What do you know of God? He judges the wicked! That was what Bildad, as well as his other two friends, kept circling back to. There were variations on the theme, but the theme itself remained immovably consistent. God sees the wicked, He judges the wicked, He punishes the wicked, and if you’re being sifted, you too must be wicked. They were so focused on one facet of God’s nature that they failed to see or acknowledge anything else about Him beyond that.
After attempting to exhort his friend to look inward and see
whose spirit had come from him, Job gives a masterclass on the multi-faceted
nature of God, which, given his condition and the time he lived in, is nothing
short of inspired, God-breathed, and beyond the scope of human understanding.
It’s riveting, awe-inspiring, epic in its scope, transcendent
in its blending of the seen and unseen, and so layered with profundity as to
make one wonder why God had not singled out Job’s wisdom along with his
blamelessness and uprightness.
Long before telescopes, microscopes, understanding of
cumulus, stratus, and cirrus clouds, or even a rough outline of the spiritual
realm, Sheol, or the deep, Job laid out the majesty of God and His
all-encompassing sovereignty with such brilliance as to make Rhode’s scholars
blush with shame and seethe with envy.
It proves that Job did not possess simply a rhetorical
understanding of who God was, but had spent his life in awe of the Lord of his
heart, knowing Him more and more with each passing day as He revealed Himself. You
don’t come to understand God the way Job did, tangentially, or through infrequent
contemplation of Him.
You can tell when someone has been in the presence of God,
walked with Him, and grown in Him, and when they’re regurgitating things they’ve
heard or appropriating experiences others have had in hopes of impressing
strangers. Job was not boasting about his understanding of God, nor pointing to
it as a means of validating his righteousness. He just laid out the thesis of
who the God he served was, and how far His powers stretched. He didn’t make it
about himself, nor draw attention to himself. In his mind, he was simply
stating a fact.
Job 26:5-9, “The dead tremble, those under the waters and
those inhabiting them. Sheol is naked before Him, and Destruction has no
covering. He stretches out the north over empty space; He hangs the earth on
nothing. He binds up the water in His thick clouds, yet the clouds are not
broken under it. He covers the face of His throne, and spreads His cloud over it.”
It is a dangerous thing to attempt to place limitations on
God or to dictate what He can and cannot do. It is likewise folly to insist
that God must do a certain thing in the manner we see fit, at the time of our
choosing, for the purposes we define, and within the parameters of what we
determine as acceptable.
Men taking liberties with imposing their will on the
omnipotent God of all that is isn’t something new. Many have tried throughout
the ages, and all have failed in spectacular fashion because God does as He
wills, not as man demands.
What Job had started to describe regarding the God he served
was not a rough outline. It was not one facet of a multifaceted God, but a deep
and profound rendering of the One at whom the dead tremble, as well as those
under the waters and those inhabiting them.
Job lived in the desert. He was well versed in sand,
sandstorms, blistering heat, and ever-present water shortages. The things he
begins to enumerate regarding the omnipotence of God are so far removed from his
lived experience that they could only have been divinely inspired; a revelation
rather than a retelling of what he’d seen or witnessed.
The presence of God is transformative. The knowledge of Him
stretches us beyond our mental or intellectual capacities to perceive the
divine, because the things Job spoke of God were beyond man’s ability to reason
or understand. How exactly could Job intuit that Sheol is naked before God, and
Destruction has no covering, or that He hangs the earth on nothing all on his
own? The short answer is he couldn’t have. None of the things he describes in
his opening salvo could have been gleaned organically.
When Jesus asked His disciples who men said that He was, the
answers varied from John the Baptist, to Elijah, to Jeremiah, or one of the
prophets. He then focused in on the group of men before Him, and asked, “Who do
you say that I am?”
That’s when Simon Peter took up the charge and answered, “You
are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
Rather than praise his intuitiveness or ability to logically conclude
who He was, Jesus answered Peter and said, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah,
for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in
heaven.”
Some things can only be perceived by divine revelation. Even
after all the teaching they’d heard from the lips of Christ, and after having witnessed
numerous miracles at His hands, it was God who revealed the reality of who
Jesus was to Peter.
Job could not have known the things he was speaking save by
divine revelation. This was God’s curriculum vitae, and He used Job as a means
of delivering it at a time when most of what he mentioned could not have been
revealed by flesh and blood.
Even broken and bleeding, bereft and stripped of all his
earthly possessions, God chose Job as the vessel by which He described Himself because
He found him worthy of this great honor.
On a broader theme, and one that is relatable to each of us, it doesn’t matter who others think or say Jesus is; what matters is who you believe Him to be. If it has been revealed to you, and you believe, that He is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then your life must reflect that reality in the good fruit that you bear. One cannot come to the knowledge of the truth of who Jesus is and remain unchanged, indifferent, or aloof. A good tree bears good fruit; a bad tree deflects and accuses others of the selfsame wickedness it’s rooted in that prohibits it from producing good fruit.
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea, Jr.
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