Eliphaz Attacks Again

You Trivialize Religion

Eliphaz of Teman spoke a second time: “If you were truly wise, would you sound so much like a windbag, belching hot air? Would you talk nonsense in the middle of a serious argument, babbling baloney? Look at you! You trivialize religion, turn spiritual conversation into empty gossip. It’s your sin that taught you to talk this way. You chose an education in fraud. Your own words have exposed your guilt. It’s nothing I’ve said—you’ve incriminated yourself! Do you think you’re the first person to have to deal with these things? Have you been around as long as the hills? Were you listening in when God planned all this? Do you think you’re the only one who knows anything? What do you know that we don’t know? What insights do you have that we’ve missed? Gray beards and white hair back us up— old folks who’ve been around a lot longer than you. Are God’s promises not enough for you, spoken so gently and tenderly? Why do you let your emotions take over, lashing out and spitting fire, Pitting your whole being against God by letting words like this come out of your mouth? Do you think it’s possible for any mere mortal to be sinless in God’s sight, for anyone born of a human mother to get it all together? Why, God can’t even trust his holy angels. He sees the flaws in the very heavens themselves, So how much less we humans, smelly and foul, who lap up evil like water?

Always at Odds with God

“I’ve a thing or two to tell you, so listen up! I’m letting you in on my views; It’s what wise men and women have always taught, holding nothing back from what they were taught By their parents, back in the days when they had this land all to themselves: Those who live by their own rules, not God’s, can expect nothing but trouble, and the longer they live, the worse it gets. Every little sound terrifies them. Just when they think they have it made, disaster strikes. They despair of things ever getting better— they’re on the list of people for whom things always turn out for the worst. They wander here and there, never knowing where the next meal is coming from— every day is doomsday! They live in constant terror, always with their backs up against the wall Because they insist on shaking their fists at God, defying God Almighty to his face, Always and ever at odds with God, always on the defensive.

Job Defends Himself

If You Were in My Shoes

Then Job defended himself: “I’ve had all I can take of your talk. What a bunch of miserable comforters! Is there no end to your windbag speeches? What’s your problem that you go on and on like this? If you were in my shoes, I could talk just like you. I could put together a terrific tirade and really let you have it. But I’d never do that. I’d console and comfort, make things better, not worse!

“Maybe you’d all like to start over, to try it again, the bunch of you. So far I haven’t come across one scrap of wisdom in anything you’ve said. My life’s about over. All my plans are shattered, all my hopes are snuffed out— My hope that night would turn into day, my hope that dawn was about to break. If all I have to look forward to is a home in the graveyard, if my only hope for comfort is a well-built coffin, If a family reunion means going six feet under, and the only family that shows up is worms, Do you call that hope? Who on earth could find any hope in that? No. If hope and I are to be buried together, I suppose you’ll all come to the double funeral!”

“Here’s the rule: The light of the wicked is put out. Their flame dies down and is extinguished. Their house goes dark— every lamp in the place goes out. Their strong strides weaken, falter; they stumble into their own traps. They get all tangled up in their own red tape, Their feet are grabbed and caught, their necks in a noose. They trip on ropes they’ve hidden, and fall into pits they’ve dug themselves. Terrors come at them from all sides. They run dazed and confused. The hungry grave is ready to gobble them up for supper, To lay them out for a gourmet meal, a treat for ravenous Death. They are snatched from their home sweet home and marched straight to the death house. Their lives go up in smoke; acid rain soaks their ruins. Their roots rot and their branches wither. They’ll never again be remembered— nameless in unmarked graves. They are plunged from light into darkness, banished from the world. And they leave empty-handed—not one single child— nothing to show for their life on this earth. Westerners are aghast at their fate, easterners are horrified: ‘Oh no! So this is what happens to perverse people. This is how the God-ignorant end up!’”

Job Answers Bildad

I Call for Help and No One Bothers

Job answered: “How long are you going to keep battering away at me, pounding me with these harangues? Time after time after time you jump all over me. Do you have no conscience, abusing me like this? Even if I have, somehow or other, gotten off the track, what business is that of yours? Why do you insist on putting me down, using my troubles as a stick to beat me? Tell it to God—he’s the one behind all this, he’s the one who dragged me into this mess.

“Look at me—I shout ‘Murder!’ and I’m ignored; I call for help and no one bothers to stop. God threw a barricade across my path—I’m stymied; he turned out all the lights—I’m stuck in the dark. He destroyed my reputation, robbed me of all self-respect. He tore me apart piece by piece—I’m ruined! Then he yanked out hope by the roots. He’s angry with me—oh, how he’s angry! He treats me like his worst enemy. He has launched a major campaign against me, using every weapon he can think of, coming at me from all sides at once.

I Know That God Lives

“God alienated my family from me; everyone who knows me avoids me. My relatives and friends have all left; houseguests forget I ever existed. The servant girls treat me like a deadbeat off the street, look at me like they’ve never seen me before. I call my attendant and he ignores me, ignores me even though I plead with him. My wife can’t stand to be around me anymore. I’m repulsive to my family. Even street urchins despise me; when I come out, they taunt and jeer. Everyone I’ve ever been close to abhors me; my dearest loved ones reject me. I’m nothing but a bag of bones; my life hangs by a thread.

“If you’re thinking, ‘How can we get through to him, get him to see that his trouble is all his own fault?’ Forget it. Start worrying about yourselves. Worry about your own sins and God’s coming judgment, for judgment is most certainly on the way.”

“They savor evil as a delicacy, roll it around on their tongues, Prolong the flavor, a dalliance in decadence— real gourmets of evil! But then they get stomach cramps, a bad case of food poisoning. They gag on all that rich food; God makes them vomit it up. They gorge on evil, make a diet of that poison— a deadly diet—and it kills them. No quiet picnics for them beside gentle streams with fresh-baked bread and cheese, and tall, cool drinks. They spit out their food half-chewed, unable to relax and enjoy anything they’ve worked for. And why? Because they exploited the poor, took what never belonged to them.

“Such God-denying people are never content with what they have or who they are; their greed drives them relentlessly. They plunder everything but they can’t hold on to any of it. Just when they think they have it all, disaster strikes; they’re served up a plate full of misery. When they’ve filled their bellies with that, God gives them a taste of his anger, and they get to chew on that for a while. As they run for their lives from one disaster, they run smack into another. They’re knocked around from pillar to post, beaten to within an inch of their lives. They’re trapped in a house of horrors, and see their loot disappear down a black hole. Their lives are a total loss— not a penny to their name, not so much as a bean. God will strip them of their sin-soaked clothes and hang their dirty laundry out for all to see. Life is a complete wipeout for them, nothing surviving God’s wrath. There! That’s God’s blueprint for the wicked— what they have to look forward to.”

Fancy Funerals with All the Trimmings

“But who are we to tell God how to run his affairs? He’s dealing with matters that are way over our heads. Some people die in the prime of life, with everything going for them— fat and sassy. Others die bitter and bereft, never getting a taste of happiness. They’re laid out side by side in the cemetery, where the worms can’t tell one from the other.

“I’m not deceived. I know what you’re up to, the plans you’re cooking up to bring me down. Naively you claim that the castles of tyrants fall to pieces, that the achievements of the wicked collapse. Have you ever asked world travelers how they see it? Have you not listened to their stories Of evil men and women who got off scot-free, who never had to pay for their wickedness? Did anyone ever confront them with their crimes? Did they ever have to face the music? Not likely—they’re given fancy funerals with all the trimmings, Gently lowered into expensive graves, with everyone telling lies about how wonderful they were.

Job’s Defense

I’m Completely in the Dark

Job replied: “I’m not letting up—I’m standing my ground. My complaint is legitimate. God has no right to treat me like this— it isn’t fair! If I knew where on earth to find him, I’d go straight to him. I’d lay my case before him face-to-face, give him all my arguments firsthand. I’d find out exactly what he’s thinking, discover what’s going on in his head. Do you think he’d dismiss me or bully me? No, he’d take me seriously. He’d see a straight-living man standing before him; my Judge would acquit me for good of all charges.

“But he knows where I am and what I’ve done. He can cross-examine me all he wants, and I’ll pass the test with honors. I’ve followed him closely, my feet in his footprints, not once swerving from his way. I’ve obeyed every word he’s spoken, and not just obeyed his advice—I’ve treasured it.

“But he is singular and sovereign. Who can argue with him? He does what he wants, when he wants to. He’ll complete in detail what he’s decided about me, and whatever else he determines to do. Is it any wonder that I dread meeting him? Whenever I think about it, I get scared all over again. God makes my heart sink! God Almighty gives me the shudders! I’m completely in the dark, I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”

An Illusion of Security

“But if Judgment Day isn’t hidden from the Almighty, why are we kept in the dark? There are people out there getting by with murder— stealing and lying and cheating. They rip off the poor and exploit the unfortunate, Push the helpless into the ditch, bully the weak so that they fear for their lives. The poor, like stray dogs and cats, scavenge for food in back alleys. They sort through the garbage of the rich, eke out survival on handouts. Homeless, they shiver through cold nights on the street; they’ve no place to lay their heads. Exposed to the weather, wet and frozen, they huddle in makeshift shelters. Nursing mothers have their babies snatched from them; the infants of the poor are kidnapped and sold. They go about patched and threadbare; even the hard workers go hungry. No matter how backbreaking their labor, they can never make ends meet. People are dying right and left, groaning in torment. The wretched cry out for help and God does nothing, acts like nothing’s wrong!

“Then there are those who avoid light at all costs, who scorn the light-filled path. When the sun goes down, the murderer gets up— kills the poor and robs the defenseless. Sexual predators can’t wait for nightfall, thinking, ‘No one can see us now.’ Burglars do their work at night, but keep well out of sight through the day. They want nothing to do with light. Deep darkness is morning for that bunch; they make the terrors of darkness their companions in crime.

Job’s Defense

God Sets a Boundary Between Light and Darkness

Job answered: “Well, you’ve certainly been a great help to a helpless man! You came to the rescue just in the nick of time! What wonderful advice you’ve given to a mixed-up man! What amazing insights you’ve provided! Where in the world did you learn all this? How did you become so inspired?

“All the buried dead are in torment, and all who’ve been drowned in the deep, deep sea. Hell is ripped open before God, graveyards dug up and exposed. He spreads the skies over unformed space, hangs the earth out in empty space. He pours water into cumulus cloud-bags and the bags don’t burst. He makes the moon wax and wane, putting it through its phases. He draws the horizon out over the ocean, sets a boundary between light and darkness. Thunder crashes and rumbles in the skies. Listen! It’s God raising his voice! By his power he stills sea storms, by his wisdom he tames sea monsters. With one breath he clears the sky, with one finger he crushes the sea serpent. And this is only the beginning, a mere whisper of his rule. Whatever would we do if he really raised his voice!”

“I’ve given you a clear account of God in action, suppressed nothing regarding God Almighty. The evidence is right before you. You can all see it for yourselves, so why do you keep talking nonsense?

“I’ll quote your own words back to you: “‘This is how God treats the wicked, this is what evil people can expect from God Almighty: Their children—all of them—will die violent deaths; they’ll never have enough bread to put on the table. They’ll be wiped out by the plague, and none of the widows will shed a tear when they’re gone. Even if they make a lot of money and are resplendent in the latest fashions, It’s the good who will end up wearing the clothes and the decent who will divide up the money. They build elaborate houses that won’t survive a single winter. They go to bed wealthy and wake up poor. Terrors pour in on them like flash floods— a tornado snatches them away in the middle of the night, A cyclone sweeps them up—gone! Not a trace of them left, not even a footprint. Catastrophes relentlessly pursue them; they run this way and that, but there’s no place to hide— Pummeled by the weather, blown to smithereens by the storm.’”

Where Does Wisdom Come From?

“We all know how silver seams the rocks, we’ve seen the stuff from which gold is refined, We’re aware of how iron is dug out of the ground and copper is smelted from rock. Miners penetrate the earth’s darkness, searching the roots of the mountains for ore, digging away in the suffocating darkness. Far from civilization, far from the traffic, they cut a shaft, and are lowered into it by ropes. Earth’s surface is a field for grain, but its depths are a forge Firing sapphires from stones and chiseling gold from rocks. Vultures are blind to its riches, hawks never lay eyes on it. Wild animals are oblivious to it, lions don’t know it’s there. Miners hammer away at the rock, they uproot the mountains. They tunnel through the rock and find all kinds of beautiful gems. They discover the origins of rivers, and bring earth’s secrets to light.

“God alone knows the way to Wisdom, he knows the exact place to find it. He knows where everything is on earth, he sees everything under heaven. After he commanded the winds to blow and measured out the waters, Arranged for the rain and set off explosions of thunder and lightning, He focused on Wisdom, made sure it was all set and tested and ready. Then he addressed the human race: ‘Here it is! Fear-of-the-Lord—that’s Wisdom, and Insight means shunning evil.’”

When God Was Still by My Side

Job now resumed his response: “Oh, how I long for the good old days, when God took such very good care of me. He always held a lamp before me and I walked through the dark by its light. Oh, how I miss those golden years when God’s friendship graced my home, When the Mighty One was still by my side and my children were all around me, When everything was going my way, and nothing seemed too difficult.