Job CXCVI

 Job 19:1-6, “Then Job answered and said: ‘How long will you torment my soul, and break me in pieces with words? These ten times you have reproached me; you are not ashamed that you have wronged me. And if indeed I have erred, my error remains with me. If indeed you exalt yourselves against me, and plead my disgrace against me, know then that God has wronged me, and has surrounded me with His net.”

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but sometimes, given the gravity of the situation, words can break your spirit just as readily. You don’t need to beat someone to a bloody pulp in order to hurt them; a careless, well-placed, intentionally hurtful retort will cause nearly as much pain without the relief of a salve, a balm, or a poultice a wound would enjoy. Job found himself in just such a situation, where the relief he hoped he would receive from his friends turned to torment, and the comfort he assumed would come from their lips turned into a torrent of accusation.

For Job, they weren’t just harmless words that rolled off his back like water off a duck, but a torment for his soul, and something that, by his own words, broke him to pieces.

Although there are many deep and profound spiritual lessons to be found in the book of Job, there are also many practical lessons we would do well in heeding one of which is to think before we speak, especially in volatile or pain-riddled situations, because our intentions might not match our words, and we will end up doing more harm than good.

Job’s three friends had gone beyond not bridling their tongues or letting something hurtful slip out in the heat of the moment. Their effort was concerted and well defined, and though Job’s strength was all but exhausted, he still had the presence of mind to understand what they were trying to do and what their aim was.

Even in his condition, Job kept track of how many times his friends had addressed him reproachfully. It’s an odd thing what the human mind chooses to remember, and what it forgets. You can go on an impromptu treasure hunt fifteen minutes after you lay your keys down, scouring the house, growing ever more frustrated until you realize they’re in your pocket, but remember with stark clarity what someone said fifteen years ago because what they said and the way they said it caused a wound.

Job had been aware that his friends had reproached him ten times, not nine, not eleven, but ten, remembering each of their words in turn and being aware of their ever-increasing tenor and vitriol.

Although this chapter begins in a similar fashion to the previous ones in which Job answered his friends, toward the middle and latter parts, it becomes, what is objectively, one of the great chapters of the Bible for its depth and insight.

What Job details in this nineteenth chapter goes beyond human reason or understanding and transcends into pure revelation. In the midst of his suffering, reproach, loneliness, trial, and pain, he utters some of the most beautiful words ever recorded regarding hope, assurance, and the future glory he will receive at the hand of a just and loving God.

One cannot read this chapter in its entirety and not conclude that Job’s words were divinely inspired. Especially given his condition and the state he was in, the beauty, poetry, truth, and divine insight are both humbling and encouraging for anyone experiencing a season of trial, sorrow, or hardship.

The shift from Job’s machinations to divinely inspired oratory is so evident as to be jarring. What begins as a rebuke of his friends turns into a crash course on the sovereignty, goodness, mercy, grace, justice, and faithfulness of God.

It’s easy to forget that Job was human, with human feelings, emotions, and pain. Given what his three friends had already said, it’s understandable that he would feel the way he felt about them, and since it was his turn to address them, he began by attempting to get them to see what had transpired through his eyes, rather than their own.

Nothing humbles you faster than walking a mile in another’s shoes. It’s an uncomfortable spot to be in, especially if we’ve already made up our minds about the situation, but sometimes just taking a breath and honestly ascertaining how we would react in a similar situation is enough to stir both empathy and compassion in our hearts.

We may think we know, and some of us do, but most of us don’t. Not really. Unless we’ve been in the same situation, there is no way to articulate the hollowness, emptiness, desperation, and the desire for nothing more than an end to the pain, however that end might present itself.

One of the most haunting images I’ve ever witnessed, and one that will stick with me for the rest of my life, took place this summer while we were visiting Romania. I had taken my daughters to see where their grandmother was buried, the cemetery being adjacent to the Hand of Help orphanage, and as we were walking back to the car, I saw a woman, dressed in black, sitting next to a fresh grave, the look on her face so wrought with pain that I couldn’t help but flinch. The headstone told the rest of the story: it was a young child who had recently been interred, and, given her countenance, it was hers.

My wife and I looked at each other, having the sort of silent conversation only a couple who have been together for many years can have, and we both knew there were no words we could say to this woman that would lessen her pain in the moment. There was nothing we could have done or said to comfort her, so we took our daughters by the hand and respectfully passed by, allowing the silence and the chirping of the birds in a nearby tree to continue uninterrupted.  

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.