In the midst of Covid, brutal murders, energy crises, and the impact of climate change, no doubt many of us are drawn to the Book of Job as a work that expresses what it means to live in a world of sorrow.
For apologetics and sermons it provides a context to deal honestly and directly with tragedy and pain.
Job’s story starts with him in a state of wealth and success but, through a series of disasters, leaves him physically and emotionally broken. He has lost his wealth, his health and his children. Often considered one of the oldest texts in Scripture, Job provokes the age-old question ‘Why do good people suffer?’
Job’s friends provide a masterclass in what not to say to those who suffer. Perhaps sometimes we are too critical of them. At least they support Job. They sit with him in silence for a week (Job 2:13) and then they talk with him, trying to make sense of his suffering. They make the particularly cruel suggestion that Job has brought it on himself, ‘those who sow trouble reap it’ (Job 4:8).
When God himself speaks (Job 38–41) we do not find any simple answers given. The Lord’s words remind Job of how limited our understanding is and how futile it can be to claim to understand all God’s ways. As readers we are given an insight into a supernatural conflict that lies behind Job’s suffering (Job 1:12) but this is not given to Job himself.
In a monumental two-volume commentary on the book of Job, theologian David Clines notes the conflicting emotions expressed by Job but perceptively remarks: ‘There are not two Jobs, but there is more than one right way of coping with innocent suffering.’ The book is not written to solve the philosophical question ‘Why does God allow suffering?’ but to address the existential question ‘How can I endure suffering?’ (Clines, Word Biblical Commentary, Job). Sometimes our apologetic is better served not by trying to explain why there is suffering but by showing how to live in a world of suffering.
While Job has few answers he does demonstrate great faith. Often quoted in burial services are his words on hearing the loss of family members: ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD’ (Job 1:21). Though he may die in sorrow, a future life will provide resolution: ‘For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God; whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another’ (Job 19:25-27). Job knows God as his redeemer and a hope beyond the grave.
It is commonplace in scholarship to dismiss Job as a historical book. It is considered great literature but no more than legend. In a forthcoming Day One title, Background to the Bible, which I’ve written with Brian Edwards and Clive Edwards, we make the case for the historicity of Job. As a historical book, Job provides real insight into a supernatural realm, into divine purposes, but also a beautiful picture of how a real person of faith can be a profound witness in life’s dark valleys.
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