Job 3 · NIVAC

Original Meaning

Cursing the Day of Birth (3:1–10)

JOB’S CURSING OF THE day of his birth is introduced by the usual Hebrew verb for “curse” (qll). The euphemism used in the prologue (brk, “bless”) is not required when God is not the object of the verb. While the Challenger claimed that Job would curse God to his face (2:5), in this chapter we find the only curse Job utters, a curse that focuses on the day of his birth rather than on God. Some have wondered whether this is a difference without a distinction; after all, if Job recognizes God as the one responsible for the birth of each individual, Job is, in effect, cursing something that God did. Even if this were so, however, that one step removed constitutes an important difference. Throughout the book, Job gets desperately close to cursing God; in this sense, Job’s lament introduces what later speeches will continue.

Some have wondered whether we see here a different Job from the character portrayed by the confident speeches of the prologue,1 but I am not persuaded. The statements in the prologue concern Job’s posture toward God’s rights: God gave, so he has the right to take away (1:21); God has the right to give both good and bad (2:10). In contrast, chapter 3 begins to express Job’s posture toward his own circumstances. Distress over one’s circumstances is normal; therefore, we can hardly blame Job for his response. Though God is sovereign and Job therefore must hold him responsible, this is not the same as questioning God’s rights. More importantly, even if Job were to question God’s actions, this would not indicate that he counted benefits more important than righteousness. Notice that he does not say that his righteousness was useless or that he wishes he had never bothered, nor does he demand his benefits to be returned.

Chaos incantation. In 3:3, Job wishes not only that he had never been born, but that he had never been conceived.2 As he moves to a discussion of that day in 3:4, he first says (lit.), “Let there be darkness,” using wording that is the exact antithesis of Genesis 1:3, when God summons light to the first day. Thus begins what many interpreters identify as the undoing of creation. M. Fishbane refers to Job 3:3–13 as a “counter-cosmic incantation” that reverses the creation sequence of Genesis 1—an undoing of order in favor of chaos.3 Given the label “curse,” which among other things can refer to the use of words of power against someone or something, it is appropriate for us to understand this passage as an incantation. As such, it is part of the vocabulary of the world of magical words, though Job is using them only to express a wish, not as actual words of power. Specifically, what is it that Job would like undone? Clines rightly observes that each day is called forth by God:4

Job 38:12: God makes the dawn know its place and commands the morning.

Isaiah 40:26: God calls the names of the stars to bring them into the night sky.

In Egyptian literature, creation recurred every day. Day was not simply summoned by deity; day had to overcome the hostility of the chaos creature Apophis, who attempted to swallow the sun to prevent it from rising from the netherworld, through which it traversed during the night. Though the role of Apophis has no correlate in Israelite thinking, we should understand the blackness, the unrealized day, and the extended treatment of the netherworld in relation to this cognitive environment. Even the wish that the night be barren (3:7) would make some sense here in light of Egyptian thinking since Nut, the sky god, gives birth to the sun every morning as it emerges from the netherworld.

If God were not to call forth the light, the sun, or the day, the day would not exist. The sequence of images expresses a variety of ways that the day could be negated; this is the thrust of 3:4–10. Such suggestions are contrary to creation and order, but here Job is not actually invoking words of power; rather, he is taking up an incantation genre to express his wish about the long past day of his birth—an obvious and effective rhetorical device.

Rousing Leviathan. Since this whole section concerns the fate of a particular day, we should not be surprised to read the word “day” in 3:8, but the verse is full of intriguing difficulties. Many have accepted the variant alternative reading of verse 8 as a reference to “Yam” (Heb. yam, the Sea, or the personality behind the Sea in Ugaritic texts) rather than “day” (yom). In support of this reading, the word occurs in parallel to Leviathan, a paring that is attested in Ugaritic.5 J. Day, however, has offered a convincing rebuttal of such an emendation, based on the fact that “cursing Yam” would be the opposite of rousing Leviathan, not a synonymous parallel.6 Furthermore, it is logical that one might curse the day by rousing Leviathan, an opponent of day.7 “Day” is a sign of order, and Leviathan is counter-order.8 Rather than a “chaos creature,” it might be more appropriate then to describe Leviathan as an “anti-cosmos figure,” though it is important to determine whether Leviathan has differing roles in the Bible and in the ancient Near East. Besides the five passages in the Old Testament (elsewhere, Job 41; Pss. 74:14; 104:26; Isa. 27:1), Leviathan is present in Ugaritic literature as Litan/Lotan.9 I will reserve fuller discussion of Leviathan for Job 41.

Here our main concern is to understand the rousing of Leviathan. The verb used here sounds the same as the verb in the first part of the sentence (rousing = ʿorer; cursing = ʾorer; both participles, the former singular, the latter plural). If we are going to understand the rousing of Leviathan, we need first to consider “those who curse the day.” The root used for the cursing here (ʾrr) is different from the one that was used in verse 1 (qll). We have already noted above that qll refers to using words of power against someone or something (cf. Ex. 22:28); in contrast, ʾrr expresses removing someone or something from the protection and favor of God.10 God is almost always the grammatical subject of this latter verb, though here such a reading seems unlikely, based on the use of the plural. When God is not the subject, the verb usually refers to someone who mediates on God’s behalf (e.g., Balaam, Num. 22:6, 12; 23:7).11 Understood as removing the day from God’s favor or protection, this line parallels Job 3:4, where God does not “care” for the day.

Who are “those who curse the day?” In the human realm, those who curse would most naturally be diviners who specialized in such incantations; these would presumably be the same ones who could ritually arouse Leviathan. The noun ʿatidim (NIV: “those who are ready”) would then refer to those skilled in such incantations, though the term is obscure.12 In the ancient Near Eastern context, Akkadian literature speaks of a class of scholars known as the ummani leʾuti (“able scholars”) who manifest one or more of five scholarly disciplines (tupšarru, “astrologer/scribe”; baru, “haruspex/diviner”; ašipu, “exorcist/magician”; asu, “physician”; and kalu, “lamentation chanter”).13 These ummani find their roots in the mythical sages, the apkalli—scholars and sages who ensured the correct functioning of the divine order;14 it is less clear that they had the skills to disrupt that same divine order.

It is more likely, then, that Job is referring to a group in the divine realm. Deities, especially Enki/Ea, the god of divination, or his son, Marduk, are capable of powerful incantations.15 The gods, however, are typically the ones who maintain order rather than disrupting it, though exceptions exist in destructive gods such as Erra (Nergal) and Namtar—both of whom set demons to their tasks. This leaves the primary candidates as beings who were considered more hostile, such as the seven, the Sebetti, primarily known from the Erra Epic.16 These gods of war and destruction are seen, in one incantation text, as complicit in causing an eclipse.17 Such an action could be considered the equivalent of rousing Leviathan, if Leviathan in Job 3 is bringing an eclipse as his attack against the day. Demons known as the utukke lemnuti also were considered responsible for disruption of order, and the galle rabuti, the great demons, were seen as responsible for eclipses, among other things.18

The book of Job makes no explicit references to demons, and nowhere do Job’s friends or Job himself blame demons for Job’s situation. Thus, we need not understand this passing reference to those who could disrupt order by combating the day of Job’s birth as a reference to demons. In the end I would view Job’s statement as having an intentionally indefinite referent (i.e., “whoever curses days and rouses Leviathan, may they do so”).

Bridging Contexts

Rhetorical Issues

PURPOSE OF LAMENT. JOB’S lament builds the transition between the prologue and the speeches through the shift in genre (from narrative to direct discourse) and in theological emphasis. In the latter we see development from a confident Job (chs. 1–2) to a distraught, questioning Job. We begin to see the depth of Job’s psychological despair as his speeches become less composed and dignified, which realistically reflects the scope of his loss. The author has portrayed Job as extraordinary in his piety and righteousness, but it would not do to leave the audience thinking of him as superhumanly untouched by grief. The audience is able to sympathize with Job because in his place we would do the same; now Job is one of us.

Job’s hopes. The lament also shows us Job’s frame of mind. We can see already that he has no hope that death will lead to an eternity where all can be rectified. Neither life nor death offers him any hope, though death is preferable to life. We can also see that he has begun asking the “why” questions (vv. 11, 12, 16, 20, 23). Even as he does so, Job betrays no hint that he believes he deserves what he has gotten24 or that the RP has been at work. Though he has not begun to blame God, he alludes to God’s oppressive behavior in 3:23. Nevertheless, he has not yet launched his legal case.

Theological Issues

VIEW OF THE AFTERLIFE. In Job’s lament we find the first of many references to death, afterlife, and the netherworld. While Christians enjoy an assurance of heaven as a place of reward for those who have received God’s salvation, we cannot assume that the Israelites shared that confidence. We must explore the Old Testament to discover its concept of the afterlife at this stage of revelation. Did the Israelites believe that reward and judgment would occur in the afterlife? In their understanding, what possibilities existed after death? Did they look forward to an eternity with God? Answers to these questions are critical for understanding Israelite theology in general and Job’s beliefs in particular. The possibility or impossibility of vindication in the afterlife will make a big difference in Job’s understanding of God’s justice.

“Sheol” (šeʾol) is the Hebrew designation for the place of the dead. Job does not use the term in this lament, but it occurs eight times throughout the book.25 Šeʾol has no known antecedent in other cultures or religions of the ancient world; furthermore, the etymology of the word is uncertain and therefore unable to contribute to the discussion.26 The most extensive section of the Old Testament concerning Sheol is Isaiah 14:9–11, in which the spirits of the dead come together to meet the recently demised king of Babylon, and the spirits of other deceased kings commiserate with him about their loss of power. This is similar to the picture given in Job 3:14–15, where we see the palaces of the kings lying in ruin; in Isaiah, the kings observe that their former pomp procures no status in Sheol, where they have only a maggot mattress and worm blankets. The figurative nature of these passages makes it difficult for us to make any conclusive statements about the details of life in Sheol, but the author successfully conveys the idea that it is not particularly pleasant. In this sense, Sheol is similar to the picture of the netherworld in Mesopotamian literature, though there kings are believed to retain some of their earthly status.27 Compare, for instance, the description of King Urnammu’s death:

Here we find first a description of the king lying on his bier in his palace, mourned by his family and people. Then the scene changes, and Urnammu is in the underworld, where he presents gifts to its “seven gods” and sacrifices animals to its important dead; the gods receive the gifts in their respective palaces. So Urnammu comes to the place allotted to him, acquires certain of the dead as servants, and Gilgamesh explains the rules of life in the underworld. The next section describes how “after seven days, yea ten days” Urnammu hears the weeping and lamentation of those left behind, and responds to this by himself uttering a bitter lament.28

The term Sheol is often used metaphorically to refer to death or the grave (e.g., Isa. 28:15), a factor that complicates our ability to develop an understanding of Sheol as the netherworld. Because of its metaphorical usage, many passages that refer to Sheol become ambiguous. Sheol is spoken of as a place of decay (Ps. 16:10) to which someone would dig down (Amos 9:2). When Jacob speaks of going to Sheol (Gen. 37:35; 42:38; 44:29, 31), is he speaking of the netherworld or the grave? Some have maintained that the term never refers to the netherworld but always to the grave.29 Difficulties with this view include:

1. In Psalm 55:15, the psalmist prays, “Let death take my enemies by surprise; let them go down alive to [Sheol], for evil finds lodging among them.” The contrast between “death” in the first line and “alive” in the second warns us that these two phrases are not synonymous. It would be difficult to imagine that the psalmist hopes for his enemy to be buried alive.

2. In Psalm 139:8, as the psalmist speaks of the impossibility of fleeing from God, he observes, “If I make my bed in [Sheol], you are there.” One could hardly contend that God is in the grave, but his access to the netherworld is appropriate and significant (see also Prov. 15:11; Amos 9:2).

3. As I already mentioned, both Job and Isaiah refer to kings. This would hardly be descriptive of the grave but fully appropriate to the netherworld.

These passages suggest that the concept of Sheol as the netherworld must be central to our understanding of the Israelite concept of afterlife.

Several observations from the text contribute to our understanding of the theology related to Sheol:

1. Those in Sheol are considered separated from God (Pss. 6:6; 88:3, 10–12; Isa. 38:18), though, as previously mentioned, God has access to Sheol.

2. Sheol is never referred to as the abode of the wicked alone.

3. While Sheol is never identified as the place where all go (though Eccl. 6:6 says that all go to the same place), the burden of proof rests on those who suggest that there was an alternative.30

4. Sheol is referred to in human speech as well as in divine speech (Deut. 32:22).

5. Sheol is a place of negation: no possessions, memory, knowledge, or joy.31

6. It is not a place where judgment or punishment takes place, though it is considered an act of God’s judgment to be sent there prematurely. Subsequently, it is inaccurate to translate Sheol as “hell” in the Christian sense, for the latter is by definition a place of punishment.32

7. No reference suggests varying compartments in Sheol. “Deepest” Sheol (e.g., Deut. 32:22) refers only to its location (“beneath”) rather than a lower compartment.33

8. Logically, one would not expect a distinction between a place of reward and a place of punishment at this juncture, since the ultimate criteria for the distinction as we understand it, the work of Christ, was not yet available.

I would agree with the summary of R. Martin-Achard:

Sheol is not in fact a place of punishment reserved for the impious, the abode of the perished is not identical with Gehenna; all the departed are in it, and if in their existence in that place there is nothing of comfort, the evil-doer does not suffer eternal punishment there. It will not be until the period when the last of the Old Testament documents are appearing that the Jews, or at least some of them, will modify their ideas about the Beyond: Sheol will sometimes become a temporary abode where the dead are waiting for resurrection and judgment; to ensure the separation of the good and the evil, it will even be divided into several sections, of which one will be a place of bliss for the righteous, and another a place of suffering for the sinful.34

In potential contrast to these conclusions, three phrases occur in the Old Testament texts that scholars interpret as indications that the Israelites believed they would be with God when they died.

1. The reassurance that they will “see his face” (e.g., Ps. 11:7).

2. Various ways of expressing that the righteous person will not be “abandoned to Sheol” or will be “redeemed from Sheol” (e.g., Ps. 16:9–11).

3. The confidence that God will “receive” the psalmist (e.g., Pss. 49:15; 73:24, both using the same verb as with Enoch in Gen. 5:24).

We will examine each of these in turn to determine what they tell us about Israelite beliefs.

Seeing God’s face. Psalm 11:7 proclaims that “upright men will see his face,” and in Psalm 17:15, the psalmist is encouraged by the knowledge that “I—in righteousness I will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness.” The second parallel statement in 17:15 confirms that the psalmist expects some tangible presence of God where he will be satisfied with the “likeness” of God. We could easily interpret this as a hope of seeing God face to face after death, but we must be careful to try to understand what the psalmist was expressing in these words. In both of these contexts, the Hebrew combines ḥzh and panim, a combination that occurs nowhere else in the Old Testament. We can compare this passage with Exodus 24:11, where the elders on Sinai ḥzh (“see”) God rather than the face of God, referring to a theophany.

Additionally, and perhaps more significantly, some of the psalms speak of this sort of experience in the sanctuary. Psalm 63:2 says, “I have seen [ḥzh] you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory.” Likewise, Psalm 27:4 expresses the psalmist’s desire to dwell in the house of the Lord “all the days of my life, to gaze [ḥzh] upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.” In all these contexts, the psalmist seeks protection from God and deliverance from his enemies or troubles.

We must resolve whether this vision of God is to take place after death in heaven, or in the form of a theophany or oracle of deliverance35 in the temple that will end the psalmist’s troubles (Ps. 17:15). The crucial verb is “to awake” (Hiph. qyṣ). Among the Reformers, Luther interpreted the verb as a reference to awaking in heaven from the sleep of death, while Calvin read it as awaking from the darkness and fatigue of persecution.36 The verb refers to awaking from death in at least two places (Isa. 26:19; Dan. 12:2); the psalmist firmly attests to the motif of going to sleep besieged by enemies and awaking with an expectation of God’s deliverance (e.g., 3:3; 63:3; 139:18).

Throughout the book of Psalms, the psalmists consistently expect vindication (deliverance from their enemies); they believe that the enemy will be destroyed, while they themselves will enjoy a long and happy life. They give no indication that they look for deliverance or vindication by being transferred to the presence of God. Such an event would not constitute vindication in their minds. It would not make sense to take this verb metaphorically when the motifs and contexts in these psalms make perfect sense without the metaphorical understanding. We certainly cannot use these passages to prove that the psalmists believed they would go to heaven to be with God when they died. They might allow an interpretation that hints at an alternative to Sheol, but the ambiguous terminology warns us against using these passages as the foundation of such a doctrinal understanding. They can all be easily understood within the “Sheol only” view. Since the verb “to awake” does not necessarily indicate an after-death experience, we certainly cannot use the references to “seeing the face of God” within the psalms to prove that the psalmists believed they would go to heaven to be with God when they died.

Redeemed from Sheol. Psalm 16:9–11 reads this way:

Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;

my body also will rest secure,

because you will not abandon me to the grave,

nor will you let your Holy One see decay.

You have made known to me the path of life;

you will fill me with joy in your presence,

with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

The phrase “abandon me to the grave [Sheol]” uses the Hebrew verb ʾzb followed by the preposition le-. This does not refer to the individual being abandoned in Sheol, but to his not being consigned to Sheol.37

Though this could mean that the psalmist expects an eternal destiny other than Sheol, it also could mean that he is confident that the Lord will allow him to live. The ambiguity is continued in the statement “You have made known to me the path of life.” Though this might refer to life rather than death, some interpreters have seen the last line in verse 11 as clinching the matter by specifying “eternal” pleasures.

The Old Testament does not speak of the right hand of God as a place in the presence of God in heaven. Rather, the right hand of God acts to deliver the righteous and to judge the enemy; this is the position that the oppressed psalmist wants to enjoy. In Psalm 118:15–18, therefore, the Lord’s right hand brings deliverance, which enables the psalmist to live rather than die. In Psalm 80:17, the man at the Lord’s right hand is made an instrument of God’s punishment against the wicked; this is often seen as the role of the king (Ps. 110:1). Furthermore, the Hebrew word translated “eternal” (nṣḥ in Ps. 16:11) is used as an adjective only four other times, always in a temporal context to describe a perpetual condition.38

Consequently, we see Psalm 16 as expressing the psalmist’s confidence that, rather than rejecting the psalmist, consigning him to death and the netherworld, God will protect his life by bringing his presence into the psalmist’s life and providing perpetual deliverance from his enemies by the power of his right hand.39

Like sheep they are destined for the grave,

and death will feed on them.

The upright will rule over them in the morning;

their forms will decay in the grave,

far from their princely mansions.

But God will redeem my life from the grave;

he will surely take me to himself. (Ps 49:14–15)

The NIV has correctly rendered the Hebrew term nepeš as “life” rather than “soul”; in fact, there is no place in the Old Testament where nepeš demonstrably refers to the soul in the theological sense. Rather, the nepeš refers to one’s self or one’s being and thereby can also represent one’s life.40 Several different verbs of rescue and deliverance take nepeš as their object, but none of these refer to eternal salvation the way that the New Testament means it.41 Psalm 30:2–3 clearly demonstrates that to have one’s nepeš redeemed from Sheol means to be preserved from death: “O LORD my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. O LORD, you brought me up from the grave [Sheol], you spared me from going down into the pit.”42

God “receiving” an individual. In Psalm 49:15 (cited above) the psalmist expresses his confidence that God “will surely take me to himself” (NIV). The verb “take” (lqḥ) is used of Enoch (Gen. 5:24) and also occurs in Psalm 73:23–24:

Yet I am always with you;

you hold me by my right hand.

You guide me with your counsel,

and afterward you will take me into glory. (emphasis added)

A few initial comments on the translation of these verses are necessary. In Psalm 49:15, the phrase reads simply “you will take me.” The “to himself” has been added by the NIV translators without warrant (though it certainly reflects their interpretation). The NIV’s translation of Psalm 73:24, then, leads us to the conclusion that “glory” is a synonym for heaven, since glory carries that connotation in English. We should note, however, that Hebrew never uses the word “glory” (kabod) as a synonym for heaven (the place of God’s dwelling). Furthermore, there is no preposition “into” in 73:24, which suggests that we should treat the word as an adverb rather than a noun. The resulting translation would be along the line of the NRSV, “And afterward, you will receive me with honor”—or, to avoid the need of a preposition altogether, “honorably.”43

In other words, neither Psalm 49:15 nor 73:24 suggests that the individual is being taken somewhere. But what else can the verb lqḥ suggest? A simple check of the concordance reveals how the psalmist uses the phrase.

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

he drew me out of deep waters.

He rescued me from my powerful enemy,

from my foes, who were too strong for me.

They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

but the LORD was my support.

He brought me out into a spacious place;

he rescued me because he delighted in me. (Ps. 18:16–19, emphasis added)

The first line contains the exact same verbal form as that found in Psalm 49:15, and 73:24 is the same except for the change from third person to second person. Yet in Psalm 18, the phrase clearly means to deliver someone from their trouble. While the usage of the verb “to take” (lqḥ) in the Enoch narrative requires some ambiguity, its usage in Psalms tips the scales toward a more temporal deliverance.

Thus, all three of the phrases that support an Israelite alternative to Sheol are ambiguous; furthermore, the various psalms (where references to Sheol are primarily found) suggest that the only alternative to Sheol is continued life on this earth. To substantiate the belief in an alternative to Sheol, we would need a clear, unambiguous passage. None of these offers that.

In conclusion, Job shows no deviation from the Israelite theology of the Old Testament. The Israelites believed that all persons would continue to exist after death in a place they called Sheol. This was not a place of reward or punishment; it was not a pleasant place, but there was no torment. God had access to Sheol, but those in Sheol had no access to God. While the Israelites may have believed in alternatives to Sheol, they did not profess to know anything about those alternatives, so they could only hope to be spared from Sheol for as long as possible. Thus, they saw God’s blessing and reward in a long life. Revivification was within the power of God, as was translation from life, but neither were common or expected to be the lot of more than a select few. Unknown were: (1) the concept of spending eternity in heaven or with God; (2) the bodily resurrection of all people to their eternal place; (3) judgment by God in the afterlife to reward faithfulness and punish wickedness; (4) punishment of the wicked in hell.44

D. S. Russell identifies three major theological shifts that occurred between the Old and New Testament periods, as documented by the intertestamental literature.45

1. The dead are described as “souls” or “spirits” and are portrayed much more clearly as individual, conscious beings.

2. Doctrine was enhanced to include multiple chambers in Sheol to accommodate differing treatment for the righteous and the wicked. This is attested as early as 1 and 2 Enoch in the early second century.46 The LXX distinguishes between Hades and Gehenna, which, in early church history, were identified respectively as places of purgation and torment.47 Evidence for two compartments also occurs in the parable of Lazarus and the rich man (Luke 16).

3. Sheol comes to be regarded as an intermediate state where the dead await the final resurrection and judgment.

A proper understanding of the Israelite doctrine of afterlife provides us with many insights into the Old Testament.

1. The Israelites did not construct their relationship with God around a hope of heaven. People often convert to Christianity because of fear; with heaven to gain and hell to avoid, conversion is logical. Likewise, we sometimes neglect our Christian life of faith because we have the assurance of heaven. To put it bluntly, our Christianity can be all one way: What’s in it for me? This is precisely what the Challenger had claimed about Job’s perspective. The dynamics of the Israelite faith operated on a totally different level. With no eternal gain in sight, their faith was inclined to be much more focused on God and less on self; this element also made their faith more concerned with the present than the future. They saw faith as something that existed in life and that lived on through generations, not that gave them heaven eternally.

2. We can now understand the Israelites’ struggles with God’s justice and recognize the importance of the RP. While they had no hope of heaven in eternity, their faith offered possible gain in the form of prosperity and long life. Just as we must avoid focusing our relationship with God on the possibility of heavenly gain, they had to avoid focusing on earthly gain. When earthly gain was not forthcoming, they asked distressed and probing questions about the justice of God (imagine how you would feel if after you died, you found out heaven was all a misunderstanding). For the Israelites, then, God’s justice was a day-to-day concern.

God as a hedge-builder. Two varying concepts of God as a hedge-builder have emerged in the opening chapters of Job. In the first, the Challenger claims that God has built a protective hedge around Job so that no harm can befall him (1:10). In Job’s lament, he complains that God’s hedge limits human knowledge so that one cannot comprehend God’s ways (3:23). As with nearly all theological statements in the book of Job, these need to be investigated to see if they represent God truthfully.

Regarding the protective hedge, we find affirmations throughout Scripture that God protects the faithful. Even as we pray for such protection, confident that he is able to provide it, we also know that such protection is not absolute. We have no reason to doubt that God did indeed set up a hedge around Job, but no such hedge is guaranteed to Job or to anyone else. Furthermore, a hedge may prevent intrusion from some but allow admittance to others.

Turning to the restrictive hedge, we must acknowledge that God has indeed left us in ignorance concerning his ways in our lives (Isa. 55:8–9). Job implies that the hedge goes beyond ignorance to oppression—God is turning the screws, tightening the noose. What does this suggest about God? We may accurately affirm that God has oppressed Job; since Job is unaware of the scene in heaven, he does not know the details of his particular situation. His statement adds specificity to his previous assertion in 2:10. Job unreservedly attributes responsibility to God for his negative experiences; if we maintain the traditional theology of a sovereign God in a monistic (rather than dualistic) system, we should do the same. As we incorporate that concept into our theology, we must remember that God’s behavior toward us is undergirded with wisdom, not some arbitrary, cruel, uncaring, temperamental, or distracted aspect of his character. Our theology must always give God the benefit of the doubt.

Contemporary Significance

GOD’S HEDGING IN. HOW do we perceive God’s hedges? Perhaps we can best understand God’s hedges when we consider how we, as parents, hedge in our children. When we raise children, we constantly wonder how much we should shield them from the “real” world and when we should “let them go.” Some parents are obviously overprotective (perhaps in everyone’s eyes but their own), producing a phenomenon today known as “helicopter parents.” In contrast, other parents seem reticent to provide any parameters for the choices and behavior of their children. Yet others insist on tight regulation of control by rules that stifle the development of any discernment. Some kids want their parents to run interference for them well into their adult years, while others begin chafing under parental controls from an early age (expressed in the T-shirt message: “Parents for sale—two for the price of one!”).

Our discussion here must not be about parenting, as interesting as that might be. Instead, the parent/child relationship illustrates God’s role in our lives. Do we think that God is too protective? A hovering, “helicopter” God with short apron strings? People usually think of God as too restrictive rather than too protective. I don’t know of anyone who would claim that God protects them too much from real life; in fact, many might wish for more protection. We know that his protection is qualified; else we would not have to pray, “Deliver us from evil.” Perhaps we are better off not knowing the many things from which God protects us.

Alternatively, some might believe that God draws the circle of expectations too tightly, regulating our lives ever more closely with the threat that stepping outside that circle will reap dire consequences. In such circumstances it would be easy to feel spiritual claustrophobia—virtually smothered by attention and regulation.

What makes us think of God this way? Generally one of two possibilities (or a combination of them):

• We think that God has too many rules and we would rather have more freedom to do what we want.

• We think that difficult circumstances are punishment for failure to match up to God’s too-demanding standards.

(1) We can address these two issues respectively through investigation of holiness and grace. For those who think that God has too many rules that prevent them from having a good time, he becomes a spoilsport who ruins all their fun; this legalistic view of God makes them resentful and recalcitrant. For their benefit, we ought to emphasize the difference between legalism and holiness. With all the laws in the Old Testament and admonitions and exhortations in the New, some might easily draw the inaccurate conclusion that the Christian faith is all about rules. Indeed, many churches and families treat it as exactly that; yet both Testaments seek not to bind us with rules but to free us from our sinful inclinations so we might become holy.

The laws and admonitions in the Bible help us understand what God is like and how we can be like him. Even were we to follow every rule, we would fall short of what God wants from us, because that is the wrong tactic. Though obedience is important, it is simply a means to a greater end. The point is not to be perfect in our obedience, but to be perfect in our imitation of God. We are not seeking the approval of a demanding parent, but a relationship with a holy God as we reflect his character in our lives. Christianity is about relationship, not about rules. The freedom that we think we seek is often just a reflection of our intrinsic desires to live out our fallenness. “Fun” is a misnomer, and too often a term to cover our self-indulgence as we revel in our own depravity.

(2) Those who think that their misfortune comes from an oversensitive deity who makes offenses too easy and consequences too severe ought to become reacquainted with the God of grace who knows the weaknesses of our humanity. Actually, there are two misconceptions behind this way of looking at God: first, the flawed inference that the misfortunes we experience are God’s punishment; second, our propensity to think of God as a harsh taskmaster rather than a gracious sovereign. The second depends on the first, and the first is a reflection of RP thinking. Like Job, we are too quick to attribute misfortune to offense—precisely the formula against which the book argues. God is not that sort of hedge-builder. When we misunderstand the nature of our misfortunes, we end up misconstruing God. The solution is to readjust our understanding of misfortune (a process the book is going to lead us through) and to trust the grace of God.

One more comment is necessary as we conclude this discussion. God also can use hedges that we perceive as negative but which are ultimately for our good—that is, disciplinary hedges. In Hosea 2:6[8], God builds a hedge around Israel to prevent her from finding her way. The hedge is intended to drive her back to her Lord, to prevent her from wandering. It manifests itself not in misfortunes, but in lack of success in worldly endeavors. When we experience these, we should reconsider our motives and our goals to pursue greater dependence on God.

Worry (3:25). God does not want us to live in fear, but to trust him. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus addresses one aspect of this straightforwardly as he admonishes the disciples not to worry about the basic needs of life; Job, however, worries about what circumstances might come his way. It is easy to find ourselves in the same situation. As the stock market tumbles, we worry about the shattered economy and the hardship it might bring. We worry about our health, either because we have troublesome symptoms, because we have a looming check-up or procedure, because we have a genetic predisposition to a particular disorder, or just because there are so many lurking diseases (cancer, heart problems, Alzheimer’s, etc.). The fragility of Social Security causes us worry about retirement and whether we will have enough to sustain our old age. We worry about possibly losing our jobs and wonder how we will survive. We worry about relationships that are not as healthy as we would like. We worry about children who exhibit troubling tendencies. Worries can crowd out hope and undermine our trust in God. When some of these worries become realities, we find Job’s words echoing through our minds: “What I dreaded has happened to me” (3:25).

Few people think they worry too much; they see their worries as legitimate concerns. How do we differentiate between responsible concern and paralyzing anxiety? When do our fears become obsessive? We know that worries can distract us and skew our focus in life; yet, as popular wisdom tells us, it is no good worrying over what we cannot change. In the parable of the sower, Jesus mentions those hounded by worry: “The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature” (Luke 8:14).

Of course, Job’s lament is not intended to warn us against worry, nor does it offer any critique of Job’s worries. It does not intend to push us in the opposite direction of fatalism either, though sometimes we might think that, though life has been going well, it will inevitably go sour.

Sermons could be preached on any of these approaches toward life, but if we want to ponder the issues raised in the text, we have to consider Job’s wish for death. When people are going through periods of suffering, loss, and pain, they often begin to desire death. For those who have never been in such dire circumstances (myself included), it is difficult to imagine reaching such extremes—but many have and many do. MacLeish captures this all-too-common plight in the words of his actors:

I’ve seen him.

Job is everywhere we go

His children dead, his work for nothing,

Counting his losses, scraping his boils.

Discussing himself with his friends and physicians,

Questioning everything—the times, the stars

His own soul, God’s providence.48

In a later scene, the suffering reaches its inevitable conclusion, just as it does for the biblical Job, with the wish for death:

Every human creature born

Is born into the bright delusion

Beauty and loving-kindness care for him.

Suffering teaches! Suffering’s good for us!

Imagine men and women dying

Still believing that the cuddling arms

Enclosed them! They would find the worms

Peculiar nurses, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t they?

What once was cuddled must learn to kiss

The cold worm’s mouth. That’s all the mystery.

That’s the whole muddle. Well, we learn it.

God is merciful and we learn it …

We learn to wish we’d never lived.49

So I have asked Kelly to address what it is like when suffering drives one to think that death is the best of all alternatives, and how one works through such morbid thoughts.

Kelly’s Story: Wish for Death50

JHW: DID YOU WISH for death, Kelly?

Kelly: As I look back years ago, it is sad to say there was a time in my life that I prayed out to the Lord to take my life. I remember it vividly because it was immediately after my thirteen-hour nerve transplant in September of 2000. I woke up in more excruciating pain than I had ever experienced at the young age of twelve. My legs were burning, since they removed the long nerve that runs underneath your knee to your ankle, in both legs. So each leg was bandaged up past my knees and would burn if I straightened my leg because that would strain the nerve they took out. Then my neck was in so much pain, since they took out nerve from the spinal cord, causing my left arm to go numb for four months, and the nerve graft was threaded through my chest and into my armpit.

At the time it was the most pain I had ever experienced, and on top of that I had horrible phantom pains due to the trauma and stress of the surgery. So when I came out of the surgery, I remember lying down in the hospital bed, crying in pain, and praying, “Lord, why did you save my life in the car accident so that you would allow me to suffer to such a great degree? Lord, please take me home to be with you. Please allow me to fall asleep and wake up in your presence.” Over the course of those days in the hospital, there were days that I screamed out loud in pain, pleading that the Lord would make it stop and bring me home.

JHW: How did you resist those wishes and eventually conquer them?

Kelly: Over time some of the pain subsided. The Lord gave me peace in my heart and assurance that he had plans for me. I felt the Lord saying, “I didn’t miraculously save you from that accident, only to take you home a couple of months later. I want to use this trial, and I want to use you … but you need to trust me.” So I began trying to think of life on a day-to-day basis, trying to seek him for the strength to endure.

JHW: Was there consolation in the belief in heaven—an eternity with God?

Kelly: Definitely. My belief in Christ, God, heaven, and spending eternity with him dramatically impacted the growing process after the accident. I did not just simply want to end my life; rather, at the time I wanted God to take me to heaven—sooner rather than later. The pain and suffering I was experiencing seemed like too much to bear, so I yearned to be in heaven, in eternity with him.

JHW: Did such a hope help you feel any better about life and God?

Kelly: My hope in spending eternity with God did help knowing that there will be a day when I will not live in extremely excruciating pain; yet at times I was impatient and wanted that time to come now. Over time that hope did affect my thought process and did help me change my perspective on life.

JHW: Do you have any perspective to offer people who are suffering and desire death? What would you say to them?

Kelly: If I were speaking to someone who was in the midst of suffering to the point they desire death, I would first and foremost listen. I would intentionally listen to hope that I understood what they were trying to communicate before offering my opinion. Then I would try to encourage them to shift their perspective on how they view their trial—that instead of focusing on the “why” questions, they should seek the question, “Lord, what are you doing here and what do you want me to learn?” The Lord has a plan for their lives and isn’t done yet, and he wants to carry them through the suffering. I would gently encourage them in how the Lord can use trials, such as: trials cause us to draw near to him, they test our faith, they can be used to move us to the place the Lord wants us to be, they can slow us down to focus on him, and trials can be used to show God’s power, which he allows us to experience. We should take it day by day, and when we are called to be in his presence, it will be the right time; but until then, we are to seek him and offer our sufferings and our desire for death to him. For when do the stars shine the brightest? When the sky is the darkest and there is no other light in sight. When we are in dark times and can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, those are the times we seek Christ and experience him in a real way. Heaven will come in its time, but for now we are to take it one day at a time.

With Kelly’s experience as a backdrop, perhaps in conclusion we should consider how our own beliefs in afterlife affect our response to suffering. Unlike Job, we have a hope beyond the grave. This could have an impact on a couple of different aspects of suffering. If we are concerned about the justice of God, a belief in an afterlife where there is reward and punishment can be used to “get God off the hook” in our belief that justice will be done. Yet that idea also needs to be qualified, because our eternal destiny is a matter of grace, not justice. We might spend our whole lives waiting to see a certain enemy receive what is coming in eternal judgment, only to find that they repent in the final moments of life. Eternity will not satisfy our desire for justice of that sort.

If, instead of the philosophical concerns of theodicy, we are thinking about the experience of our suffering, we might find the prospect of eternity to be small comfort. It is true that suffering will end, but that hope does not relieve our pain.

The important point I am trying to make is that the fact that we have hope in eternity does not eliminate the need for a strategy for dealing with pain and suffering. If the suffering is our own, the hope of heaven does not make it any easier to cope day by day, and it doesn’t provide satisfactory answers to the “why” questions. It doesn’t even help us focus on God’s purposes. We need God’s strength to do that, not just a hope for the future.

If the suffering is someone else’s, we should not think that the only advice we need to give is that heaven is coming someday. As Kelly indicated, it is important to live in the now, not in the future. Taking one day at a time means looking to God for strength to persevere. With heaven before us, death can seem the easy way out, but God does not offer the easy way. I am reminded of the common comment by my friend Paul Wright of Jerusalem University College as we take students around the land of Israel: “To the left is the shortcut; we’re going right.” There are things we need to see and experience that will enrich our day that we will miss if we take the shortcut.

In C. S. Lewis’s book A Grief Observed, he tells of how he found that all of his sage insights into dealing with suffering became nothing but so much meaningless rhetoric when he was faced with his wife Joy’s suffering. We can’t really understand suffering until we are involved in it; but we can prepare for it. In fact, we must do so. It is too late to learn a piano concerto when you walk onto the stage to perform it. It is past time to get into shape when you line up at the starting line for the marathon. In the same way, we try to prepare ourselves for suffering before it comes upon us. How do we prepare for suffering? By engaging in mental/theological exercises. It is a sound view of God and the world that can sustain us when the trials come, though we will still need God to undergird our resolve to honor him through it all.51

Original Meaning

The Netherworld (3:11–19)

IN THESE VERSES, WE find one of the fullest treatments of the netherworld in the Old Testament. The alternative to being born, once that had been allowed by “the day,” was to be stillborn or to die shortly after birth. Job expresses his belief that the netherworld would be a better place to be than his life on earth; he depicts the netherworld as a place of comfort, rest, ease, and tranquility. We should note that it is therefore a place of neither punishment nor reward. The fairly positive picture painted here gains its attractiveness because of the contrast to Job’s circumstances on earth; the depiction is entirely relative, for such a positive view of the netherworld is not common in biblical perspective. In modern-day terms, someone who was starving might look forward to prison, where they could get three meals a day. As in the last section, this passage gains rhetorical force by the shocking pictures used to convey the desperation of Job’s situation.