed his sufferings to the hand of God: “Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends; for the hand of God hath touched me” (Job 19.21.) And he did not see this as the sovereign hand merely, but a punishing hand: “Thou art become cruel to me: with thy strong hand thou opposeth thyself against me” (30.21.) He wished for God to go all the way and ‘loose his hand’; that is, kill him (6.9.) Though Job believed that the hand of God had struck him, and he sometimes wanted God to finish him off, he vacillated. He was unable to figure out what God was doing and why he was doing it: “Only do not two things unto me: then will I not hide myself from thee. Withdraw thine hand far from me: and let not thy dread make me afraid” (13.20, 21.) Job was made to feel irredeemably condemned, even though his treatment was filtered through grace. 

God was behind the miseries that Job endured, for he had given Satan permission to lay his hand on Job. That is to say, Job’s hardships did not come from God directly.  Satan urged God to lay his own hand on Job, for he would have enjoyed watching God strike down his most faithful servant.  The adversary looked for a reason to accuse God of wrong. Failing this, he would try to get Job to curse God.

Satan is not mentioned after chapter two. He did not present himself before God in the epilogue because that is where Job gets the victory and where God gives the blessing. Why didn’t Job and his friends mention Satan as a possible cause of all that Job endured?  It may be that the subject of Satan had come to neglect in that region in Job’s day. This is quite possible because that is what happens to doctrines throughout history.  When certain doctrines are emphasized, others suffer neglect.  The supremacy of God was so emphasized that the arch-demon wasn’t even thought of.  On the face of it, this seems regrettable because if the devil had been considered, Job’s losses would have been easier to bear.  But this ignorance was the plan of God because it elevated Job’s example of perseverance.  Job was attacked by Satan, he thought it was all of God, and yet he still persevered.  He continued to trust an afflicting God. Incidentally, it is a much better situation when events are traced up to God than up to Satan, even if Satan is entirely out of view. The authors of the Bible, under the Spirit’s leading, do not leave the ordering of things to the devil—not even the wicked act of putting Jesus on a cross. Even the worst act of wickedness that was ever committed is traced up to God. It is true that wicked men ‘took counsel together for to put him [Jesus] to death’ (John 11.53.) But it is also true, and more fundamentally true, that Jesus was ‘delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God’ (Acts 2.23.) Since foreknowledge is knowledge, not possibility, this foreknowledge amounts to predestination. Had the doctrine of divine sovereignty been neglected in Job’s day in place of that of Satan, it had been more difficult to persevere, and less likely that he would have done so. Though it is tormenting to think that God may be chastising us or might even have turned against us, yet we feel hopeful because of our belief that he is behind it all. Thinking the devil is in charge engenders hopelessness because, unlike God, he has no history of being merciful. The devil has no mercy to grant, and no desire to extend any.    

To be directly attacked by the great adversary is an ominous circumstance. It is something that few of us would, or could, endure.  While we must never discount the possibility of such an attack, it is unlikely that many of us have had the displeasure of drawing that much attention.  Only the most pious saints who pay great reverence to God are able to make the devil take particular notice.  Moreover, even the chief of fallen spirits is not able to be everywhere at once. He does not know our thoughts. And his power is limited to what God allows him to exert. He is not omnipresent; he is not omniscient; he is not omnipotent. It is apparent from the first chapter, however, that he observes the characters, actions, and situations of men.  He had studied Job before God pointed him out. We know this because of his rhetorical question: “Hast not thou made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side?” (Job 1.10.) 

The devil’s demons, the remnants of sin, and the worldly culture are sufficient creatures for the average Christian to be oppressed by and disturbed with.  We are blessed not to encounter the devil as directly as Job did. Maybe it should be said that we are not so blessed because in the end, Job was greatly blessed to have been chosen by God to exemplify perseverance through attacks by the devil. He was blessed to have been so sorely tempted.

How much we suffer depends a lot on the circumstances involved.  These four circumstances, then, make Job’s sufferings more than compete against our own: he was more upright, he lost more, he had less revelation to go on, and his afflictions came straight from the devil.  Our circumstances are unique, but are they as dreadful? They are not nearly as dreadful. We must be shored up by this.  Job was dedicated to holiness and righteousness before he was singled out for testing. We must learn from that.

Job did, at times, lose hope for his life on earth; but he continued to trust. When he finally got to speak to the LORD, he wisely spoke briefly and regretfully, repenting in dust and ashes.  He did not dare ask any of his own questions, having been humbled by his inability to answer the ones posed to him by the LORD.

Early on, Job came close to defining his trial as a test, though he may not have been aware of how near he was to the truth: “What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him? And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?” (Job 7.17, 18.) The love of God and the blessing of God come with trials from God. Job also predicted the outcome of his test: “But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold” (23.10.)

Though the central theme in the book of Job is the question of suffering, the lesson is perseverance.  The thrust of perseverance is unmistakable when the book is looked at as a whole.  Job repeatedly persevered to honor the LORD during his lamentations.  To sum up, God glorified himself, made a righteous mockery of Satan, made a better man of Job, humiliated his critical friends, and teaches us perseverance—all through suffering.

PART I, ARTICLE IV: FOUR CIRCUMSTANCES AGAINST JOB, SECTION IV

Circumstance Three: Restricted Revelation

The revelation that we call Scripture was not available to Job.  This is a great distinction. It is a circumstance that we do not face. We will see how this restriction affected him. But first, what revelation was available to, and acknowledged by, Job?

Job had, for his instruction and benefit, the revelation of creation, the revelation of power, and the revelation of conscience.  These forms of revelation are available to all men, as Romans 1 and 2 amply demonstrate. The revelation of conscience is particularly noticeable in view of the fact that the debate between Job and his friends bubbled up from their perception of moral right and wrong. There were also revelations through dreams and visions in those days (Job 33.15.) And Job and his friends had the benefit of oral knowledge passed down through antecedent generations—divine knowledge possessed by Adam, and passed down to the postdiluvian world through Noah and his descendents.   

Here is some of what Job knew. He knew enough to be able to say that he had received ‘the words of the Holy One’ and the ‘commandment of his lips’ (Job 6.10; 23.12.) How could this reception be, since the word of God had not been written yet? It is probable that certain commandments mentioned in Genesis were passed down from Adam to Noah, and then down from Noah to men living in the days of Job. For example, the eating of blood is proscribed in Noah’s day in Genesis 9.4, and capital punishment is instated for the crime of murder two verses later. Job attributed the existence of the universe to God, and he knew some astronomical details: “Which maketh Arcturus, Orion, and Pleiades, and the chambers of the south” (Job 9.9.) He attributed earthquakes and perhaps even eclipses to God (9.6, 7.)  It is evident that Job and his four friends were God-centered about everything that happens to man, whether good or bad.  Job believed that he was created by God and he knew that he was a carbon-based life form and that God was the Preserver of his spirit (10.8, 9, 12.) He anticipated a Redeemer and he believed in a future resurrection (19.25, 26.) Job knew about Adam (31.33.)  Since Job knew about Adam, it is likely that he knew about Satan. The devil, though, is never mentioned, neither by Job nor his four friends, though Eliphaz does mention rebellious angels (4.18.)

There might not have been rampant faith in a saving God in the centuries leading up to God’s revelation to Moses. But the book of Job discloses the existence of, not atheism, but theism and polytheism during this time, the latter of which was nascent. Theism preceded irreligion and polytheism, not vice versa. This has been confirmed in research of peoples and tribes throughout the world. What has been discovered is that the theological subjects that are discussed in the book of Job engaged people generally in these ancient times. Maybe the best extra-biblical example of this is the content of The Epic of Gilgamesh. The epic is a mixture of biography, history, superstition, and theology, roughly in that order with respect to coverage. The epic’s principal character lived at such at time as to believe that a survivor of the Flood still walked the earth, which would be roughly akin to when Job is believed to have lived. Like in the book of Job, the subjects discussed include, not only misery and blessing, but sin, sacrifice, immortality, and judgment. Gilgamesh, like Job, sought a wise mediator in his desire to defy death, which was the reason for his quest to find Uta-napishti, the survivor of the Deluge. Given the subject matter that both the books of Job and Gilgamesh contain, it is improbable that men lived like wild animals during this time, as the editor of my edition of the epic suggests. No matter how far back into history we reach, we are likely to discover civilization as much as anything else. “Now, in Egypt, it is notorious that there is no indication of any early period of savagery or barbarism” (George Rawlinson, The Origin of Nations, p. 13.)                 

Job and his friends discussed many of the chief subjects that we find in Scripture, such as righteousness, wickedness, death, and immortality. But it is without question that none of what Job knew came from Scripture and that Job had no written Revelation to guide him, to encourage him, and to comfort him. The epoch during which Job lived is proof enough of this assertion, while Job’s great age is proof enough of what epoch he lived in. Job lived 140 years after his fortunes were restored (Job 42.16.) Before he was afflicted he had grown children (1.18.) To account for these many years and for some time for Job to go through his trial, he had to have lived to the age of 180 at least. This lifespan is comparable to the lifespan of men in Abraham’s day or before, but not comparable to the lifespan of men in Moses’ day, when the Pentateuch was written (Exodus 6.) The lapse of time between the life of Abraham and the life of Moses amounts to several hundred years. It is unlikely, then, that Job had any written record from God for his instruction and comfort. 

Job had no written Revelation to cling to during his sufferings, while we have sixty-six portions of God’s word.  The encouragement that may be derived from the study of this word has never been fully experienced. And yet with this inexhaustible resource of strength we still do not measure up to the patience of a man who persevered without it.  Because of Scripture we have, literally at our fingertips, the answers to the greatest philosophical questions; we have all the heroes in the Holy Bible to pull us along; we have their sins recorded to show us that ordinary persons may become religious heroes; and we have centuries of meticulous expository treatment to turn to whenever we please.  Because of Scripture we can understand, and thus take courage from, the lives and trials of missionaries and martyrs who persevered and died for the Truth.  We rejoice to read about the ‘little people of God’ who supported them.  Because of Scripture we know that angels work to assist us in our pilgrimage (Hebrews 1.14.)  We know that there is a spiritual battle going on for the souls of men (Ephesians 6.12.) Knowledge of this fact alone, no doubt, would have prevented Job from murmuring. We know that our trials are for the testing of our faith (James 1.2, 3.) We know that we have Jesus praying for us and God the Holy Spirit to console us and that through these Divine Agents we may be enabled to abide in God (John 14.16, 17; 1 John 4.13.) We look back on the completed mission of Jesus Christ, the Mediator between God and men (Timothy 2.5.) We look forward to the promise of eternal life that has been both described and ratified.  What a joyous expectation we have!  We have the Holy Spirit to impress the revelation of Jesus Christ on us via the written word, Jesus being the moral image of the Father that Job craved a meeting with. Compared with us, assuming that we know what the Bible contains, Job was largely in the dark. He yearned for the instruction that is now contained in the written word of God: “Oh that one would hear me! behold, my desire is, that the Almighty would answer me, and that mine adversary had written a book.  Surely I would carry it upon my shoulder, and bind it as a crown to me” (Job 31.35, 36.)

Job’s only hero was God his Saviour; and he knew much less about God than what is revealed to us in the Bible.  Yet he was so God-centered that he was certain that his tribulations came from God exclusively and directly, in spite of the report that marauders had plundered his possessions.  Job did not know that the LORD was testing him through the temptations of Satan.  I say that Job’s ignorance on this matter was the determining factor in the torment that he endured.  Because of this ignorance, Job kept coming back to the idea that he must, for some reason, have become the enemy of God: “Wherefore hidest thou thy face, and holdest me for thine enemy?...For the arrows of the Almighty are within me…Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions” (Job 13.24; 6.4; 7.14.)

Feeling deserted by God, it was understandable for Job to desire a Mediator: “For he [God] is not a man, as I am, that I should answer him, and we should come together in judgment.  Neither is there any daysman betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both.” (Job 9.32, 33.) Compare this verse to a verse in the New Testament: “For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 2.5.)  Job wanted the mediation that we, through faith in the person, obedience, and sacrifice of Christ, have.  Job wanted from a mediator what Jesus Christ accomplished for us; that is, peace with God: “Let him [God] take his rod away from me, and let not his fear terrify me” (Job 9.34.)  Interestingly, because of his integrity and perseverance, Job later became a mediator between his friends and the LORD.  I think the point of the book would have been lost if Job had had Scripture and knowledge about Jesus Christ for his abutment.  The point was for Job to trust God ‘in the dark,’ as we say.  The lesson of the book is clearly perseverance, or patience.  The book of Job might fittingly be called, The Perseverance of Job.

Job was thrust into harsh tribulation with no written Revelation to rely on in order to become a ground-breaking hero in Revelation for us.  Job had so little; we have so much.  Nearly all of us today are aware of, and have access to, the Old and New Testaments: God’s written Revelation to man.

The Revelation that Job wished for may be summed up as the Revelation of Jesus Christ because that is what Scripture is (Revelation 1.1.) We have the revelation of Jesus Christ prophetically and historically, by types and ceremonies, by allegory and plain speech, and by the words of Jesus himself. Jesus Christ is the very Word of God (John 1; Revelation 19.13.)  So it follows that the whole Bible is the Revelation of Jesus Christ. It is obvious that the New Testament is about Jesus Christ. But so is the Old Testament, for Jesus asserted as much when he spoke of the Old Testament as that which testifies of him (John 5.39.) Jesus Christ is both foreshadowed and revealed in the word of God; Jesus Christ is the word of God; and the word of God goes out from his mouth (Revelation 19.13, 15.) The sword that proceeds from the mouth of Jesus Christ (Revelation 19.15) is the word of God (Ephesians 6.17.) This sword is the ‘revelation of the righteous judgment of God’ (Romans 2.5.) It may be that Zophar alluded to this judgment in the words, ‘day of his wrath’ (Job 20.28), which would be the day that Jesus Christ will judge (2 Timothy 4.1.) Jesus Christ is involved in all of God’s Revelation, including the general revelation of God in nature (Colossians 1.16.) 

The tension that Job felt toward God would have been relieved by the revelation that, because of Job’s faith, there was, in fact, a Mediator between him and his Maker, not only at some distance in the future, but effectual even in Job’s day because this Mediator is from the eternal past. The ‘blood of the everlasting covenant’ (Hebrews 13.20)—the covenant of grace—was made before the foundation of the world, is effectual for every sinner who comes under grace through faith, and covered Job even though he lived so many centuries before Jesus of Nazareth fulfilled the stipulations of it. A covenant was made in the Garden of Eden; that one was made in time and it was broken. The covenant of grace was made before that, and could not fail because God himself, in the person of Jesus Christ, contracted to fulfill it. Job did not know all of this, nor could he have. We should know all of this; and what a comfort it is if we do. If we do not know it; that is to say, if we face the circumstance of restricted revelation, this ignorance is our own fault; it is a needless restriction, which restriction may be a sufferer’s undoing. Ignorance of God’s written Revelation is one reason—maybe the chief reason—for all our murmuring when our schemes are knocked askew.

PART I, ARTICLE IV: FOUR CIRCUMSTANCES AGAINST JOB, SECTION III

 Circumstance Two: Conscientious Character

Job was blameless and upright.  His character was endorsed by God, which is the highest commendation that mortal man can receive. “There is none like him in the earth” (Job 1.8.) Job offered sacrifices regularly on behalf of the members of his family just in case they might have sinned and cursed God in their hearts. That speaks of piety. He had made a covenant, even with his eyes: that he should think upon no maid; that is, with lust (31.1.) That speaks of purity, not to mention the practice of the spirit of the law that wasn’t even written yet (Exodus 20.14; Matthew 5.28.) What man is as watchful in worship as he was? What man can live up to the covenant that he made with his eyes? Job was not only blameless and upright, but he was like that in spite of being the wealthiest man in the East.  Since wealth, upright conduct, and godliness are so seldom allied, we should take some time to examine this marvel. 

We know from history that most people cannot maintain prosperity and rectitude together, much less prosperity and godliness. Empires are made of men; and they fall on account of vices that men of means can afford to debase themselves with. The Roman Empire is the quintessential example of this. But each Testament furnishes examples too. This prophecy against Tyre has been fulfilled: “And they shall make a spoil of thy riches, and make a prey of thy merchandise: and they shall break down thy walls, and destroy thy pleasant houses: and they shall lay thy stones and thy timber and thy dust in the midst of the water” (Ezekiel 26.12.) It is the norm for merchants of the earth, after they have become rich, to commit whoredoms and to go in the way of Babylon: “Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird” (Revelation 18.2.) If nations and empires were made of men like Job, however, their hard times would be for purifying their faith instead of setting their world ablaze through unbelief.        

Job was blameless and upright during uncommon prosperity.  This is outstanding because even wise men and humble men go astray after they prosper.  We may instance King Solomon, and before that, his father David.  Prosperity can seduce the wise man; prosperity can seduce the humble man, even the one after God’s own heart.  Spiritually, Solomon fared better during the early years of his reign, before he settled in.  It was likewise with David, though he did much better generally than did his son. Failure to handle power and prosperity cut David down more than once. And he would have avoided committing the wickedness of adultery and murder if he had made a covenant with his eyes.  The accusation that Satan brought before God against Job was that Job was blameless and upright only because God had blessed the work of his hands.  The truth, however, is that Job was blameless and upright in spite of having been greatly blessed.  Not only was Job wealthy, he was blessed with a large household, the adult members of which were rich enough to feast and to make merry on their own. His great wealth was helping to spawn him a dynasty. But Job did not fall into grievous sin like Kings David and Solomon would later do. He was neither incontinent nor idolatrous. And he did not become a hedonist; neither did he become a miser; he succumbed to neither extreme. 

A rich man who is praised by God for his character must, of necessity, be also a generous man.  Job shared his wealth: “I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me: and I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy…I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame.  I was a father to the poor: and the cause which I knew not I searched out. And I brake the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil out of his teeth” (Job 29.12, 13, 15-17.)  These verses show that Job acted the part of a righteous magistrate as well. He was practicing Old Testament statutes centuries before Moses was born and raised to give them.  He practiced the moral religion that the Israelites would soon fail to live up to: “Learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow” (Isaiah 1.17.) This, in effect, was the religion of Job. It is, as far as deeds go, the religion of James in the New Testament: “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world” (James 1.27.) Because he adored God, Job loved his neighbor. The sacrifices that he offered were not merely formal; they were sin offerings that bore witness to vital religion. His oblations were based on a sense of obligation and inability—a religion that stood on the ground of a perception of depravity. He loved God with his heart and his neighbor as himself in the way that a stellar Christian does: on the strength supplied by God through faith. His religion was of a degree, though, that perhaps has never met its match among fallen men. To be conscientious is to be guided by a sense of right and wrong. The conscience that is most sensitive to God is the one that does the most good and the least evil.       

Job’s character is summarized in verse fourteen of chapter twenty-nine: “I put on righteousness, and it clothed me: my judgment was as a robe and a diadem.” This was not merely Job’s opinion. God affirmed Job’s character: “Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?”  (Job 1.8.)  After his great wealth is taken away, after his servants fall victim to fire and sword, and after his children are all killed in a violent storm, his character goes on display in word and action: “Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshiped, and said, naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (1.20, 21.) This is a spectacle of eminent holiness. Religion of this degree is so exceptional as to seem mythical. Not one of us can point to a man this mortified. It’s as if Job’s ‘old man’ was crucified in the Pauline sense in the book of Romans (chapter 6.) In the person of Job, we have New Testament religion before the Old Testament was written. In him, we have the demonstration of faith, without and before, the law as a pedagogue to bring us unto Christ (Galatians 3.24.) To worship God aright after losing all that Job lost is, for almost any man on earth at any given time, undoable and unthinkable. Job’s piety was such that he worshipped God when it was hardest to do so; and he did it immediately and instinctively. This was a man for whom religion was life. When Job uttered his ‘blessed be the name of the Lord’ on the heels of his great losses, he showed that the sacrificial system that he practiced was more than a routine of rites. He therefore rendered the sacrifice of praise to God: the calves of his lips (Hosea 14.2), when almost everyone else would have cursed. His character was corroborated through calamity. After praising God for taking his belongings and his family, Job was stricken with boils and tempted by his wife to curse God. What answer did he give? “But he said unto her, thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh.  What? shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?  In all this did not Job sin with his lips” (Job 2.10.) How different is this from the conduct of Adam after Eve committed her sin? Job did not go along with his wayward wife. He reproved her with a rhetorical question that stamped the word ‘fool’ on her forehead. To her everlasting mercy, her name is nowhere mentioned. Job’s response to his wife, as compared with Adam’s joining Eve in sin, shows that reformed religion is better than original religion; that the religion of grace is better than the religion of innocence; that man as fallen and saved is better than unfallen man. 

When Job lived, presumably around 2000 B. C., there were not many saints on the earth. Soon after the dispersal at the tower of Babel a few hundred years prior, the knowledge of God became more obscured and misunderstood than ever before since the time of the Flood. Widespread ignorance led to wholesale idolatry, from which milieu Abraham was eventually called out to give birth to a nation through whom the revelation of God’s word would come. When piety seems nearly extinct, a holy man appears here and there, as in the times of Noah and of Daniel. “Though these three men, Noah, Daniel, and Job, were in it, they should deliver but their own souls by their righteousness, saith the LORD God” (Ezekiel 14.14.)       

Job was blameless and upright in both his prosperity and adversity, worshipping God through it all. His moral strength helped him to suffer through. But it is just as certain that the man’s goodness made his trials seem unfair. His conscientiousness was a circumstance that made his tribulations intolerable. Job’s character aggravated his misfortunes because he knew that he was a good man who feared God. His calamity therefore bewildered and angered him:  “I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men?  why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?  And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away my iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but I shall not be…I will say unto God, do not condemn me; shew me wherefore thou contendest with me.  Is it good unto thee that thou shouldest oppress, that thou shouldest despise the work of thine hands, and shine upon the counsel of the wicked?”  (Job 7.20, 21; 10.2, 3.) Has God become Job’s enemy? Why? And why do Job’s pleas for pardon fall on deaf ears? Why is there no forgiveness and return to favor? The poor man is beside himself trying to figure out what God has to do with how things have lately turned out. It’s as if he’s been found guilty of idolatry: “If I have made gold my hope, or have said to the fine gold, thou art my confidence; if I rejoiced because my wealth was great, and because mine hand had gotten much; if I beheld the sun when it shines, or the moon walking in brightness; and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand: this also were an iniquity to be punished by the judge: for I would have denied the God that is above”  (31.24-28.) Similar statements cover the whole of this lengthy chapter. He thinks back; he searches himself; and he cannot find that he has been guilty of idol worship. The worship of the sun was the first form that idolatry took. It was carried out, first as the worship of the true God through the sun as his image. After this the sun became an idol unto itself, as in the following words in Egypt’s Ritual of the Dead: “…Hail! O Sun, Creator! self-created!...Glory to thee, shining in the firmament….” (W. R. Cooper, The Serpent Myths of Ancient Egypt, pp. 4, 35.) That shining orbs in the sky had been placed there by God ‘to rule over the day and over the night’ (Genesis 1.18) was knowledge passed down to Noah, from whom it passed down orally to subsequent generations: “Remnant knowledge of the creation of the sun and moon to rule the day and night” was “deeply embedded in the human consciousness” (John Owen, Biblical Theology, p. 264.) It was natural that the first form idolatry took was the worship of lights in the sky. Greeting the sun as a god with a kiss to one’s hand was no doubt customary in Job’s day, which custom was carried along even to the advent of Jesus Christ: “In our adoration,” said Pliny the Elder in the first century, “we bring up the right hand to the mouth, as we turn our whole bodies around” (Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Book 28, chapter 2.) This is the sort of worship that Job, in his part of the dialogue, denies having done. In an interesting but digressive book called An Essay Towards a Natural History of Serpents, Charles Owen tracks the primitive worship of the sun practically around the world. It has been practiced by the ancient Egyptians, Babylonians, Phoenicians, and Ammonites, for example, and in such diverse regions as Persia, Spain, China, Peru, and the Philippines. This form of idolatry was, without a doubt, the norm in Uz in Job’s day. And, incidentally, was it not against this form of idolatry that these inspired words were written down in Psalm 2.12?—: “Kiss the Son, lest he be angry.” Instead of blowing kisses at the sun, Job kissed the Son of God by proper worship; and he did it no matter what his fellows were doing. Imagine living in a world of practicing Roman Catholics. What character would it take to resist the peer pressure to make the sign of the cross beside everyone else doing it! Job’s inner strength was on that level. Not only did Job have faith, he possessed that strength of faith which stands while everyone else bows down to the popular god. Was it not for this distinction that he was criticized and scorned when his life of plenty was leveled?             

Though chapter 31 is Job’s rebuttal to his friends’ accusations, he weaves into it his vindication by self-examination. He searches through every facet of his conduct prior to his calamity in order to prove himself.  Search as he might, he cannot find any reason for being so sharply treated. And at least once, in chapter 23, his anger nears the borders of irreverence. He longs to speak to God because he is desperate to present his case: “Will he plead against me with his great power?  No; but he would put strength in me” (Job 23.6.) His character haunts him. He wonders what he might have done to deserve such punishment. He examines and reexamines himself. He defends himself. Like a person gone mad, he craves an actual meeting with Almighty God.  His frustration becomes so unbearable that he comes close to accusing God of blame.  

Job’s goodness increased his torment significantly.  Who today could lay claim to such character as he had?  How confounding to be the most upright man on earth and to be treated as the most wicked! What is it like to be as upright as he was but to be treated like an ungodly man deserving punishment?  This is a circumstance that none of us face because not one of us is as distinguished as Job was for character. Maybe we might find a man who worshipped God immediately after his house burned down. Maybe we might find someone who worshipped God immediately after being diagnosed with cancer. But where is the man who worshipped God right after losing his millions, his family, his health, his looks, the bracing of his wife, and his reputation and good standing? Can we discover a man who acted half as patiently as Job did after losing the half of what Job lost?

PART I, ARTICLE IV: FOUR CIRCUMSTANCES AGAINST JOB, SECTION II

Circumstance One: Large Losses

The losses that Job suffered are incomparable among the children of men. A blameless and upright man, one who feared God and shunned evil—the greatest, wealthiest man in the East, lost everything but his life. He lost all of his resources, his seven sons, and his three daughters. Then to add to his misery, he lost the support of his wife after Satan struck him with painful boils from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head.  But that is not all.  Then he lost the respect that he had enjoyed from those he’d protected, helped, and made happy. He went from being a kind of king who comforted mourners (Job 29.25) to a man mocked by younger men (30.1.)  He became a man to be made fun of (30.9), and an outcast (30.29.) He was shunned and ostracized, except to be jeered at when it was convenient to do so. Job the great was now Job the estranged and rejected: “He hath put my brethren far from me, and mine acquaintance are verily estranged from me.  My kinsfolk have failed, and my familiar friends have forgotten me” (19.13, 14.) 

If it is not seemly for a servant to be above a prince (Proverbs 19.10), how unseemly was it for a blameless prince like Job to be reduced to nothing but his life and to be found sitting on the ground ‘among the ashes,’ shamefully engaged in scraping the boils on his skin with a broken piece of pottery? (Job 2.8.) The unseemliness of it is highlighted by the fact that his three friends who came to sit with him didn’t dare speak a word to him for a full ‘seven days and seven nights’ (2.13.) Incidentally, it would be unfair to emphasize the exceptional character of Job without noticing the patience of his three critics. What person on the face of the earth, even among our billions of people, would be as deferential and discreet as any one of these three friends of Job? We have had friends, maybe, who, when visiting us upon hearing of our misfortune, sat down and waited for us to open the conversation. But what friend would bear with us in silence for a whole week? What friend would grieve quietly with us for that long? Job’s losses were so great that his friends were rendered speechless for seven days and nights. Large losses draw respect from close friends. Large losses elicit a shocking response. Large losses cause close friends to be humiliated for our sake. From what is brought to light by Alfred Edersheim, it seems probable, at least to me, that the custom of observing silence until the mourner himself broke it stretched back in time from the days of our Lord even to Job’s day and that this custom was generally practiced in the East in ancient times. “There was a custom, which deserves general imitation, that mourners were not to be tormented by talk, but that all should observe silence till addressed by them…Deep mourning was to last for seven days” (Alfred Edersheim, Sketches of Jewish Social Life in the Days of Christ, pp. 130, 131.) Whether this custom extended back from the days of our Lord in Palestine to the days of Job in the land of Uz or not, the mutual association is at least curiously coincidental; and, custom or not, suffering by being silent with a mourner for seven days must involve rigorous patience and control. During this full week of silence, no doubt, the characters in the drama composed, in their minds, the dialogue that was to follow. Their remarks are more than offhand rants.                   

Speaking of customs, it is remarkable that the surviving servants of Job did not rally to assist him in his plight. It is especially remarkable for this sin of omission to occur in the East in the ancient time, for back then over there the servant was at the entire disposal of his master. A servant, in that day, was what we would now call a slave. “Instil from his earliest infancy into man the idea that he belongs to another, is the property of another, let everything around proceed upon this idea, let there be nothing to interfere with it or rouse his suspicions in his mind to the contrary, and he will yield entirely to that idea. He will take his own deprivation of right, the necessity of his own subservience to another as a matter of course. And that idea of himself will keep him in order” (J. B. Mozley, Ruling Ideas in Early Ages, pp. 42, 43.) This idea is why Isaac bared his neck to his father’s knife without complaint. This idea is why Jephthah’s daughter submitted so composedly to her father’s precipitate vow, to be given over by him, though sinfully, to the LORD for a burnt offering (Judges 11.30-40.) This idea is why Muslim women, even four thousand years after the early ages in the book of Job, walk around fully covered in black cloth in the torrid heat of Arabia. But these servants of Job did not adhere to this idea after his kingdom came to naught. There are two reasons why this might have occurred. One, Satan, whose business it is to roam ‘to and fro in the earth,’ knew which servants to kill and which ones to leave alive. Only the least faithful were left. Two, it is plausible that Job was a worshipper of the one true God among sun worshippers, and that therefore when he came to trouble, he was left to sort himself out as best he could. So Job, after making it possible for his servants to subsist on the earth, had to defend his past conduct toward them.  His remaining servants now reckoned him a stranger: “They that dwell in mine house, and my maids, count me for a stranger: I am an alien in their sight.  I called my servant, and he gave me no answer; I intreated him with my mouth” (Job 19.15, 16.)  The servants blessed by Job in his prosperity, rejected him in his adversity.  Fearing God, Job had been fair and humble toward his servants: “If I did despise the cause of my manservant or of my maidservant, when they contended with me; what then shall I do when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer him?” (31.13, 14.)  He had considered his servants equal to himself: “Did not he that made me in the womb make him? and did not one fashion us in the womb?” (31.15.)  Now they considered themselves superior to Job. By the laws that men governed themselves by in that semi-rude age, it is not dubious to suppose that disdainful conduct on the part of servants warranted flogging and maybe death. 

This loss of respect from the people that Job had blessed left him a tormented man.  Melancholy weighs heaviest on the man who has lost the most.  Job’s pensive sadness for the way things used to be makes for a heart-wrenching account.  He longed for the past comforts and pleasures of wealth, the joy of being with his children, and the health to be able to relish the experience. But that was all gone: “Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; when his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness; as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle; when the Almighty was yet with me, when my children were about me; when I washed my steps with butter, and the rock poured me out rivers of oil” (Job 29.2-6.)  The rest of this chapter is filled with similar reflections.  Despite the good reputation that he deserved, the community refused to honor Job during his trial.  His sentimental yearning for the recognition that he deserved and once enjoyed is particularly sorrowful: “Men gave ear, and waited, and kept silence at my counsel. After my words they spake not again; and my speech dropped upon them.  And they waited for me as for the rain; and they opened their mouth wide as for the latter rain” (29.21-23.) Had they listened to Job’s wisdom, then, only because of his wealth?  We do not have to wonder how these fair weather friends reacted when Job was restored.  They respected men who possessed resources. To find out that you were loved only for what you had and what you provided is a devastating discovery. In a documentary about the famous boxer, Roberto Duran, the story is told about his returning to Panama after his victories. His habit was to walk along the streets to share his winnings with poverty-stricken countrymen. Upon his return after a huge loss, however, without any money or with a paltry sum, his fellows were not there to greet him. The poor man, more than the rich man, knows who his friends are. Another avenue to the same discovery is the loss of loved ones. The excuse that is commonly given for avoiding a man after a death in his family is that the would-be comforter knows not what to say. But is the mourner not avoided, rather, because he has lately closed with unapproachable death? And how much more is that person avoided who comes close to death himself? Or, how does it go with the man who, for no good reason, is unanimously defamed? Who wants to be that man’s friend? Large losses occasion the loss of everything else. Large losses may occasion the loss of everything but a man’s faith.       

George Brummell is now an unknown man. But once upon a time he was on many a mind. Succeeding to a large inheritance at the age of twenty-one, he devoted his life to fashionable dress, and holds the distinction of inventing and popularizing the ‘starched neckcloth.’ In 19th century Britain, high culture regulated its fashions according to his yea or nay. “For years he gave the law to the highest fashionable circles…a duchess would tremble at his decision, as what would stamp her unfashionable or otherwise” (William Haig Miller, The Mirage of Life, p. 26.) We don’t pity an empty-headed dandy whose folly brings him to destitution, jail, and finally, the madhouse. But we do feel deeply for a pious, upright, self-made man like Job who, through no fault of his own, loses literally everything but his faith in God. We are instinctively affected upon hearing of the misfortunes of a man of character. Job was the most upright and generous man of his time and the most unworthy of deprivation. And he not only lost the most, he had it all taken away suddenly by a train of violent events. The wealthiest man in the East, the most blessed by God, and the most worthy of respect among men, lost it all, including his children, his health, and the moral support of his wife. Even a man whose empire is wiped out in a tsunami would be hard pressed to equal Job for losses, for Job lost, not only his empire, but his seven kids, his comeliness, his health, and the backing of his beloved. And no mere mortal could be found to have lost as much deserved respect as Job lost. It would be an impossible task to find a man who suffered heavier losses than Job did.  This circumstance is beyond us.

PART I, ARTICLE IV: FOUR CIRCUMSTANCES AGAINST JOB, SECTION I

When a physical relapse dashed my long-term recovery to pieces and caused me to nearly despair, the only thing that I had the heart to study was the book of Job in order to find a mere sinful mortal with whom I could compare my assortment of sufferings. This I did during the course of a whole winter, from my bed. What I discovered in the book of Job consoled me because in Job’s incomparable account of perseverance I found a man who not only sympathized with me, but surpassed me in four key departments. It was thus that the spiritual therapy that I needed was applied; and I was encouraged to press on in spite of unwanted, unexpected regress.    

Introduction

If prose, piety, and pathos be considered together, the book of Job must be without rival in all the annals of literature. The quality of its prose is distinct and startling even in translation. The piety of its protagonist is nowhere surpassed. And the narrative is entirely possessed of the element of pathos, which suddenly appears in the prologue, pulsates throughout the ensuing dialogue, and radiates on the page after our reading is finished. The book is about persevering in faith through the consequences that a series of catastrophes brought about in the life of one man. The entry point is a conversation between Satan and the LORD, which colloquy is foundational to our understanding of what goes on in the spiritual world during our pilgrimage on earth. After the LORD recommends the good character of Job for Satan’s consideration, the devil impugns Job’s character on the basis of the charge that his good conduct is merely a response to having been richly blessed of God. To disprove the charge, God grants to Satan the liberty of putting Job to the test. Subsequent to this meeting, Job is impoverished and humiliated by his adversary the devil, and all his children are slain by his influence. Seeing that the upright character of Job has not tottered, Satan presents himself before the LORD a second time, and is granted the right to put a disease upon Job to test him more perfectly. Next we see Job atop an ash heap, scraping the boils on his skin with a fragment of earthenware. Following Job’s refusal to curse God, which remedy is proposed by his wife, a debate ensues between Job, his three friends, and a latecomer to the exchange. The spirited dialogue continues for the length of about three sermons, and has for its topic the reason why the felicity of Job has lately turned to adversity, by which hardship Job has been driven almost to madness from confusion and grief. The four-sided dialogue is ended by God, who demands answers from Job to a succession of baffling questions about God’s creation and character. Finally, Job confesses his ignorance, unworthiness, and impetuosity; his three friends are censured by the LORD; the LORD approves Job and sets him up as an intercessor for them; and the latter days of Job are made twice as prosperous as the days leading up to his trials.                  

Suffering is the grimmest part of man’s inheritance from Adam. Between the cradle and the coffin man is at a continual hazard because of accidents and choices, malfunctions and malevolence. Nonetheless, as hazardous as the fallen world is, there are persons who enjoy unrelenting health from first to last, and suffer comparatively little, perhaps passing on to eternity during a placid dream. The tendency, however, is toward the other extreme, where suffering is as common as luxury meats are for the rich. Some people suffer little in this world, while others seem born in it to suffer. But life is brief for all, and each person would be wise to reckon with God while passing through. Man is born in sin, and is condemned, not only to die, but to suffer afterward forever no matter what he suffers first on earth. Without a spiritual quickening before his decease, man is doomed to suffer everlastingly for the initiation of sin and his participation in it. To reckon with God, and to obtain his blessing before death, is the most important task in a man’s life. The persons who are most set upon to prove that they are blessed are the most pious among the penitent. For those who have received a pardon for their sins through faith, suffering is not so much about God’s disapproval, but about proving, by not repining, that reconciliation has taken place. How patiently a man of God suffers, affects his assurance of faith. His hope in being ultimately blessed will hang or hover instead of rest during periods of dejection. A person who trusts God and who continues to trust during adversity will be counted among the blessed.  Job is counted among the blessed: “Behold, we count them happy which endure.  Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and seen the end intended of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy” (James 5.11.) ‘Count happy’ means ‘blessed.’  ‘Patience’ means ‘hopeful endurance.’  So, being counted happy depends, here, on ‘hopeful endurance.’ Happiness is certain for saints who endure.  Job endured and was made happy. 

But there was a time for Job, and there may be times for us, when no amount of blessing seems worth going after. This is particularly the case when relapse reverses progress, when intermittent pain becomes constant, or when physical weakness causes weariness of mind. There is a level of torment that seems like torture from God because the pain turns the mind up to the only power that can stop it. There is a mental space from where abatement seems impossible, from where agony seems eternal, from where infirmity seems everlasting, from where even hell, we imagine, would be an easier fate to bear. In times like these, we might be tempted to plunge into the unknown before bearing another cross. There may even come to us a blasphemous temptation to desire a Being greater than God to appear, to the purpose of putting God through what we are presently enduring. As near as I can tell, Job was not tempted with a thought as black as that. But Satan was permitted to stretch a pavilion of darkness over his faith, from which a translucent sight of God could hardly occur. It takes a lot of trust to persevere.  It takes a lot of character to persevere.  And to use the language we used at home when I was a boy: “It takes a lot of guts.” Yes, it can take a lot of guts to persevere—and far more guts than any of us have to persevere so patiently that we don’t gripe and grumble. 

Job was an observer of the rite of sacrifice. He sacrificed to God, not only because of sin, but even in case of sin:  “It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually” (Job 1.5.) He ‘feared God, and eschewed evil’ (verse 1.) In Romans 5 we read, “… that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope” (verses 3, 4.)  The word ‘experience’ means ‘trustiness,’ and therefore ‘character,’ as one translation has it. Job had character before he patiently endured tribulation.  He endured because he was a man of character. He (his character) was tried by prosperity; in his prosperity he offered sacrifices because he had confident expectation (hope.) He worshipped God, then, even as a rich man—even before he went from riches to rags. Job was a ready candidate to become a model for the doctrine of perseverance.  He was a man ready for further testing.  To Job, perseverance meant more than trusting God through times of prosperity and even trials.  Judging from the overall tone of the book and especially from God’s approval of him in both the prelude and the epilogue, there is no presumption in stating that Job maintained a strict religion and a high moral standard in every aspect of, and throughout, his life.

It is one thing to read about the sufferings endured by a hero, quite another to be a hero in the book of Job.  During a relapse into sufferings of my own, I began to consider Job’s account more closely.  I wanted to somehow weigh his sufferings against my own.  I needed to put my sufferings in perspective because my relapse was making me bitter. “He hath set me in dark places, as they that be dead of old. He hath hedged me about, that I cannot get out: he hath made my chain heavy” (Lamentations 3.6, 7.) During the winter of 1998-99, I made the book of Job my chief meditation. So ill and weak was I that this article is the only piece of work that I produced during that whole time, which article would look like a considerable abridgment compared to this final renovation of it. I am “remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall” (Lamentations 3.19.) I am now convinced that because of the circumstances involved in Job’s trial, the gravity of his sufferings is significantly set apart from our own; and that based on the praise that he received from the LORD for his victory, his perseverance is set above that of all others in the Old Testament.

To examine the account of a man who persevered despite singularly trying circumstances can inspire us to persevere.  Job did not realize that his trials were calculated to cultivate his character and to expose that character to view.  We, however, do know it. We know from his example that we should use our trials as opportunities to gain ground; that is, to bring glory to God, to edify the Church, to shed some light on the world, and to improve our character in preparation for eternity.  That must be our manifold goal.  We might not receive a double measure for our perseverance like Job received from God on earth. But we will receive more than a double measure later. To be sure, we will not be ‘counted happy’ if we give up and rebel against God.  Each time we persevere through a trial we increase our faith, thereby inclining ourselves more to obey God. To know the grace and peace of God through perseverance increases our overall strength. Experiential religion will show its worth when sufferings come to press us down the next time.  Suffering may come down upon us with crushing force. But if we persevere through it, our spirits will run over with happiness.  Our perseverance in the LORD, or lack of it, affects us far more that we understand right now.  Job’s affliction and the composition of his trial happened first to honor God by putting the devil to confusion, but then to dignify Job and encourage God’s people. Our sufferings have a noble purpose as well.  Our conduct during affliction is recorded also. Who knows what is involved in the new heaven and the new earth? Our trials here have something to do with our rank and occupation there. To place our account beside Job’s account will be a humbling and strengthening exercise.  God will hearten us through Job; and, having learned to endure hardness, we will be fortified to go on.  First, we must learn a little about who Job was.

I will assume that the reader has read the book of Job and that he knows about the dialogue between the devil and God, which dialogue set in motion the unraveling of Job’s idyllic life. These introductory notes may, hopefully and nonetheless, serve as a faint rehearsal of the famed account. Job was blameless but not sinless; he is an historical figure; he is no more fictitious than Noah and Daniel are (Ezekiel 14.14, 20.) Job was a man who lived in the land of Uz around the second millennium B. C. The book of Lamentations situates Edom within the same land; that is, east of Palestine. The name ‘Job’ means ‘hated’ or ‘persecuted’; this definition agrees with the treatment that Job received from the devil as the providence of God produced its negative effects on his life. Even if his name had not ‘hated’ for its definition, the name ‘Job’ should, because of our acquaintance with the narrative, remind us at once of a longsuffering character. If the moralist should be ashamed of ‘never having thumbed Aesop’ (ne Aesopum quidem trivit), the Christian should be shamed for never having read the book of Job.   

Job was a man who trusted God and gave him the glory.  He did it in the midst of a shocking series of losses, which pained him extremely. When I refer to the sufferings of Job, I don’t mean so much his physical torment, but the mental and spiritual anguish that vexed him after he lost his possessions, his servants, his children, his health, and the respect of his fellows.  While there may be more mediums today through which we are tempted to sin than there was in Job’s day, the grave circumstances that complicated and worsened Job’s sufferings tempted him to sin also—circumstances that we do not face.  These circumstances markedly intensified Job’s sufferings, accentuating his perseverance. We will consider these four circumstances, following a brief comment on the dimensions of Job’s sufferings.  

The boils all over Job’s body caused him gnawing pain. The sores on his body itched and stung intensely. He could not rest. He was wasting away and nearly dead: “My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome…My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh, and I am escaped with the skin of my teeth…My bones are pierced in the night season: and my sinews take no rest…My skin is black upon me, and my bones are burned with heat” (Job 7.5; 19.20; 30.17, 30.)  Job’s physical agony exceeded the pain that most diseases presently cause, especially in countries where doctors and formulas abound—where the sick are catered to in the rush to help alleviate their distress.  I do not recall even one verse that says Job was ministered to physically.  Nevertheless, as dire as it was for Job bodily, descriptions of his physical discomfort are few.  A higher dimension of torment haunts the book: “Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul…When I say, my bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint; then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me with visions…And now my soul is poured out upon me; the days of affliction have taken hold upon me…My bowels boiled, and rested not: the days of affliction prevented me.  I went mourning without the sun: I stood up, and I cried in the congregation” (Job 7.11, 13, 14; 30.16, 27, 28.)  Job’s principal torment was mental and metaphysical. Those among us who have been deathly ill know that during sleep, physical pain is wide awake in nightmares. Sleep that is usually restorative and diversionary becomes exhausting and menacing instead. The night is only a dark review of the direful day. The only break from the nightmare is an equally dismal dawn. The following four circumstances greatly contributed to the vexation of Job’s mind and spirit: the large losses that he incurred, his conscientious character, the limited revelation that he had for his comfort, and the devil’s assaults.