Job CLXV

 If Eliphaz had full agency over the words he was speaking, and there was no external force influencing his diatribe, it’s unlikely he would have indicted the whole of humanity, which included himself, insisting that man was both abominable and filthy, and it drinks iniquity like water. The wording allows for no delineation, no exceptions, or exemptions. There was no nuance insisting that much or most of humanity is abominable or filthy, but everyone, to the last, including himself, his momma, his papa, his wife, his sons, and his daughters, and lest we forget who this emotionally charged spoken word theater was targeting, Job as well. Especially Job. He was, after all, the one sitting on an ash heap watching his life slip away, so whatever righteousness or faithfulness Job was projecting was false and insincere. You can’t be an upright and blameless man because none exist!

Once again, historical context matters, helping us understand and draw some meaningful conclusions. The book of Job was written before the law of Moses, before the tabernacle, before the prophets, before the ark of the covenant, the temple, and most assuredly before the advent of Christ Jesus, whom God set forth as a propitiation that He might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Him. The Gideons weren’t putting Bibles in hotels; there wasn’t a church on every corner; and the knowledge and understanding of God were limited beyond our ability to relate.

Even in such times, those who sought God found Him. He did not hide nor turn away; He was not indifferent or absent. It may have been one man whom God found to be blameless and upright; it may have been just one man who feared God and shunned evil, but the existence of the one invalidated Eliphaz’s argument that everyone to the last was abominable and filthy.

Job 15:17-22, “I will tell you, hear me; What I have seen I will declare, what wise men have told, not hiding anything received from their fathers, to whom alone the land was given, and no alien passed among them: The wicked man writhes with pain all his days, and the number of years is hidden from the oppressor. Dreadful sounds are in his ears; in prosperity the destroyer comes upon him. He does not believe that he will return from darkness, for a sword is waiting for him.”

I know I’m right because I know things. Not only do I know things, but I also heard them from wise men who got it straight from the horse’s mouth, namely, their own fathers. They too knew what they knew because they had insulated themselves to the point that no alien passed among them, so whatever they believed could not be tainted by other peoples or tongues.

As wise as Eliphaz believed himself to be in his own eyes, his simplistic conclusion that as long as his forefathers kept themselves separate and isolated from others, their wisdom remained pure shows just how little he understood of demonic influence or the whispers of the enemy.

A man doesn’t need to come from afar to sow doubt, cause chaos, or spread division. Men’s own hearts betray them; their minds wander down paths with no light; their egos and pride attempt to draw them away from the truth, like a magnet. Eliphaz himself was now a case study of how the enemy can use others to apply pressure to those already hurting, and he didn’t even realize it.

By all accounts, it’s a far harder thing to break out of the spiral of self-deception than it is to do so when another person perpetrated the deception. Eliphaz knew what he knew, was sure of it, undeterred and inconsolable.

I don’t care what you say, I know you have done wickedness because the wicked man writhes in pain, and I haven’t seen anyone writhing in pain to the level you are, therefore, your pain is evidence of your wrongdoing, and there can be no other explanation—circular logic at its finest.

Eliphaz would rather have Job confess to a sin he’d never committed because it would validate his beliefs than allow for the possibility that there was something else going on that he did not understand, or that perhaps his friend had not committed some foul thing for which he was being punished.

No one is ever right all the time except for God. Certain people, however, feel the need to be right all the time, and they are willing to sacrifice anything in the pursuit of that impossible yet never-ending quest. I’ve seen marriages dissolve, people losing their jobs, children disavowing their parents, and friends becoming enemies, all because of this compulsion to be right all the time. Some of the issues were coin tosses at best, where you can see merit to the other person’s argument, or where there was no clear Biblical edict, but one side just wouldn’t yield until the other bowed the knee and relented.

Whether out of principle or pride, they missed the forest for the trees, and something as trivial as how long you’re supposed to boil an egg for became the reason for the unraveling of a friendship, a marriage, or gainful employment. By the way, the sweet spot is ten minutes; anything less and you have runny yolk. Anything more is a waste of time, and no, I don’t care how they did it back in the old country over a wood-burning stove that failed to distribute heat evenly. I jest, of course, but only to make a point.

Yes, there are moments when confrontation is inevitable, especially if it’s a Biblical issue, but most of the battles we choose to fight really aren’t worth fighting. The litmus test is whether we are doing it out of ego or for the sake of the Gospel. Once that is determined, and we discover it’s our ego driving us to insist that dinner napkins should be folded three times and not two, the next question that requires an answer is whether being right is worth the back and forth needed to convince your eight-year-old that you don’t use a steak knife to spread butter on your toast.

It was as though Eliphaz were painting a portrait; once he was done, he showed it to Job, asking if Job recognized the man. When Job said no because he knew he had not sinned against God, Eliphaz insisted, “It’s you —how can you not recognize yourself in the portrait I’ve painted? It’s you!”

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.