Original Meaning

THIS THIRD SERIES OF speeches concludes the dialogue section. As we will see, the friends have much less to say: Bildad has only six verses and Zophar is silent, leaving Eliphaz to carry the main thrust of the sequence.

Eliphaz (Job 22)

ELIPHAZ’S OPENING LINE SETS the tone for the remainder of his speech as he targets the issue that Job has been holding as his defense. Unfortunately, the Hebrew is extremely difficult. If we follow the NIV translation, Eliphaz is suggesting that it doesn’t matter to God whether a person is righteous/blameless or not; God derives no benefit from moral behavior. This interpretation is out-of-character for Eliphaz and does not fit well with the rest of his speech. We are not surprised, then, at the numerous lexical, grammatical, and syntactical problems in verses 2 and 3.

A look at some of the major technical commentaries will confirm the uncertainties.

NIV: “Can a man be of benefit to God? Can even a wise man benefit him? What pleasure would it give the Almighty if you were righteous? What would he gain if your ways were blameless?”

Habel: “Can a hero endanger El? or a sage endanger the Ancient One? Is it a favor to Shaddai if you are righteous, or his gain if you perfect your ways?”

Hartley: “Can a man benefit God, that a wise man should be in harmony with him? What asset is it to Shaddai that you are innocent, or gain that you claim that your ways are blameless?”

Clines: “Can a human be profitable to God? Can even a sage benefit him? Is it an asset to the Almighty if you are righteous? Does he gain if your conduct is blameless?”

I would propose the following translation:

“Can a wise mediator do any good for a human being [serving] on behalf of God? Can such a mediator bring a human any benefit? Will God respond favorably when you justify yourself? Will there be a gain when you give full account of your ways?”1

In 22:2–3 Eliphaz is in effect saying, “A mediator will do you no good; your proposed lawsuit would have no chance of success.” In 22:4 this rhetoric is continued with: “Is it for your piety that he argues his case against you?” Of course not! Circumstances have made it clear to Eliphaz that Job has no piety, so he should not press this lawsuit idea or expect that it would succeed if he did manage to get a hearing. Eliphaz concludes his point in 22:5 with the rhetorical question that offers the alternative: “[Instead] isn’t your wickedness great?” This then leads to the enumeration of Job’s many sins (all presumed, not observed).

In 22:6–9 we find the friends’ only attempt to accuse Job of specific sins. The list alleges injustice toward three vulnerable classes: the debtor (22:6), the hungry/thirsty (22:7–8), and the widow/orphan (22:9). We know that these are generic offenses (rather than demonstrably Israelite in nature) from the standpoint of ancient Near Eastern legal texts that regularly address the obligations of society to care for these vulnerable people.

Knowing that the accusations of injustice are speculative and unfounded, we must also question the validity of Eliphaz’s claims concerning Job’s speech. In 22:13 he alleges that Job has said, “What does God know? Does he judge through such darkness?” These do not match up with any words that Job has actually spoken, so we must take them as Eliphaz’s synthesis of what Job has “in effect” said. Such an inference could be made from 21:22: “Does he [the wicked man]2 teach knowledge on behalf of God, when he [God] is the one who judges even the highest?” This is one of the verses that I used as a comparison for 22:2, and on the basis of which I offered my alternate translation. The reference to judging (špṭ) the highest (ramim) in 21:22 and to the lofty (rmm) stars and God’s judging (špṭ) in 22:12–13 support my comparison.

This suggests that there is a further connection between the wicked teaching knowledge in 21:22 and questioning what God knows in 22:13. In 21:13–16, the wicked enjoy the fruits of their wickedness, but in 21:22 Job claims that they cannot communicate information regarding divine judgment because God judges universally and impartially.3 Job thus asserts that the defiant prosperity of the wicked should not be interpreted as a reflection of God’s policies, which are too complex to be sorted out (21:23–26). Yet 21:31–33 suggest that (in Job’s mind) God is shirking his duties. These statements would lead Eliphaz to assert that Job has accused God of overlooking the wicked. Such an affirmation does not indicate an underlying deism, because Job has already indicated in 7:17–21 that God was, at the same time, paying too much attention to him.

As Eliphaz continues his discourse, we see further connections to Job’s last speech. In 22:15 he is urging Job not to think that he can follow the path of the wicked that Job has just described. His comments in 22:17–18 contain the same wording that Job attributes to the wicked in 21:14–16.4

In 22:21 Eliphaz begins his exhortation to Job and picks up the verb skn (“submit”) that he used in 22:2, except now it is in the Hiphil stem.5 Based on a cognate in the Akkadian letters from Amarna and the contexts of the three biblical passages where this form occurs, it is likely that the verb signifies showing awareness, taking an informed position, paying attention—engaging with someone.6 If this is so, Eliphaz advises Job to pay attention to God—to reengage with him and stop arguing.7 Eliphaz’s understanding of reengaging with God is, however, far different from Job’s understanding.

Concluding his final speech, Eliphaz turns from his exhortation to the anticipated results. Here he emphasizes restored favor with God (22:25–27) but with the twist that renewed favor will put Job in a position to influence God. This is a more subtle temptation for Job to respond in anticipation of benefits, rather than retain righteousness for righteousness’ sake (as Job has maintained all along). The lure of possessions has now been displaced by the lure for power: “Think of all the good you can do!” We see the ironic contrast between Eliphaz’s prognosis here (Job’s influence with God will enable him to help the downcast) and his previous accusation (that Job has abused this same class of people).

The last verse (22:30) is unfortunately problematic. The NIV follows the primary and traditional path, indicating that Job could even deliver the one who is “not innocent” (ʾi-naqi). Though ʾi is not used as a negative particle elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, it is known from postbiblical Hebrew and other Semitic cognate languages (e.g., Phoenician and Ethiopic).8 It is curious that the author uses this awkward construction rather than one of the many available words for “guilty.” This oddity has caused many commentators to propose textual emendations, none of which are particularly persuasive.9 If we retain the meaning of “where” (established in 1 Sam. 4:21), we might surmise that Eliphaz refers to a category of individuals who are caught in the legal system. Accused of guilt and unable to establish innocence (not unlike Job), this person’s reputation and integrity have come under suspicion. Perhaps Eliphaz is suggesting, then, that when Job is restored, he could help people who are suffering the same thing he has endured. Presumably he could urge them to return to God, just as Eliphaz has urged him.

Job (Job 23–24)

IN JOB 23 JOB ponders his status before God. He is torn between optimistic confidence (23:6b–7, 10) and frustrated attempts at justification (23:8–9). He is filled with continuing plans for his legal defense (23:4–5) and affirmations of his righteousness (23:11–12). Both his suffering (23:1) and his terror of God (23:13–17) remain.

In chapter 24 Job turns his attention to the injustice in the world as he wonders why God does not respond. Many of Job’s friends predicted the inevitable doom of the wicked. In Job 21 Job elaborated on the prosperity of the wicked—a situation that seemed to him unfair. His charge against God progresses from “unfair” to “unjust”10 as he enumerates the many ways in which the wicked oppress the vulnerable. In Job 1 the narrator noted that Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing (1:21); in contrast, Job here complains, “God charges no one with wrongdoing” (24:12).

Job 24:13–17 identifies the characteristics of those who love the dark (“rebel against the light”). Murderers, adulterers, and thieves comprise the three categories of offenders (reflecting commandments 6–8 in the Decalogue, though that is not Job’s referent).

In light of 24:12c, Job’s continuing speech in 24:18–25 seems problematic. Job has not yet elaborated the coming judgment of the wicked. For this reason, many commentators attribute this speech to one of the friends (especially Zophar, who has no last speech).11 If the speech truly does belong in the mouth of Job, it would confirm that he still clings to the RP in theory, in spite of general observation and his own experiences, which do not bear it out. Job’s claim of disinterested righteousness rests on his commitment to the RP, insofar as it is the RP that distinguishes between righteousness for its own sake and righteousness for reward. Without the RP there is no “interested righteousness,” for no gain could be expected or anticipated.

We have mentioned already that the Hebrew of the book of Job is the most difficult in the Old Testament; worse still, this section of Job 24 is often considered the most obscure in this book. Before exploring specific lexical issues, we must address the sometimes confusing use of singulars and plurals in this section.

Singular/plural in 24:13–24. Readers comparing translations will notice some variability on the representation of singulars and plurals throughout this section. The difficulty of the section is partly responsible for this, but gender policies also come into play as translations seek to avoid gender-specific pronouns when gender is not the issue. To sort out the interpretation of the section, we need to sort out the use of singular and plural forms.

Job 24:13 uses the plural to introduce a group of criminals who operate at night. Singulars are used to discuss two criminal classes: the murderer (24:14) and the adulterer (24:15). A third class, those who break into houses, returns to the plural. All of these criminals are again grouped together using plural forms in 24:17–19, and at the end they are collectively referred to in the plural as sinners.

In 24:20 the text introduces a second category of unsavory character, using a singular abstract noun to represent a stereotype (ʿawlah).12 This word was discussed in the treatment of Job 13:7 (pp. 177–78), where I proposed that this noun essentially signifies misrepresentation. In that same vein, but in contrast to the outright criminals of 24:13–19, Job here describes those in positions of power who pretend to be ethical but who actually oppress and manipulate others. Just as 24:14 used singular forms to identify specific types from the larger class of criminals, so 24:21 uses singular forms to identify typical behaviors of these powerful tyrants.13 These include the individual who preys on the vulnerable (24:21) as well as the individual who manipulates the aristocracy (24:22).

In conclusion, the text uses the plural forms of 24:24 to summarize the destiny that awaits these tyrants as a group, just as it used the plurals to summarize the previous group in 24:18–19.

Lexical issues. Job’s characterization of the wicked in 24:13–20 shows that he is not at all tempted to imitate them, and he has repeatedly refused to identify himself as one of them. He neither admits to personal deficiencies nor abandons his commitment to righteousness. That path has no future. In 24:21 the wicked are the ones who do what Eliphaz had accused Job of doing (22:9)—victimizing the vulnerable. As we have seen in previous chapters, Job continues to characterize the ways of the wicked in deplorable terms.

Up to this point we have seen nothing that would be out of place in Job’s mouth or in the flow of his argument. Job would not hesitate to suggest that the wicked die like everyone else. A problem would occur only if Job specifically refers to God’s judgment of the wicked, because he has been denying this all along (24:12, “God charges no one with wrongdoing”). Job 24:22 (NIV: “God drags away the mighty”) poses just such a potential contradiction. It is therefore important to note that the subject of 24:22 is not specified in the Hebrew text; “God” has been supplied by the translators. After a detailed analysis of verses 22–23 we must reconsider whether this is the best choice.

umašak ʾabbirim bekoḥo yaqum weloʾ-yaʾamin baḥayyin.

yitten-lo labeṭaḥ weyiššaʿen weʿenehu ʿal-darkehem.

NIV: But God drags away the mighty by his power; though they become established, they have no assurance of life. He may let them rest in a feeling of security, but his eyes are on their ways.

The addition of “God” as the subject in verse 22 is followed in most all translations and commentaries.14 This single factor causes these statements to sound foreign to the mouth of Job. I propose it is unnecessary either to supply “God” as the subject or to significantly emend the text to arrive at a suitable translation. I suggest the following paraphrase for 24:22–23:

He (a wicked person) uses his power to draw along the mighty; he rises (to positions of influence), but his life is in constant jeopardy. Though he has provided for his own security, he has to keep his eyes on them (the mighty) all the time.15

In this analysis, Job observes that wickedness offers no advantage, but he does not suggest that the wicked are called to account by God. They fall prey to their own schemes and to their own mortality. This sort of statement would not be out of place in the mouth of Job.

Bildad (Job 25)

BILDAD’S LAST SPEECH IS only six verses long. This brevity is defensible in light of his entrenched traditionalism, which, at this point in the dialogue, has reduced him to platitudinous reiteration of his major salient points: God is unimaginably great; humans are intrinsically flawed and, in the grand scheme of things, are of little consequence.16 He believes in an ordered world, and as we have seen previously, that order is founded on the RP.

Job (Job 26–27)

AFTER INTRODUCTORY COMMENTS FILLED with biting sarcasm (26:1–4), Job launches into another of his hymnic orations of God’s cosmic power (see 9:4–10) that extends through the remainder of the chapter and leads to the statement of his final position in ch. 27. God is never mentioned by name in the Hebrew text of this hymn (v. 6 has only a pronoun), though the chapter is full of activities that can only be attributed to God.17

Job 26:5–6. These verses describe the dead and the netherworld. The subject of the first sentence is the group known as the repaʾim (NIV: “dead”). This is the word used occasionally in the Hebrew Bible for the shades of the dead18 and more specifically in Ugaritic for the shades of perhaps deified royal ancestors.19 It is more difficult to understand what engages the Rephaim in their dwelling place beneath the sea. The translation “deep anguish” (NIV) is based on an identification of the verbal form (yeḥolalu) as a Polal of the root ḥyl; all the other uses of this form in biblical Hebrew describe the writhing of a woman in labor. The Akkadian myth The Descent of Ishtar to the Underworld recounts Ishtar’s passage through the seven gates of the netherworld. As each gate opens for her, Ishtar is required to forfeit another piece of her garments of splendor and power until at last she is left naked. Even so, Ereshkigal, the queen of the netherworld, trembles (Akkad. raʾābu)20 at her presence.21

It is intriguing to see all of these elements (the opening of the netherworld, nakedness, and trembling) grouped together in both Job and the The Descent, but the contexts are very different. In Enuma Elish one of the fifty names of Marduk is Nari-lugal-dimmer-ankia, which designates him as the one who set up the dwelling places for the various levels of deity. It is said that at his name, “the gods shall tremble and quake in their dwellings.”22 From these examples we see that it is common to praise a deity as one at whose name or presence other beings of power tremble fearfully.

The phrase “beneath the waters” (mittaḥat mayim) uses the same terms as Genesis 1:7 (hammayim ʾašer mittaḥat laraqiaʿ) to reference the cosmic waters. One can also enter the netherworld through these waters, not just through the grave (Job 38:16–17; Jon. 2:2[3]). The dead (both the Rephaim and the other inhabitants) live beneath the cosmic waters because Sheol is deeper than anything. Even as the most awesome tremble in God’s presence, the most mysterious, Sheol and Abaddon (here used in synonymous parallelism), are subject to his scrutiny and control (see NIV text note). “Abaddon” is used only four other times in the Old Testament (Job 28:22; 31:12; Ps. 88:11[12]; Prov. 15:11), but that it refers to the place of the dead is clear enough from its contexts and its association with known cognate roots.

It is unclear how these verses connect to Job 26:7–13, in that the latter verses refer to creation events in primordial time—probably not the time frame for 26:5–6. The other alternative is that 26:5–6 continue the sarcasm of the previous verses. Job has referenced some anonymous source for Bildad’s supposed words of wisdom. As mentioned above, the NIV, along with most others, has provided “God” as the subject of discussion in the first line of 26:6, but the Hebrew text has only a third masculine singular suffix on the preposition. Theoretically, then, the “him” could be this unnamed source. Even the mighty ones in the netherworld are simply quivering over the wisdom of this wellspring, and in fact, all the mysteries of death and the netherworld are like an open book to this dynamo. I suggest this only tentatively as an alternative consideration.23 The switch to participial forms discussing primordial time in 26:7 would then indicate when God becomes the unspecified but self-evident subject.

Job 26:7. If we follow the traditional understanding of 26:5–6, the hymn moves from God’s control of the realm of the dead and powerful spiritual or cosmic creatures to his control of the upper cosmos. The cosmic geography expressed in 26:7 has attracted considerable attention, since some have asserted that it reflects some modern, scientific models that conceive of the earth suspended in space.24 Careful attention, however, shows this not to be the case. The key terms to explore are tohu (NIV: “empty space”) and belyi-mah (NIV: “nothing”).

Tohu is used twenty times—more than half in Isaiah (mostly Isa. 40–49,25 with the other occurrences scattered between Job [3x]26 and Gen. 1:2; Deut. 32:10; 1 Sam. 12:21; Ps. 107:40; Jer. 4:23). Elsewhere I have argued that tohu refers to that which is nonfunctional.27 Genesis 1:2 begins by describing everything as tohu, and as creation unfolds, God assigns function. Egyptian literature describes the nonfunctional as nonexistent; just as it categorizes the desert as nonexistent (nonfunctional), so too the Hebrew Bible characterizes the desert as tohu (Deut. 32:10; Job 6:18; 12:24; Ps. 107:40; Isa. 24:10; 45:19). Just as the Egyptian pharaoh discuss the doom of those they destroy in terms of nonexistence, Hebrew uses tohu to talk about the destruction of order and civilization (cf. Jer. 4:23). Job 26:7 is the best example of tohu as a reference to nonfunctional cosmic realms. None of the uses of tohu suggest anything about form or its absence. Whether speaking of geographical areas, nations, cities, people, or idols, tohu refers to that which is nonproductive, nonfunctional, of no purpose. These conclusions are fully supported by the contexts and by the words used in parallel.

The usage in Ugaritic28 resembles the Hebrew passages that reference a trackless waste, but, significantly, in the Ugaritic passage thw is used parallel to ym, the sea. All of this suggests that neither “trackless” nor “waste” are the most germane operative concepts; the Egyptian concept of “nonexistence” more accurately conveys the sense.

This connection is particularly intriguing in Job 26:7: noṭeh ṣapon ʿal-tohu toleh ʾereṣ ʿal- beliy-mah. Hebrew uses the word ṣapon for “north”; however, the significance of the word lies not in its orientation with the points of the compass, but in its use as a reference to Zaphon, the sacred mountain known from Ugaritic literature.29 In Canaanite mythology, this mountain is the location of Baal’s palace and (in their cosmic geography) was probably the center of the world. Typically the ancients pictured the cosmic mountain, like the alternate image of the cosmic tree, with its foundations in the netherworld and its heights in the heavens. As such, it marks the meeting place of heaven and earth. The cosmic mountain also served as the convening place for the assembly of the gods and was thus their dwelling place (heaven).

The author’s use of the verb “spreads out” (noṭeh) suggests that he is talking about “the heavens,” since this verb usually takes “heaven” as its object in biblical cosmology contexts.30 If that is the case, we can understand tohu as a reference to the “nonexistent” (= nonordered, nonfunctional) cosmic waters above, over which the heavens were stretched (cf. Ps. 104:2–3).31

In Job 26:7 tohu parallels the unique phrase beliy-mah.32 Most commentators consider the latter a reference to the void—that is, the matterless space in which earth is suspended. This interpretation largely derives from our modern material ontology, which is concerned with the material. The ancients, however, were more concerned with functions.33 In the context of Job and the ancient Near East, the statement makes more sense when compared to the cosmology underlying the Egyptian sense of the nonexistent, referring to that which lacks function.34

The verb in the second clause, “suspends” (tlh), most often refers to a form of execution (“hanged,” Gen. 40:19, 22; 41:13; Deut. 21:22–23; Josh. 8:29; 10:26; 2 Sam. 4:12; 18:10; often in Esther). In many of these references, tlh occurs in collocation with the preposition ʿal (as in Job 26), nearly always with the object ʾeṣ (tree, or, more likely, wooden pole/pike, since in ancient practice the corpse was impaled as a means of exposure and a denial of proper burial). These cases would be better translated “suspended on” (not “over”). Four other contexts use the combination tlh ʿal (2 Sam. 4:12, to hang next to; Song 4:4, to affix shields to a wall; Isa. 22:24, to bear the family honor; Ezek. 15:3, to hang on a peg).

With all the difficult words in this verse, one might think that at least the word “earth” (ʾereṣ) is straightforward—but unfortunately this is not the case. Though the word means earth in hundreds of passages, in a few instances (both from the Hebrew Bible and from ancient Near Eastern cognate languages) it can also refer to the netherworld.35 I favor the translation “netherworld” here instead of “earth,” primarily because this poem does not begin discussing the earth until verse 10 (see discussion there). Furthermore, the netherworld would be more appropriate as the opposite extreme of Zaphon. Support for “earth,” however, could be found in passages that speak of the earth as “founded on the waters” (cf. Ps. 24:1; 136:6).

From this profile we conclude that Job 26:7 indicates what the ʾereṣ is suspended on. In the ancient functional ontology, people saw the earth/netherworld as suspended on the functionless cosmic waters below,36 parallel to the heaven stretched out over the upper cosmic waters. This understanding finds support in early versions (such as the Targum) when the material ontology was not quite so firmly established: “Over the water without anything supporting it.”37 This is not to say that tohu and beliy-mah are actually words for the waters above and waters below. Rather, they describe the nonexistent, and the cosmic waters fit into the category of the nonexistent.38

Job 26:8. The imagery of cloud-enveloped waters likewise fits the ideas current in the ancient world; note in Enuma Elish 5.49, “[Marduk] collected it and rolled it into clouds.”39 An Assyrian artifact in the British Museum provides our only graphic representation of this phenomenon. It depicts the winged deity with drawn bow in the skies, flanked by bags containing hail or rain.40 The two words for “cloud” used in this verse (ʿab and ʿann) both occur commonly. The former occurs mostly in poetic texts to describe dense rain clouds (of the cumulus varieties) rather than the wispy cirrus type.41 This term is used most often in theophanies, accompanied by imagery associated with the storm god, the divine warrior who rides on the clouds (e.g., Isa. 19:1).

The second noun, ʿann, occurs more often in prose contexts. Many of its eighty-seven occurrences refer to the pillar of cloud in the wilderness and the cloud of Yahweh’s presence in sacred space.42 It is used in reference to meteorological phenomena only a few times.43 This noun often describes clouds that obscure or shroud something in contrast to clouds that bring the blessing of rain or the threat of storm. Aside from Job 26, ʿab and ʿann occur together only two other times: Exodus 19:9 (odd combination of the two in construct relationship: beʿab heʿanan, “in the storm cloud of the cloud cover”) and Isaiah 44:22 (both metaphorical references to sins). The point of their inclusion in Job 26 is largely self-evident as it speaks of God’s control: He does not allow the bags to burst under the weight of the water.

Job 26:9. This verse begins with a familiar verbal root ʾḥz; however, this particular form (the Piel, D stem) occurs nowhere else in the Old Testament. The Akkadian cognate aḫāzu may offer helpful comparison; it shares a similar semantic range with the Hebrew root ʾḥz, and it does have attested uses of the D stem (uḫḫuzu), which may eventually assist us. The noun (kisseh) that serves as direct object of ʾḥz is equally problematic. The NIV has followed a medieval tradition in reading this as a reference to the full moon (from noun keseʾ; see Ps. 81:3[4]; Prov. 7:20).44 Other interpreters have chosen another emendation, kisseʾ, a word commonly translated “throne.”45 At least one Akkadian text uses the verb uḫḫuzu to describe the adorning (edging) of a throne with special stone; based on this occurrence, I would be inclined to translate verse 9 as: “the one edging the surface of [his] throne by spreading his cloudbank over it.”46 The word translated “spread” is not a Hebrew verb (four radicals, pršz) but I believe this rendering is still the best guess.47

Job 26:10. God’s power over the sea is a familiar theme in poetic literature, both in reference to creation and to the deliverance at the Red Sea. The following passages speak of the sea’s cosmic boundaries:

But at your rebuke the waters fled,

at the sound of your thunder they took to flight;

they flowed over the mountains,

they went down into the valleys,

to the place you assigned for them.

You set a boundary they cannot cross;

never again will they cover the earth. (Ps. 104:7–9)

I was there when he set the heavens in place,

when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep,

when he established the clouds above

and fixed securely the fountains of the deep,

when he gave the sea its boundary

so the waters would not overstep his command,

and when he marked out the foundations of the earth. (Prov. 8:27–29)

I made the sand a boundary for the sea,

an everlasting barrier it cannot cross.

The waves may roll, but they cannot prevail;

they may roar, but they cannot cross it. (Jer. 5:22)

Who shut up the sea behind doors

when it burst forth from the womb,

when I made the clouds its garment

and wrapped it in thick darkness,

when I fixed limits for it

and set its doors and bars in place,

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

here is where your proud waves halt”? (Job 38:8–11)

Vocabulary similarities between the passages include the following:

• inscribe/decree (ḥoq) a limit (Job 28:10; 38:10; Prov. 8:27, 29; Jer. 5:22)

• barriers (doors and bars,48 Job 38:8, 10) that cannot be passed (Job 38:11; Prov. 8:29; Ps. 104:9; Jer. 5:22).

• set a boundary (gebul, Ps. 104:9; Jer. 5:22; taklit, Job 28:10)

• inscribe the circle (ḥug) of the earth (Job 26:10; Prov. 8:27; cf. also Isa. 40:22)

Though these verses indicate that God has established a boundary for the sea,49 it is not certain that Job 26:10 alludes to that event. The inscribed circle here (also in Prov. 8:27) is likely not the horizon, but the entire land disk—the earth. Isaiah 40:22 uses this same terminology (“circle of the earth”) to describe a disk rather than a sphere. Anyone who gets an unobstructed view of the horizon can easily see the circular shape of the earth, and this observation led the ancients to believe that heaven, earth, and netherworld were all disk-shaped.50 For example, the speaker in the Babylonian Hymn to Shamash proclaims: “You suspend the circle of the lands51 from the center of the sky.” In Job 26 and Proverbs 8 the earth is inscribed as a boundary between heaven and the deep (or netherworld), not between the land and the sea.52 This is precisely what is said in the second half of Job 26:10—the land-disk forms the boundary between light and darkness; when the sun passed under the earth into the netherworld, there was darkness.

Job 26:11. This verse contains the only reference in the Old Testament to “the pillars of the heavens” (but see “pillars” of earth in Job 9:6). Just as the earth is supported by pillars, so too are the heavens—or, more specifically, the dome of heaven. The pillars may refer to mountains, since some mountains were believed to intersect the sky and perhaps hold it up. Ancient Near Eastern texts from Mesopotamia (e.g., Enuma Elish) make no mention of what holds up the sky. Egyptian iconography portrays the sky god Shu holding up the heavens from earth, while Pyramid Text 1040c says that the mountains hold up the sky.53

In the context of Job 26, why do these pillars “quake” (rpp)54 and stand “aghast” (tmh)?55 What is the “rebuke” (gʿrh) all about? Judging from other Old Testament cosmological passages, the rebuke is most likely directed against the sea. The sense of the verbal root includes rebuke, reprimand, and threat. It is likely onomatopoetic (sounding like a snarl or growl).56 The sea retreats at God’s rebuke.57 This action creates a natural transition into the next verses.

Job 26:12–13. Here Job continues his hymnic description of God’s primordial ordering of the cosmos. The churning (rgʿ) of the sea has been generally considered an element of the typical mythical scene in which the restless cosmic ocean disturbs the creatures (monsters, beasts) that represent chaos and disorder. For instance, in Enuma Elish, Anu creates the four winds that stir up Tiamat.58 Bringing this understanding to Job, the cosmic creature Rahab (discussed in connection to Job 9:13, p. 171) is roused by the agitation of the sea. God’s power enables him to stir up the sea, but it is his understanding (tebunah) that gives him victory. This same understanding enabled him to set the heavens in place (Prov. 3:19; Jer. 10:12). M. Fox describes the word as skill expressed specifically in a functional capacity.59 The presence of this word might suggest that, regardless of our translation of the Hebrew verb mḥṣ, we ought to understand God’s action toward Rahab as a positive act of ordering rather than a negative act of destruction.60

In Enuma Elish, Marduk divides Tiamat’s body and uses the two halves to form the waters above and the waters below. The NIV’s translation of mḥṣ as “cutting in pieces” is problematic because most other uses of this verb are not this specific.61 Something more along the line of “smite” is more probable, given the other occurrences in the Old Testament and the usage in Ugaritic, as in the story of Baal and Mot, col 1, line 1: ktmḫṣ.ltn.bṭn.brḥ: “As you smote Litan, the fleeing servant.”62 Contexts suggest someone dealing a deathblow. We might well wonder how such smiting could be an act of ordering. One could propose that God’s understanding is involved because it takes specialized skill to dispatch a great cosmic creature like Rahab. This reading finds comparative support in the Akkadian stories Enuma Elish and The Tale of Anzu, wherein the victor god needs to possess special knowledge and weapons in order to defeat the chaos opponent.

To resolve the conundrum of this verse, I tentatively follow Clines in taking the verb rgʿ not as “churn” but as the rgʿ², “to still” (cf. Jer. 50:34).63 In this interpretation God stills the sea by his strength—and he does so by dealing a deathblow to Rahab (using his great skill). Thus, like all the other statements in the cosmological hymn, this is an act of bringing order, which particularly fits with the parallel defeat of “the gliding serpent” (naḥaš bariaḥ), another chaos creature mentioned in the next verse. Though we must observe the use of this word for serpent in Genesis 3, we should more importantly recognize the connection with Isaiah 27:1, where Leviathan is described as a naḥaš bariaḥ in a group of terms cataloguing chaos creatures. Note also the same phrasing in the Ugaritic text cited in the previous section. More difficult questions surround the first line of verse 13: “By his breath the skies became fair” (NIV). Most interpreters have understood that the line indicates God’s overcoming another chaos creature connected with storm. Thus in verse 12 he stills the sea and in verse 13 he calms the storm; both acts of ordering are accomplished by overcoming chaos creatures.64

Job 27:1–6. These verses are extremely significant, for they contain Job’s final response to the case of his friends, who have argued from the converse logic of the RP that if the wicked suffer, those who suffer must be wicked. By urging Job to confess blindly in order to regain prosperity, they have unwittingly become representatives of the Challenger.

The oath formula that begins Job’s speech, “As surely as God lives,” shows that Job is not simply making a serious statement but is delivering an ultimatum to his friends—further debate will be useless.

Job’s next two statements concern what God has done to him: “denied me justice” (Hiph. sur + mišpaṭ) and “made me taste bitterness of soul” (Hiph. mrr + nepeš). Though at one level they can be affirmed, these two statements summarize Job’s flawed view of God, which he has expressed before: God has not provided justice for Job (either in the initial strikes or in Job’s requests for legal proceedings), and God has caused his suffering. The flaw is not in the blunt facts (Job’s suffering at God’s hand), but in what he implies about God’s character as he reiterates those facts.

The first phrase uses the same root that described Job’s devotion in the early chapters of the book: He “shunned evil” (1:1). Here, however, God has caused justice to turn aside. In particular, Job probably means that God has denied him the right to defend himself in court. The second phrase resembles Naomi’s expression in Ruth 1:20, when she indicates that God has caused her calamities.

Job expresses his lifelong commitment in six phrases, each of which is discussed below.

• “My lips will not speak wickedness [ʿawlah].” The term used here has occurred at several key points in the book (see 24:20 and esp. 13:7). Job previously insisted that there was no wickedness on his lips (6:30). We have found that the word concerns misrepresentation, best describing one who is two-faced or hypocritical.

• “My tongue will utter no deceit [remiyyah].” This statement parallels the previous line. The two nouns ʿawlah and remiyyah were also used in parallel in 13:7, but there they concerned the friends’ depiction of God. Here Job uses them in reference to his own reputation. “Deceit” is a good translation. Job is insisting that his words align with his behavior.

• “I will never admit you are in the right [Hiph. ṣdq].” We have seen Job use this verb many times, referring to his righteousness or his desire to be vindicated, but this is the only time he uses the Hiphil form.65 In the Hiphil stem, this verb indicates an action of declaring someone righteous or innocent, legally acquitting them of guilt or blame. Job is refusing to allow that his friends have accurately assessed his character.

• “I will not deny my integrity [tmm].” This statement uses the vocabulary that has characterized Job since the first chapter; he has been proclaimed blameless or innocent at every turn. The verb used here also occurs in 27:2 (Hiph. sur). Though God has denied his rights, Job will not deny his integrity. It is important to reiterate that “integrity” is not an all-inclusive category. Job has not committed any sins that would explain or deserve his treatment, but this does not mean that he is free of all sin or offense. It also does not mean that his concept of God is wholly accurate or that he is justified in all of the accusations that he has hurled at God. Job has made mistakes in assessing the situation, but he has never given up his belief in the intrinsic value of disinterested righteousness. Had Job demonstrated that he was not primarily interested in righteousness for its own sake, he would have forfeited his integrity. If he had been willing to blindly confess to unknown crimes to regain his prosperity (as his friends suggested), that integrity would have been forfeited.

• “I will maintain my righteousness [ṣdq].” This line confirms the manner in which he is maintaining his integrity. He is neither clinging to his rights nor to his losses. He is not demanding restoration of his prosperity.

• “My conscience [heart] will not reproach me [ḥrp].” This verb occurs only five times in the Qal stem and can refer to a variety of denigrating taunts.66 Though none of the other occurrences feature the heart as the subject, this context makes Job’s assertion clear enough: His outward denials of wrongdoing do not contradict his inmost knowledge. He harbors no secret sins.

At a basic level, our interpretative task would have been simpler if Job had stopped after verse 6. Job 27:7–23 now sounds anticlimactic, and it is easy to see why some ascribe these verses to one of the friends. But our procedure has been to grapple with the text as it stands, and we will treat this section in that same way.

Job begins (27:7–10) by cursing his enemies, defined in 27:7b as those who stand (Hith. of qwm)67 against him. By this point in the book we might well imagine that Job counts his three “advisors” as enemies, in that they have opposed and condemned him. This understanding follows naturally from 27:1–6. Just as they have implicitly condemned him, he now does the same to them. Anyone who opposes him, a godly man, would naturally be considered godless (ḥanep)68—if the shoe fits….

In 27:11–12 he again addresses the friends directly. Job initially asked for their instruction (6:24), which they offered in the form of teaching (8:10). Now Job again turns the tables, assessing their instruction as nothing but “meaningless talk.” Here Job uses the term that forms the theme of Ecclesiastes (hebel). I interpret the word as referring to that which is incapable of bringing ultimate satisfaction or contentment.69

Job now returns to a discussion of God’s interaction with the wicked (27:13–23). Unlike his previous treatment of this topic (24:18–24), Job here specifically mentions God’s retributive action (though God is only named in v. 13). Still, in this context, Job only speaks of a general fate allotted by God, not a specific act of judgment; thus, he does not contradict his statement in 24:12.

Bridging Contexts

AS WE CONTINUE TO trace the rhetorical development through the series of speeches, the brevity of the third series shows that most of the arguments have been covered. The friends have tried seducing Job into appeasement by holding out the hope of restoration (cycle 1) and by humiliating Job with the insinuations inherent in the RP (cycle 2). All that is left is outright accusation. Because the Challenger’s case depends on Job’s admission of guilt (as proof that Job is only interested in benefits), the friends continue to abet the Challenger by urging Job to confess. The friends advocate this response because their entire worldview depends on the RP (remember, that is the corner of the triangle where they have staked their claim). If Job is suffering for something other than wrongdoing, there is no equity or stability in the world. For them, such a concession would necessitate nihilism.

Rhetorical Issues

IN THIS THIRD CYCLE of dialogues, the spiritualist, Eliphaz, is left to enumerate the offenses in the indictment (22:5–11). Bildad the traditionalist has nothing new to say, as his mere six verses attest. He is left blithering the unsatisfying conclusion, “OK, man is nothing more than a maggot.” Zophar, the rationalist, has nothing at all to say in the third series. The absence of a speech by Zophar reveals that rationalism has been silenced, not that the text has been corrupted. The series concludes in chapter 27 as Job defiantly rejects all accusations; he will never budge from his integrity.

The third series is laid out as follows:

Eliphaz: All your talk of a mediator and a hearing is hollow—a smokescreen. God obviously knows your wicked deeds of injustice—you have gotten what you deserve, and I for one am glad of it. Your best course of action is to start listening and stop arguing; when you do, just imagine all the benefits and favor you will again enjoy.

Job: If only I could find God! I fantasize about what that would be like, but it is hopeless. I am innocent and he knows it. What a terrifying position to be in! Why doesn’t God do something about this mess? Oppressive people do whatever they want without any accountability while poor people trying to scrape out a living suffer under their unchecked tyranny. Criminals go about their business unrestrained, but I am still convinced that there is no future for such people—their wickedness will catch up to them eventually.

The main rhetorical progress in this series is found in Eliphaz’s direct accusation against Job. After dismissing Job’s attempts at legal action as ridiculous, he accuses him of injustice. Why does Eliphaz select these particular charges? In the Original Meaning section we noted that these are generic offenses, evident throughout the ancient Near Eastern legal literature. The gods expected order within society, and the king (as appointee of the gods) was responsible for establishing such order. Furthermore, just behavior was also one of the most basic responsibilities of citizens of the ancient world, a universal expectation.70 At the same time, though justice could be evident in one’s public life, private life also held many opportunities to be just or unjust. Eliphaz’s accusations address Job’s private offenses in individual situations that would have had no witnesses but the voiceless victims.

Eliphaz’s first speech advised Job to appeal to God (5:8), and Zophar’s first speech urged Job to put away whatever sin he might have committed (11:13–14). But in both of these, the actual presence of sin was hypothetical. Against the NIV, 11:14 says, “If there is sin in your hand, renounce it.”71 Here Eliphaz uses similar vocabulary but revised syntax as he finally calls Job to repent. “Look at all you will get out of it and all the good you can do! You will be able to help people just like you (caught in an ambiguous situation and thus exposed to accusation).” This speech therefore suggests that Job, by virtue of repentance, could take his place among those who are able to advise by experience. His testimony of sin, judgment, repentance, and restoration could provide great encouragement to others.

Job, however, insists on his innocence (23:12) and envisions an entirely different scenario. In contrast to Eliphaz’s confidence that everything will turn out fine in the end, Job envisions a world awaiting reconciliation to the ideal; he is powerless to set things right. Job is looking beyond his own circumstances to the disharmony that is evident throughout the world. Eliphaz wants Job to focus on himself; Job is more concerned about a world run amok. But even in the dissonance, Job finds a glimmer of hope: If the wicked can prosper for a time, isn’t it possible that the righteous can suffer for a time? Temporary circumstances cannot evidence one’s moral character. This constitutes a potential chink in the RP.

Eliphaz: Repent, be restored, and go on the lecture circuit.

Job: Look around you! Who can think about self when the world is so out of sync?

Bildad: God is unimaginably great; humans are intrinsically flawed and don’t ultimately matter anyway.

Job: Your position is preposterous and totally unpersuasive. You have referred to God as establishing order, but you haven’t begun to grasp the immensity of God’s work. Yet for all of the order that he has established in the cosmos, he has brought nothing but disorder to my life. Nevertheless, I will never follow the advice that all of you have offered. My righteousness is all I have and I will cling to it until the end. You have become my enemies, and therefore God’s enemies, so we all know what is in store for you.

Job’s last speech expresses a combination of his awe of God (26:7–14), his resolve (27:1–6), and his despair (27:11–23). His hymn is one of the most extensive creation hymns in Scripture. It functions rhetorically to indicate our negligible knowledge of the order that God has established. I draw this conclusion from 26:14, where Job characterizes his reports as but a “faint whisper.”72 If little is known and if displays of God’s power are difficult to understand, one should then expect that not everything will make sense. Interestingly, God later demonstrates this point to Job even more powerfully in his own speeches.

Job’s determination in 27:1–6 forms the climax of the dialogue section of the book. It proves that Job’s righteousness is disinterested and that the Challenger’s contention against God’s policies will not stand scrutiny. Job makes no mention of getting his benefits back but shows every intention of clinging to his integrity. His integrity is demonstrated in his resolve to live according to righteousness, whether it pays or not. He believes that righteousness can be objectively defined, unlike the ancient Near Eastern view that righteousness is randomly determined by the gods. The people of the ancient world believed that they could know that they were doing right when they experienced the favor of the gods; alternately, they knew that they had committed some offense when the gods withdrew their favor and subjected them to oppression. Such a system cannot conceive of righteousness for righteousness’ sake. Disinterested righteousness would be an oxymoron.

This mind-set is what we have been calling the Great Symbiosis: People meet the needs of the gods and the gods meet the needs of the people. Needs define the system. “Doing right” means meeting the needs of the gods, and you know you have done right when they meet your needs. Righteousness is tangential—secondary at best. Given this information, the book of Job would have made no sense to a Canaanite or Babylonian. Who could think of serving a god for nothing? Why would you? How could you know you were serving him? The book of Job is thus a stunning literary monument in the history of theological development.

If Job intends the last section (27:7–23) as a virtual curse on his friends, his imprecations suggest what fate they will/should suffer.73 Rather than Job joining their circles as an adviser (implication of Eliphaz’s speech in ch. 22), Job suggests that they will join his circle as victims—a message of despair for them, but also for him since he does not imagine a way out of his predicament. Job may well be teaching about the fate of the wicked from his own experience of being treated by God as if he were wicked. His statement in 27:11 could be paraphrased, “You think you can explain God’s power? I have experienced the power of God and I will tell you all about it.”

Bildad: Face the facts that tradition knows well.

Job: God’s immense power has brought order to the cosmos but not to my life. I am God’s victim and you will be too. Here I stand with only my righteousness to cling to.

The philosophical focus and resolution in this series of speeches hinges on whether or not Job will admit to sin. Eliphaz explicates his accusations, which Job resolutely denies. This series completes the friends’ role. Job is not seduced by the prospect of renewed benefits (series 1, Job 4–14), he concludes that the system known as the RP is broken (series 2, Job 15–21), and he refuses to admit wrongdoing as the cause of his calamity (series 3, Job 22–27). He has proven that his righteousness is not founded on the expectation of reward. As star witness for the defense, he has demonstrated that there is such a thing as disinterested righteousness. Job thus disproves the Challenger’s claim that God’s policy of rewarding the righteous was counterproductive. The friends, who represented the Challenger’s case, have been silenced. Case dismissed.

But what about Job’s claim? God’s policies have not only been questioned by the Challenger (“counterproductive for righteous people to be rewarded”) but also by Job (“irrational for righteous people to suffer”). The remainder of the book will address this other side of the dilemma.

Theological Issues

AS IN THE PREVIOUS sections, we will explore some of the theological issues suggested by these speeches, though we fully realize that the book has not adopted these as its message. The friends and Job all have pieces of truth, but their views do not carry the authority of the text. However, we can explore their perspectives to see whether we share some of the same shortsightedness about God and the world.

Eliphaz’s theological warnings. Eliphaz begins with the difficult statement concerning Job’s inability to resolve his predicament, using the tactics he had adopted (22:2–3). The NIV’s translation has Eliphaz questioning whether anything that humans could do would bring pleasure to or benefit God. Though I feel that such a translation cannot be sustained, it suggests an interesting discussion. Since I have gone a different direction with the translation, I will not elaborate my position further, except to say that, while we cannot benefit God (i.e., complete a deficiency or meet a need), he does take pleasure in our righteousness and faithfulness.

My preferred translation portrays Eliphaz asking Job whether God will respond favorably to Job’s course of action. Job’s procedure has involved (1) denying any wrongdoing (justifying himself), (2) requesting a mediator, and (3) demanding God to appear in court. Eliphaz’s two questions are: (1) Will a mediator do any good? and (2) Will God be pleased that you justify yourself at his expense? These rhetorical questions suggest negative answers with which we could find reason to agree. We will look at each one individually.

Will a mediator do any good? In Job’s case this is ironic; he wants someone to hold God accountable—precisely the role that the Challenger has played. Rather than resolving Job’s predicament, the mediator instigated it. But this is not Eliphaz’s point. He implies that even skillful negotiators could not represent God to our benefit. Eliphaz considers God too remote from even the angels for any being to intervene adequately.

Moving beyond the understanding of Eliphaz and Job, we must consider God’s remoteness as a theological concept. People today commonly think of God as too remote to care, yet the revelation of both Old and New Testaments contradict this notion. The testimony of the incarnation in the New Testament is enough, but even the Old Testament makes the case clearly, as the following samples attest:

1. “What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the LORD our God is near us whenever we pray to him?” (Deut. 4:7)

2. “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Ps. 34:18[19])

3. “The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” (Ps. 145:18)

4. “ ‘Am I only a God nearby,’ declares the LORD, ‘and not a God far away?’ ” (Jer. 23:23)

Furthermore, one of the most important theological foundations of the Old Testament, the covenant, is based on the nearness of God.74

Beyond the issues of revelation and God’s presence, the center of the New Testament speaks of God’s provision of a mediator (1 Tim. 2:5). I hasten to add that this was not the kind of mediator that Job and Eliphaz were discussing. Job wanted a mediator to explain God’s actions in relation to his personal circumstances and to represent his righteousness to God. Christ’s mediation for us in the New Testament consists, not of representing our righteousness before God, but of offering a sacrifice for our sin and interceding for us. This development moves far beyond Job’s imagination or interest.

Will God be pleased that you justify yourself at his expense? The short answer, of course, is “No,” and God expresses his displeasure over Job’s attempt to do so in 40:8. Theologically, only a flawed view of God would allow anyone to suggest that they are in the right, thereby necessitating that God is in the wrong. Yet it is natural for fallen humans to mistrust God and to doubt his attributes.

Christians easily talk about the authority of the Bible, but they often neglect to think through the implications of this concept. I think that most Christians see the authority of the text in terms of its content/nature (truth) and their response (obedience). Both of these concepts proceed from authority: truth, because the speaker’s words reflect his character; obedience, because God has the right to tell us what to do. This concept of truth often becomes part of the argument for the historical accuracy of the Bible: What it says happened, happened; people who it says lived, lived.

Without desiring to take anything away from those two important perspectives, I suggest there is a third aspect that is actually more important than the other two, because they derive from it; yet this third aspect is often neglected. Since we believe that the Bible is most fundamentally God’s revelation of himself, the most basic idea of the text’s authority derives from its portrayal of God. When we submit to the authority of the text, we are embracing—without exception or qualification—its portrayal of God. We cannot adopt only the parts we like and reject the parts that we find disturbing. When something seems awry in his portrayal, we ought to give God the benefit of the doubt.

Furthermore, this authoritative picture of God insists that the God of the Old Testament is the same as the God of the New Testament—incarnate in Christ. Whatever we, in our limited humanity, might think looks like a flaw in God’s character or an inconsistency in his behavior testifies only to our inadequacies, not to his. This remains true whether the supposed problems occur in the biblical stories or in our own experiences. If submitting to the authority of the Bible means the unqualified acceptance of its presentation of God, no room is left for us to justify ourselves at his expense, to think that we could do something better than God, or to suggest that we could be more compassionate, more merciful, more loving, or more just.

When we as Christians are asked to explain our understanding of God, we can point only to the testimony of the Bible. If we arbitrarily pick and choose acceptable texts, we illegitimately set ourselves over the authority of the Scripture. If we are willing to construct our own view of God from our perceptions and experiences, we are setting ourselves up as the authority rather than submitting to biblical authority. We thus admit that the pluralists are right: Anyone can construct their own view of God. What would make one person’s reconstruction any more or less accurate than another’s? If we accept the biblical view, then we can stand on its authority. If we waver, then any human authority is as good as another.

Those of other faiths sometimes inquire how Christians can arrogantly assert that Christianity is right and other religions are wrong (to some extent at least), or to maintain that Christ is the only way. Our only defense against these questions lies in biblical authority: These are not our ideas, but the Bible’s revelation. We can only say that we take such difficult positions because of the testimony and authority of the Bible. If we do not consistently adopt the Bible’s presentation of God, the argument crumbles.

Our determination not to justify ourselves at God’s expense rests on our confession:

• When God’s behavior does not make sense, we give him the benefit of the doubt.

• We cannot outdo God in any of his attributes.

• We take all or nothing of the Bible’s portrayal of God.

• If we try to pick and choose to construe our own “mix ’n match” picture of God, we have set ourselves up as God.

This is what the authority of the Bible is about, and this is the faith position that we adopt when we accept its authority.

God’s judgment. As we read Job 24, we might easily find ourselves sympathizing with Job’s burning questions. Why doesn’t God set times for judgment (24:1)? Why doesn’t God charge people with wrongdoing when they are so obviously guilty (24:12)? It is no comfort to say that we all stand guilty before God—that is not the discussion here. Who enforces the system? Job wants to know—and so do we often enough. Oppression of every sort runs rampant while innocent people suffer. What is God doing? Nothing, we fear. What kind of God is this? Some reach the point of indifference, having concluded that God is not worthy of their recognition. If God truly weeps over the condition of the world, how can he adopt such a “hands-off” posture? Even when we are able to give God the benefit of the doubt (therefore not suggesting that he is flawed or that we are superior), we still have questions.

Though these questions can be addressed from a philosophical perspective, in terms of theodicy (defending the justice of God or investigating the origin of evil), we often are more interested in our own experiential understanding. In the end, the book of Job will offer answers that encourage us to trust the wisdom of God, but we will wait until we reach the conclusion to explore these answers in more depth. At this point our focus must turn to the fallen world in which we live.

A fallen world is intrinsically defined by wickedness. If there were no wickedness, the world would not be fallen. No matter how much wickedness God might eliminate, we could always find more wicked people to complain about (defining “the wicked” as anyone we see as more wicked than ourselves). If all wickedness were eliminated, the world would no longer be fallen and none of us would exist. We see this idea in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, when Portia, posing as a judge, addresses the Jew, Shylock:

Therefore, Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That, in the course of justice, none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy.75

Why does God mercifully maintain a fallen world?76 Why did he not destroy Adam and Eve for their sin and start over? When examining Job 4–14, we asked whether some attributes of God trumped others, and we concluded this is not the case (p. 190). The question about the fallen world deals with the same issue. Is it more important or more natural for God to be just (having no tolerance for a fallen world) or to be compassionate (sparing his creatures despite their fallenness) and gracious (providing a means of reconciliation)? I would contend neither is the case. It is just as characteristic for God to be gracious as it is for him to execute justice. We cannot think that justice is the default while mercy requires a conscious departure from standard operating procedure. God’s attributes carry equal sway within his being, and he operates with all of them held in perfect balance.

If it is not contradictory to the character of God to tolerate a degree of fallenness, is there a degree at which fallenness would become contradictory? Does God allow sin only to a certain limit?77 How would the limits be defined? Answers to such questions would have to be premised on God’s purposes rather than his character. To what end does God maintain a fallen world, and how does he ensure that it will accomplish his goals? We must seek answers to these questions through the revelation God has given us or through observations of what we and others experience (descriptive approach) rather than through logic (rationalistic approach designed to devise coherence).

That brings us back to the beginning with only our own bewildering observations. Does God intend our good? We would have to take the Bible’s word for it that he does (Rom. 8:28). Should we be able to figure out how our experiences benefit us? Not necessarily (note Eccl. 6:12). Is our “good” defined by our comfort or our success? Often not. Consequently our normal criteria for judging what is for our good do not help us to draw sound conclusions. Yet still we ask, how could the prosperity of the wicked possibly contribute to our “good”?

Job’s deteriorating concept of God. When life goes wrong, often one of the first results is that our concept of God deteriorates, and this is certainly the case for Job. The deterioration takes root in perhaps small misconceptions, but these gradually become major misrepresentations of the divine character. Tracking the path of decline in Job will help us to understand how our minds work.

Job’s ideas certainly do not develop as a systematic trajectory. Job is making the mistake that we would all make: inferring the nature of God from his experiences (and thus coming to many wrong conclusions). The divine attributes in the chart are neither taught in the Bible nor promoted/affirmed by the book. Likewise we can see that Job’s concept of God cannot be considered above reproach. In one sense, Job’s friends have a more orthodox approach, in that they do not adjust their view of God to accommodate Job’s innocence. Instead, they are willing to question Job’s innocence.

Job’s thought progression reflects the common complaints that people make against God. In trying to please a holy God, many look through the Bible and conclude that God asks too much. Once we reach this conclusion, we can become critical when we perceive God acting on the basis of what he has asked and then conclude that he is too intrusive: God does too much. If we persuade ourselves that God is demanding and intrusive, we finally decide that he just doesn’t care enough about us or our situation. Like the child who thinks that there are too many chores and rules and chafes when he or she receives discipline for falling short of expectations, our ultimate accusation becomes: “You don’t love me.” Even though Job is not undergoing discipline (though he and his friends all think he is), his comments proceed through the standard sequence.

Accommodationist hermeneutics. We have tried to demonstrate that Job’s cosmic hymns (9:4–10; 26:7–13) follow closely the cosmology of the ancient Near East. If we look through the rest of the Old Testament, we should not be surprised to find that this is the case throughout. No passage speaks of the shape or operation of the cosmos in a manner inconsistent with the beliefs of the ancient world; it all conforms to what can be called “Old World Science.”78 God was in the business of revealing himself to his people, and to do so he did not need to give them a more advanced science. Such an action would have been problematic, because then we would have to decide which time period the science reflected. Science changes all the time, so to put revelation in terms of the science of one period would automatically make it anachronistic to earlier periods and obsolete to later periods. Science is not made of facts; it expresses society’s consensual understanding of how the world works.79

Throughout the twentieth and into the twenty-first century, some biblical interpreters have adopted what is known as a concordist hermeneutic. This approach views the Bible as an expression of modern science. We can force an agreement between the Bible and science either by reading modern science between the lines of the biblical text, or by trying to construct a science from the interpretation of the biblical text. The drawback of these concordist approaches is that they typically end up making the Bible say a whole lot more than it said to the ancients, giving words and phrases new meanings that they never had. One could therefore question whether concordists actually dilute the authority of the Bible (built on authorial intent) in order to salvage “truth” (equated with modern scientific ways of thinking).

As an alternative hermeneutic to the concordist approach, one could adopt an accommodationist hermeneutic—the approach that I have taken here. The accommodationist hermeneutic asserts that to communicate effectively, God accommodated his revelation to the ideas of the day. For instance, if God wanted to communicate that he created everything, he would define “create” and “everything” in terms meaningful to the specific audience. After all, though the Bible was written for everyone, it was written to Israelites in the ancient world. If the Bible had been written to us, God would have used different terms to say that he created everything. Likewise, if God wanted to describe to us his construction of the cosmos, he would talk about the material world: the first event (big bang?); the way that he set up gravity and hung the planets in space by the laws of motion; the process of beginning life through the atomic, cellular, and molecular levels; all the way to the unique brain chemistry that makes humans the image of God.

But he was talking to ancient Israelites, and all of that would have been meaningless nonsense. This revelation was not intended to be mystical or obscure. Communication requires building on the familiar, so God used Old World Science as the template for communication. The ancients were far less interested in the material cosmos than in the functional cosmos.80 God spoke in their terms—which are far different from ours—because he was not intending to reveal an authoritative cosmic geography. The point of God’s revelation is to assert that, regardless of the details of one’s cosmic geography, God set it up and makes it work.

Some have found this accommodationist hermeneutic problematic because it makes some statements of Scripture untrue. The sky is not a solid canopy holding up waters above the earth. The sun, moon, and stars are not inside this solid water barrier. The earth is not a flat disk. But before we let this bother us, we have to look again at our doctrine of biblical authority and inerrancy. Even the statement of the International Council on Biblical Inerrancy pointedly refused to include scientific accuracy in its understanding of the Bible as “inerrant in all that it affirms.” God communicates his revelation with certain goals in mind, and it is those goals that constitute revelation and carry authority. Along the way God communicates many incidental matters that are not revelation and do not carry authority. The Bible communicates a spelling of “Nebuchadnezzar” and therefore could be said to tacitly affirm it—but God has no revelation on the spelling of Nebuchadnezzar (and in fact, the Bible spells it two different ways; Jeremiah prefers the more accurate Nebuchadrezzar, e.g., Jer. 21:2). This is an incidental detail and does not carry the burden of biblical authority.

We as scientific human beings made the same kind of conclusions when we decided that we do not have to consider the earth as the center of the universe with the sun moving across the sky. We have also decided that, contrary to the statements of Scripture, cognitive and emotional processes are not carried out by the blood pumps in our chests or by our kidneys. Scriptural authority resides in God’s revelatory message, not in the incidentals he uses to communicate that message. Inerrancy describes the nature of revelation and our confidence that it is true. God is who he says he is. He has done what he says he has done. His motives and purposes are what the Bible proclaims them to be. He interacted with the people that the text reports he did.

Nothing in this hermeneutic should surprise us; communication always requires accommodation. When I lecture to any group, whether graduate students in my classes at Wheaton or sixth graders in the classes I teach at church, I have to use words and ideas that they will understand or my communication will fail. God is an effective communicator; therefore, when God chose to reveal himself, to communicate to his creatures, he adopted a course of accommodation. He did not communicate in some universal language using only universal cultural elements; there are no such things (at least not since the Tower of Babel). He spoke to Israelites in an ancient culture, using expressions they understood. Our interpretation begins here.

Some concordists would say that within God’s communication to that ancient culture, God was able to embed hints of more sophisticated information—hints that we can now decipher, since we possess advanced knowledge. In other words, the ancients would have comprehended the basic level of the text, but the text has multiple layers, just as we might imagine for prophecy and fulfillment or christological interpretation. Such a system could potentially work if the deeper levels simply build on the surface level, but it is not so easy when the supposed deeper levels contradict the surface level. Either the sun moves around the earth or the earth moves around the sun. Both cannot be true.81 Furthermore, in prophecy and fulfillment, we typically only accept those adjustments that are confirmed by an authoritative source (i. e., the New Testament).

An accommodationist hermeneutic poses no problem for the doctrine of inerrancy. Inerrancy always requires us to interpret the meaning of the text so we can determine what is inerrant. The book of Job is a great example because most of the details of the book are wrong: The Challenger is wrong; the friends are partially wrong; Job himself is partially wrong. Inerrancy comes in the interpretation of the book as a whole. The book has to be interpreted to determine what the inerrant message is.

At the same time, it must be admitted that, like any interpretive method, an accommodationist hermeneutic offers its challenges. Where does the accommodation stop and the revelation begin? Should we follow the Levitical dietary laws? Should women wear head coverings? Is homosexuality contrary to God’s designs or just a practice despised in ancient culture? Is it permissible to have slaves? Is polygamy an acceptable practice? Should we stone adulterers? Yes, these sorts of questions challenge us, but they are not questions that only occur in the context of an accommodationist hermeneutic. In fact, an accommodationist hermeneutic may enable us to sort some of those out more consistently than we have in the past. But that discussion would exceed the scope of this book.

Contemporary Significance

RIGHTEOUSNESS ALONE. HUMANS (ESPECIALLY Americans) tend to be motivated by self-interest: “What is in it for me?” we ask. We have not only adopted our own self-fulfillment and happiness as a goal, but nearly consider it a right (subconsciously emending the Declaration of Independence to indicate what to us is indeed self-evident, that we have inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness). Not only has happiness become our ambition, it has often become a spiritual expectation. Our relationship to God looks much like the Great Symbiosis, in that our commitment is premised on anticipated benefits. Often in the process we expect much of God and little of ourselves.

If the book of Job promotes disinterested righteousness as a moral principle, we should explore what this value looks like for our faith to get beyond self-interests. If our righteousness is for righteousness’ sake, what will it look like? Taking the lead from the book of Job, we would have to conclude that such a faith would not abandon belief even if life gets difficult. But it is important that we also consider the proper motives for our behavior and our choices. How should we discern what God expects of us and what we should expect of ourselves? How should we live if we want to pursue a faith not premised on self-interests?

In the college context in which I work, students often grapple with behavioral expectations. All the authorities in their lives (whether school, church, or parents) have imposed restrictions on the way they live, each somehow connecting these regulations to biblical authority. It is no wonder, then, that young people misconstrue the Bible as a compendium of rules. As with any set of rules, the challenge too often becomes: “How much can I get away with without getting in trouble?” or “What is the least I have to do to get by?” These sorts of reactions are not just true of teenagers; that mentality stretches easily into our adult lives.

The fact is, we have trouble looking beyond our own self-interests. The goal of our lives, and especially of our faith, is that we become more godlike, not that we become more successful or comfortable. There is nothing wrong with success or prosperity—these can be legitimately pursued, but not as our primary goals or as the motivations of our faith.

When I refer to being godlike, I am not speaking of what we often call piety, devotion, spirituality, or godliness, though such demeanors are not to be gainsaid. I am more concerned here about what motivates our faith and our choices. The pathway we find most natural to follow (as fallen humans) is what I would call the “benefits-driven minimalistic life of faith.” It is framed by the two questions already mentioned:

1. What is in it for me? (benefits driven)

2. What is the least I have to do (or most I can get away with)? (minimalism)

Because we tend to see God’s requirements in the Bible as “rules,” we rationalize giving ourselves permission to do what it does not explicitly forbid. If we conclude that the Bible does not specifically speak against certain sorts of sexual behavior, against the activities we enjoy (but have been told are not spiritual), against the movies we want to watch, against the language we enjoy using, against the way we dress, and so on, we feel free to indulge ourselves with free conscience: “The Bible doesn’t say I can’t.” We may take comfort in all of the dastardly offenses we have not committed and decide that we are “good enough.” After all, we are not disobeying the Bible.

This is minimalism in its mature and virulent form. For instance, the Bible says nothing about drug abuse. Some might respond by pulling out a biblical injunction to respect your body, but that is the wrong approach, because it still assumes that we have to dredge up a biblical prohibition or command to regulate every aspect of our behavior. Attempts to explicate all the mandates of Scripture are criticized (truly enough at times) as illegitimate proof-texting that employs questionable hermeneutics and fails to consider cultural context. Let us consider briefly some of the ways that people seek behavioral guidance from the Bible.

Role models. People commonly read the characters of the Bible as role models to either imitate or avoid. Though any literary character can offer a model for behavior, we must ask whether the narrators of the Bible intend to use characters for this purpose. Without discussing this in detail, we must recognize that the biblical authors rarely note whether certain behavior should be imitated or not. Though it is true that narrators may choose the more subtle route of showing rather than telling, ambiguity in the text often leaves us with unanswered questions. Furthermore, motives often make the difference between commendable and repugnant behavior, but motives are rarely revealed. Suffice it to say, this approach cannot provide consistent guidance and fails to address many important considerations. We should look for the authoritative element of biblical narrative in its revelation of God rather than in the behavior of the characters.82

Law. We all know that Christians are not required to follow the Old Testament law; however, some Christians argue that we should still use the law as an ethical guide. This approach fails when the criteria for laws we should or should not follow become completely arbitrary. We must formulate a consistent hermeneutic to determine how any law, or the law in its entirety, figures into our ethical behavior. The law was given to the Israelites as a guide to holiness and, in the end, it is holiness that God requires. The law can only give us minimal standards and guidelines. It cannot provide a fully developed ethical system that communicates our full responsibility before God.83

Wisdom. Wisdom literature such as that found in the book of Proverbs provides many important guidelines for behavior. Two problems, however, must be noted. (1) The literature contains a combination of guidelines that could be considered universal and those that are more cultural. (2) The coverage of the material is spotty. The literature gives us examples of how we can order our lives based on the fear of the Lord, but it is far from comprehensive, systematic, or programmatic.

Prophets. As we read the indictments against Israel, the prophets give us some helpful information about behavior that displeases God. They help us to understand God’s covenant expectations for Israel and his concern because these have been violated. But we are not included in this covenant, and though those prophecies can benefit us, they are not addressed directly to us. As a result, the prophets can teach us something about the nature of God, but they cannot give us an entire ethical code.

New Testament. We are often more inclined to look to the Gospels and Letters to find our guidelines for life, and well we should. Yet again, we must realize the limitations here. Neither corpus of literature is designed to offer a fully developed guide for behavior. Instead we find occasional exhortations and admonitions, reflections and confrontations. From these we can gain discernment, but even a compilation of all this information cannot give us anything that approaches comprehensive understanding. Furthermore, as with the Old Testament, there are many cultural elements that make direct appropriation problematic.

These brief observations make an important point: The Bible does not readily translate into a comprehensive list of “dos and don’ts for righteous living”; it is even difficult to find answers to particular questions of behavior. Instead of being clear or forthright, we might regularly find that the Bible gives us ambiguous or controversial guidance.

Those who attempt to enforce behavioral constraints, whether through proof-texting or any of these methods, demonstrate a misunderstanding of the problem and seek the solution in the wrong place. The Bible does not have to forbid a behavior for us to consider that behavior wrong. How do we determine parameters for appropriate conduct? What does it mean to be godlike and what it would it look like? How do we avoid the benefits-driven minimalistic life of faith? Is there anything in it for us?

Recently I was having a conversation with students who wanted to know how one could or should develop a biblical view of sexual ethics (encompassing everything from pornography and lust to sex outside of marriage and definitions of marriage). What biblical statements have universal validity, and what statements are culturally relative? After all, the institution of marriage was far different in the ancient world than it is today, and the issue of premarital sex is inevitably tied to the definition of marriage. Even as we recognize the need for definitions of purity, we realize that standards of modesty vary from one culture to another. What does godliness look like in this area of behavior? What does God want from us? How do we draw parameters without imposing potentially arbitrary rules? How does one develop biblical standards if the Bible does not yield specific information through role models, the law, or exhortations in the Proverbs or New Testament letters?

Consider these ten principles:

1. We should conscientiously pursue wisdom (in its Old Testament sense), godlikeness, and holiness.

2. Beyond what is clearly stated in revelation, we should not presume to draw parameters for others (e.g., for what constitutes modesty, humility, appropriate entertainment), only for ourselves; these should reflect our goal (holiness) rather than the lowest common denominator that we can rationalize.

3. The boundaries may differ from culture to culture and perhaps from person to person, but there must be carefully thought-out parameters that reflect our desire for holiness.

4. We should not impose our boundaries on others, though we could hold them accountable to their own boundaries and challenge them to aim higher.

5. There must be discernable differences between Christian behavior and the world’s behavior (Rom. 12:1–2).

6. We should not concede either to self-righteousness or to self-indulgence.

7. We should understand that God does not need what we give; our behavior can please him but does not benefit him.

8. Our behavior should not be motivated by expectation of material rewards; further, our behavior cannot save us.

9. We should aspire to be godlike, not just to keep rules (which inherently only lead us in the right direction).

10. Obedience is expected but represents the minimal level of godliness.

The path of wisdom, godlikeness, and holiness would rely on Scripture for guidance without necessarily looking to specific texts to lay down hard and fast rules (though it occasionally might and we dare not neglect them when it does). Wisdom brings order to life and relationships, and the wise take God seriously. Wisdom derives from biblical values, but it is not necessarily bound to Israelite culture. Holiness recognizes that aspects of our behavior will sharply distinguish us from those around us. God’s holiness is embodied in his distinguishing attributes; we exhibit holiness by reflecting God’s communicable attributes (e.g., by exhibiting the fruit of the Spirit). We can build ideas about godlikeness around the biblical text’s portrayal of God. Obedience is important, but our end responsibility is to strive to be like God. Disobedience will impede us from reaching this goal, but obedience alone will not necessarily achieve it.

Ideally, we should aspire to holiness, not because of benefits we can gain as a result, but because God is God and our righteous behavior is one of the ways we honor him. Regardless of whether we experience any advantages in life because of these decisions, we choose this path because of who God is.

But could we ever say there isn’t anything in it for us? We often experience good feelings when we act altruistically; self-congratulation and feelings of approval can be strong motivators and have their own payoff. As Screwtape comments to Wormwood, when the subject actually experiences true humility, be sure to point him to how self-satisfied and proud he is of his humility.84

Two qualifications will help us through this dilemma. (1) The main threat comes from material benefits. It is not unworthy to pursue holiness in life in order to achieve the accolade, “Well done, my good servant!” (Luke 19:17), or to run so as to win the prize (Phil. 3:14). No fault need be found in a desire to gain Christ (3:8) or “to attain to the resurrection from the dead” (3:11). (2) We must recall that we are primarily concerned with the motives for our actions, not the circumstantial results. We may well obtain a multitude of benefits, material and otherwise, but we must probe deeply into our own hearts to seek out and understand our motivations, asking the Holy Spirit to reveal and purify them.

Finally, we may return to the question that prompted this lengthy discussion: Can we accept our (presumably) innocent suffering and the success of the wicked, based on the opportunity they provide us to learn godliness: forgiveness, humility, patience, joy in adversity, resilience to circumstances, understanding of sin, reliance on God’s strength, empathy with others, appreciation of simple joys, and any number of other character-building qualities? I would reply that they do not offer reasons for suffering, but they may give us some recompense for the fallen circumstances that we endure; bringing good out of evil does not redefine evil as being good. Suffering can produce personal growth like nothing else, but certainly there are times when suffering produces, not maturity, but loss of faith, loss of confidence in God, loss of resolve to pursue godliness, bitterness, and disposal of all virtue and values. In light of these two diverse responses, we might do well to ask, not “Will I suffer in life,” but “What kind of sufferer will I be?”

Cole in the movie The Sixth Sense confesses to his psychologist, “I see dead people … all the time … walking around … they don’t know they are dead … they see what they want to see.” We are likewise surrounded by the dead; some are dead in their trespasses and sins, others are dead in their faith—perhaps embittered because of personal suffering or disillusioned because of the world’s depravity. They may have drifted from a once-strong faith, or they may have never achieved a full understanding of faith’s essence. There is also a third group of dead people: those who have died to self and sin, crucified with Christ. We are all dead people; the question is, what kind of dead person are you going to be?

Example to others. People’s stories can have a powerful influence on those around them; the story of Job, told in the book that bears his name, can likewise shape our thinking. On one level we are inspired by the story of his perseverance in righteousness and his resolve in suffering. This is story at its best. Even so, story alone cannot explain the reason for his suffering. We don’t suffer misfortune so that we can give testimony, though we can give testimony when we suffer misfortune. Testimony is a possible outcome, but not a cause.

Eliphaz encourages Job to give testimony at another level. He wants Job to repent and so gain restoration so that he can testify to others that they ought to respond similarly to their suffering or misfortune (22:28–30). This is no longer testimony about perseverance in difficult circumstances, but testimony of forgiveness and restoration following failure. If we were to use the parable of the prodigal son as an example, the older brother offers the testimony of the one who persevered without wavering, while the younger one offers the testimony of one who returned and was restored.

Our culture abounds with stories of celebrity penitents, moving deftly from depravity to repentance to talk shows and book contracts. We easily see the potential for acting in self-interest, another of the unworthy motivations that the friends offered to Job and that continues to tempt us today. When material gain and influence over others become potential motivators, we are again challenged by the question of disinterested righteousness. We have seen that Job’s friends urge him to pursue multiple paths that would expose an underlying, worldly motive for his righteousness; we can identify with these because we know that people primarily act with their own self-interest in the fore.

Kelly’s Story85

KELLY HAS SHARED SOME of the many opportunities she had to influence others in all the right ways. However, like many people who are suffering through misfortunes or difficult circumstances, she also experienced the often-harsh or frustrating perspectives of well-intentioned people.

JHW: Were there people who suggested your circumstances were somehow caused by sin? What perspectives did you find most frustrating? How did you respond, either verbally or in your own thinking?

Kelly: People have suggested many theories of why certain things in my life have panned out the way they have, but only one person has actually insinuated that my pain was a result of my sin and I was being punished. This conversation happened at a church service. The pastor opened up a time of prayer and encouraged the congregation to pray for others around them. So this woman approached me because she noticed my arm and asked if she could pray for my arm. After she prayed for healing, she began to ask me more questions about the injury.

After hearing more about the situation, you could see her face expression change and she became perplexed. I could almost see it in her face that what I was saying did not line up with her theological perspective. So she asked more questions and then came to the conclusion that all of these painful experiences had to be because of something I was doing. She paused and then looked at me, and in a very sweet tone encouraged me to really analyze myself and my actions, or sin as she saw it, to discover why God is—in so many words—punishing me. She asked me if I thought I had some sins in my life that I had not yet dealt with that were keeping me from being healed or if I were experiencing the pains of the sins of my parents.

Not only is this perspective frustrating because I disagree with it from a theological standpoint, but it is also insulting. I knew her intentions were not to be hurtful, but I was hurt by the carelessness with her words to make such a bold claim of someone she has only met for the first time. This perspective is angering because it says a lot about how that person viewed God and his character. I remember thinking, “Did she really just tell me that the reason I have nerve pain and my arm is paralyzed is because God is punishing me for sin in my life?” I was so surprised by what she had just implied that I was shocked. I didn’t know how to react. Do I get into a theological discussion about the loaded statement she just made? I chose to skip that discussion for that day and thanked her for her prayer and went on my way.

JHW: Did some suggest that healing was withheld from you because of your lack of faith? How did you deal with that?

Kelly: In many of the encounters I’ve mentioned, that was the conclusion people came to. My lack of faith was the only thing that made sense to them as to why I had not been healed. They would feel frustrated and confused when they did not see the result they were expecting. Many would say, “Kelly, I think it is your lack of faith that is keeping you in this state of medical trauma. I think if you really believed God had the power to heal, you wouldn’t be in the state you are in.” Out of all of the “advice” I’ve received, I think this was the most hurtful. It really struck me at the core. They challenged my belief in God’s healing power, implying it is my fault that I experience the pain that I do. One time I responded by reminding them of Paul, an example I go back to often to keep me in the right mind-set. I told them that Paul had prayed for his thorn to be removed. It was not removed and he was told, “No, my grace is sufficient.” Unfortunately most of the time, I wouldn’t say much, but I would mull over their words later.

JHW: Were you troubled by your own doubts and dark thoughts concerning these areas?

Kelly: There definitely were times I struggled with doubt. I would doubt myself and my faith at times. Often times I would get home from church after having one of these conversations and would pray, “God, is it my lack of faith or lack of confidence in your healing power that has kept me in this medical state?” I would pray, pleading with God to confront me if for some reason I was misled. But I knew that did not line up with my core beliefs of God and how he handles our world. I knew that God was not punishing me for my sin or my parents’ sin, so I would usually dismiss those claims. I also was confident that I did not have a demon in me. My doubts and dark thoughts centered more around my faith—not my faith in regards to believing in Jesus, but rather my confidence in his healing power. I would confuse myself because I know that God does call us to pray with confidence and have faith and hope, but then I remind myself or am reminded that having faith in God’s healing power does not mean that we always get the result we are praying for.

To be honest, I sometimes feel as if my life with its share of trials and suffering makes people uncomfortable with their “comfortable God.” For some of the people I encountered, I realized that it was difficult for them to be confronted with a woman who is pursuing God and her faith and still experiencing horrible pain, without doubting the faith of the woman. How could God allow a woman who is pursuing him with her heart to experience trial after trial? My story rattled many people’s thought patterns on how they viewed their God, and they had to explain my suffering to themselves to keep their image of a “comfortable” God intact.