Job 38–41

Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said:

2“Who is this that darkens my counsel

with words without knowledge?

3Brace yourself like a man;

I will question you,

and you shall answer me.

4“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?

Tell me, if you understand.

5Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!

Who stretched a measuring line across it?

6On what were its footings set,

or who laid its cornerstone—

7while the morning stars sang together

and all the angels shouted for joy?

8“Who shut up the sea behind doors

when it burst forth from the womb,

9when I made the clouds its garment

and wrapped it in thick darkness,

10when I fixed limits for it

and set its doors and bars in place,

11when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther;

here is where your proud waves halt’?

12“Have you ever given orders to the morning,

or shown the dawn its place,

13that it might take the earth by the edges

and shake the wicked out of it?

14The earth takes shape like clay under a seal;

its features stand out like those of a garment.

15The wicked are denied their light,

and their upraised arm is broken.

16“Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea

or walked in the recesses of the deep?

17Have the gates of death been shown to you?

Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death?

18Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth?

Tell me, if you know all this.

19“What is the way to the abode of light?

And where does darkness reside?

20Can you take them to their places?

Do you know the paths to their dwellings?

21Surely you know, for you were already born!

You have lived so many years!

22“Have you entered the storehouses of the snow

or seen the storehouses of the hail,

23which I reserve for times of trouble,

for days of war and battle?

24What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed,

or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?

25Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain,

and a path for the thunderstorm,

26to water a land where no man lives,

a desert with no one in it,

27to satisfy a desolate wasteland

and make it sprout with grass?

28Does the rain have a father?

Who fathers the drops of dew?

29From whose womb comes the ice?

Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens

30when the waters become hard as stone,

when the surface of the deep is frozen?

31“Can you bind the beautiful Pleiades?

Can you loose the cords of Orion?

32Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons

or lead out the Bear with its cubs?

33Do you know the laws of the heavens?

Can you set up _└God’s_┘ dominion over the earth?

34“Can you raise your voice to the clouds

and cover yourself with a flood of water?

35Do you send the lightning bolts on their way?

Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’?

36Who endowed the heart with wisdom

or gave understanding to the mind?

37Who has the wisdom to count the clouds?

Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens

38when the dust becomes hard

and the clods of earth stick together?

39“Do you hunt the prey for the lioness

and satisfy the hunger of the lions

40when they crouch in their dens

or lie in wait in a thicket?

41Who provides food for the raven

when its young cry out to God

and wander about for lack of food?

39:1“Do you know when the mountain goats give birth?

Do you watch when the doe bears her fawn?

2Do you count the months till they bear?

Do you know the time they give birth?

3They crouch down and bring forth their young;

their labor pains are ended.

4Their young thrive and grow strong in the wilds;

they leave and do not return.

5“Who let the wild donkey go free?

Who untied his ropes?

6I gave him the wasteland as his home,

the salt flats as his habitat.

7He laughs at the commotion in the town;

he does not hear a driver’s shout.

8He ranges the hills for his pasture

and searches for any green thing.

9“Will the wild ox consent to serve you?

Will he stay by your manger at night?

10Can you hold him to the furrow with a harness?

Will he till the valleys behind you?

11Will you rely on him for his great strength?

Will you leave your heavy work to him?

12Can you trust him to bring in your grain

and gather it to your threshing floor?

13“The wings of the ostrich flap joyfully,

but they cannot compare with the pinions and feathers of the stork.

14She lays her eggs on the ground

and lets them warm in the sand,

15unmindful that a foot may crush them,

that some wild animal may trample them.

16She treats her young harshly, as if they were not hers;

she cares not that her labor was in vain,

17for God did not endow her with wisdom

or give her a share of good sense.

18Yet when she spreads her feathers to run,

she laughs at horse and rider.

19“Do you give the horse his strength

or clothe his neck with a flowing mane?

20Do you make him leap like a locust,

striking terror with his proud snorting?

21He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength,

and charges into the fray.

22He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing;

he does not shy away from the sword.

23The quiver rattles against his side,

along with the flashing spear and lance.

24In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground;

he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.

25At the blast of the trumpet he snorts, ‘Aha!’

He catches the scent of battle from afar,

the shout of commanders and the battle cry.

26“Does the hawk take flight by your wisdom

and spread his wings toward the south?

27Does the eagle soar at your command

and build his nest on high?

28He dwells on a cliff and stays there at night;

a rocky crag is his stronghold.

29From there he seeks out his food;

his eyes detect it from afar.

30His young ones feast on blood,

and where the slain are, there is he.”

40:1The LORD said to Job:

2“Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?

Let him who accuses God answer him!”

3Then Job answered the LORD:

4“I am unworthy—how can I reply to you?

I put my hand over my mouth.

5I spoke once, but I have no answer—

twice, but I will say no more.”

6Then the LORD spoke to Job out of the storm:

7“Brace yourself like a man;

I will question you,

and you shall answer me.

8“Would you discredit my justice?

Would you condemn me to justify yourself?

9Do you have an arm like God’s,

and can your voice thunder like his?

10Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor,

and clothe yourself in honor and majesty.

11Unleash the fury of your wrath,

look at every proud man and bring him low,

12look at every proud man and humble him,

crush the wicked where they stand.

13Bury them all in the dust together;

shroud their faces in the grave.

14Then I myself will admit to you

that your own right hand can save you.

15“Look at the behemoth,

which I made along with you

and which feeds on grass like an ox.

16What strength he has in his loins,

what power in the muscles of his belly!

17His tail sways like a cedar;

the sinews of his thighs are close-knit.

18His bones are tubes of bronze,

his limbs like rods of iron.

19He ranks first among the works of God,

yet his Maker can approach him with his sword.

20The hills bring him their produce,

and all the wild animals play nearby.

21Under the lotus plants he lies,

hidden among the reeds in the marsh.

22The lotuses conceal him in their shadow;

the poplars by the stream surround him.

23When the river rages, he is not alarmed;

he is secure, though the Jordan should surge against his mouth.

24Can anyone capture him by the eyes,

or trap him and pierce his nose?

41:1“Can you pull in the leviathan with a fishhook

or tie down his tongue with a rope?

2Can you put a cord through his nose

or pierce his jaw with a hook?

3Will he keep begging you for mercy?

Will he speak to you with gentle words?

4Will he make an agreement with you

for you to take him as your slave for life?

5Can you make a pet of him like a bird

or put him on a leash for your girls?

6Will traders barter for him?

Will they divide him up among the merchants?

7Can you fill his hide with harpoons

or his head with fishing spears?

8If you lay a hand on him,

you will remember the struggle and never do it again!

9Any hope of subduing him is false;

the mere sight of him is overpowering.

10No one is fierce enough to rouse him.

Who then is able to stand against me?

11Who has a claim against me that I must pay?

Everything under heaven belongs to me.

12“I will not fail to speak of his limbs,

his strength and his graceful form.

13Who can strip off his outer coat?

Who would approach him with a bridle?

14Who dares open the doors of his mouth,

ringed about with his fearsome teeth?

15His back has rows of shields

tightly sealed together;

16each is so close to the next

that no air can pass between.

17They are joined fast to one another;

they cling together and cannot be parted.

18His snorting throws out flashes of light;

his eyes are like the rays of dawn.

19Firebrands stream from his mouth;

sparks of fire shoot out.

20Smoke pours from his nostrils

as from a boiling pot over a fire of reeds.

21His breath sets coals ablaze,

and flames dart from his mouth.

22Strength resides in his neck;

dismay goes before him.

23The folds of his flesh are tightly joined;

they are firm and immovable.

24His chest is hard as rock,

hard as a lower millstone.

25When he rises up, the mighty are terrified;

they retreat before his thrashing.

26The sword that reaches him has no effect,

nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin.

27Iron he treats like straw

and bronze like rotten wood.

28Arrows do not make him flee;

slingstones are like chaff to him.

29A club seems to him but a piece of straw;

he laughs at the rattling of the lance.

30His undersides are jagged potsherds,

leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge.

31He makes the depths churn like a boiling caldron

and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment.

32Behind him he leaves a glistening wake;

one would think the deep had white hair.

33Nothing on earth is his equal—

a creature without fear.

34He looks down on all that are haughty;

he is king over all that are proud.”

Original Meaning

AS CLINES OBSERVES, IN contrast to Waiting for Godot, in which Godot never comes, the waiting for God has now come to fruition.1 Yet many readers have wondered whether this long-awaited appearance is a mere shadow of a solution rather than the epiphany that was expected. Some readers have found God’s reply to be an exercise in obfuscation meant to distract and intimidate rather than to offer real answers. It is not surprising that an answer of “I am God and you are not” is considered unsatisfying, leading to responses such as Bernard Shaw’s reputed quip: “If I complain that I am suffering unjustly, it is no answer to say, ‘Can you make a hippopotamus?’ ”2

Yahweh’s speech begins with a series of rhetorical questions, first dealing with larger operations of the cosmos (macrocosm, 38:4–38), then with the animal world (microcosm, 38:39–39:30), and finally with the cosmic creatures Behemoth and Leviathan (40:15–41:34). The use of rhetorical questions in a discussion about the wisdom and power of deity is also found in the Akkadian epic known as Erra and Ishum:3

Who carries the pure axe of the sun, and knows … timbers?

Who makes [the night?] as radiant as day and makes [people?] bow down beneath me?

Where is Kusig-banda, creator of god and man, whose hands are pure?

Where are the precious stones, produce of the vast ocean, fitting ornaments for crowns?

Where are the seven sages of the Apsu, the holy carp, who are perfect in lofty wisdom like Ea their lord, who can make my body holy?

As in the book of Job, the rhetorical questions draw out the necessary relationship between wisdom and power in matters concerning justice.

Introduction (38:1–3)

WE MUST FIRST NOTICE that it is Yahweh who speaks. This marks a shift in terms, because throughout the dialogues and discourses of the book, the deity has most often been identified as El Shaddai or Elohim.4 The use of Yahweh in the prologue and now in the divine speeches may well have significance, but it is not transparent what it might be. One might note that Shaddai pertains to the power of God and the switch to Yahweh may signal a theological upgrade in how the audience ought to think about God. Such usage might suggest that when the audience only knows of God as El Shaddai, they are left with no answers to their questions. The revelation of Yahweh, however, offers greater insight. But such speculations cannot be verified.

A second observation is that Yahweh comes in the storm (seʿarah, see also 40:6). This word has not occurred previously in Job and is found only sixteen times in the Old Testament.5 It is often used as an instrument in the hand of Yahweh in an expression of his wrath. The storm sets the tone for the nature of the theophanic speeches of Yahweh. Another example of a storm theophany is found in Ezekiel 1:4,6 but there we see much more detail. Even though the theophany in Ezekiel eventuates in the prophet’s commissioning, the storm communicates God’s anger at his people and, in Ezekiel 10, his departure from the temple. In Job, Yahweh’s first words also suggest anger at Job’s arrogance and presumption (supported by 40:1–14). The important point is that Yahweh is not simply taking up the role of wisdom instructor; the tone of his words should be understood as a rebuke. The storm does not simply convey his power; it conveys his wrath.

Consequently, as Yahweh characterizes Job, we see a clear distinction from the open admiration expressed in the prologue. There Yahweh described Job as “blameless and upright” (1:1); here he is one who “darkens my counsel” and utters “words without knowledge.” The contrast is not contradictory but suggests that although Job’s conduct is above reproach, his understanding is flawed. Job’s perception of God is the issue that has been under scrutiny since the opening verses of the book. Job’s excessive action on behalf of his children first raised the question of how he viewed God. The Challenger’s case focused on whether Job’s conduct was properly motivated. Job’s speeches demonstrated shortcomings in how he understood God and his operation in the world. Now, as God begins his speech, the negative characterization of Job is intended to indicate unambiguously that Job’s assessment of God and his ways is not accurate. Yahweh is about to offer a corrective.

The assertion that Job has “darkened my counsel” uses a causative form of the familiar verb and noun (ḥšk) that contrasts with light. The other five occurrences of this causative form predictably refer to bringing night or trouble. The pairing with “counsel” is unique to this passage. Yahweh’s use of this word characterizes Job as considering God’s plan (“counsel”) to be dark—that is, sinister, devious, or even evil. In Job’s reiteration of this accusation in 42:3, he substitutes a verb that indicates obscuring or hiding. Job’s word choice perhaps avers that though he may have been confused about God’s plan, he is unwilling to own that he has portrayed God’s plan as sinister. It is no surprise that Job would be confused because he lacked knowledge; what is unacceptable is that he spoke as if he did have knowledge. For this he is reprimanded.

The reprimand takes the form of an examination as Yahweh turns the tables. Instead of Job playing inquisitor, a role he has taken throughout the book, Yahweh will ask the questions. Although the queries that follow are rhetorical, Yahweh states that Job should answer. The answer expected is not a reply to specific questions, but a response to God that will reflect a reassessment of Job’s perspective and beliefs.

Macrocosmic Operation (Job 38:4–38)

IN THESE VERSES YAHWEH expresses his control, which comprises his power and wisdom. He communicates about macrocosmic operations using the terminology and understanding of the ancient world—Job’s world. In this worldview, we find a cosmic geography consistent with what we have seen throughout the book and with the general beliefs of the ancient world:7

• The earth has foundations (38:4), footings (38:6), and a cornerstone (38:6).

• The sea has been confined behind doors with bars (38:10).

• The netherworld has gates (38:17).

• Light and darkness have locations rather than sources (38:19).

• Snow and hail are kept in storehouses (38:22).

• Lightning and east winds are locations (38:24).

• Rain is stored in water jars (38:37).

Because of this passage’s poetic nature, we can appreciate these statements as poetic, in contrast to our modern cosmic geography, and thus dispense with questions of scientific accuracy. But in the ancient world, this poetry expressed the reality of common understanding, not just metaphors severed from genuine perception. Furthermore, nothing here suggests that scientific truth is being offered that diverges from how the people of antiquity perceived the world. As is true throughout the Bible, God communicates to his people on the basis of their understanding when it comes to scientific matters. It is primarily in theological matters that he pushes them beyond their cultural understandings.

It should also be noted that this passage is a discussion of Yahweh’s work as Creator, yet it deals not with manufacturing matter out of nothing, but with bringing organization and order to the operations of the cosmos. This supports what I have contended elsewhere, that in the ancient world people thought of creation largely in functional rather than material terms.8

We should pause for further comment on a few of the details of this section. In 38:7 we encounter one of the few references in the Old Testament to the bene ʾelohim (lit., “sons of God”; the others are in Gen. 6:2, 4; Job 1:6; 2:1; the similar bene ʾelim occurs in Pss. 29:1; 89:7). In our brief discussion of the term in Job 1:6 (pp. 63–64), the sons of God were seen as members of the divine council. Here we have additional information that presents them as parallel to “the morning stars.” This association between the members of the divine council and the stars also occurs in ancient Near Eastern literature,9 in which the gods are considered celestial bodies, the celestial bodies are considered images of the gods, and the celestial bodies are considered to have a divine nature.10 In Ugaritic texts, the “sons of El” or “sons of the gods” are parallel to the “assembly of the stars.”11 In this way, Yahweh’s speech reflects common thinking in the ancient world. The difference is that in Israelite theology, the divine council (= sons of God = heavenly host = stars) is not composed of gods with whom Yahweh shares divine authority, though he may at times delegate tasks to them.12

A second issue of particular note arises in 38:25–27. Throughout the book, Job’s expectations have been premised on the idea that he knows how the world operates. He has assumed the RP and therefore has embraced the belief that the world operates according to justice. These beliefs have been challenged by his experience, which cannot be explained as justice. His quandary, then, is that God, who runs the system, may not be just.

The flaw in this logic is that one cannot move automatically from the justice of God to the necessity of the world’s operations being just. Yahweh makes this point in 38:25–27, where he notes that rain falls in places where no one lives. If justice reigned in the cosmos, rain, the provider of blessing and fertility, would target the deserving. By noting that rain falls on uninhabited lands, Yahweh demonstrates to Job that his logic does not account for reality. In effect, Yahweh asserts that justice is not the foundation of the world, nor does the cosmos operate by justice, despite the fact that he rules the cosmos and he is just. We can understand Job’s confusion, yet we can also recognize the validity of the point. No one today would argue that gravity was just, for example, or that God makes decisions about when gravity should work and when it should not. Although we affirm God’s control of the forces of nature, we don’t believe that he micromanages the system with justice in mind for each moment’s activity. Thus Job’s perception of the cosmos is undermined, and his reliance on the RP crumbles under scrutiny.

A third note concerns the ancient Near Eastern context for the depictions of rain, dew, and ice in reproductive and familial terms in 38:28–30. In Ugaritic texts, “dew” is one of Baal’s daughters.13 Furthermore, some have suggested that rain was sometimes viewed as the semen of the sky god impregnating the earth with fertility.14 Despite these notions, it is unlikely that Yahweh is refuting pagan fertility ideas; rather, he is addressing Job’s misconceptions about philosophical foundations, and Job shows no inclination to believe the standard elements of pagan mythology. We can therefore posit that Yahweh is pointing out Job’s lack of knowledge about the source of rain, dew, ice, and frost. Yahweh’s use of the language of conception to do so demonstrates again that communication is taking place on the level of the popular thinking of the day.

Finally, a word should be said about the constellations. We have already discussed in some measure the constellations in relation to Job 9 (pp. 169–70). Mesopotamian cosmology held that the great gods had inscribed the stars and constellations on the underside of the heavenly dome.15 As throughout this portion of his speech, Yahweh is challenging Job about his understanding of, or ability to perform, the deeds normally associated with deity. As the Babylonian text Enuma anu Enlil shows, the constellations and their movements were used as a source of omens and could thereby bring favor or disaster. These verses accordingly ask whether Job is able to bring about justice through the manipulation of constellations that theoretically determine fortunes on earth.

This thought finds its conclusion in 38:33, where Yahweh asks whether Job knows the laws of the heavens and can make decrees concerning the earth and its operation.16 In the ancient world outside Israel, the divine council was responsible for making the decrees by which the cosmos, society, human lives, countries, and temples functioned. These decrees were made regularly and expressed the gods’ control over the cosmos. In Old Testament theology, Yahweh is the one whose decrees determine operation of the cosmos.

In conclusion, this section about macrocosmic operations intends to show that Job is incapable of taking control of the cosmos to bring about justice. He has overestimated his ability to devise a cogent philosophy of the operation of the world and has underestimated the complexity of the system (note the inability to devise such systems in Eccl. 7:25–29). Yahweh’s questions pertain to time (Where were you when? 38:4), to person (Who? e.g., 38:5, 8, 25, 36), and to place (On what? Where? e.g., 38:6, 19, 24). They include first person comments about what Yahweh has done (e.g., 38:9–11) and second person challenges regarding what Job cannot do or has not done. Job has questioned God’s design and execution, so in this section God focuses on Job’s faulty understanding of design and his inability to execute.17

Microcosmic Operations (Job 38:39–39:30)

THIS SECTION COMMENTS ON eight animals, all but one of which are from the wild or even the liminal world (the world that is near the boundaries of the ordered world).

Verses	Animal	Subject
38:39–40	Lion	Providing food
38:41	Raven	Providing food
39:1–4	Nubian ibex	Mating and birthing
39:5–8	Wild donkey	Free ranging
39:9–12	Wild ox (aurochs)	Undomesticable nature
39:13–18	Ostrich	Treatment of eggs
39:19–25	Horse	Battle readiness
39:26–30	Hawk	Hunting prey

In the ancient world, it was a common academic exercise to make lists of plants, animals, stars, and many other things (professions, words, etc.). Such lists were a type of wisdom, so it is no surprise to find a list such as this in a biblical wisdom book. Some of the earliest forms of wisdom literature had a fable aspect founded on the characteristics or behavior of plants and animals. Hymns to gods likewise focus on the ways that they care for animals. One section of a hymn to Amun reads as follows:

Creator of the fodder on which cattle live and the tree of life for people.

He who creates what the fish in the river live on

And the birds who populate the sky.

He who gives breath to the one in the egg

And sustains the young of the serpents,

Who creates what gnats live on,

And worms and fleas as well,

Who provides for the mice in their holes,

And sustains the beetles in every piece of wood.18

The eight sections in this portion of Job flow on the basis of concept bridges. Lion and raven are connected by the concept of food; raven and ibex by their young; ibex and donkey by their free-ranging nature; donkey and ox by their untamable nature; ox and ostrich by their untrustworthiness; ostrich and horse by their relative speeds; horse and hawk by their senses from a distance; and, theoretically, hawk back to lion by their predation.

Though each of these animals could be discussed in turn, space demands that we narrow our focus. The most problematic section is the one addressing the ostrich (39:13–18). Some have objected that Yahweh’s description does not accurately portray ostrich behavior, but it should be noted that the comments in the text deal with perception. Humans might observe the ostrich’s behavior and draw conclusions that the bird is negligent of its young or that it treats them harshly—conclusions such as those reflected in this passage.19 In reality, the ostrich behaves differently from other birds but is quite attentive to its very sturdy eggs.

The problem, then, is in 39:17. Yahweh does not say that the ostrich was given wisdom that humans cannot understand—a different kind of wisdom, as it were—but that he did not endow the ostrich with wisdom at all. In evaluating this verse, it should be noted that Yahweh here oddly speaks of himself in the third person: “God [ʾeloah] did not endow …” (see also 38:41, though there God is object rather than subject; contrast to the first person in 39:6). The only solution to this conundrum that I see is the conclusion drawn in the section on the macrocosm: that Yahweh is adopting the perspective common to humans at the time rather than making universally verifiable statements about the ontological nature of ostriches.

Job’s First Response (Job 40:1–14)

IN 40:1–2 Yahweh concludes his first discourse by again demanding an answer from Job. As in 38:2, it is clear that Yahweh is taking Job to task for the way that he has responded to his suffering. Three words characterize the criticism: Job is one who “contends” (ryb), seeks to “correct” (ysr), and “accuses” (ykḥ). The first verb is a legal term referring to a court dispute and is used both by Job in his inquiries about why God is contending with him (e.g., 10:2), and by Elihu describing Job’s response to God (33:13). The NIV translates the second verb as if from the verb ysr, “to instruct,” though this root is never used elsewhere in the Qal form of the verb. Other interpreters, with a slight repointing of the verb, understand it as related to the root sur, meaning to turn back, or, specific to this context, to withdraw or rescind a case. This suggestion makes sense in context, as “contend” in the first phrase would be parallel to “accuse” in the second, and “retract, rescind” in the first would be parallel to the expected direction of the “answer” in the second phrase.

Job’s reply (40:4–5) is appropriately one of submission and humility, but he stops short of recanting. He is speechless and has adopted a stance of neutrality: “I will say no more.” Job has been cowed and intimidated—an outcome he had anticipated as early as 9:3, and which was not without a level of validity—but he has not yet understood the extent of his folly. Therefore Yahweh launches the second stage of his discourse.

As in 38:3, Yahweh opens in 40:7 by challenging Job to prepare to answer as one who has wisdom (as a geber).20 In this second challenge, however, Job is identified as one who has discredited Yahweh’s justice (40:8) in contrast to one who has questioned the wisdom of his design (38:2). Furthermore, Yahweh accuses Job of having defamed Yahweh in order to justify himself. We have noted from the beginning that Job considered his own righteousness the only factor of which he could be certain. Yahweh is taking Job to task for not valuing God’s justice more than his own righteousness.

Yahweh offers a challenge: Let Job take up control of the cosmos using the RP that he has adopted and imposed on Yahweh. If Job were “God for a day,” could he execute the RP consistently in bringing justice?

Two observations require our attention. (1) It is interesting that in 40:11–13 Yahweh speaks only of Job punishing the wicked with his endowment of power and makes no mention of ensuring that the righteous do not suffer. I suspect that this is because punishing the wicked would be much easier than ensuring that the righteous do not suffer, and the point will be made that Job cannot even do the former, let alone attempt the latter. (2) In 40:14 Yahweh concludes with the statement that if Job successfully meets his challenge, Yahweh will acknowledge that Job’s own hand could save him. Why does Yahweh offer that conclusion given the previous verses?

Our interpretation begins with the recognition that 40:8 and 14 function as an inclusio to the section and therefore are parallel to one another. Job’s “salvation” in 40:14 equates to a declaration of his righteousness (40:8). Throughout the book, Job’s focus has been on his righteousness. He has not been interested in regaining his goods or his status, or in being relieved from his suffering. He wants to be declared righteous and receive acknowledgment that he did nothing to deserve the tragedies that he has experienced. Thus far in the book, he has attempted to establish his righteousness by defaming God’s justice—or more precisely, the justice of God’s policies for running the world.

In God’s challenge, if Job could don the mantle of divine power and demonstrate that his concept of just cosmic operation could actually be sustained, his righteousness would be vindicated and he would be “saved.” If he can consistently bring judgment on the wicked alone, he will vindicate his name by establishing a cosmic system operating solely on righteousness and justice. He must demonstrate that the system he envisions (and to which he wants God held accountable) can actually work. Only in such a system would suffering be taken as evidence of unrighteousness. Only in such a system would Job need vindication in the shadow of his suffering.

Cosmic Fringe Operations: Yahweh’s Second Speech (40:15–41:34)

IN THIS SECTION THE discussion is no longer about Job being God for a day or Job’s limitations. Instead, the focus moves to how God’s system should properly be seen. The discussion shifts from reprimand to instruction, from what Job cannot do to what God has done (“I made,” 40:15). In the dialogues, Job wonders why God is treating him like a chaos creature (7:12); in the discourses, Job suggests that God is acting like a chaos creature (ch. 30). Here in God’s second set of speeches, Yahweh picks up both of Job’s charges and alters Job’s fundamental assumption: Chaos creatures are in fact part of God’s ordered world.

Most of the ancient world believed that chaos creatures were outside of the established order and often viewed them as a threat to that order. In contrast, the Hebrew Bible consistently expresses God’s control of chaos creatures and merges them into the ordered cosmos. For example, they are created (which entails being drawn into the ordered cosmos) in Genesis 1:21, and they are passive rather than threatening in Psalm 104:26.

The passages about Behemoth and Leviathan appropriately follow Yahweh’s challenge to Job to bring low all the proud (40:11), for Leviathan is identified as the king over all who are proud (41:34). In the discussion of Leviathan in Job 3, I suggested that he should be labeled an “anti-cosmos creature” rather than a “chaos creature.” These creatures exist on the fringes of the ordered world. Although creation entailed bringing order to the cosmos, the cosmos is not a totally ordered system. The fact that there is a garden of Eden, where a high level of order exists, but also space outside the garden, where order has yet to be established, evidences the distinction. Liminal creatures (such as coyote, owl, and ostrich) are near the boundaries of the ordered world. Nonzoological creatures such as Behemoth, Leviathan, Rahab, and Tannin are not viewed as unbridled threats, but neither are they drawn totally into the ordered sphere. Nahash, the serpent of Genesis 3, is another example of an anti-cosmos creature.21 Anti-cosmos creatures are creations of God but are the thorns and thistles of the animal world.

Identification. I do not find persuasive the suggestions that Behemoth and Leviathan are either zoological specimens or now-extinct creatures that once roamed the earth. In the former category, while Behemoth’s location among the lotus plants in the reeds of the marsh (40:21–24) might bring to mind the mighty hippopotamus, the description of the tail (40:17) makes such identification impossible.22 Likewise those who suggest some huge now-extinct plant-eating dinosaur would have trouble explaining how he is concealed among the lotus plants. In the same way, although Leviathan may have some characteristics of a Nile crocodile, his fire breathing (41:18–21) and multiple heads (Ps. 74:14) refute that identification.23 I suspect those in antiquity would have viewed the hippopotamus and crocodile as reminiscent of Behemoth and Leviathan, and perhaps even as their spawn in some sense, but Behemoth and Leviathan are the archetypes and personify abstractions that the hippopotamus and crocodile do to a much lesser degree.

Alternatively, it is not uncommon to see Behemoth and Leviathan identified as throwbacks from ancient mythology. Behemoth would perhaps be represented in figurines and reliefs of a human-headed bison, and Leviathan, also referred to in Ugaritic texts (Litan), would be the seven-headed dragon that appears on seals and engravings in Mesopotamia.

A third direction taken by interpreters posits Behemoth and Leviathan as figures known from West Semitic mythology, primarily available in the Ugaritic texts. Collins associates them with Mot and Yamm,24 while Day prefers to identify Behemoth with El’s calf, Atik (Arš), and Leviathan with the Ugaritic mythological sea dragon, Litan.25

It is no surprise that Behemoth and Leviathan evince connections to both the world of nature and the world of myth. These associations make them recognizable to the audience and inform their use. In the end, however, it is not the roots of the ideas or the associations they may evoke that are most important; it is their literary use in Job.

Job is compared to Behemoth (40:15).26 Job, like Behemoth, is the first of God’s works (cf. 15:7) and withstands all turbulence. God brings his sword against Job (40:19) and by a snare he penetrates Job’s anger (40:24). Yahweh does not speak of Job doing anything to Behemoth, but when the discussion switches to Leviathan, the first eight verses use the second person. I therefore suggest that Leviathan is to be compared to Yahweh (41:3, 10–11, 34)27—he won’t beg you for mercy and won’t speak with gentle words; you can’t put him on a leash, subdue him, or rouse him. These all discuss what Job can’t do to Leviathan, and they are also things that Job must learn he cannot do to Yahweh. The following summary identifies how Yahweh presents Behemoth as an illustration for Job to emulate and Leviathan as an illustration of how Job should think about Yahweh.

Behemoth.

40:15 Starts with a comparison—“along with you”28

40:15 Content and well-fed (as you have been)

40:16–18 Made strong (as I made you)

40:19 Ranks first among its kind (as you do)

40:20 Cared for (as you were)

40:21–22 Sheltered (as you were)

40:23 Not alarmed by raging river (as you should not be)

40:23 Trusts and is secure (as you should be)

40:24 Cannot be captured or trapped (to which you should also be invulnerable)

40:24 Nose (= anger) cannot be “pierced” (difficult word—sometimes means named, designated, or penetrated) (to which you should also be invulnerable)

Note that the text does not say what Job can or cannot do with regard to Behemoth, or what God does with Behemoth.

Leviathan. The text switches immediately to “you,” focusing on what Job cannot do to Leviathan (i.e., if you can’t do this to Leviathan, why do you expect to do it to me?). Likewise this passage never talks about what God does to Leviathan (e.g., his control of him or defeat of him).29

41:1–2 Cannot be controlled (neither can Yahweh)

41:3–6 Will not submit or beg for mercy (neither will Yahweh)

41:7–9 Cannot be wounded or subdued; hopeless to struggle against him (same is true of Yahweh)

41:10 Outright comparison: can’t rouse him, so who can stand against me?

41:11 No one (including you, Job) has a claim against me

41:12–18 Cannot force his mouth open to receive bridle (so Yahweh cannot be controlled or domesticated)

41:19–25 Dangerous when riled (as is Yahweh)

41:26–32 Invulnerable (as is Yahweh)

41:33 No creature is his equal (nor is Job Leviathan’s equal, let alone Yahweh’s equal)

41:34 Dominates all who are proud (cf. 40:11–14, where the section was introduced). Job cannot humble the proud (40:11–12), nor can he subdue the king over the proud (41:34); God is also king of the proud in the sense that he rules over them.

If this is what the text is doing, it does not matter what relationship these creatures have to zoology or mythology; rather, the point of the text lies elsewhere. Yahweh’s message would be clear: “Job, be strong and content like Behemoth, and don’t think that you can domesticate or subdue me any more than you can Leviathan.” Job needs to have more respect for Yahweh. Yahweh now is addressing Job as if he (Job) were a chaos creature (cf. 7:12), and he is likening himself to a chaos creature (cf. ch. 30)—but all within the confines of his ordered world.

Obviously this interpretation is diametrically opposed to one like Fyall’s, who views Behemoth and Leviathan as the “embodiment of cosmic evil.”30 One looks in vain to find any characterization of evil in either creature. Yet Fyall hits the mark when he comments, “Now he [Yahweh] is showing Job that it is unthinkable that he could confront Leviathan much less God.”31 The point is not that God can subdue Leviathan and therefore he can subdue Job—that was never in question. Rather, the passage indicates that since Job cannot bring Leviathan to heel, he cannot expect to domesticate Yahweh.

Bridging Contexts

Rhetorical Strategy

IN THIS SECTION OF Job, we are finally offered the perspectives that the author wishes us as readers to adopt regarding our understanding of how God works in the world. By demonstrating to Job that there are many phenomena in nature that humans do not understand, God shows the folly of devising a simplistic system such as the RP, which is supposed to give consistent account of the way the natural world operates under God’s sovereign control.

As noted in the introductory chapter (using the triangle illustration, pp. 42–44), God rejects the idea that the RP can provide a foundation for understanding how he works in the world, because it is an inadequate description of his policies. The RP is founded on principles of justice, but God urges a perspective founded on principles of wisdom. Instead of addressing his justice and attempting to give account of it, Yahweh’s first speech addresses wisdom by drawing Job’s attention to the macrocosm and microcosm so that Job can realize his inadequacy to formulate a theory encompassing everything (note Eccl. 8:17).

A view that attributes to God the things for which we have no explanation sometimes is called “God of the gaps.” Many consider it a flawed way of thinking because it results in God growing smaller as more understanding is gained through science. We should note, however, that the modern undertaking of classifying what can be explained without recourse to God is part of the logic used to try to demonstrate that there is a God, and that humans and their scientific endeavors cannot explain everything.

In this section of Job, Yahweh is not seeking to prove his existence. He is making the point that it is foolhardy to call him to task for his putative failure to conform to a system of human devising that has access to so little data. The issue at stake in the Old Testament is not whether God exists and what role he might have in the cosmos. Everyone believed there were gods and that they were thoroughly engaged in the operation and control of the cosmos. Consequently, there is no Old Testament comparison to today’s “God of the gaps” discussions. Job is confronted with his inability to formulate an understanding of how the world works. If he cannot construct such a theory, he cannot presume to hold God accountable to work in certain ways.

As an aside, it is also important to note that several of the passage’s examples show God’s provision for predators. For many people today, predation constitutes an inexplicable aspect of creation that is commonly associated with the fall. One of the arguments against evolution or an old earth is that such views entail predation before the fall, a situation that some find irreconcilable with the nature of God or the statement in Genesis 1 that “it was good.” In contrast to this argument, Yahweh’s speech shows that he provides for predators just as he does for everyone else, so such provision is not contrary to his character. With regard to Genesis 1, as I have suggested elsewhere, the term “good” should be understood relative to proper functioning rather than to a standard of moral perfection.32

The first speech is intended to demonstrate Yahweh’s knowledge and control of the macrocosm and the microcosm. Job, like us, has little understanding or power, but Yahweh’s knowledge and power are unlimited. God has ordered the cosmos by his wisdom; justice is one of his attributes, but the cosmos does not mirror his attributes. Wisdom is at the heart of order.

Job’s response to this first speech is silence (40:2–5) in acknowledgment that he is unworthy to devise a scheme for how the world works. He thereby acknowledges his lack of wisdom. But it is not enough for Yahweh to extract from Job this admission of inadequacy. A mere concession of Yahweh’s divinity and Job’s humanity (“You are God; I am not”) is insufficient. Job, like us, needs direction in order to adopt a more proactive attitude. This is the focus of Yahweh’s second speech.

As suggested in Original Meaning, I believe that Behemoth and Leviathan are offered as illustrations of how to think about God’s policies, God’s role, and our posture. Answers to questions regarding suffering and justice do not lie in our ability to devise a system in which the operations of the cosmos all fit a neat scheme. Instead we should acknowledge God’s wisdom and realize that he controls the cosmos in accordance with that wisdom. Such a perspective goes beyond a simple assertion that we are not God—it warns us not to reduce God to less than he is.

In the movie Patch Adams, Robin Williams plays an idealistic medical student who wants to revolutionize the medical profession to focus on compassion more than profits. He starts a free clinic that predictably attracts some who not only are at risk themselves but endanger others. Patch’s girlfriend works alongside him at the clinic and is tragically murdered by one of the unstable patients. This experience throws Patch into a crisis of philosophical and theological confusion. At one point in the movie, he finds himself looking down from a cliff and considering suicide. His poignant soliloquy addressed to God is illustrative of the experience of many who suffer:

So answer me please—tell me what you’re doing … You create man; man suffers enormous amounts of pain; man dies. Maybe you should have had just a few more brainstorming sessions prior to creation. You rested on the seventh day—maybe you should have spent that day on compassion.

After this serious indictment against God, Patch looks down again as he considers throwing himself off, then turns his eyes back to heaven with his conclusion: “You know what? You’re not worth it.” And he walks away.

In this response, Patch reflects a conclusion common to those who suffer and those who are horrified by the needs of the world. They cannot reconcile a just and good God with a world gone awry. The book of Job encourages us to avoid the easy reductionism that makes God accountable to how we think the world ought to operate. His wisdom extends far beyond our shortsightedness; there is always more afoot than we can imagine. Our ideas of how things ought to work will always be naive and simplistic. God asks that we trust him.

The reader will recall that in the book of Job, accusations are made against God’s policies from two directions: from the Challenger, who contends that it is bad policy for righteous people to prosper because that will subvert their motivations for righteousness, and from Job, who contends that it is bad policy for righteous people to suffer because that is inconsistent with God’s just character. The Challenger’s contention has been answered by the fact that Job maintained his integrity even when he was not prospering (see discussion in Job 27, p. 265).

But answering Job’s contention is more difficult, and that has been the focus of the second part of the book. If the RP (the basis for Job’s understanding of God’s policies) were allowed to stand as the foundation for how God’s policies work, God would lose the case. If God used the RP to give Job an explanation of his suffering, he would lose the case. No hint of the RP enters Yahweh’s speeches except where he casts doubt on it indirectly in 38:25–27.

God’s answer to Job’s contention is not to explain when or why righteous people suffer. The cosmos is not designed to protect righteous people from suffering. Suffering is inevitable in a world where order has not been finally and fully established. A complete state of order cannot exist in a world where sin (one manifestation of disorder) is present at any level. Like Job, we may think that it is bad policy for righteous people to suffer, but we would, I suggest, be equally dissatisfied with the alternatives. The divine policy that we need to understand is not how God’s justice is reflected in the operations of the cosmos, but that he has brought sufficient order into the cosmos for it to be functional for our existence as his creatures, and at the same time has allowed sufficient disorder to accommodate the continued existence of sinful humanity—one of the forms that disorder takes.

Job questioned God’s design, and God responded that Job had insufficient knowledge of God’s design to do so. Job questioned God’s justice, and God responded that Job ought to be content and trusting, and that he should not be so bold as to think that God can be domesticated to conform to Job’s feeble perceptions of how the cosmos should run. God asks for trust, not understanding, and the cosmos is founded on his wisdom, not his justice.

Notice that the comparisons to Behemoth and Leviathan do not comment on righteousness or justice. Job’s speeches have been replete with claims about his own righteousness and claims against God’s justice. Behemoth is not an example of righteousness, but an example of stability and trust. Leviathan is not an example of justice, but a picture of one who cannot be challenged. If Job is to understand the world, he must recognize these respective roles. Humans should respond to raging rivers (i.e., the crises of life, the metaphor drawn from 40:23) with security and trust, and they should not think that they can domesticate or challenge God.

In short, God offers information on three topics: Speech one, how we should think about the world; speech 2a (Behemoth), how we should think about ourselves; and speech 2b (Leviathan), how we should think about God.

We can contrast some of the answers offered throughout the book as follows:

RP (Job and his friends): Wickedness is God’s reason for sending suffering.

Elihu: God’s reasons for sending suffering may be more complex than the RP recognizes. Suffering has its cause either in wicked behavior or in an attempt to address potentially wicked behavior or attitudes. Elihu still sees suffering as having a cause rooted in wickedness.

God: Humans cannot assume that all suffering is caused by God with “reasons” in mind, though this in no way compromises his sovereignty. The RP, in its restrictive identifications of cause and its simplistic focus on justice as discernible by human observers, puts limitations on God’s sovereignty by not giving enough room for his wisdom. Providence does not insist that God endowed nature with his attributes.

God’s wisdom and justice cannot be comprehended in full by human beings, but at the same time, God cannot be considered inscrutable (i.e., illogical, inconsistent, arbitrary, or as having alternate criteria for justice). Rather, human inability to discern justice ought to be explained by our limitations in wisdom. The fact that we cannot discern the logic does not mean that there is no logic or that the logic is different from that under which we operate. The fact that Job does not understand the ordering of the cosmos is no proof that such ordering does not exist. The fact that Job does not understand the reasons for events in the natural world does not mean that there are none, though the existence of reasons cannot be assumed. Things that appear random or uncontrolled are not, but neither is everything explicable in terms of justice.

We must recall that it is not Job who is on trial, but God’s policies. The book never intended to provide an explanation for human suffering. Rather, it offers a defense of God’s policies, rejecting a wooden application of the RP in the process. This approach is not “inscrutability,” which in the ancient Near East was the conclusion that God cannot be known. The only inscrutability here concerns “reasons,” which cannot be known and cannot be inferred from the RP. It is important that Job is never told “why” he suffered (and the prologue does not tell us why he suffered either—the narrative scenario is not a reason). Assessment of justice requires all the facts. Since all the facts cannot be given or comprehended, we must depend on the wisdom of the judge. If Job were told why, his situation would cease to be realistic because no one receives answers, and the answer Job would receive would be an explanation of the scene in heaven, which would apply to no one else. Furthermore, offering an explanation would return the focus to the question of justice and would thus displace the focus on wisdom.

So, at long last, what answers does the book provide as it seeks to guide our understanding of God’s policies in a world where suffering and evil may plague the righteous as well as the wicked? Yahweh does not defend his justice; he does not explain Job’s suffering; and he does not enter the courtroom into which Job has summoned him. We should not expect him to perform any of these actions in our personal circumstances either, even though these often represent our deepest longings. He directs our thinking in an entirely different direction. If there is any part of Job’s speeches that Yahweh addresses directly, it is Job’s lament over the day of his birth, since Yahweh picks up many of the same terms and concepts that Job used.33 This interconnection gives some indication of where God is trying to meet Job.

The message of Job is that we must trust God’s wisdom when we encounter suffering or crises, rather than attempting to figure out answers to the “why” questions. We should not think that the cosmos itself reflects God’s attribute of justice or that we can hold God accountable to running the cosmos according to justice moment by moment. If he were to do so, none of us would survive, for we all embody injustice at some level in our sinful condition. So justice would involve punishing us.

Trusting God’s wisdom does not mean adopting a belief that everything that happens to us ultimately represents justice even though we cannot see why that is so. Trust is not the conviction that there is a good reason (= explanation that justifies the suffering) even when we cannot fathom it. In other words, the book does not suggest a hidden, deeper justice behind what we perceive as injustice. If we were to think in those terms, we would still be clinging to justice as the foundation of the system and simply theorizing alternative ways that it could function, as Elihu did.

Instead, the book posits that God, in his wisdom, is willing to allow injustice in this world—perhaps sometimes as a means to a greater end, but even that does not offer an explanation that justifies the suffering. We can assume that it grieves his heart, for he is just. In his wisdom, he elevates purposes above reasons, a concept that was elaborated briefly in the Introduction (pp. 47–48). Even here, however, we must tread carefully. We cannot know reasons, and we cannot assume that there are reasons. We should assume that there are purposes, but that does not mean that we can or will ever know those purposes. The injustice, suffering, trials, and crises that we experience shape us into the people we are and the people God desires us to be. This truth is not intended to bring comfort to those suffering, nor does it do so. It is meant to bring understanding that might prevent us from committing Job’s error, which is the easy solution of blaming God. The alternative is to trust God.

Theological Issues

MANY DEEPLY SIGNIFICANT THEOLOGICAL issues present themselves in the book of Job. These issues are not merely esoteric; they pertain to our deepest feelings and questions. We can only address a few of them briefly here, but the comments that follow provide some direction for further meditation and discussion.

God does not endow nature with his attributes. We affirm an important distinction between God’s ability to use any aspect of the cosmos to effect his will and the idea that all of the cosmos reflects and operates by the character of God. In the ancient world, this distinction was not maintained. The polytheism and low view of deity that pervaded the ancient world could be thought of as resulting directly from the belief that all earthly events were a reflection of some divine will or attribute. Consequently, ancient people could not view the gods as intrinsically just (even though the gods were interested in justice). The world was not just, and therefore the gods were not just. This link between deity and cosmic operations lies at the very root of pagan thinking, and thus when we fail to clearly distinguish these two elements, we risk being drawn into thinking that is essentially pagan and degrading to the God of the Bible.

Pantheism sees the divine in everything and considers everything (rocks, trees, insects, etc.) to be in some way part of the divine. Animism moves a further step by divinizing everything. The polytheism of the ancient world is one step removed from animism in the linkage it assumes between the god and the actors in the cosmos (sun, moon, storm, etc.) The resulting homological relationship consists of inseparably linked pairs (e.g., sun and sun god).

The theology presented in the biblical text is the next step removed. God is now outside the cosmos, yet still controls it moment by moment. He is not a sun god or storm god, though he controls both sun and storm. The cosmos does not share or reflect his attributes, yet he governs the operations of the cosmos.34 This view is one step (or perhaps several steps) short of deism, which removes God not only from linked identification, but also from cosmic operations. In deism, God is not only outside worldly operations (i.e., noncontingent), he is disengaged.

In the biblical view, God’s attributes are not present in the rain (Job 38:25–27; cf. Matt. 5:45), nor in the storms, hurricanes, tsunamis, earthquakes, tornadoes, droughts, famines, plagues, and epidemics, nor in any of those phenomena that actively or passively bring trouble to our world, including mutation at the cellular level. That is not to suggest that these elements are impervious to God’s control. They do not exist independently of him, but they cannot be viewed consistently as operating by his remote control. God can use such things to bring judgment, but not every occurrence of them can be considered an act of judgment. Just as people do not always reflect the attributes of God but operate according to their own nature and can be used by God in complex and subtle ways to accomplish his plan, so the elements of the cosmos are subject to his bidding.

The result of this conclusion is that we cannot evaluate God’s nature based on events in the cosmos or in our experience. Here we must note how limited a statement Paul actually makes in Romans 1:20. He specifies that what has been evident in the created world is God’s “power” (dynamis) and “divine nature” (theiotes). His point is that the cosmos offers sufficient evidence of a great God. It can be discerned that the Creator has a divine nature, but creation does not offer definition of the divine attributes. Paul stops short of suggesting that all of God’s attributes can be deduced from the cosmos or that a full revelation of the nature of deity is available therein. Such beliefs constituted the most central misunderstandings of the polytheistic systems of the ancient and classical world, and Paul does not embrace them.

How should one reconcile the justice of God with a cosmos that, although under his control, is not just? Job found it easy to expect that if God is just and he rules the world, then the world ought to be just. This conclusion is logical enough, but we are well aware, and Job was no less so, that justice cannot be attributed to what we call the “natural” world. How then is it under the control of a just God?

We do not have to be persuaded that the cosmos we experience is not just. We affirm that God can at any time use earthquakes, rainfall, floods, or temperature to effect his will and to carry out justice. Yet even in that affirmation we must confess that we have no access to a prophetic voice to lead us to understand precisely when and how he is doing that. We cannot discern that any particular tsunami or epidemic is a judgment from God, or that those spared from such calamities are under his protection. But we are left with the question of how a just God can tolerate the operation of a cosmos that does not bend to his nature and will at all moments.

I believe that the answer is “grace.” A cosmos totally conformed to his justice would have no room for sinners, even those whose sins stood forgiven. It is his mercy that stays his hand of justice. God is not incapable of imposing justice on humanity and the cosmos he created, but his love constrains him from doing so.35 In his wisdom he acts in justice or mercy. He does not have to think deeply about which to apply at any given time or in any given situation. God does not have quandaries. He not only possesses the attributes that define him, he executes them in perfect harmony.

Some conclude as they look at the suffering around them or in their own lives that there must be a better way. How can a loving and merciful God not intervene to alleviate the horrors that people experience with such regularity? Again, these questions echo the flawed thinking of both Job and Patch Adams—the presumptuous belief that we could do a better job than God. We cannot afford to underestimate God or to overestimate our own abilities. In the film Bruce Almighty the character played by Jim Carrey was guilty of doing both. He thought it would be fun and easy to be God. He found that it was neither. Job learned that same lesson, and we need to assimilate it as well. God does not wield this message as intimidation (“I am God, you are not”), but as realism. We find it too easy to look at only one part of the problem, so our solutions can only be naive.

Is the cosmos fully ordered?36 The essence of the idea of creation in the ancient world is that God brought order to the cosmos in his creative acts. In fact, the Greek word kosmos, from which we derive our English word, has the concept of order inherent within it. Order is imposed on the material of the cosmos as well as on the functions of the cosmos. In the ancient world, people were more interested in and focused on function, whereas we in the modern world are often more interested in and focused on the material cosmos when we talk about creation.37

Nevertheless, order has been imposed neither fully nor equally on the cosmos. As mentioned in passing in Original Meaning, this diverse state is evident in Genesis in the description of the garden of Eden, in the creation of the chaos creatures, and in the incorporation of darkness and the Sea. God’s presence was located in the center of sacred space in the middle of the garden. The garden functioned much like the antechamber of the temple adjacent to the Holy of Holies. In the concept of sacred space represented in temples in the Bible and the ancient world, there were concentric circles of graduated holiness. In Israel, after the Holy of Holies and the antechamber, the next gradation of holiness was the courtyard surrounding the altar. Outside the temple courts, “the camp” had a lower level of sacredness, and “outside the camp” even lower. Those who did not meet the holiness or cleanliness requirements for the camp were sent outside the camp.

The area outside the camp was still ordered space, but beyond it was the liminal region of unordered space—the sea and the desert. In the ancient world these were sometimes described as “nonexistent,” because existence was defined as having been brought into the ordered sphere.38 Like the gradations of sacredness within and surrounding the temple, the order inside the garden of Eden can be contrasted to a lesser degree of order outside the garden. Thus Adam and Eve had the task of expanding the ordered cosmos (since they were to be fruitful and multiply, they would eventually need more ordered space),39 and when they sinned they were driven from the ordered space to the area outside the garden, where things were much more difficult, for order was less evident.

That Adam and Eve failed in their commission to preserve the order of sacred space can be inferred from the presence of the serpent, a chaos creature, in the garden. This again demonstrates that disorder continued to exist in the partially ordered cosmos. The world was a work in progress that God expected humans, as his image, to help establish more fully.40 Disorder had not been eliminated entirely by the imposition of order, but, as many biblical texts attest, especially in Psalms and Job, it had been pushed to the margins and contained, as Levenson contends:

The confinement of chaos rather than its elimination is the essence of creation, and the survival of ordered reality hangs only upon God’s vigilance in ensuring that those cosmic dikes do not fail, that the bars and doors of the Sea’s jail cell do not give way, that the great fish does not slip his hook.41

Biblical theology substantiates in both Testaments the continued existence of disorder—both that which remained after creation and that brought about by sin—and amplifies the effects of disorder on the human world. Scripture occasionally refers to the impact of the fall rippling across the “natural” world (e.g., Rom. 8:18–25) and to the world’s restoration (e.g., Hos. 2:18), but it offers little explanation of precisely what constitutes that fallen nature. Disorder, however, is not just the result of the fall, but the evidence of a creation in progress. Some believe that at the conclusion of history we will return to the prefall state. I think it more accurate to say that some of what we experience in eternity may represent a return to what was before the fall, but that there will be much more to the experience. In eternity all will be brought into order (though Gehenna will continue to be a pocket of disorder), a situation that was not present in the prefall condition.

What does a biblical theology of suffering look like?42 Randy Becton identifies five basic ways that people explain suffering:43

1. Suffering is divine punishment.

2. Suffering is a divine test or trial of faith.

3. Suffering is part of the gift of human freedom.

4. Suffering is part of the nature and function of the physical world.

5. Suffering is creation in process.

These are not mutually exclusive positions, and I will address them in the following series of propositions.

Suffering is one of the contingencies of creation in process. God created people with a nervous system. The pain we experience warns us of harm or potential harm. People who lose the use of their nervous system find themselves in dire jeopardy. God also created us with emotions, which make us subject to being hurt by others. If we love, we are subject to suffering. Physical and emotional suffering are not avoidable in the current state of creation because they are part of the ordered cosmos. The remainder of disorder in the cosmos also is at least partially responsible for the experience of suffering. Scripture does not suggest that we should expect to be free of these contingencies until the new heavens and new earth.

Suffering is not intrinsically connected to sin. The RP has been rejected as offering a theodicy. As suggested in the Introduction (p. 45), it is retained as sound theology (i.e., it accurately describes the nature of God as one who delights to extend his favor to his faithful people and who judges sin), but we dare not conclude that all suffering is a consequence of the sufferer’s sin. We may “reap what we sow” (Gal. 6:7), but not everything a person “reaps” is something that they have “sown.” It has never been appropriate for us to assume that if someone is suffering, they must have done something to deserve it.

Suffering is the lot of all humanity. Though some experience suffering more than others, no one should think oneself immune. No logic explains why some seem particularly prone or vulnerable to suffering. Some might take solace in the comfort of a suffering-free life, but that should only drive them to experience more the suffering of others and to prepare for the day when trouble will be their lot as well. This is not fatalism; it is realism and good theology insofar as it coincides with the larger composite picture offered throughout Scripture.

Suffering should be faced with trust in God’s wisdom. This is difficult to achieve, particularly when certain cases of suffering make so little sense to us. Nevertheless, it is the only counsel Scripture offers. Trusting God’s wisdom does not mean that we try to explore the question of “Why did God do this?” or “Why did God not prevent that?” We should not assume that God initiated the course of action resulting in a particular case of suffering, or even that he “signed off” on it (we often use terms such as “allowed” or “permitted”).44 These responses reflect an overly simplistic view.

We have no language to express the nature of God’s involvement. He is neither disengaged from a world run amok, nor is he micromanaging a disastrous sequence of events. In his wisdom God created this world this way, not another way, and he therefore has chosen to operate in this kind of world.45 Accepting this tension is integral to the kind of trust that God calls us to exercise. On this topic J. Polkinghorne suggests that terminology like “allow” should not be used in a way that suggests blame: “The suffering and evil of the world are not due to weakness, oversight, or callousness on God’s part, but, rather, they are the inescapable cost of a creation allowed to be other than God.”46

Suffering should be viewed as an opportunity to deepen our faith and spiritual maturity as we look forward to understand God’s purposes, rather than backward in an attempt to discern reasons. Suffering shapes us—of this there is no doubt. What varies is whether it breaks us. Sometimes there is no visible silver lining, no redeeming value in sight. Sometimes those who endure difficulty feel that nothing is left but an empty shell. Some people never recover physically, emotionally, or spiritually. It is not guaranteed that we will emerge on the other side of pain strengthened by the experience. It would be naive to suggest that suffering universally results in growth. S. Cairns suggests a more nuanced perspective as he elaborates on Simone Weil’s observation that “affliction compels us to recognize as real what we do not think possible.” He observes:

The occasions of our suffering are capable of revealing what our habitual illusions often obscure, keeping us from knowing. Our afflictions drag us—more or less kicking—into a fresh and vivid awareness that we are not in control of our circumstances, that we are not quite whole, that our days are salted with affliction.47

I dare to suggest, however, that when we undergo trials, the biblical way to pray is for strength to carry on and acquit ourselves well. We should seek to honor God when life is at its lowest. We should strive to trust him even when hope is gone.

This is illustrated in the story Philip Yancey tells of a young woman dying a painful death from cystic fibrosis. She felt encouraged by William Barclay’s statement that “endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.”48 In the case he recounts, as with many others, there was no opportunity for the young woman’s afflictions to make her faith stronger and to bring greater maturity. Death was howling at the door. She was joined in her suffering by friends and family. For some their own faith was undoubtedly bolstered by the courageous faith of this woman dying in pain; others, just as assuredly, had their faith shaken. None, however, would miss the evidence of the frail world in which we live.

Suffering for the gospel gives us the opportunity to participate in Christ’s sufferings. In one sense this may be the opportunity no one ever asks for, yet the testimony of the New Testament is clear on this point, from Jesus (Matt. 5:10–12; Luke 14:26), to Paul (Rom. 5:3; Phil. 3:10; Col. 1:24), to Peter (1 Pet. 2:19–25; 3:8–4:19), to the author of Hebrews (Heb. 11:32–40). We should count it all joy when we are called upon to suffer for Christ. This idea is counterintuitive to our natural thought and is the polar opposite of the RP. Under the RP, suffering is considered the judgment of God for evil. The New Testament turns suffering into a joyful means of being “in Christ.” But this cannot be used to refurbish the RP—being in Christ gives us a response to suffering, not the reason for it.

We should further note that when God, in his wisdom decided to use a long process to bring order to the cosmos and to humanity and thereby chose to have a world with continuing disorder and resultant suffering, he also chose the world in which Jesus would have to suffer and die. His wisdom might seem foolishness to some (1 Cor. 1:18–21), but it includes suffering in a disordered world moving toward order.

Contemporary Significance

WE BEGAN THIS CHAPTER with a brief allusion to Waiting for Godot. In that work Godot never arrived, but in the book of Job, God did. Godot has been interpreted as a thinly disguised trope for God (among many other things). The play is an exercise in the absurd, and “nothing” is a key theme. Everywhere they look, the characters find “nothing”—a commentary on life in general and on the search for God in particular. Both main characters confess they know little to nothing about Godot, but they expect to recognize him when they see him. The play is punctuated by a false Godot (Pozzo, in several guises) and by a messenger who assures the waiting pair that Godot will indeed arrive shortly. In the messenger’s second appearance, we are told that Godot does nothing and perhaps wears a long white beard.

If the play is viewed in relation to the book of Job, Pozzo could represent several different perspectives on God. He is not the Godot the characters are waiting for, but he is mistaken for him. In his first appearance, he keeps his slave on a leash, as God might be thought to treat humankind. In this guise, Pozzo is all talk and eats grandly, but has little to share with the two who are waiting and hungry. In his second appearance, he is blind and led by his slave—a picture reminiscent of a blind god created by humankind and totally at their disposal. Commentators have noticed that Pozzo’s slave, Lucky, is consistently the one in charge. He is the one who thinks, and he meets the needs of Pozzo. This image is reminiscent of what we have called the Great Symbiosis in the ancient Near East.49 Lucky dances and thinks on Pozzo’s command, and that is how some would consider humanity’s relationship to God, as puppets on a string. Like Lucky, we are on a long rope, totally controlled, but actually in charge in subtle ways.

I am not suggesting that Samuel Beckett meant to present these ideas in his play, only that when we read Job and Godot together, we may observe ways in which they align. The book of Job wants to correct the misconceptions about God to which we are so prone. God is not the do-nothing with the white beard who beats his servants; he is not the conceited Pozzo, incapable of thinking for himself, with humanity (whom he needs) dancing at the end of a leash; he is not the blind Pozzo totally controlled by his slave; and he is not the unknown, ever-awaited character who is forever offstage and disappointing in his absence.

We easily caricature God and construct our worldview around our misconceptions, as do the characters in both Godot and Job. Godot never arrives, and therefore no correctives are ever offered for the characters’ perspectives. How is it different when Yahweh actually does arrive? How should Yahweh’s speeches affect our misguided perspectives?

How Should We Think about God?

IN BRIDGING CONTEXTS I suggested that the book of Job is not intended to bring comfort to the suffering, but to bring understanding that might prevent us from simply blaming God. The alternative is to trust God, and the book gives us a focus for our faith. Too often we focus our faith on believing that God will heal, relieve our suffering, or protect us from pain. Sometimes our faith lies in the belief that God will somehow come to us and give us explanations. Other times we place our faith in our ability to force our experiences into a coherent, meaningful narrative. All these approaches are unrealistic. Our faith should be directed toward embracing an all-wise God and asking him for help to live well before him regardless of our plight in this world that continues to display both order and disorder.

We should recognize, then, that the book of Job does not seek to explain God to us—such an endeavor would be impossible, as the book demonstrates. The book instead exposes our false and misguided ideas about God, the world, and suffering. It does not replace the rejected concepts with a comprehensive list of particulars, but simply gives direction for thinking. If we can avoid the standard list of misperceptions and begin moving in the right direction, the book will have achieved its purpose.

Should we expect God to speak to us as he eventually did to Job? I suggest that this should not be our goal—the book has told us what he would say. The fulfillment of Job’s hopes that God would come and speak took shape in a manner far different than he imagined. First, God came in wrath—that is not the sort of appearance most of us desire. Second, we again note that God did not answer Job’s questions. If we ask whether Job was satisfied with God’s resolution of his requests, I suspect the answer would be no. Finally, recall that I have suggested that much in Job is part of a “thought experiment” (see Introduction, pp. 26–27). If this is so, we need not think of God’s appearance to Job as a precedent for our crises. The book does not offer paradigms for how God regularly acts. It does not give us a guide for what our experience might look like, but it tries to shape our thinking as we face suffering. Through the book, then, we have come to know God better by eliminating incorrect thinking.

How Should We Think about the World?

THE BOOK OF JOB has indicated our need to realize that the world is not set up to operate in accordance with God’s attribute of justice (or any other constant principle). This realization, however, does not mean that we should cease pursuing justice. When God created human beings in his image, he gave them the charge to “subdue and rule.”50 One of the ways in which we do so is by seeking to establish justice and thus bring increased order to the world. God established sufficient order for us to exist in this world, but he did not complete the task—he gave it to us, his stewards, to continue. We cannot bring order to the macrocosm, though technology has made considerable advances over the centuries as we have learned to harness our environment. Technology is helping us to bring order out of disorder (though since we are wielding it, it can also create further disorder). More importantly, we can seek to bring order by establishing justice in society. This also is a task that God assigned from early times (Gen. 9:6), though also one that cannot be fully achieved.

Justice in the cosmos and in society is therefore our objective, not our experience. We must keep this distinction in mind when we face the results of living in an unjust world: Suffering is inevitable, and it does not discriminate.51 Disorder is not to be thought of as “Chaos”—that is, a personified horror (whether as a flawed conception of God or an anti-God devil). Chaos simply represents an unfinished creation. It is unfinished by plan, not by negligence or incompetence. Humanity is a work in progress; each of us individually is a work in progress; and the cosmos is likewise a work in progress. Suffering is the by-product of our in-progress state, and new creation is the denouement of God’s ongoing creative activity.

How Should We Respond to Suffering?

WHAT DOES A PROPER response to suffering look like “on the ground”? I find it interesting that Job never addresses a prayer to God, asking him to deliver or save, though that likely would have been our first inclination.52 Its absence should not be taken as a tacit suggestion that such a response is misguided, but if the book is offering strategies, it is noteworthy that this particular strategy is lacking. Neither Job nor the Bible as a whole suggests that the standard sequence is suffering-prayer-healing. We might notice that even the Lord’s Prayer contains no prayers for healing or relief from suffering—only that we not be tempted and that we seek God’s kingdom.53

Areas of temptation might easily include being tempted to think wrongly about God or about our suffering. Instead, we seek God’s kingdom. We do so in at least two ways: first, by seeking to live well even during times of suffering so that we might bring honor to him; and second, by patiently waiting in faith for the new creation. Others could be added. For example, we continually seek God’s kingdom by trying to establish justice and relieve the suffering of others. Our prayers certainly can request relief, but more importantly they should focus on how we respond to our suffering. We should be praying, “Lord, use this to help me become more trusting, more dependent on you, more patient with others, more aware of my weaknesses, and more full of grace rather than bitterness.” We must use our suffering to push us nearer to Christ rather than allowing it to drive us away from God. As Simone Weil observes, “The extreme greatness of Christianity lies in the fact that it does not seek a supernatural remedy for suffering, but a supernatural use for it.”54

The book argues against looking to the past to find reasons. That does not mean that there are never reasons for suffering that might need to be recognized. Sometimes we suffer the consequences of bad choices, and we need to acknowledge that and make changes. Overall, however, we are not encouraged to immerse ourselves in anguish over what may have caused our suffering. We definitely should not assume that if we are suffering, we must have done something to deserve it. People are often prone to respond to suffering with the question, “Why me?” I would propose that it is when we have not suffered or when we are unexpectedly granted relief from suffering that we should pose the puzzled question, “Why me?”

If we shouldn’t expect explanations or relief, what should we expect? We should expect that God is able to sustain us through suffering and even strengthen us through it. We please and honor God by trusting him in faith. We find purpose in suffering if we allow it to draw us closer to him in dependence instead of driving us further from him (though this should not be confused with ultimate cause or treated as a reason). We serve and honor God by being people of faith and helping others who might also be suffering to find the same solutions.

Kelly’s Story55

JHW: HAVE YOU DEVELOPED your own “theology of suffering” in light of your experiences? What does it look like?

Kelly: I would say, in light of my experiences and the opportunities I have had to look into this topic on a deeper level, that yes, I have developed such a theology—or maybe it is more accurate to state that I have adopted one that was already created. My theology with suffering starts with trusting God. From that follows knowing that God is good and God loves us. Those are statements that, even though they sound clichéd, were some of the core beliefs I struggled accepting with my whole heart, as you saw over the course of my story. I continually challenged God and viewed my experiences in a way that, if you boil it down, meant that I did not trust God or believe that he loved me.

So if I start the foundation of my theology with those three things—trusting God, acknowledging that God is good, and believing that God loves us—then I know my foundation is solid. As you noted, I acknowledge that there are biblical examples of when God brought about suffering to bring judgment or teach his people something, but I do not believe we can use those examples to draw a conclusion that says: “If there is suffering, then God brought it upon them as judgment or pruning.” Rather, we live in a fallen world where things don’t always work out; to be more specific, I live in a fallen world where a car accident occurred leaving me with an incredibly painful disability that doctors have failed to solve, despite their efforts.

I know God has the power to intercede, which at times is the part I still wrestle with. That is where trusting him comes into play. I have to trust God and accept that he is good even when I do not understand. I may not understand the purpose or why God didn’t choose to intercede in different parts of my story, but I do know he has used my experiences to teach me something about wisdom and perspective, and to draw me closer to him in a way that he never could have if I hadn’t gone through the experiences I did.

So I don’t know if I’d state that this is my own theology on suffering; rather, it may be an assortment of what I believe to be wise and true teachings from people in my life that I respect. I have had the honor to discuss these questions regarding God and suffering, which are questions that Christians and non-Christians struggle with alike.

The book of Job serves the purpose of providing training for the mind so we can be prepared for suffering and crises. When musicians prepare for a recital or concert, they engage in many long hours of practice. A pianist trains her fingers to know the music so that when it is time for the concert, they go through the right movements subconsciously. If the pianist has to think about each transition and each fingering, the recital will not be a success. The body must be trained to act instinctively. Such a feat can only be accomplished through mental and physical discipline.

The book of Job is intended to function like the scales and finger exercises that a pianist has to practice endlessly so that the concert pieces may be played with skill. The book of Job is not the musical score itself that serves as a script, and we do not turn to this book as a resource to walk us through our suffering. Job is the practice material that prepares us for the performance. We assimilate its truths now so that we will be mentally and spiritually prepared for suffering when it comes. Sight-reading music the day of the concert dooms one to failure. The book does not give us a step-by-step guide to ensure a flawless performance; instead, it gives us the tools necessary to prepare for a respectable performance. How embarrassing it would be to play a piece in the wrong key, or in three-four time when it should be four-four.

As I was writing these final chapters a number of situations unfolded in the lives of family members—serious illnesses, lost jobs, emotional stresses. As I interacted with them in their crises, I searched back in my mind through what I had written in the pages of this commentary to see how I could offer comfort. I came up empty, because the book offers no comfort to the suffering. Comfort would have to consist of explanations or hope, and neither of those is intended by the author. The book offers theological guidance, not an instrument for psychological, emotional, or spiritual counseling. I use the book to help me think right and well so I am prepared for suffering; I have not discovered how to use it to respond to people’s needs when trouble strikes.

In summary, then:

1. Wisdom, not justice, is the foundation of how God has set up the world. Disorder exists alongside order, and we must trust God’s wisdom and rely on him in faith when we experience disorder.

2. Our expectations in life should not be based on the RP. We can follow the advice found in Ecclesiastes: Live as if the RP is true, but don’t expect it to work out consistently in experience (my summary of the thrust of Eccl. 8–9).

3. Purpose, not cause, should be the focus of our attention when we face difficult times. This is the direction that Jesus gives in John 9:3.

4. Above all, we must not underestimate God by imagining that we could do things better. Concluding that God is incompetent or less than what Scripture presents him as being is the first step to setting ourselves up as God—a transaction doomed to miserable failure.

All of this is inadequate and unsatisfying when we or our loved ones suffer, or when we are crushed by the suffering we see all around us. It is not meant to be satisfying but to drive us to faith. No explanation can suffice to alleviate our suffering, and no strategy can avoid or eliminate suffering, but, as Bonhoeffer observes, life with all its struggles, trials, and hardships is what develops us into people of faith:

I thought I could acquire faith by endeavoring to lead what might be termed a holy life…. Later I discovered, and am still discovering to this day, that one can acquire faith only by leading an entirely worldly [as opposed to other-worldly] life. If we renounce any attempt to make something of ourselves, be it saint or penitent sinner or churchman (a so-called priestly type!), be it a righteous or unrighteous, sick or healthy individual—and by worldliness I mean living amid the [world’s] abundance of duties and problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities—if we do that, we cast ourselves completely into the arms of God; we take seriously, not our own sufferings, but those of God in this world; and we share Christ’s vigil in Gethsemane. That, I believe, is faith, is metanoia, and that is how one becomes a human being and a Christian…. I’m thankful to have recognized this, and I know that I could only have done so on the road I have traveled. That is why I reflect with gratitude and serenity on things past and present.56

Bonhoeffer shows us that beyond faith and trust, what God asks of us is humility: humility about our ability to discern how the cosmos works, and humility about our ability to fully comprehend God and his ways.