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Job Chapter
Three
Job 3
Chapter Contents
Job complains that he was born. (1-10) Job complaining.
(11-19) He complains of his life. (20-26)
Commentary on Job 3:1-10
(Read Job 3:1-10)
For seven days Job's friends sat by him in silence,
without offering consolidation: at the same time Satan assaulted his mind to
shake his confidence, and to fill him with hard thoughts of God. The permission
seems to have extended to this, as well as to torturing the body. Job was an
especial type of Christ, whose inward sufferings, both in the garden and on the
cross, were the most dreadful; and arose in a great degree from the assaults of
Satan in that hour of darkness. These inward trials show the reason of the
change that took place in Job's conduct, from entire submission to the will of
God, to the impatience which appears here, and in other parts of the book. The
believer, who knows that a few drops of this bitter cup are more dreadful than
the sharpest outward afflictions, while he is favoured with a sweet sense of
the love and presence of God, will not be surprised to find that Job proved a man
of like passions with others; but will rejoice that Satan was disappointed, and
could not prove him a hypocrite; for though he cursed the day of his birth, he
did not curse his God. Job doubtless was afterwards ashamed of these wishes,
and we may suppose what must be his judgment of them now he is in everlasting
happiness.
Commentary on Job 3:11-19
(Read Job 3:11-19)
Job complained of those present at his birth, for their
tender attention to him. No creature comes into the world so helpless as man.
God's power and providence upheld our frail lives, and his pity and patience
spared our forfeited lives. Natural affection is put into parents' hearts by
God. To desire to die that we may be with Christ, that we may be free from sin,
is the effect and evidence of grace; but to desire to die, only that we may be
delivered from the troubles of this life, savours of corruption. It is our
wisdom and duty to make the best of that which is, be it living or dying; and
so to live to the Lord, and die to the Lord, as in both to be his, Romans 14:8. Observe how Job describes the
repose of the grave; There the wicked cease from troubling. When persecutors
die, they can no longer persecute. There the weary are at rest: in the grave
they rest from all their labours. And a rest from sin, temptation, conflict,
sorrows, and labours, remains in the presence and enjoyment of God. There
believers rest in Jesus, nay, as far as we trust in the Lord Jesus and obey
him, we here find rest to our souls, though in the world we have tribulation.
Commentary on Job 3:20-26
(Read Job 3:20-26)
Job was like a man who had lost his way, and had no
prospect of escape, or hope of better times. But surely he was in an ill frame
for death when so unwilling to live. Let it be our constant care to get ready
for another world, and then leave it to God to order our removal thither as he
thinks fit. Grace teaches us in the midst of life's greatest comforts, to be
willing to die, and in the midst of its greatest crosses, to be willing to
live. Job's way was hid; he knew not wherefore God contended with him. The
afflicted and tempted Christian knows something of this heaviness; when he has
been looking too much at the things that are seen, some chastisement of his
heavenly Father will give him a taste of this disgust of life, and a glance at
these dark regions of despair. Nor is there any help until God shall restore to
him the joys of his salvation. Blessed be God, the earth is full of his
goodness, though full of man's wickedness. This life may be made tolerable if
we attend to our duty. We look for eternal mercy, if willing to receive Christ
as our Saviour.
── Matthew Henry《Concise Commentary on Job》
Job 3
Verse 1
[1]
After this opened Job his mouth, and cursed his day.
His day —
His birth-day, in vain do some endeavour to excuse this and the following speeches
of Job, who afterwards is reproved by God, and severely accuseth himself for
them, chap. 38:2; 40:4 13:3,6. And yet he does not proceed so far
as to curse God, but makes the devil a liar: but although he does not break
forth into direct reproaches of God, yet he makes indirect reflections upon his
providence. His curse was sinful, both because it was vain, being applied to a
thing, which was not capable of blessing and cursing, and because it cast a
blame upon God for bringing that day, and for giving him life on that day.
Verse 3
[3] Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said,
There is a man child conceived.
Let the day —
Let the remembrance of that day be utterly lost.
Verse 4
[4] Let
that day be darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light
shine upon it.
Darkness — I
wish the sun had never risen upon that day, or, which is all one, that it had
never been; and whensoever that day returns, I wish it may be black, and
gloomy, and uncomfortable.
Regard —
From heaven, by causing the light of the sun which is in heaven to shine upon
it.
Verse 5
[5] Let
darkness and the shadow of death stain it; let a cloud dwell upon it; let the
blackness of the day terrify it.
Death — A
black and dark shadow like that of the place of the dead, which is a land of
darkness.
Slain —
Take away its beauty and glory.
Terrify —
That is, men in it. Let it be always observed as a frightful and dismal day.
Verse 6
[6] As for that night, let darkness seize upon it; let it not be joined unto
the days of the year, let it not come into the number of the months.
Darkness —
Constant and extraordinary darkness, without the least glimmering of light from
the moon or stars.
Be joined —
Reckoned as one, or a part of one of them.
Verse 8
[8] Let
them curse it that curse the day, who are ready to raise up their mourning.
The day —
Their birth-day: when their afflictions move them to curse their own birth-day,
let them remember mine also, and bestow some curses upon it.
Mourning —
Who are full of sorrow, and always ready to pour out their cries, and tears,
and complaints.
Verse 9
[9] Let
the stars of the twilight thereof be dark; let it look for light, but have
none; neither let it see the dawning of the day:
The stars —
Let the stars, which are the glory and beauty of the night, be covered with
thick darkness, and that both in the evening twilight, when the stars begin to
shine; and also in the farther progress of the night, even 'till the morning
dawns.
Look —
Let its darkness be aggravated with the disappointment of its expectations of
light. He ascribes sense or reasoning to the night, by a poetical fiction,
usual in all writers.
Dawning —
Heb. the eye-lids of the day, the morning-star which ushers in the day, and the
beginning, and progress of the morning light, let this whole natural day,
consisting of night and day, be blotted out of the catalogue of days.
Verse 10
[10]
Because it shut not up the doors of my mother's womb, nor hid sorrow from mine
eyes.
It — The night or the day:
to which those things are ascribed which were done by others in them, as is
frequent in poetical writings.
Womb —
That it might never have brought me forth.
Nor hid —
Because it did not keep me from entering into this miserable life, and seeing,
or experiencing, these bitter sorrows.
Verse 12
[12] Why
did the knees prevent me? or why the breasts that I should suck?
The knees —
Why did the midwife or nurse receive and lay me upon her knees, and not suffer
me to fall upon the bare ground, 'till death had taken me out of this miserable
world, into which their cruel kindness hath betrayed me? Why did the breasts
prevent me from perishing through hunger, or supply me that should have what to
suck? Thus Job unthankfully despises these wonderful mercies of God towards
poor helpless infants.
Verse 14
[14] With
kings and counsellors of the earth, which built desolate places for themselves;
Kings — I
had then been as happy as the proudest monarchs, who after all their great
achievements and enjoyments, go down into their graves.
Built —
Who to shew their wealth and power, or to leave behind them a glorious name,
rebuilt ruined cities, or built new cities and palaces, in places where before
there was mere solitude and wasteness.
Verse 16
[16] Or
as an hidden untimely birth I had not been; as infants which never saw light.
Hidden —
Undiscerned and unregarded. Born before the due time.
Been — In
the land of the living.
Verse 17
[17]
There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary be at rest.
There — In
the grave.
The wicked —
The great oppressors and troublers of the world cease from their vexations,
rapins and murders.
Weary —
Those who were here molested and tired out with their tyrannies, now quietly
sleep with them.
Verse 18
[18]
There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor.
The oppressor —
Or, taskmaster, who urges and forces them to work by cruel threatenings and
stripes. Job meddles not here with their eternal state after death, of which he
speaks hereafter, but only their freedom from worldly troubles, which is the
sole matter of his present discourse.
Verse 19
[19] The
small and great are there; and the servant is free from his master.
Small and great —
Persons of all qualities and conditions.
Are there — In
the same place and state, all those distinctions being forever abolished. A
good reason, why those who have power should use it moderately, and those that
are in subjection should take it patiently.
Verse 20
[20]
Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in
soul;
Light —
The light of life.
Bitter —
Unto those to whom life itself is bitter and burdensome. Life is called light,
because it is pleasant and serviceable for walking and working; and this light
is said to be given us, because it would be lost, if it were not daily renewed
to us by a fresh gift.
Verse 21
[21]
Which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more than for hid
treasures;
Dig —
Desire with as much earnestness as men dig for treasure: but it is observable,
Job durst not do anything to hasten or procure his death: notwithstanding all
his miseries, he was contented to wait all the days of his appointed time,
'till his change came, chap. 14:14.
Verse 22
[22]
Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad, when they can find the grave?
Glad, … — To
be thus impatient of life, for the sake of the trouble we meet with, is not
only unnatural in itself, but ungrateful to the giver of life, and shews a
sinful indulgence of our own passion. Let it be our great and constant care, to
get ready for another world: and then let us leave it to God, to order the
circumstances of our removal thither.
Verse 23
[23] Why
is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?
Hid —
From him; who knows not his way, which way to turn himself, what course to take
to comfort himself in his miseries.
Hedged in —
Whom God hath put as it were in a prison, so that he can see no way or
possibility of escape.
Verse 24
[24] For
my sighing cometh before I eat, and my roarings are poured out like the waters.
Before, … —
Heb. before the face of my bread, all the time I am eating, I fall into sighing
and weeping, because I am obliged to eat, and to support this wretched life,
and because of my uninterrupted pains of body and of mind, which do not afford
me one quiet moment.
Roarings — My
loud outcries, more befitting a lion than a man.
Poured out —
With great abundance, and irresistible violence, and incessant continuance, as
waters flow in a river, or as they break the banks, and overflow the ground.
Verse 25
[25] For
the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid
of is come unto me.
Feared —
Even in the time of my prosperity, I was full of fears, considering the variety
of God's providences, the changeableness of this vain world, God's justice, and
the sinfulness of all mankind. And these fears of mine, were not in vain, but
are justified by my present calamities.
Verse 26
[26] I
was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came.
Quiet — I
did not misbehave myself in prosperity, abusing it by presumption, and
security, but I lived circumspectly, walking humbly with God, and working out
my salvation with fear and trembling. Therefore in this sense also, his way was
hid, he knew not why God contended with him.
── John Wesley《Explanatory Notes on Job》
Job's Soliloquy (3)
OBJECTIVES IN STUDYING THIS SECTION
1) To consider Job's soliloquy, which starts the "great controversy"
between Job and his friends
2) To appreciate the depth of Job's complaint, why he wished that he
had never been born
3) To note the questions he raised as he sought to understand the
problem of suffering
SUMMARY
Having sat in silence for seven days in the presence of his friends who
had come to comfort him, Job finally speaks. In the form of a
soliloquy, he begins by cursing the day of his birth and the night of
his conception for failing to prevent his sorrow (3:1-10). He then
bemoans why he did not die at birth or even be stillborn, for then at
least he would be at rest, just like those who were great in their
lifetime, or like those who had been oppressed (3:11-19). Job also
wonders why the suffering who long for death are allowed to linger. He
concludes by stating that what he most greatly feared has now come upon
him: trouble, from which there seems to be no rest (3:20-26).
OUTLINE
I. JOB'S CURSE (3:1-10)
A. HE CURSES THE DAY OF HIS BIRTH...
1. Not just the day of his birth, but also the night of his
conception
2. Because of the sorrow that has come his way
-- I.e., he wished he had never been born
B. IN THIS HE RESEMBLES JEREMIAH...
1. Who had an unpopular ministry - Jer 20:14-18
2. Who experienced much suffering like Job
C. AN IMPORTANT POINT TO REMEMBER...
1. Both expressed a desire never to have been born
2. Yet neither Job or Jeremiah for a moment considered the
possibility of suicide
3. They might have questioned the Lord's wisdom, but they did not
dare take the precious gift of life with which He endowed them
(Wayne Jackson)
II. JOB'S QUESTIONS (3:11-19)
A. WHY DID HE NOT DIE AT BIRTH?
1. Then he would have been at rest
2. He would be with those who were great and powerful in their
lifetime
B. WHY WAS HE NOT STILLBORN?
1. Then he would have been at rest, free from those who trouble
him
2. He would be like those at rest, who were troubled in their
lifetime
C. JOB VIEWS DEATH AS AN ESCAPE FROM EARTH'S MISERIES...
1. Job's view of death applies only to those who die in the Lord
- cf. Re 14:13
2. For the wicked, death is no rest! - cf. Lk 16:19-31
III. JOB PONDERS THE PROBLEM OF SUFFERING (3:20-26)
A. WHY THE SUFFERING ARE ALLOWED TO LINGER...
1. Why is life given to those who linger in suffering?
2. Even to those who long for death?
B. WHAT JOB FEARED HAS NOW HAPPENED TO HIM...
1. He dreaded the suffering that has come to him
2. And now he is troubled and no longer at ease
REVIEW QUESTIONS FOR THIS SECTION
1) What are the three main points of this section?
- Job's curse (3:1-10)
- Job's questions (3:11-19)
- Job ponders the problem of suffering (3:20-26)
2) As Job begins his soliloquy, what two things does he curse? (1-3)
- The day of his birth
- The night of his conception
3) Why did he did he curse the day of his birth? (10)
- Because it did not keep him from experiencing sorrow
4) Why did he wish he had died at birth? (11-15)
- Then he would be at rest, just like those who had been great in
their lifetime
5) Why did he wish he had been stillborn? (16-19)
- Then he would be at rest, like those who had been oppressed in
their lifetime
6) As Job ponders the problem of suffering, what does he ask? (20-21)
- Why is life given to those who suffer and long for death?
7) What had come upon Job? (25)
- That which he greatly feared and dreaded (i.e., trouble and
suffering)
--《Executable
Outlines》
03 Chapter 3
Verses 1-26
After this opened Job his month, and cursed his day.
The peril of impulsive speech
In regard to this chapter, containing the first speech of Job, we
may remark that it is impossible to approve the spirit which it exhibits, or to
believe that it was acceptable to God. It laid the foundation for the
reflections--many of them exceedingly just--in the following chapters, and led
his friends to doubt whether such a man could be truly pious. The spirit which
is manifested in this chapter is undoubtedly far from that calm submission
which religion should have produced, and from that which Job had before
evinced. That he was, in the main, a man of eminent holiness and patience, the
whole book demonstrates; but this chapter is one of the conclusive proofs that
he was not absolutely free from imperfection. We may learn--
1. That even eminently good men sometimes give utterance to sentiments
which are a departure from the spirit of religion, and which they will have
occasion to regret. Here there was a language of complaint, and a bitterness of
expression, which religion cannot sanction, and which no pious man, on
reflection, would approve.
2. We see the effect of heavy affliction on the mind. It sometimes
becomes overwhelming. It is so great that all the ordinary barriers against
impatience are swept away. The sufferer is left to utter language of murmuring,
and there is the impatient wish that life was closed, or that he had not
existed.
3. We are not to infer that, because a man in affliction makes use of
some expressions which we cannot approve, and which are not sanctioned by the
Word of God, that therefore he is not a good man. There may be true piety, yet
it may be far from perfection; there may be a general submission to God, yet
the calamity may be so overwhelming as to overcome the usual restraints on our
corrupt and fallen nature; and when we remember how feeble our nature is at
best, and how imperfect is the piety of the holiest of men, we should not
harshly judge him who is left to express impatience in his trials or who gives
utterance to sentiments different from those which are sanctioned in the Word
of God. There has been but one model of pure submission on earth--the Lord
Jesus Christ. And after the contemplation of the best of men in their trials we
can see that there is imperfection in them, and that if we would survey
absolute perfection in suffering we must go to Gethsemane and Calvary.
4. Let us not make the expressions used by Job in this chapter our
model in suffering. Let us not suppose that because he used such language,
therefore we may also. Let us not infer that because they are found in the
Bible, that therefore they are right; or that because he was an unusually holy
man, that it would be proper for us to use the same language that he does. The
fact that this book is a part of the inspired truth of revelation does not make
such language right. All that inspiration does in such a case is to secure an
exact record of what was actually said; it does not, of necessity, sanction it,
any more than an accurate historian can be supposed to approve all that he
records. There may be important reasons why it should be preserved, but he who
makes the record is not answerable for the truth or propriety of what is
recorded. The narrative is true; the sentiment may be false. (Albert Barnes.)
Good men not always at their best
1. The holiest person in this life doth not always keep in the same
frame of holiness. “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the
name of the Lord. Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not
receive evil?” This was the language we lately heard; but now
cursing--certainly his spirit had been in a more holy frame, more sedate and
quiet, than now it was. At the best in this life we are but imperfect; yet at
some time we are more imperfect than we are at another.
2. Great sufferings may fill the mouths of holiest persons with great
complainings.
3. Satan, with his utmost power and policy, with his strongest
temptations and assaults, can never fully attain his ends upon the children of
God. What was it that the devil undertook for? was it not to make Job curse his
God? and yet when he had done his worst, and spent his malice upon him, he
could but make Job curse his day,--this was far short of what Satan hoped.
4. God doth graciously forget and pass by the distempered speeches
and bitter complainings of His servants under great afflictions. (J. Caryl.)
Good men weakened by calamities
The calamities and the suffering have wrought upon the weakened
man. Depressed in spirit, perplexed in mind, in great bodily pain, Job opens
his mouth and lifts up his voice. Great suffering generates great passions, and
great passions are oft irrepressible, and hence the danger of extravagant
speech. “Better,” says Trapp, “if Job had kept his lips still.” Surely that
were impossible in an human being! One, and only One, was silent “as a sheep
before her shearers is dumb.” Brooks says, “When God’s hand is on our back our
hand should be on our mouth.” (H. E. Stone.)
Mistaken speech
Job’s tongue is loosened and his words are many. And what other
form of speech was so true to his inmost feeling as the form which is known as
malediction? The speech is but one sentence, and it rushes from a soul that is
momentarily out of equipoise. Our friends often draw out of us the very worst
that is in us. We best comment upon such words by repeating them, by studying
the probable tone in which they were uttered. Thank God for this man, who in
prosperity has uttered every thought appropriate to grief, and has given
anguish a new costume of expression.
1. Notice how terrible, after all, is Satanic power. Look at Job if
you would see how much the devil can, under Divine permission, do to human
life. Perhaps it was well that, in one instance at least, we should see the
devil at his worst.
2. See what miracles may be wrought in human experience. In Job’s
malediction, existence was felt to be a burden; but existence was never meant
to be a heavy weight. It was meant to be a joy, a hope, a rehearsal of music
and service of a quality and range now inconceivable. But under Satanic agency
even existence is felt to be an intolerable burden. Even this miracle can be
wrought by Satan. He can turn our every faculty into a heavy calamity. He can
so play upon our nerves as to make us feel that feeling is intolerable. But the
speech of Job is full of profound mistakes, and the mistakes are only excusable
because they were perpetrated by an unbalanced mind. (J. Parker, D. D.)
Infirmity appearing
At the ebb. As soon as the tide turned, numbers of crows and
jackdaws came down upon the shore. While the beautiful waves were splashing
over the sand there was no room for these black visitors; but as soon as the
waters left, the harvest of these scavengers began. It seemed as though they
must have carried watches, so well did they know the time of the receding
tides. When the tide of grace runs low, how infirmities come upon us! If the
tide of joy ebbs, the black birds of discontent soon appear, while doubts and
fears always make their appearance if faith sinks low. (Footsteps of Truth.)
Defect in the best of men
Life at its best has a crack in it. Somehow the trail of the
serpent is all over it. The most perfect man is imperfect, the most innocent
man has his weak point. The infant Achilles in the Greek legend is dipped in
the waters of the Styx, and the touch of the wave makes him invulnerable; but
the water has not touched the heel by which his mother held him, and to that
vulnerable heel the deathly arrow finds its way. Siegfried, in the “Nibelungen
Lied,” bathes in the dragon’s blood, and it has made him, too, invulnerable;
but, unknown to him, a lime tree leaf has fluttered down upon his back, and
into the vital spot where the blood has not touched his skin the murderer’s
dagger smites. Everything in the Icelandic Saga has sworn not to injure Balder,
the brightest and most beloved of all the northern gods; but the insignificant
mistletoe has not been asked to take the oath, and by the mistletoe he dies.
These are the dim, sad allegories by which the world indicates that even the
happiest man cannot be all happy, nor the most invincible altogether safe, nor
the best altogether good. (Dean Farrar.)
Job’s distemper
Albeit Job’s weakness do thus for a time break forth, when his
reason and experience are at under, and he is sensible of nothing but pain and
sorrow, yet he doth not persist in this distemper, nor is it the only thing
that appears in the furnace, but he hath much better purpose afterward in the
behalf of God. And therefore, as in a battle men do not judge of affairs by
what may occur in the heat of the conflict, wherein parties may retire and fall
on again, but by the issue of the fight; so Job is not to be judged by those
fits of distemper, seeing he recovered out of them at last; those violent fits
do serve to demonstrate the strength of grace in him which prevailed at last
over them all.
1. There are, in the most subdued child of God, strong corruptions
ready to break forth in trial. The best of men ought to be sensible that they
have, by nature, an evil heart of unbelief, even when they are strong in faith;
that they have lukewarmness under their zeal, passion under their meekness.
2. Albeit natural corruptions may lurk long, even in the furnace of
affliction, yet long and multiplied temptations will bring it forth.
Job cursing his day
How can Job be set up with so much admiration for a mirror of
patience, who makes such bitter complainings, and breaks out into such
distempered passions? He seems to be so far from patience that he wants
prudence; so far from grace, that he wants reason itself and good nature; his
speeches report him mad or distracted, breaking the bounds of modesty and
moderation, striking that which had not hurt him, and striking that which he
could not hurt--his birthday. Some prosecute the impatience of Job with much
impatience, and are over-passionate against Job’s passion. Most of the Jewish
writers tax him at the least as bordering on blasphemy, if not blaspheming.
Nay, they censure him as one taking heed to, and much depending upon,
astrological observations, as if man’s fate or fortune were guided by the
constellations of heaven, by the sight and aspect of the planets in the day of
his nativity. Others carry the matter so far, on the other hand, altogether
excusing and, which is more, commending, yea applauding Job, in this act of
“cursing his day.” They make this curse an argument of his holiness, and these
expostulations as a part of his patience, contending--
1. That they did only express (as they ought) the suffering of his
sensitive part, as a man, and so were opposite to Stoical apathy, not to
Christian patience.
2. That he spake all this not only according to the law of sense, but
with exact judgment, and according to the law of soundest reason. I do not say
but that Job loved God, and loved Him exceedingly all this while, but whether
we should so far acquit Job I much doubt. We must state the matter in the
middle way. Job is neither rigidly to be taxed of blasphemy or profaneness, nor
totally to be excused, especially not flatteringly commended, for this high
complaint.
It must be granted that Job discovered much frailty and infirmity,
some passion and distemper, in this complaint and curse; yet notwithstanding,
we must assert him for a patient man, and there are five things considerable
for the clearing and proof of this assertion.
1. Consider the greatness of his suffering: his wound was very deep
and deadly, his burden was very heavy, only not intolerable.
2. Consider the multiplicity of his troubles. They were great and
many--many little afflictions meeting together make a great one; how great,
then, is that which is composed of many great ones!
3. Consider the long continuance of these great and many troubles:
they continued long upon him--some say they continued divers years upon him.
4. Consider this, that his complainings and acts of impatience were
but a few; but his submission and acts of meekness, under the hand of God, were
very many.
5. Take this into consideration, that though he did complain, and
complain bitterly, yet he recovered out of those complainings. He was not
overcome with impatience, though some impatient speeches came from him; he
recalls what he had spoken, and repents for what he had done. Look not alone
upon the actings of Job, when he was in the height and heat of the battle; look
to the onset, he was so very patient in the beginning, though vehemently
stirred, that Satan had not a word to say. Look to the end, and you cannot say
but Job was a patient man, full of patience--a mirror of patience, if not a
miracle of patience; a man whose face shined with the glory of that grace,
above all the children of men. Learn--
The speech of Job and its misapprehensions
Job’s speech is full of profound mistakes, which are only
excusable because they were perpetrated by an unbalanced mind. The eloquent
tirade proceeds upon the greatest misapprehensions. Yet we must be merciful in
our judgment, for we ourselves have been unbalanced, and we have not spared the
eloquence of folly in the time of loss, bereavement, and great suffering We may
not have made the same speech in one set deliverance, going through it paragraph
by paragraph, but if we could gather up all reproaches, murmurings,
complainings, which we have uttered, and set them down in order, Job’s short
chapter would be but a preface to the black volume indited by our atheistic
hearts. Job makes the mistake that personal happiness is the test of
Providence. Job did not take the larger view. What, a different speech he might
have made! He might have said, Though I am in these circumstances now, I was
not always in them: weeping endureth for a night, joy cometh in the morning: I
will not complain of one bitter winter day when I remember all the summer
season in which I have sunned myself at the very gate of heaven. Yet he might
not have said this, for it lies not within the scope of human strength. We must
not expect more even from Christian men than human nature in its best moods can
exemplify. I know that Christian men are mocked when they complain; they are
taunted when they say their souls are in distress; there are those who stand up
and say, Where is now thy God? But “the best of men,” as one has quaintly said,
“are but men at the best.” God Himself knoweth our frame, He remembereth that
we are dust; He says, They are a wind which cometh for a little time, and then
passeth away; their life is like a vapour, curling up into the blue air for one
little moment, and then dying off as to visibleness as if it had never been.
The Lord knoweth our days, our faculties, our sensibilities, our capacity of
suffering, and the judgment must be with Him. Then Job committed the mistake of
supposing that circumstances are of more consequence than life. If the sun had
shone, if the fields and vineyards had returned plentifully, answering the
labour of the sower and the planter with great abundance, who knows whether the
soul had not gone down in the same equal proportion? It is a hard thing to keep
both soul and body at an equal measure. “How hardly”--with what
straining--“shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven.” Who
knows what Job might have said if the prosperity had been multiplied sevenfold?
“Jeshurun waxed fat, and kicked.” Where is the man who could bear always to
swelter under the sun warmth of prosperity? Where is the man that does not need
now and again to be smitten, chastened, almost lacerated, cut in two by God’s
whip, lest he forget to pray? Let suffering be accounted a seal of sonship, if
it come as a test rather than as a penalty. Where a man has justly deserved the
suffering, let him not comfort himself with its highest religious meaning, but
let him accept it as a just penalty. But where it has overtaken him at the very
altar, where it has cut him down when he was on his way to heaven with pure
heart and pure lips, then let him say, This is the Lord’s doing, and He means
to enlarge my manhood, to increase the volume of my being, and to develop His
own image and likeness according to the mysteriousness of His own way: blessed
be the name of the Lord! Why has Job fallen into this strain? He has omitted
the word which made his first speech noble. In the first speech the word “Lord”
occurs three times, and the word “Lord” never occurs in this speech, for purely
religious purposes; he would only have God invoked that God might carry out his
own feeble prayer for destruction and annihilation; the word “God” is only
associated with complaint and murmuring, as, for example--“Let that day be
darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon
it” (Job 3:4); and again: “Why is light given
to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?” (Job 3:23) This is not the “Lord”
of the first speech; this is but invoking Omnipotence to do a puny miracle: it
is not making the Lord a high tower, and an everlasting refuge into which the
soul can pass, and where it can forever be at ease. So we may retain the name
of God, and yet have no Lord--living, merciful, and mighty, to whom our souls
can flee as to a refuge. It is not enough to use the term God; we must enter
into the spirit of its meaning, and find in God not almightiness only, but
all-mercifulness, all-goodness, all-wisdom. “God is our refuge and strength, a
very present help in trouble.” Yet we must not be hard upon Job, for there have
been times in which the best of us has had no heaven, no altar, no Bible, no
God. If those times had endured a little longer our souls had been overwhelmed;
but there came a voice from the Excellent Glory, saying, “For a small moment
have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee.” Praised
forever be the name of the delivering God! (Joseph Parker, D. D.)
The maddening force of suffering
A man’s language must be construed according to the mood of his
soul. Here we have sufferings forcing a human soul--
I. To the use of
extravagant language.
1. Great sufferings generate great passions in the soul. Hope, fear,
love, anger, and other sentiments may remain in the mind during the period of
ease and comfort, so latent and quiescent as to crave no expression. But let
suffering come, and they will rush into passions that shake and convulse the
whole man. There are elements in every human heart, now latent, that suffering
can develop into terrific force.
2. Great passions often become irrepressible. Some men have a
wonderful power of restraining their feelings. But passion sometimes rises to
such a pitch in the soul that no man, however great his self-control, is able
to repress. Like the volcanic fires, it will break through all the mountains
that lie upon it, and flame up to the heavens.
3. When great passions become irrepressible they express themselves
extravagantly. The flood that has broken through its obstructions does not roll
on at once in calm and silent flow, but rushes and foams. He speaks not in calm
prose, but in tumultuous poetry.
II. To deplore the
fact of his existence.
1. The fact that he existed at all.
2. That, having existed, he did not die at the very dawn of his
being. Incidentally, I cannot but remark how good is God in making provision
for our support before we enter on the stage of life. The fact that suffering
can thus make existence intolerable suggests the following truths--
III. Here is
suffering urging a man to hail the condition of the dead.
1. As a real rest. Lying still in unconscious sleep, beyond the reach
of any disturbing power. How profound is the rest of the grave! The loudest
thunders cannot penetrate the ear of the dead. He looked at death--
2. As a common rest. “Kings and counsellors,” princes and paupers,
tyrants and their victims, the illustrious and obscure--all are there together.
The state of the dead, as here described, suggests two practical thoughts.
IV. Here is
suffering urging a man to pry into the reasons of a miserable life. Has the
great Author of existence any pleasure in the sufferings of His creatures?
There are, no doubt, good reasons, reasons that we shall understand and
appreciate ere long.
1. Great sufferings are often spiritually useful to the sufferer.
They are storms to purify the dark atmosphere of his heart; they are bitter
ingredients to make spiritually curative his cup of life. Suffering teaches man
the evil of sin; for sin is the root of all anguish. Suffering develops the
virtues--patience, forbearance, resignation. Suffering tests the character; it
is fire that tries the moral metal of the soul.
2. Great sufferings are often spiritually useful to the spectator.
The view of a suffering human creature tends to awaken compassion, stimulate benevolence,
and excite gratitude. From this subject we learn--
The cry from the depths
The outburst of Job’s speech falls into three lyrical strophes,
the first ending at the tenth verse, the second at the nineteenth, the third
closing with the chapter.
1. “Job opened his mouth, and cursed his day.” In a kind of wild,
impossible revision of Providence, and reopening of questions long settled, he
assumes the right of heaping denunciations on the day of his birth. He is so
fallen, so distraught, and the end of his existence appears to have come in
such profound disaster, the face of God as well as of man frowning on him, that
he turns savagely on the only fact left to strike at--his birth into the world.
But the whole strain is imaginative. His revolt is unreason, not impiety,
either against God or his parents. He does not lose the instinct of a good man,
one who keeps in mind the love of father and mother, and the intention of the
Almighty, whom he still reveres. The idea is, Let the day of my birth be got rid
of, so that no other come into being on such a day; let God pass from it--then
He will not give life on that day. Mingled in this is the old-world notion of
days having meanings and powers of their own. This day had proved
malign--terribly bad!
2. In the second strophe cursing is exchanged for wailing, fruitless
reproach of a long past day, for a touching chant in praise of the grave. If
his birth had to be, why could he not have passed at once into the shades? The
lament, though not so passionate, is full of tragic emotion. It is beautiful
poetry, and the images have a singular charm for the dejected mind. The chief
point, however, for us to notice is the absence of any thought of judgment. In
the dim underworld, hid as beneath heavy clouds, power and energy are not.
Existence has fallen to so low an ebb that it scarcely matters whether men were
good or bad in this life, nor is it needful to separate them. It is a kind of
existence below the level of moral judgment, below the level either of fear or
joy.
3. The last portion of Job’s address begins with a note of inquiry.
He strikes into eager questioning of heaven and earth regarding his state. What
is he kept alive for? He pursues death with his longing as one goes into the
mountain to seek treasure. And again, his way is hid, he has no future. God
hath hedged him in on this side by losses, on that by grief; behind, a past
mocks him, before is a shape which he follows, and yet dreads. It is indeed a
horrible condition, this of the baffled mind to which nothing remains but its
own gnawing thought, that finds neither reason of being nor end of turmoil,
that can neither cease to question, nor find answer to inquiries that rack the
spirit. There is energy enough, life enough to feel life a terror, and no more;
not enough for any mastery even of stoical resolve. The power of
self-consciousness seems to be the last injury--a Nessus shirt, the gift of a
strange hate . . . Note that in his whole agony Job makes no motion towards
suicide. The struggle of life cannot be renounced. (Robert A. Watson, D. D.)
Birth deplored
The Puritan mother of Samuel Mills, who, when her son, under the
stress of morbid religious feeling, cried out, “Oh, that I had never been
born!” said to him, “My son, you are born, and you cannot help it,” was more
philosophical than he who says, “I am, but I wish I were not.” A philosophy
that flies in the face of the existing and the inevitable forfeits its name. (T.
T. Munger.)
After this opened Job his month, and cursed his day.
The peril of impulsive speech
In regard to this chapter, containing the first speech of Job, we
may remark that it is impossible to approve the spirit which it exhibits, or to
believe that it was acceptable to God. It laid the foundation for the
reflections--many of them exceedingly just--in the following chapters, and led
his friends to doubt whether such a man could be truly pious. The spirit which
is manifested in this chapter is undoubtedly far from that calm submission
which religion should have produced, and from that which Job had before
evinced. That he was, in the main, a man of eminent holiness and patience, the
whole book demonstrates; but this chapter is one of the conclusive proofs that
he was not absolutely free from imperfection. We may learn--
1. That even eminently good men sometimes give utterance to
sentiments which are a departure from the spirit of religion, and which they
will have occasion to regret. Here there was a language of complaint, and a
bitterness of expression, which religion cannot sanction, and which no pious
man, on reflection, would approve.
2. We see the effect of heavy affliction on the mind. It sometimes
becomes overwhelming. It is so great that all the ordinary barriers against
impatience are swept away. The sufferer is left to utter language of murmuring,
and there is the impatient wish that life was closed, or that he had not
existed.
3. We are not to infer that, because a man in affliction makes use of
some expressions which we cannot approve, and which are not sanctioned by the
Word of God, that therefore he is not a good man. There may be true piety, yet
it may be far from perfection; there may be a general submission to God, yet
the calamity may be so overwhelming as to overcome the usual restraints on our
corrupt and fallen nature; and when we remember how feeble our nature is at
best, and how imperfect is the piety of the holiest of men, we should not
harshly judge him who is left to express impatience in his trials or who gives
utterance to sentiments different from those which are sanctioned in the Word
of God. There has been but one model of pure submission on earth--the Lord
Jesus Christ. And after the contemplation of the best of men in their trials we
can see that there is imperfection in them, and that if we would survey
absolute perfection in suffering we must go to Gethsemane and Calvary.
4. Let us not make the expressions used by Job in this chapter our
model in suffering. Let us not suppose that because he used such language,
therefore we may also. Let us not infer that because they are found in the
Bible, that therefore they are right; or that because he was an unusually holy
man, that it would be proper for us to use the same language that he does. The
fact that this book is a part of the inspired truth of revelation does not make
such language right. All that inspiration does in such a case is to secure an
exact record of what was actually said; it does not, of necessity, sanction it,
any more than an accurate historian can be supposed to approve all that he
records. There may be important reasons why it should be preserved, but he who
makes the record is not answerable for the truth or propriety of what is
recorded. The narrative is true; the sentiment may be false. (Albert Barnes.)
Good men not always at their best
1. The holiest person in this life doth not always keep in the same
frame of holiness. “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the
name of the Lord. Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not
receive evil?” This was the language we lately heard; but now
cursing--certainly his spirit had been in a more holy frame, more sedate and
quiet, than now it was. At the best in this life we are but imperfect; yet at
some time we are more imperfect than we are at another.
2. Great sufferings may fill the mouths of holiest persons with great
complainings.
3. Satan, with his utmost power and policy, with his strongest
temptations and assaults, can never fully attain his ends upon the children of
God. What was it that the devil undertook for? was it not to make Job curse his
God? and yet when he had done his worst, and spent his malice upon him, he
could but make Job curse his day,--this was far short of what Satan hoped.
4. God doth graciously forget and pass by the distempered speeches
and bitter complainings of His servants under great afflictions. (J. Caryl.)
Good men weakened by calamities
The calamities and the suffering have wrought upon the weakened
man. Depressed in spirit, perplexed in mind, in great bodily pain, Job opens
his mouth and lifts up his voice. Great suffering generates great passions, and
great passions are oft irrepressible, and hence the danger of extravagant
speech. “Better,” says Trapp, “if Job had kept his lips still.” Surely that
were impossible in an human being! One, and only One, was silent “as a sheep
before her shearers is dumb.” Brooks says, “When God’s hand is on our back our
hand should be on our mouth.” (H. E. Stone.)
Mistaken speech
Job’s tongue is loosened and his words are many. And what other
form of speech was so true to his inmost feeling as the form which is known as
malediction? The speech is but one sentence, and it rushes from a soul that is
momentarily out of equipoise. Our friends often draw out of us the very worst
that is in us. We best comment upon such words by repeating them, by studying
the probable tone in which they were uttered. Thank God for this man, who in
prosperity has uttered every thought appropriate to grief, and has given
anguish a new costume of expression.
1. Notice how terrible, after all, is Satanic power. Look at Job if
you would see how much the devil can, under Divine permission, do to human
life. Perhaps it was well that, in one instance at least, we should see the
devil at his worst.
2. See what miracles may be wrought in human experience. In Job’s
malediction, existence was felt to be a burden; but existence was never meant
to be a heavy weight. It was meant to be a joy, a hope, a rehearsal of music
and service of a quality and range now inconceivable. But under Satanic agency
even existence is felt to be an intolerable burden. Even this miracle can be
wrought by Satan. He can turn our every faculty into a heavy calamity. He can
so play upon our nerves as to make us feel that feeling is intolerable. But the
speech of Job is full of profound mistakes, and the mistakes are only excusable
because they were perpetrated by an unbalanced mind. (J. Parker, D. D.)
Infirmity appearing
At the ebb. As soon as the tide turned, numbers of crows and
jackdaws came down upon the shore. While the beautiful waves were splashing
over the sand there was no room for these black visitors; but as soon as the
waters left, the harvest of these scavengers began. It seemed as though they
must have carried watches, so well did they know the time of the receding
tides. When the tide of grace runs low, how infirmities come upon us! If the
tide of joy ebbs, the black birds of discontent soon appear, while doubts and fears
always make their appearance if faith sinks low. (Footsteps of Truth.)
Defect in the best of men
Life at its best has a crack in it. Somehow the trail of the
serpent is all over it. The most perfect man is imperfect, the most innocent
man has his weak point. The infant Achilles in the Greek legend is dipped in
the waters of the Styx, and the touch of the wave makes him invulnerable; but
the water has not touched the heel by which his mother held him, and to that
vulnerable heel the deathly arrow finds its way. Siegfried, in the “Nibelungen
Lied,” bathes in the dragon’s blood, and it has made him, too, invulnerable;
but, unknown to him, a lime tree leaf has fluttered down upon his back, and
into the vital spot where the blood has not touched his skin the murderer’s
dagger smites. Everything in the Icelandic Saga has sworn not to injure Balder,
the brightest and most beloved of all the northern gods; but the insignificant
mistletoe has not been asked to take the oath, and by the mistletoe he dies.
These are the dim, sad allegories by which the world indicates that even the
happiest man cannot be all happy, nor the most invincible altogether safe, nor
the best altogether good. (Dean Farrar.)
Job’s distemper
Albeit Job’s weakness do thus for a time break forth, when his
reason and experience are at under, and he is sensible of nothing but pain and
sorrow, yet he doth not persist in this distemper, nor is it the only thing
that appears in the furnace, but he hath much better purpose afterward in the
behalf of God. And therefore, as in a battle men do not judge of affairs by
what may occur in the heat of the conflict, wherein parties may retire and fall
on again, but by the issue of the fight; so Job is not to be judged by those
fits of distemper, seeing he recovered out of them at last; those violent fits
do serve to demonstrate the strength of grace in him which prevailed at last
over them all.
1. There are, in the most subdued child of God, strong corruptions
ready to break forth in trial. The best of men ought to be sensible that they
have, by nature, an evil heart of unbelief, even when they are strong in faith;
that they have lukewarmness under their zeal, passion under their meekness.
2. Albeit natural corruptions may lurk long, even in the furnace of
affliction, yet long and multiplied temptations will bring it forth.
Job cursing his day
How can Job be set up with so much admiration for a mirror of
patience, who makes such bitter complainings, and breaks out into such
distempered passions? He seems to be so far from patience that he wants
prudence; so far from grace, that he wants reason itself and good nature; his
speeches report him mad or distracted, breaking the bounds of modesty and
moderation, striking that which had not hurt him, and striking that which he
could not hurt--his birthday. Some prosecute the impatience of Job with much
impatience, and are over-passionate against Job’s passion. Most of the Jewish
writers tax him at the least as bordering on blasphemy, if not blaspheming.
Nay, they censure him as one taking heed to, and much depending upon,
astrological observations, as if man’s fate or fortune were guided by the
constellations of heaven, by the sight and aspect of the planets in the day of
his nativity. Others carry the matter so far, on the other hand, altogether
excusing and, which is more, commending, yea applauding Job, in this act of
“cursing his day.” They make this curse an argument of his holiness, and these
expostulations as a part of his patience, contending--
1. That they did only express (as they ought) the suffering of his
sensitive part, as a man, and so were opposite to Stoical apathy, not to
Christian patience.
2. That he spake all this not only according to the law of sense, but
with exact judgment, and according to the law of soundest reason. I do not say
but that Job loved God, and loved Him exceedingly all this while, but whether
we should so far acquit Job I much doubt. We must state the matter in the
middle way. Job is neither rigidly to be taxed of blasphemy or profaneness, nor
totally to be excused, especially not flatteringly commended, for this high
complaint.
It must be granted that Job discovered much frailty and infirmity,
some passion and distemper, in this complaint and curse; yet notwithstanding,
we must assert him for a patient man, and there are five things considerable
for the clearing and proof of this assertion.
1. Consider the greatness of his suffering: his wound was very deep
and deadly, his burden was very heavy, only not intolerable.
2. Consider the multiplicity of his troubles. They were great and
many--many little afflictions meeting together make a great one; how great,
then, is that which is composed of many great ones!
3. Consider the long continuance of these great and many troubles:
they continued long upon him--some say they continued divers years upon him.
4. Consider this, that his complainings and acts of impatience were
but a few; but his submission and acts of meekness, under the hand of God, were
very many.
5. Take this into consideration, that though he did complain, and
complain bitterly, yet he recovered out of those complainings. He was not
overcome with impatience, though some impatient speeches came from him; he
recalls what he had spoken, and repents for what he had done. Look not alone upon
the actings of Job, when he was in the height and heat of the battle; look to
the onset, he was so very patient in the beginning, though vehemently stirred,
that Satan had not a word to say. Look to the end, and you cannot say but Job
was a patient man, full of patience--a mirror of patience, if not a miracle of
patience; a man whose face shined with the glory of that grace, above all the
children of men. Learn--
The speech of Job and its misapprehensions
Job’s speech is full of profound mistakes, which are only
excusable because they were perpetrated by an unbalanced mind. The eloquent
tirade proceeds upon the greatest misapprehensions. Yet we must be merciful in
our judgment, for we ourselves have been unbalanced, and we have not spared the
eloquence of folly in the time of loss, bereavement, and great suffering We may
not have made the same speech in one set deliverance, going through it
paragraph by paragraph, but if we could gather up all reproaches, murmurings,
complainings, which we have uttered, and set them down in order, Job’s short
chapter would be but a preface to the black volume indited by our atheistic
hearts. Job makes the mistake that personal happiness is the test of
Providence. Job did not take the larger view. What, a different speech he might
have made! He might have said, Though I am in these circumstances now, I was
not always in them: weeping endureth for a night, joy cometh in the morning: I
will not complain of one bitter winter day when I remember all the summer
season in which I have sunned myself at the very gate of heaven. Yet he might
not have said this, for it lies not within the scope of human strength. We must
not expect more even from Christian men than human nature in its best moods can
exemplify. I know that Christian men are mocked when they complain; they are
taunted when they say their souls are in distress; there are those who stand up
and say, Where is now thy God? But “the best of men,” as one has quaintly said,
“are but men at the best.” God Himself knoweth our frame, He remembereth that
we are dust; He says, They are a wind which cometh for a little time, and then
passeth away; their life is like a vapour, curling up into the blue air for one
little moment, and then dying off as to visibleness as if it had never been.
The Lord knoweth our days, our faculties, our sensibilities, our capacity of
suffering, and the judgment must be with Him. Then Job committed the mistake of
supposing that circumstances are of more consequence than life. If the sun had
shone, if the fields and vineyards had returned plentifully, answering the
labour of the sower and the planter with great abundance, who knows whether the
soul had not gone down in the same equal proportion? It is a hard thing to keep
both soul and body at an equal measure. “How hardly”--with what
straining--“shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven.” Who
knows what Job might have said if the prosperity had been multiplied sevenfold?
“Jeshurun waxed fat, and kicked.” Where is the man who could bear always to
swelter under the sun warmth of prosperity? Where is the man that does not need
now and again to be smitten, chastened, almost lacerated, cut in two by God’s
whip, lest he forget to pray? Let suffering be accounted a seal of sonship, if
it come as a test rather than as a penalty. Where a man has justly deserved the
suffering, let him not comfort himself with its highest religious meaning, but
let him accept it as a just penalty. But where it has overtaken him at the very
altar, where it has cut him down when he was on his way to heaven with pure
heart and pure lips, then let him say, This is the Lord’s doing, and He means
to enlarge my manhood, to increase the volume of my being, and to develop His
own image and likeness according to the mysteriousness of His own way: blessed
be the name of the Lord! Why has Job fallen into this strain? He has omitted
the word which made his first speech noble. In the first speech the word “Lord”
occurs three times, and the word “Lord” never occurs in this speech, for purely
religious purposes; he would only have God invoked that God might carry out his
own feeble prayer for destruction and annihilation; the word “God” is only
associated with complaint and murmuring, as, for example--“Let that day be
darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon
it” (Job 3:4); and again: “Why is
light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?” (Job 3:23) This is not the
“Lord” of the first speech; this is but invoking Omnipotence to do a puny
miracle: it is not making the Lord a high tower, and an everlasting refuge into
which the soul can pass, and where it can forever be at ease. So we may retain
the name of God, and yet have no Lord--living, merciful, and mighty, to whom
our souls can flee as to a refuge. It is not enough to use the term God; we
must enter into the spirit of its meaning, and find in God not almightiness
only, but all-mercifulness, all-goodness, all-wisdom. “God is our refuge and
strength, a very present help in trouble.” Yet we must not be hard upon Job,
for there have been times in which the best of us has had no heaven, no altar,
no Bible, no God. If those times had endured a little longer our souls had been
overwhelmed; but there came a voice from the Excellent Glory, saying, “For a
small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee.”
Praised forever be the name of the delivering God! (Joseph Parker, D. D.)
The maddening force of suffering
A man’s language must be construed according to the mood of his
soul. Here we have sufferings forcing a human soul--
I. To the use of extravagant
language.
1. Great sufferings generate great passions in the soul. Hope, fear,
love, anger, and other sentiments may remain in the mind during the period of
ease and comfort, so latent and quiescent as to crave no expression. But let
suffering come, and they will rush into passions that shake and convulse the
whole man. There are elements in every human heart, now latent, that suffering
can develop into terrific force.
2. Great passions often become irrepressible. Some men have a
wonderful power of restraining their feelings. But passion sometimes rises to
such a pitch in the soul that no man, however great his self-control, is able
to repress. Like the volcanic fires, it will break through all the mountains
that lie upon it, and flame up to the heavens.
3. When great passions become irrepressible they express themselves
extravagantly. The flood that has broken through its obstructions does not roll
on at once in calm and silent flow, but rushes and foams. He speaks not in calm
prose, but in tumultuous poetry.
II. To deplore the fact of his
existence.
1. The fact that he existed at all.
2. That, having existed, he did not die at the very dawn of his
being. Incidentally, I cannot but remark how good is God in making provision
for our support before we enter on the stage of life. The fact that suffering
can thus make existence intolerable suggests the following truths--
III. Here is suffering urging a
man to hail the condition of the dead.
1. As a real rest. Lying still in unconscious sleep, beyond the reach
of any disturbing power. How profound is the rest of the grave! The loudest
thunders cannot penetrate the ear of the dead. He looked at death--
2. As a common rest. “Kings and counsellors,” princes and paupers,
tyrants and their victims, the illustrious and obscure--all are there together.
The state of the dead, as here described, suggests two practical thoughts.
IV. Here is suffering urging a
man to pry into the reasons of a miserable life. Has the great Author of
existence any pleasure in the sufferings of His creatures? There are, no doubt,
good reasons, reasons that we shall understand and appreciate ere long.
1. Great sufferings are often spiritually useful to the sufferer.
They are storms to purify the dark atmosphere of his heart; they are bitter
ingredients to make spiritually curative his cup of life. Suffering teaches man
the evil of sin; for sin is the root of all anguish. Suffering develops the
virtues--patience, forbearance, resignation. Suffering tests the character; it
is fire that tries the moral metal of the soul.
2. Great sufferings are often spiritually useful to the spectator.
The view of a suffering human creature tends to awaken compassion, stimulate
benevolence, and excite gratitude. From this subject we learn--
The cry from the depths
The outburst of Job’s speech falls into three lyrical strophes,
the first ending at the tenth verse, the second at the nineteenth, the third
closing with the chapter.
1. “Job opened his mouth, and cursed his day.” In a kind of wild,
impossible revision of Providence, and reopening of questions long settled, he
assumes the right of heaping denunciations on the day of his birth. He is so
fallen, so distraught, and the end of his existence appears to have come in
such profound disaster, the face of God as well as of man frowning on him, that
he turns savagely on the only fact left to strike at--his birth into the world.
But the whole strain is imaginative. His revolt is unreason, not impiety,
either against God or his parents. He does not lose the instinct of a good man,
one who keeps in mind the love of father and mother, and the intention of the
Almighty, whom he still reveres. The idea is, Let the day of my birth be got
rid of, so that no other come into being on such a day; let God pass from
it--then He will not give life on that day. Mingled in this is the old-world
notion of days having meanings and powers of their own. This day had proved
malign--terribly bad!
2. In the second strophe cursing is exchanged for wailing, fruitless
reproach of a long past day, for a touching chant in praise of the grave. If
his birth had to be, why could he not have passed at once into the shades? The
lament, though not so passionate, is full of tragic emotion. It is beautiful
poetry, and the images have a singular charm for the dejected mind. The chief
point, however, for us to notice is the absence of any thought of judgment. In
the dim underworld, hid as beneath heavy clouds, power and energy are not.
Existence has fallen to so low an ebb that it scarcely matters whether men were
good or bad in this life, nor is it needful to separate them. It is a kind of
existence below the level of moral judgment, below the level either of fear or
joy.
3. The last portion of Job’s address begins with a note of inquiry.
He strikes into eager questioning of heaven and earth regarding his state. What
is he kept alive for? He pursues death with his longing as one goes into the
mountain to seek treasure. And again, his way is hid, he has no future. God
hath hedged him in on this side by losses, on that by grief; behind, a past
mocks him, before is a shape which he follows, and yet dreads. It is indeed a
horrible condition, this of the baffled mind to which nothing remains but its
own gnawing thought, that finds neither reason of being nor end of turmoil,
that can neither cease to question, nor find answer to inquiries that rack the
spirit. There is energy enough, life enough to feel life a terror, and no more;
not enough for any mastery even of stoical resolve. The power of
self-consciousness seems to be the last injury--a Nessus shirt, the gift of a
strange hate . . . Note that in his whole agony Job makes no motion towards
suicide. The struggle of life cannot be renounced. (Robert A. Watson, D. D.)
Birth deplored
The Puritan mother of Samuel Mills, who, when her son, under the
stress of morbid religious feeling, cried out, “Oh, that I had never been
born!” said to him, “My son, you are born, and you cannot help it,” was more
philosophical than he who says, “I am, but I wish I were not.” A philosophy
that flies in the face of the existing and the inevitable forfeits its name. (T.
T. Munger.)
Verse
17
There the wicked cease from troubling.
Wicked men trouble the world
True rest and wickedness never meet; rest and the wicked meet but
seldom. And it is but half a rest, and it is rest but to half a wicked man, to
his bones in the grave; and it is rest to that half but for a little time, only
till the resurrection. The word here used, and in divers other places,
signifieth wickedness in the height, and men most active in wickedness. So that
when Job saith, There the wicked are at rest, he means those who had been
restless in sin, who could not sleep till they had done mischief, nor scarce
sleep for doing mischief; he means those who had outrun others in the sinful
activity (Acts 26:11).
1. Wicked men are troublers both of themselves and others. There the
wicked cease from troubling; as if the wicked did nothing in the world, but
trouble the world. Wicked ones are the troublers of all; they are troublers of
their own families, troublers of the places and cities where they live, the
troublers of a whole kingdom, troublers of the Churches of Christ, and the
troublers of their own souls.
2. Wicked men, by troubling others, do as much weary and tire out
themselves.
3. Wicked men will never cease troubling until they cease to live. In
the grave they cease troubling, there they are at rest. If they should live an
eternity in this world, they would trouble the world to eternity. As a godly
man never gives over doing good, he will do good as long as he lives, though he
fetches many a weary step; so wicked men never give over doing evil, until they
step into the grave. And the reason of it is, because it is their nature to do
evil. The wicked will sin while they have any light to sin by; therefore God
puts out their candle, and sends them down into darkness, and there they will
be quiet. The wicked shall be silent in darkness. (J. Caryl.)
And the weary are at rest.--
The rest of the grave
In the grave--where kings and princes and infants lie. This verse
is often applied to heaven, and the language is such as will express the
condition of that blessed world. But, as used by Job, it had no such reference.
It relates only to the grave. It is language which beautifully expresses the
condition of the dead, and the desirableness even of an abode in the tomb. They
who are there are free from the vexations and annoyances to which men are
exposed in this life; the wicked cannot torture their limbs by the fires of
persecution, or wound their feelings by slander, or oppress and harass them in
regard to their property, or distress them by thwarting their plans, or injure
them by impugning their motives. All is peaceful and calm in the grave, and
there is a place where the malicious designs of wicked men cannot reach us. The
object of this verse and the two following is to show the reasons why it was
desirable to be in the grave, rather than to live and to suffer the ills of
this life. We are not to suppose that Job referred exclusively to his own case
in all this. He is describing, in general, the happy condition of the dead, and
we have no reason to think that he had been particularly annoyed by wicked men.
But the pious often are; and hence it should be a matter of gratitude that
there is one place, at least, where the wicked cannot annoy the good, and where
the persecuted, the oppressed, and the slandered, may lie down in peace. For
“there the weary be at rest,” the margin has “wearied in strength.” And the
margin is according to the Hebrew. The meaning is, those whose strength is
exhausted, who are worn down with the toils and cares of life, and who feel the
need of rest. Never was more beautiful language employed than occurs in this
verse. What a charm such language throws even over the grave--like strewing
flowers and planting roses around the tomb! Who should fear to die, if
prepared, when such is to be the condition of the dead? Who is there that is
not in some way troubled by the wicked--by their thoughtless, godless life by
persecution, contempt, and slander? (comp. 2 Peter 2:8; Psalms 39:1) Who is there that
is not at some time weary with his load of care, anxiety, and trouble? Who is
there whose strength does not become exhausted, and to whom rest is not grateful
and refreshing? And who is there, therefore, to whom, if prepared for heaven,
the grave would not be a place of calm and grateful rest? And though true
religion will not prompt us to wish that we had lain down there in early
childhood, as Job wished, yet no dictate of piety is violated when we look
forward with calm delight to the time when we may repose where the wicked cease
from troubling, and where the weary are at rest. O grave, thou art a peaceful
spot! Thy rest is calm; thy slumbers are sweet. (Albert Barnes.)
Desire to depart
Thorns in our nest make us take to our wings; the embittering of
this cup makes us earnestly desire to drink of the new wine of the kingdom. We
are very much like our poor, who would stay at home in England, and put up with
their lot, hard though it be; but when at last there comes a worse distress
than usual, then straightway they talk of emigrating to those fair and
boundless fields across the Atlantic, where a kindred nation will welcome them
with joy, So here we are in our poverty, and we make the best of it we can; but
a sharp distress wounds our spirit, and then we say we will away to Canaan, to
the land that floweth with milk and honey, for there we shall suffer no
distress, neither shall our spirits hunger any more. (J. Trapp.)
Departed trouble, and welcome rest
There the winked cease from troubling; and there the weary be at
rest. The day was, when it was thought fit that the Christian’s last resting
place should be surrounded by gloomy and repulsive associations. It is not of
peaceful rest that the burying place of the Middle Ages would remind you. We
all remember the locked up, deserted, neglected churchyard, all grown over with
great weeds and nettles, and not like God’s acre at all. How much more
appropriate are the quiet, beautiful, open, carefully tended cemeteries of
today! It is not merely better judgment but sounder faith that is here. It is a
thoroughly Christian thing, to scatter the beauties of nature around the
Christian grave. In the text I see something that is like turning the ghastly,
neglected, nettle-grown churchyard which we may remember in childhood, into the
quiet, sweet, thoughtful sleeping place which we find so common now. The text
speaks to us over nearly four thousand years. Job lived in days when the light
of truth was dim; Jesus had not yet brought life and immortality to light; so
it is possible that we are able to understand Job’s words more fully and better
than he understood them himself. The text may be read first of the grave; but
in its best meaning it speaks of a better world, to which the grave is the
portal.
I. These words as spoken of
the grave, “the house appointed for all living.” We need not justify the
impatient burst in which Job wished, as many others have wished since, that he
had never been born. Job speaks of the rest to which he would gladly have gone.
He would have slumbered with the wise, the great, and the good: how he would
have lain still and been quiet, where trouble could never come, in the peaceful
grave. There “the wicked cease from troubling.” There is one place into which
the suffering can escape, where their persecutors have no power. There is
nothing more striking about the state of those who have gone into the unseen
world than the completeness of their escape from all worldly enemies, however
malignant and however powerful. But there is something beyond the mere escape
from worldly evil. Now the busy heart is quiet at last, and the weary head lies
still. What a multitude there is of these weary ones. But there is a certain
delusion in thinking of the grave as a place of quiet rest. The soul lives
still, and is awake and conscious, though the body sleeps; and it is our souls
that are ourselves. We have no warrant for believing that in the other world
there will be any season of unconsciousness to the soul.
II. Take the words in their
higher and truer meaning. They speak of a better world, whose two great
characteristics are safety and peace.
1. There is safety and the sense of safety. Everything wicked--evil
spirits, evil thoughts, evil influences cease from troubling. Everything evil,
whether within us or around us, shall be done with. If evil were gone, trouble
would go too. The great thing about evil and trouble here is not so much the
pain and suffering they cause us, as the terrible power they have to do us
fearful spiritual harm.
2. Besides the negative assurance, that trouble will be done with in
heaven, we have the promise of a positive blessing. “There the weary are at
rest.” The peace and happiness of the better world are summed up in that word.
“The end of work is to enjoy rest,” said one of the wisest of heathen.
Doubtless there will be rest from sin, from sorrow, from toil, from anxiety,
from temptation, from pain; but all that fails to convey the whole unspeakable
truth; it will be the beatific presence of the Saviour that will make the weary
soul feel it never knew rest before! In that world the bliss will be restful,
calm, satisfied, self-possessed, sublime. The only rest that can ever truly and
permanently quiet the human heart is that which the Saviour gives. His peace.
And He gives it only to His own. (A. K. H. Boyd.)
Verse
19
The small and great axe there.
The common lot
Notice the sameness of all men in their birth. One and all are
equal by nature. All inherit the sin of their first parents. The necessary
consequence following from this truth is that there is a need of a “new birth”
for everyone that would inherit everlasting life. There is, however, a
distinction among men in their lives. There is a vast difference between men,
both in spiritual and in temporal things. The inferences are simply these. If
we look at men in matters temporal, and receive the truth that God makes one
man great and another man small, we learn to be contented in whatsoever
position of life God Himself has placed us. We learn that God is willing to
make man that which man ought to be, even though He has to work with such
wretched materials as we are made of. But whatever men’s differences in life,
there is nevertheless a similarity in their death. “The small and the great are
there.” Whether young or old, all must come to this. “He seeth that wise men
die, likewise the fool and the brutish person perish.” “Man being in honour,
abideth not.” (H. M. Villiers, M. A.)
Small and great in death
1. Death seizeth equally upon all sorts and degrees of men. The small
and the great are there. The small cannot escape the hands, or slip through the
fingers of death, because they are little; the greatest cannot rescue
themselves from the power, or break out of the hands of death, because they are
big.
2. That death makes all men equal; or, that all are equal in death.
As there is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another
glory of the stars: for one star differeth from another star in glory (1 Corinthians 15:41). So there is one
terrestrial glory of kings, and another glory of nobles, and another glory of
the common people, and these have not the same glory in common; even among
them, one man differs from another man in this worldly glory; but when death
comes, there is an end of all degrees, of all distinctions; there the small and
the great are the same. There is but one distinction that will outlive death;
and death cannot take it away; the distinction of holy and unholy, clean and
unclean, believer and an infidel; these distinctions remain after death, and
shall remain forever. (J. Caryl.)
Verse
20
Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery.
Christian posture of the problem of evil in life
This question of universal, intellectual, and moral
interest, as to the purpose of evil, is a question which has always been raised
by ghastly facts in human life, parallel to Job’s. Why wert thou so visited,
didst thou ask, O Job? Why but that, through thy momentary temptation to wonder
and murmur, that beautiful patience and admirable piety of thine might be
afterwards developed, and that thou mightest thus set up on earth a school of
patience and trust in God, where all the after generations of men might study?
Even so we may answer this old “why and wherefore” in our own experience. To
what do we owe all that is soft, beautiful, and gentle in this rough, cross
world, but to just such instances as we deplore? Job’s question, Why the light
of human life is mixed with bitterness and misery, is answered then, in the
demonstration that we are indebted for what is most valuable in temper,
character, and hope, not alone to what is sunny and sweet, but to the shadow
that hides our landscape, and the wormwood that dashes our cup. For the present
let us not be anxious to know more. (C. A. Barrel.)
Reasons for life’s continuance
When it is asked why a man is kept in misery on earth, when he
would be glad to be released by death, perhaps the following among others may
be the reasons.
1. Those sufferings may be the very means which are needful to
develop the true state of his soul. Such was the case with Job.
2. They may be the proper punishment of sin in the heart, of which
the individual was not fully aware, but which may be distinctly seen by God.
There may be pride, and the love of ease, and self-confidence, and ambition,
and a desire of reputation. Such appear to have been some of the besetting sins
of Job.
3. They are needful to teach true submission, and to show whether a
man is willing to resign himself to God.
4. They may be the very things which are necessary to prepare the
individual to die. At the same time that men often desire death, and feel that
it would be a relief, it might be to them the greatest possible calamity. They
may be wholly unprepared for it. For a sinner, the grave contains no rest; the
eternal world furnishes no repose. One design of God in such sorrows may be to
show to the wicked how intolerable will be future pain, and how important it is
for them to be ready to die. If they cannot bear the pains and sorrows of a few
hours in this short life, how can they endure eternal sufferings? If it is so
desirable to be released from the sorrows of the body here,--if it is felt that
the grave, with all that is repulsive in it, would be a place of repose, how
important is it to find some way to be secured from everlasting pains! The true
place of release from suffering, for a sinner, is not the grave; it is in the
pardoning mercy of God, and in that pure heaven to which he is invited through
the blood of the Cross. In that holy heaven is the only real repose from
suffering and from sin; and heaven will be all the sweeter in proportion to the
extremity of pain which is endured on earth. (A. Barnes.)
The will of God a sufficient reason for existence
The will of God is reason enough for man, and ought to be the most
satisfying reason. If God say, I will have life remain in a man that is bitter
in soul, that man should say, Lord, it is reason I should, because it is Thy
pleasure, though it be to my own trouble. Yet it is but seldom that God makes
His will His reason, and answers by His bare prerogative: He hath often given
weighty reasons to this query. First, the life of nature is continued, that the
life of grace may be increased. Again, such live in sufferings, that they may
learn obedience by the things which they suffer. God teacheth us by His works,
as well as by His Word, His dealings speak to us. Another reason of this
“wherefore” may be this, God sets up some as patterns to posterity; He therefore
gives the light of life to some that are in misery, to show that it is no new
nor strange thing for His saints to be in darkness.
1. That the best things in this world may come to be burthens to us.
See here a man, weary of light and life.
2. It is a trouble to possess good things when we cannot enjoy them.
(J. Caryl.)
Why is the miserable man kept alive
The question here asked is, Why should man, whose misery leads him
to desire death, be kept in life? A very natural question this. A modern expositor
has answered the question thus--
1. Those sufferings may be the very means which are needful to
develop the true state of the soul. Such was the case with Job.
2. They may be the proper punishment of sin in the heart, of which
the individual was not fully aware, but which may be distinctly seen by God.
There may be pride, and the love of ease, and self-confidence, and ambition,
and a desire of reputation. Such appear to have been some of the besetting sins
of Job.
3. They are needful to teach true submission, and to show whether a
man is willing to resign himself to God.
4. They may be the very things which are necessary to prepare the
individual to die. At the same time that men often desire death, and feel that
it would be a great relief, it might be to them the greatest possible calamity.
They may be wholly unprepared for it. (Homilist.)
Verse 23
Why is light given to a
man whose way is hid?
The light given-the way
hidden
How immediately this
question speaks to us! How it seems to describe that mental and moral
incongruity of which we are more or less the subjects--that feeling in which we
are so often disposed to say to our Maker, Why hast Thou made me thus? This is
the subject of the Book of Job--the mystery of life--the vanity of
knowledge--the mysterious conflict of what man feels he is, and what he feels
he might be, and desires indeed to be. In the text is--
I. A great
certainty. “Light is given.” Man is the subject of supernatural light. The
light of nature, as it is called, is not generated and developed in the order
and course of mere nature. The light within the soul falls from other worlds,
from unseen, unrealised heights beyond the soul God lights up the faculties,
kindles the imagination, informs the judgment, and animates the hope. I take it
as a great certainty that we have a strange light kindled within our being,
unaccountable and awful. How is Christ “the light of the world”? It is as He
imparts to the world by His words a new consciousness. Christ deepens the
springs and widens the horizons of our knowledge. God has never left Himself
without a witness. “Light is given.”
II. A great
perplexity. “The way is hid.” It seems that the light only reveals itself,
neither the objects nor the way. It seems as if our consciousness became
paralysed at the touch of speculation, a dark, black wall rises where we
anticipated we should find a way. The great conflict now, as ever, waging here,
is the conflict between light and will. The light faculty in us disports itself
over a wide field of intelligence, and scans and comprehends all objects; but
the will finds itself powerless, and inquires of the light, To what good is it
that thou art here? Man’s happiness is in the equilibrium of these two. In
human life there are heretics of the understanding; these are those properly
called such--heresiarchs: and heretics of the will; the infirm of purpose. How
happy are they who, small as their circle of light and life may be, find no
disharmony; small, but a state in which the understanding is in harmony with
the will. Does it not seem to thee, frequently, that thou art a man whose way
is hid? This smiting perplexity, why, it occasionally strikes us all. God is
love, but what a world of pain! Man is free, but what a hemming in of his being
in every direction! Then come the errors and mistakes of actual life.
III. The great
solution--the consolations of the light. I advance beyond the text. Light can
only be seen in Christ. God only known in Him.
1. It is so from the very nature of the soul. The soul in its nature
is light. Divinely derived, it can never forfeit its light power, but it is in
eclipse. God has made the soul the fountain of light in its intentions, in its
innate power to reason correctly on natural data. There is a light within, but
it is unavailing without help from without; for the corruptions and the powers
of the senses all tend to embase the light.
2. Why is light given? This is comfort--some light is given. He who
has given some will give more.
3. Why is light given to a man whose way is hid? To enable him to
find his way, and to escape beyond the hedge. Light is not its own end. It has
an end beyond itself. Light is given to teach a man his dependence; to teach
him to look beyond himself. Is it not humbling to find our entire inadequacy to
even the most ordinary occasions of life? We step constantly into a labyrinth
where our greatest cunning will not avail for us.
4. That which is naturally illegible to sense, and to the
apprehension of sense, is legible to faith. Life, hidden still to the spirit of
speculation, is revealed to the spirit of prayer. (E. Paxton Hood.)
Light and life
My object is to call your
attention to life itself, and the reason why it is given. We do not ask the
question, Why do I live? until trouble comes. Life is not a mystery to the
little child, or the maiden, or the young man. It is when adversity comes to
us, that we ask, “Wherefore is light given and life?” Why do we live? We are to
recognise the fact that all things and all persons are of God, and exist for
the pleasure of God, if we would solve this problem, If you leave God out of
your reckoning, then it matters not what conclusion you may come to. There are
some who think that God is equally glorified by the salvation or the ruin of a
sinner. He is not. The very end of God is defeated in the ruin of the sinner.
God has created us, and placed us here, not simply that we may live in this
world, but that we may live for evermore. God has made us living men and women
that we may serve and enjoy Him forever. (Charles Williams.)
Light on a hidden way
When Job put this question
he was as far down in the world as a man can be who is not debased by sin. Two
things, in this sad time, seem to have smitten Job with most unconquerable
pain.
1. He could not make his condition chord with his conviction of what
ought to have happened. He had been trained to believe in the axiom; that to be
good is to be happy. Now he had been good, and yet here he was as miserable as
it was possible for a man to be. And the worst of all was, he could not deaden
down to the level of his misery. The light given him on the Divine justice
would not let him rest. His subtle spirit, restless, dissatisfied, tried him
every moment.
2. There appeared to by light everywhere, except on his own life. If
life would strike a fair average; if other good men had suffered too, or even
bad men, then he could bear it better. But the world went on just the same.
Other homes were full of gladness. Perhaps not many men ever fall into such
supreme desolation as this, that is made to centre in the life of this most
sorrowful man. But one may reach out in all directions and find men and women
who are conscious of the light shining, but who cannot find the way; who, in a
certain sense, would be better if they were not so good. The very perfection of
their nature is the way by which they are most easily bruised. Keen, earnest,
onward, not satisfied to be below their own ideal, they are yet turned so woefully
this way and that by adverse circumstances, that, at the last, they either come
to accept their life as a doom, and bear it in grim silence, or they cut the
masts when the storm comes, and drift a helpless hull broadside to the
breakers, to go down finally like a stone. In men and nations you will find
everywhere this discord between the longing that is in the soul, and what the
man can do. Try to find some solution of the question of the text. We cannot
pretend to make the mystery all clear, so that it will give no more trouble.
Job, in his trouble, would have lost nothing and gained very much, if he had
not been so hasty in coming to the conclusion that God had left him, that life
was a mere apple of Sodom, that he had backed up to great walls of fate, and
that he had not a friend left on earth. His soul, looking through her darkened
windows, concluded the heavens were dark. Is not this now, as it was then, one
of the most serious mistakes that can be made? I try to solve great problems of
providence, perhaps, when I am so unstrung as to be entirely unfitted to touch
their more subtle, delicate, and far-reaching harmonies. As well might you
decide on some exquisite anthem when your organ is broken, and conclude there
is no music in it because you can make no music of it, as, in such a condition
of the life, and such a temper of the spirit, try to find these great harmonies
of God. Job and his friends speculate all about the mystery, and their
conclusions from their premises are generally correct, but they have forgotten
to take in the separate sovereign will of God, as working out a great purpose
in the man’s life, by which he is to be lifted into a grander reach of insight
and experience than ever he had before. They were both wrong and all wrong, God
often darkens the way that the melody may grow clear and entire in the soul. If
this man could have known--as he sat there in the ashes, bruising his heart on
this problem of providence--that, in the trouble that had come upon him, he was
doing what one man may do to work out the problem for the world, he might again
have taken courage. No man lives to himself. Job’s life is but your life and
mine, written in larger text . . . God seldom, perhaps never, works out His
visible purpose in one life: how, then, shall He in one life work out His
perfect will? Then while we may not know what trials wait on any of us, we can
believe, that as the days in which this man wrestled with his dark maladies are
the only days that make him worth remembrance, so the days through which we
struggle, finding no way, but never losing the light, will be the most
significant we are called to live. Men in all ages have wrestled with this
problem of the difference between the conception and the condition. But it is
true that “men who suffered countless ills, in battles for the true and just,”
have had the strongest conviction, like old Latimer, that a way would open in
those moments when it seemed most impossible. (Robert Collyer.)
The sorrowful man’s
question
Job’s case was such that
life itself became irksome. He wondered why he should be kept alive to suffer.
Could not mercy have permitted him to die out of hand? Light is most precious,
yet we may come to ask why it is given. See the small value of temporal things,
for we may have them and loathe them.
I. The case which
raises the question. “A man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in.” He
has the light of life, but not the light of comfort.
1. He walks in deep trouble, so deep that he cannot see the bottom of
it. Nothing prospers, either in temporals or in spirituals. He is greatly
depressed in spirit, he can see no help for his burden, or alleviation of his
misery. He cannot see any ground for comfort either in God or in man, “His way
is hid.”
2. He can see no cause for it. No special sin has been committed. No
possible good appears to be coming out of it. When we can sea no cause we must
not infer that there is none. Judging by the sight of the eyes is dangerous.
3. He cannot tell what to do in it. Patience is hard, wisdom is difficult,
confidence scarce, and joy out of reach, while the mind is in deep gloom.
Mystery brings misery.
4. He cannot see the way out of it. He seems to hear the enemy say,
“They are entangled in the land, the wilderness hath shut them in” (Exodus 14:3). He cannot escape through the hedge of thorn, nor see an end to
it: his way is straitened as well as darkened. Men in such a case feel their
griefs intensely, and speak too bitterly. If we were in such misery, we, too,
might raise the question; therefore let us consider--
II. The question
itself. “Why is light given?” etc. This inquiry, unless prosecuted with great
humility and childlike confidence, is to be condemned.
1. It is an unsafe one. It is an undue exaltation of human judgment.
Ignorance should shun arrogance. What can we know?
2. It reflects upon God. It insinuates that His ways need
explanation, and are either unreasonable, unjust, unwise, or unkind.
3. There must be an answer to the question; but it may not be one
intelligible to us. The Lord has a “therefore” in answer to every “wherefore”;
but He does not often reveal it; for “He giveth not account of any of His
matters” (Job 33:13).
4. It is not the most profitable question. Why we are allowed to live
in sorrow is a question which we need not answer. We might gain far more by
inquiring how to use our prolonged life.
III. Answers which
may be given to the question.
1. Suppose the answer should be, “God wills it.” Is not that enough?
“I opened not my mouth; because Thou didst it” (Psalms 39:9).
2. To an ungodly man sufficient answers are at hand. It is mercy
which, by prolonging the light of fife, keeps you from worse suffering. For you
to desire death is to be eager for hell. Be not so foolish. It is wisdom which
restrains you from sin, by hedging up your way, and darkening your spirit. It
is better for you to be downcast than dissolute. It is love which calls you to
repent. Every sorrow is intended to whip you Godward.
3. To the godly man there are yet more apparent reasons. Your trials
are sent to let you see all that is in you. In deep soul trouble we discover
what we are made of. To bring you nearer to God. The hedges shut you up to God;
the darkness makes you cling close to Him. Life is continued that grace may be
increased. To make you an example to others. Some are chosen to be monuments of
the Lord’s special dealings; a sort of lighthouse to other mariners. To magnify
the grace of God. If our way were always bright we could not so well exhibit
the sustaining, consoling, and delivering power of the Lord. To prepare you for
greater prosperity. To make you like your Lord Jesus, who lived in affliction.
Improvement--Be not too ready to ask unbelieving questions. Be sure that life
is never too long. Be prepared of the Holy Spirit to keep to the way even when
it is hid, and to walk on between the hedges, when they are not hedges of
roses, but fences of briar. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Whom God hath hedged in.
Hedged in
We often read of God
loving man, of God punishing man, but not of His hedging him in. And yet the
idea is as solemn as it is striking, and as beautiful as it is solemn. Its
application depends upon the manner in which we regard it, for the fact may be
applied in different ways. Let us consider--
I. Who it is God
hedges in.
1. Sometimes it is the wicked. When the violent man rages against God
and is calculated to injure the cause of righteousness, he is restrained. The
voice comes, “Thus far shalt thou go and no further.” Pharaoh was hedged in.
Even Satan is hedged in.
2. Sometimes it is the righteous. Here we have an instance before us
in the case of Job. He had done nothing to merit punishment. So it was with
Jeremiah. He was shut up. Good men must be expected to be surrounded by a
hedge. Such a position often causes suffering, sorrow, and pain.
II. How does God
hedge in? He manifests His power to do so--
1. By providential government. How often do people realise
practically the power of these words! They have wished to enter upon a
different sphere of labour, to remove from one place to another, or to stay in
the place they inhabit. But difficulty after difficulty has arisen, obstacle
after obstacle has presented itself, till the person has found that he could
not break through the hedge which surrounds him.
2. By affliction, sorrow, and distress.
3. By bodily pain or weakness. The Divine purposes are inscrutable.
III. Why does God
hedge in?
1. To keep evil men from doing mischief. The unbridled lusts and
passions of the wicked are not satisfied with self-satisfaction; they must
persecute, injure, and destroy. Almighty God puts a bound to their licence for
the benefit of the world.
2. To prevent good men from sin. To save the souls of weak but
righteous men; He will keep them from the opportunity of being led astray.
3. To save His servants from danger.
4. To keep them engaged in some particular work.
5. To teach patience and resignation. (Homilist.)
Verse 26
Yet trouble came.
Trouble and usefulness
What a heathen would have called “the blind and infamous dispensations
of fortune,” Christians speak of as the unlikelihoods and inequalities of the
providence of God. The facts, however, are not altered, though you may alter
their representation This world of ours, in its moral aspects, is not a likely
world. Not that even in the absence of a special revelation, still less with
this in our hands, it giveth us the idea of terrestrial affairs being left to
take their chance; but that there is, on the part of a Superior Power, a design
to regulate these affairs so differently from as at times to be the reverse of
what might have been expected. Design there is, but it is not in those
directions in which we should look for it. It does not appear with what intent
men, whether philosophers or theologians, have been so anxious to frame
apologies for God’s providence; bending the stubborn truths of human history to
some theory of their own devising, and using worse for better reasons to
support that theory. This hath been called, after Milton, “the justification of
the ways of God to man.” It is a very supererogatory work. Man need not be more
anxious to justify God than God is to justify Himself. God will be justified by
and by; but, at present He requireth not us to assist Him by explaining away
appearances. “God is love.” Believe it always; question it never. You throw a
doubt over it the moment you set about proving it. Let us take the facts, and
forego the apology. To write books to the sons and daughters of affliction,
from comfortable parlours and luxurious drawing rooms, in vindication of the
providence of God, is worse than impertinent. No, take the facts of providence
as they are. They will do our minds good, not harm, in the contemplation. Men
are not to be argued into resignation to God’s will; nor are they to be reasoned
into affection for His chastisements. All they need to believe is that what
happeneth unto them is God’s will; then will there be resignation: to
see that God doth chastise them; then will they love His chastisements. We do
not in any degree oppose this view, by returning to our remark, that this world
of ours is an unlikely world. Neither to the righteous nor to the wicked is it
such as we should expect it to be. Its order is apparent confusion; its rule a
seeming misdirection. God, here and there, appears as though He were opposing
Himself; frustrating purposes in one direction, which He appears to be
forwarding in another. Look at the victims of trial, at the heirs of suffering,
at the children of sorrow, on every side: how capricious, how unaccountable,
how incomprehensible, so far as we can judge, the selection! The heaviest
burdens laid oftentimes upon the weakest shoulders; the greatest sinners often
the slightest sufferers; they who for God have been called to do the most,
disabled frequently by their trials from doing aught--powers of usefulness, to
our judgment, paralysed for lack of aids which “perish with the using” there;
while, yonder, uselessness and incapacity are overwhelmed with means and
opportunities. Are these things chances, caprices, accidents? Their seeming to
be all these prohibits the supposition of their really being either. We speak
of the providence of God as though it were synonymous with momentary
interference; whereas, the etymology showeth that it is such a foresight on
God’s part as to render such interference unnecessary. Considering the case of
God’s servant Job, though God cleared up this case at the last,--“making Job’s righteousness
as clear as the light, and his just dealing as the noonday,”--to what
self-reproaches, to what mistakes of friends, to what hard speeches of foes,
during its progress, must it have given rise! Seemed it right, we might ask, to
hazard all these for the sake of some spiritual advantage which might accrue to
the tried child of God? Hardly. Seemeth it wise for God to “punish those, in
the sight of men, whose hope is full of immortality”? “We know not now, we
shall know hereafter.” (Alfred Bowen Evans.)
──《The Biblical Illustrator》