Original Meaning

Job’s Second Response

IN 40:4–5, Job responded to God’s questioning concerning the macrocosm and microcosm with awed silence. He would no longer press his case. Yahweh deemed his silence inadequate, however, and followed up with a second speech featuring the mysterious Behemoth and Leviathan. Job now responds to this second speech by recanting and repenting.

Job here first acknowledges God’s wisdom and power (42:2), then admits the validity of God’s accusation that he (Job) has obscured knowledge and spoken ignorantly (42:3). He concedes that he spoke of things too “wonderful” to know. The Hebrew word here is peleʾ, which refers to information in the divine realm that is beyond human understanding. The same word describes knowledge of God’s name (Judg. 13:18) and God’s wondrous acts (Ex. 3:20; Josh. 3:5; Judg. 6:13; Ps. 139:6). An equivalent term today would be “supernatural.”

No concept of natural existed in the ancient world, so there could be no distinction between natural and supernatural. All action was considered effected by God,1 though people did recognize a difference between divine and human capabilities. In Job, the word peleʾ occurs five other times (5:9; 9:10; 10:16; 37:5, 14), and these instances provide a helpful profile of its usage. Job’s use of the word here is particularly appropriate, as he acknowledges that God’s ways are beyond his ability to comprehend and systematize.

In 42:5 Job distinguishes between secondhand experience (“my ears had heard”) and firsthand experience (“now my eyes have seen”), and in light of the comparison, he “despises” (NIV; Heb. mʾs) and “repents” (NIV; Heb. nḥm in the Niphal). The first verb connotes considering something or someone as nothing or as having no value. Job previously used this verb to describe his low estimation of himself (7:16; 9:21).2 The expression goes beyond humility to self-abasement. He is deeply ashamed of his former presumption in challenging God’s ways.3

The second verb should be distinguished from others that can be translated “repent.” Eliphaz, working under the assumption that Job was guilty of great sin, urged him to “repent” (NIV: “return” in 22:23; šub)—that is, to change his behavior. In 42:5, Job does not suggest behavior change, but rather wishes to retract his previous statements. He employs the same verb and form used when God “changes his mind” (e.g., Ex. 32:14; Jer. 4:28; 18:10; Joel 2:13; Jonah 3:10). While it is a difficult word to translate into English, many of its occurrences take place in situations involving regret. It would not be misguided to see in Job’s statements that he regrets his previous statements, his characterization of God, his presumptuous belief in his own understanding, and his arrogant challenges.

Nevertheless, his statement here focuses elsewhere. When the Niphal form of the verb nḥm is used with the preposition ʿal (as here), it typically means to reconsider something or, more often, to put something out of mind—to forget all about it.4 In this verse, that “something” is his dust and ashes. The preposition cannot be read as Job repenting with dust and ashes; rather, he “reconsiders dust and ashes,” or “puts dust and ashes out of his mind.” He has thereby announced the end to his mourning as he has accepted his reality.

Narrative Epilogue

THE EPILOGUE COMPRISES TWO parts: the reprimand and reconciliation of Job’s friends (42:7–9), and the restoration of Job’s prosperity (42:10–16). Both have their difficulties. The first section presents vocabulary problems, which we will address immediately, and the second raises concerns regarding the conclusion’s theological and rhetorical logic, which we will address under Bridging Contexts.

After God expresses his anger at the three friends, he twice identifies the reason for his displeasure: “You have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.” At this point in the book, we can see many ways in which the friends have spoken incorrectly, but it is more difficult to understand why Job seems to receive exoneration for his statements about God, particularly in light of the harsh indictment that immediately preceded this section.

Outside of God’s statements in 42:7–8, neither God nor Job seems to consider Job’s speech about God to be appropriate; indeed, passages such as 30:18–23 raise serious questions about the validity of Job’s characterization of God. Furthermore, Job’s oath of innocence in chapter 31 carries implications that are inherently devastating to God’s character. As is often the case, clarity is found in a close reading of the Hebrew text, particularly an investigation of the narrator’s choice of words.

The Hebrew combines the verb dibber (the common word for the act of speaking) with the preposition ʾel followed by the first person pronoun, ending with the adjective nekonah (NIV, “right”), and presents the entire phrase as a contrast to Job’s behavior (k- preposition of comparison).

The versions and manuscripts testify that interpreters have long struggled with this line. Most notably, many Hebrew manuscripts substitute the Hebrew preposition b- for k- preceding the reference to Job. This change results in the translation: “because you have not spoken of me what is right against my servant Job” (instead of “as my servant Job”). Such a reading eliminates the suggestion that Job has spoken correctly about God.5 Although this presents a possible solution, it may be a textual adjustment made in the transmission history in order to resolve a perceived problem rather than a reading that commends itself as original.

An alternative explanation relates to the word nekonah (Niphal fem. ptc. of kwn). As noted in the comments on Job 10:13 (p. 178), when this word concerns something that is expressed or discovered, it indicates that such expression or discovery is sensible, logical, or verifiable. A statement characterized as nekonah can be validated by evidence. In 10:13, I suggested the following conclusion: “Job believes that God is afflicting him without cause (9:17), a belief that God affirms is true (2:3); in contrast, Job’s friends claim that God is afflicting Job with cause and press Job to confess his supposed crimes. This does not mean that Job’s concept of God is unobjectionable or that all that he says of God is correct, but it does mean that Job has drawn logical conclusions.” As this reading suggests, we may be able to differentiate between ways of “speaking what is right.” In contrast to his friends, Job did speak what is right (or valid) in certain ways, even though in other ways he misspoke. I believe this offers the most profitable direction for interpretation. Regardless of which interpretive option we choose, however, all commentators agree that although Job spoke more truly than his friends, God does not exonerate his behavior as a whole.6

We must address one more textual issue before turning our attention to rhetorical strategy in Bridging Contexts. In verse 8 God states that if Job offers a sacrifice and prays for the friends, “I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly” (NIV). This translation avoids a problem evident in the Hebrew text, which has no second person pronoun attached to the noun folly (nebalah). The Hebrew thus appears to require the translation “lest I commit folly in my treatment of you.” The syntax (lebilti + ʿaśot + uninflected noun, cf. Lev. 18:30; Ezek. 33:15, in this case, nebalah) suggests that Yahweh may act with folly (nebalah), a concept that is incompatible with his character (note nebaloth as a description of Job’s wife in 2:10). Before adding words to the text (as the NIV does), we will attempt to understand the full semantic range of the word nebalah.

Some have suggested that nebalah refers to actions that are scandalously contrary to convention or to someone engaged in such behavior.7 The word often describes strikingly immoral behavior (e.g., Gen. 34:7; Judg. 19:23; 2 Sam. 13:12) or disparagement of God’s character (Isa. 9:17; Jer. 29:23). Such behavior is considered outrageous because it violates all sensibility, logic, and tradition. We readily translate nebalah as “folly,” because characteristically it is a fool who commits such acts. The term involves not only unconventional comportment, but shocking iconoclasm and reversal of norms. Can God act this way? In light of preceding chapters, we must answer in the affirmative, for a reversal of norms is precisely the manner in which God has acted toward Job: God brought suffering on that righteous man even though convention dictated that he should prosper. Here, then, God threatens that Job’s friends are not immune to similar treatment. They too are vulnerable to loss and misery, contrary to their confidence in the RP.

Finally, Job offers a prayer for his friends after they have offered the requisite sacrifices. This action serves as an inclusio with chapter 1, where Job offered sacrifices for his children. When Job acted as priest for his children, his behavior revealed flaws in his theology and exposed him to questions regarding his motivations, which led to his suffering. In contrast, when Job acts as intercessor for his friends at the end of the book, he does so in reflection of God’s compassion, not in suspicion of God’s unreasonable character; as a result, this behavior leads to Job’s restoration (42:10). Job conducted his former rituals in order to hedge against the possibility that his children had cursed God; now their rituals and his prayer are required because his friends did not speak what was right about Yahweh—a fact, not a vague suspicion.

Bridging Contexts

Rhetorical Strategy

WE MUST ADDRESS TWO questions as we approach the rhetorical conclusion of the book:

1. How does Job’s concluding statement serve as a logical response to God’s second speech?

2. How does the epilogue serve as a legitimate conclusion to the book?

Job’s response to Yahweh’s second speech. We have already discussed the reasons for Yahweh’s second speech and the ways in which Job’s second response surpasses his first. We must now consider why Yahweh’s second speech effectively elicits a more significant response from Job.

As previously suggested, in his second speech Yahweh employs Behemoth and Leviathan as illustrations for Job and himself, respectively. The lesson of Behemoth concerns stability and trust. The lesson of Leviathan is the utter folly of challenging God—one wouldn’t dream of challenging Leviathan, and God is far greater than Leviathan. Job’s second response, in which he recants his arrogant challenges, demonstrates that he has taken these lessons to heart. Presumably he is now prepared to place his trust in God rather than the RP.

Epilogue as fitting conclusion to the book. Many have been baffled by the conclusion for a number of reasons:

• Restoring Job’s prosperity doesn’t erase the suffering he experienced—this solution rings hollow.

• Providing Job with more children does not heal his grief for those he lost.

• Restoring Job’s prosperity seems like a reinstallation of the RP, which makes little sense given that God has just established its inadequacy.

Any treatment of the book must address these issues in order to explain why the conclusion is appropriate.

To fully grasp the appropriateness of the conclusion, we must bear in mind the book’s central concern: God’s policies. The Challenger claims that it is poor policy for righteous people to prosper. Job claims that it is poor policy for righteous people to suffer. The first twenty-seven chapters of the book explore the Challenger’s claim, throughout which Job maintains his belief that righteousness, not prosperity, matters most. We traced the integrity of Job’s conviction chapter by chapter and concluded that, contrary to the Challenger’s contention, prospering righteous people does not automatically subvert their motives. Job demonstrates that it is possible to be righteous for righteousness’ sake—he indeed will serve God for nothing.

The book likewise addresses Job’s claim and concludes that it is not God’s policy to prosper righteous people invariably. While God delights in bringing good to those who are faithful, the world does not operate according to justice. The RP does not provide a theodicy.

By restoring Job’s prosperity in the epilogue, God makes a clear statement that he will continue to act as he did before, with policies unchanged. The cases presented by the Challenger and by Job have proved untenable. God is not bound by the RP. Job can now understand his prosperity differently: Prosperity is not a reward he deserves or one that God is obliged to provide. It is rather a gift from God.

When we view the epilogue in this light, the objections raised earlier may be effectively addressed. The restoration of Job’s prosperity is not intended to erase Job’s pain, and it is not even primarily for Job’s benefit. This is not about Job. Through Job’s renewed prosperity, God’s challenged policies are reinstated. Now, however, it can be understood that this prosperity of Job’s is not a given, is not mechanical; it is not the obligation of God but the pleasure of God. This point is critical for an accurate understanding of the book’s message. The epilogue does not suggest that when we suffer, we may console ourselves with an expectation of future satisfaction—that someday we will get it all back.

Similarly, the fact that Job is given more children is not meant to erase his grief over those who died. Like many Jews in the aftermath of the Holocaust, Elie Wiesel struggled to understand a God who could allow such devastation to his chosen people. In Messengers of God: Biblical Portraits and Legends, Wiesel makes the point that tragedies do not cancel one another out. Wiesel suggests that what Job should have asked at the end of the book was: “What about my dead children?”8 Those losses were real and could not be ameliorated by replacements. But the epilogue does not suggest such an unrealistic way of thinking. Again, the restoration is not primarily for Job’s benefit; rather, it demonstrates that God’s policies are intact and unaltered in the aftermath of the challenges made to them. Wiesel is seeking reasons and explanations for suffering, which the epilogue does not offer.

If we consider the epilogue (or the book as a whole) and imagine how we would feel if we were Job or if we experienced Job-like suffering, we will miss the point. Our purpose is not to learn from Job as a character or from his experiences. The book does not ask us to put ourselves in his place or to model our responses after his behavior. Instead, the book prompts us to learn how to think about God more accurately, just as Job learns alongside us. God delights in showing favor to those who are faithful to him, but the world is not bound to operate on that premise.

The observations provided in response to the first two objections also give an answer to the third. The restoration of Job’s prosperity does not equate to an unqualified reinstallation of the RP, and thus Job’s blessings now may be considered in a different light. Neither God’s policies nor the world’s operations are founded on the RP applied as theodicy. Rather, when events appear to occur according to the RP, they should be viewed as the ripple effects of God’s character as he intervenes to bring blessing and judgment.

In order to understand the strategy and import of the book, we must recognize that it does not offer us an explanation of why righteous people suffer. We should not base our expectations on Job’s experiences. Job receives no explanation for his suffering, and the book does not fill that void for readers either. The only explanation the book offers concerns right thinking about God and his policies in a world where suffering is pervasive and inevitable.

In light of the preceding points, the epilogue is the perfect conclusion to the book. The challenges to God’s policies have been addressed, and various misconceptions about God and the cosmos have been dispelled. In the process, we have gained wisdom. This wisdom does not ease our suffering, but it does help us to avoid the foolish thinking that might lead us to reject God when we need him most.

Theological Issues

RETRIBUTION PRINCIPLE REMIX. GIVEN the book’s conclusion, we may reevaluate our view of the RP, especially in light of the positive affirmations found in Proverbs, wisdom psalms such as Psalm 37, and Deuteronomy’s covenant blessings and curses. The Introduction (pp. 39–48) addressed this material at length, so we only reiterate it briefly here. The two key ideas are as follows:

1. The Bible affirms the RP as good theology, but it does not use it to construct a theodicy, despite the natural inclination to do so.

2. The Bible’s affirmation of the RP is covenantal and proverbial. In covenantal terms, it operates collectively, not individually, and therefore is philosophically unproblematic when an individual faces a crisis. Wisdom literature presents the RP as proverbial truth, which by its genre constitutes a generalization about how things tend to be rather than a guarantee of universal reality.

As we consider the RP in collective covenantal terms, we may ponder Job’s impact on corporate Israel. It is unlikely that Israelites in exile viewed themselves as a corporate righteous sufferer, but they may well have gained insight into the covenant’s RP aspects in context of their national relationship to Yahweh.9 Per the message of Job, the covenant asks Israel to trust God’s wisdom rather than to apply a mechanical tally system suggested by a superficial reading of the covenant blessings and curses.

God’s policies remix. Even when we accept the book’s teaching that God’s policies are sound and that the RP is not the foundation for the world’s operations, we inevitably find ourselves with further questions about how God works. Why does God bring blessing to the righteous and judgment on the wicked inconsistently? Even if he did so only rarely, wouldn’t such action require “overriding” the natural system of cause and effect in order to impose his will? If God overrides the system sometimes, why not all the time? How does he choose when to do so? We easily find ourselves at square one, questioning God’s policies.

Our understanding of these issues will benefit if we can set aside our default conception of the post-Enlightenment Kantian divide between supernatural and natural, in which the natural world operates by an inexorable chain of cause and effect, and any supernatural element is a disruption. Instead, we must think in ancient categories of order and disorder, which were introduced in our investigation of Behemoth and Leviathan (p. 413). Suffering is part of the disorder that continues to exist in the cosmos. It has been left there by God’s design, according to his purposes. God can send suffering as punishment, but suffering is also an automatic result of disorder. Human beings, made in God’s image, can alleviate a measure of suffering as they follow their mandate to “subdue and rule.” Such alleviation may be seen in technology employed on a global basis to maximize resources, and through the advance of medical technology to treat disease and reduce pain. This type of progress, however, is inevitably limited and cannot serve as a final solution to disorder. These same technologies can be exploited in harmful ways as they are wielded by fallen humans.

God brings order in many ways besides human effort. Creation is the act of bringing order, and God is Creator. His creating work entails ongoing involvement, not merely a past burst of activity. Enactments of the RP are a manifestation of order. We cannot address why God chooses to enact the RP in some instances and not in others—this is where trust comes into play. God will eventually align all of creation with his attributes and establish absolute order in the new heavens and new earth. Until then, we should expect continued manifestations of disorder.

Contemporary Significance

WHEN I HAVE OPPORTUNITY for casual reading, fantasy is my genre of choice. I enjoy how it opens my imagination and offers truths about the world. Fantasy writers often indulge in philosophical and theological ruminations; in this and many other ways, they are indebted to the likes of J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. Sometimes their ideas ring true; other times, I find reason to disagree or to question whether they have put truth in the mouths of their characters.

In The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing: Traitor to the Nation, Volume 1, The Pox Party, by M. T. Anderson, one of the characters offers a remarkable commentary on the relationship between kindness and profit—precisely the issue addressed in the book of Job.

Kindness without the promise of profit is an impossibility. You must want something if you are to act. Otherwise, it would be like movement without motivation. Reaction without action. Kinesis without stimulation. Motion without energy. Kindness without profit is like a teapot hovering over a table, held by nothing.10

It is not surprising that some people truly subscribe to this belief. Profit is undoubtedly a common motivation for kindness, and in our fallen state this observation easily shapes our mind-set, even if subconsciously. After all, we are not naturally inclined to be kind. The book of Job offers the good news that kindness (or righteousness) can be motivated by something other than profit.

This statement appropriately leads to a question we each should answer: Do we serve God for nothing? If our righteous or kind behavior is motivated primarily by a desire to ingratiate ourselves with God and/or others, to win approval, or to conform to expectations, we are missing the mark. Honest self-evaluation can be difficult, because these false motivations are often buried deeply in our psyche. To correct this tendency, we do not need to eliminate our desire for approval or our inclination to conform, but we do need to nurture right ways of thinking.

How do we do so, and how will we know if we are getting it right? Righteous behavior often does result in approval or even profit, and it is all too easy to view those results as incentives. In order to detach motivation from personal gain, therefore, we ought to seek opportunities to do what is right without hope of approval or profit. Even in anonymous acts of righteousness, however, we may feel satisfied that we are ingratiating ourselves with God, and we must dissuade ourselves from thinking in those terms. Righteousness and kindness certainly please God, and his pleasure is sound motivation. The key is to avoid expecting something in return; his approval should be enough. These are high ideals indeed, and they do not come naturally. We can work on them for our entire lives and still feel we have made little progress and failed frequently. Nevertheless, pure motivation should become the object of our prayers.

As the book of Job comes to a close, we should also take the opportunity to review our conception of an appropriate response to suffering. We have discussed this notion several times, but we have yet to address the various suggestions that are typically made. I begin with a quote from another fantasy novel, this one offering a perspective on suffering: “Every injury is a gift, every gift an injury.”11 When I encountered this statement by one of the characters in the book, I set the book down and spent some time pondering its validity. I recognize the statement as a generalization, and as such it need not be considered always true. But does it have a ring of truth to it as an observation of reality?

We could consider “every injury a gift” if we emphasize the way in which an injury to one part of the body sometimes strengthens other parts. Indeed, in the book the line was spoken by a blind character who experienced compensatory development via the sharpening of other senses. We could also consider the statement to be true in the sense that suffering may help us to mature, as pointed out earlier. In this way too, injuries could be accepted as gifts.

Correspondingly, we could consider “every gift an injury” because a gift may indebt us to the giver. Obligations place burdens on us, some of which we can never repay. In such cases, we may feel guilty or constrained. When gifts come with chains of conscience or duty attached, we may indeed view them as injuries.

It is inappropriate, however, to think of God’s gifts as inflicting injury. The essential point of Job is that God does not run a mutual indebtedness scheme. His gifts to us impose no obligation. Undoubtedly some respond to God as if they are trapped in servitude, but that is not how God desires us to interact with him. We are to respond as his children, not as his slaves (Rom. 8:15–17). It is true that we are debtors to his grace, but that is a debt we can never repay, and in fact God does not expect repayment. Christ died because we could not independently rectify our situation, so if we serve him only out of a sense of guilt or duty, we miss the point entirely. Christ’s death was not a relocation of guilt—guilt over sin to guilt over an impossible debt; rather, Christ died to free us from guilt so that we can serve him freely, out of love.

We may conclude, then, that the novel’s saying contains some truth and demonstrates a potential perspective on suffering: suffering as a gift. Those who maintain that suffering is God’s will and therefore worthy of a joyful response express the same concept. The notion of rejoicing in suffering has biblical support:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. (James 1:2–5)

These verses touch on many of the points we have presented throughout the book. Trials result in maturity, and God gives us wisdom to cope with the pain we experience. Notice also that James urges us to pray for wisdom rather than for relief.

At the same time, we may question whether James is addressing trials of suffering, for within the book’s discussion of perseverance, the emphasis remains primarily on temptation and persecution. James likely would not exempt suffering from the larger category he labels “trials,” for he mentions Job as an example of one who persevered (James 5:11). It is appropriate, then, that we try to find joy (which is distinct from “happiness”) in suffering. Although such an attempt often feels impossible, it is nonetheless the perspective to which we should aspire.

I must make one final observation on this point: I am not convinced that we should view suffering as “God’s will,” by which I mean that it is not his desire for us to suffer. God desires that we learn perseverance and wisdom and that we mature. Suffering is part of the disorder in the world and God can bring good from it. Disorder has remained part of the cosmos as part of God’s plan. But instead of responding to this disorder righteously, we have responded to this disorder with sin, which sometimes results in suffering. We should not rejoice over our sin and over the chaos and suffering that ensue as a result. Positive results can follow sin when we recognize it, suffer the consequences, repent, and thereby grow strong against it—but that does not make sin God’s will.

We should not think of suffering as God’s way to teach us a lesson and that our continued suffering means we have not yet learned the intended lesson. God can teach lessons through our suffering, but we should not think of it as his will to do so. Likewise we should not think in terms of “blaming the world.” We must resist finding a focus for blame, for that is not the point.

God’s plan for history and the cosmos entails a gradual process of expanding order. While that process remains incomplete, we cope with the disorder that remains. God could have chosen to act differently, but it is not our role to second-guess God or to suggest better options, as the book of Job has taught us. When we distinguish between God’s permissive will and his perfect sovereign will, we reflect our desire to craft theology to justify our experience. Such systematizations run the risk of committing the same fault as Job and his friends: reducing God’s policies to a simple formula.

My reticence to label suffering as “God’s will” does not entail agreement with those who label suffering as the work of the devil.12 We often overstate the role of Satan in the world. When we portray him as the enemy of God, we must be careful not to elevate him above his pay grade. God has no enemies worthy of the title, and he is not in a struggle to retain power or control over the universe. Satan is our enemy, but he is entirely under God’s control, as discussed in chapter 1 (pp. 64–67). Satan is only part of the disorder that continues to exist in the cosmos; he is neither the author of that disorder nor its sustainer. He has a role in the disorder, and his presence testifies to it, but every instance of disorder cannot be attributed to him.

Another common reaction to suffering is the conclusion that we suffer because we deserve it. For every natural disaster, there are unfortunately people willing to enumerate the sins of the victims (corporately if not individually). When Hurricane Katrina decimated a large section of New Orleans, self-styled prophets announced that the devastation was God’s judgment on a sinful city. There is no question that God can use natural disasters to bring judgment, but no one today should dare claim a prophet’s authority to expound the mind of God. Correlating suffering and sin too closely leads to overreliance on the RP’s explanatory capacity. This is precisely the error critiqued by the book of Job, and we should seek to avoid it.

This flaw also appears in the ever-popular “health-and-wealth” gospel. Instead of claiming that disasters are God’s punishment for wickedness, this theological aberration proclaims great material rewards, often in the form of monetary gifts, for those who respond to God. This outlook is another misapplication of the RP. As noted, the RP appears within the context of wisdom literature and should be read as theological proverb; it cannot accurately or profitably be viewed as offering a promise or guarantee.

Other explanations of suffering emerge in contexts such as the dramatic production God on Trial, which portrays a court case held at Auschwitz.13 God is put on trial for violating his covenant and abandoning his people. The play identifies various interpretations of suffering, including the ideas that God brings suffering to test the faith of righteous people (offered by the character named Kuhn) and that God brings suffering for the purpose of purification (offered by Schmidt). Neither of these options should be dismissed out of hand. Undoubtedly, either could be the result of suffering, but there is a significant difference between “result” and “reason.” As we have learned from Job, we should be hesitant to believe that we can identify reasons for suffering or explanations for God’s actions. Our job is to trust, not to explain. Our objective is faith and perseverance, not relief. Our determination is to refrain from reducing God to a manageable size by confining him to a philosophical box of our own design. And our commitment is to respond with humility rather than to defame his character or dismiss him.

In conclusion, I want to register a final objection to those who summarize the message of the book of Job as “I am God and you are not.” I begin with a confession. When I was in my adolescent years, our home had a simple back patio made of stone slabs with spaces of soil between them. As is often the case, ants made their home in these dirt cracks, and the patio was often awash with their activity. For some reason that I still cannot fathom, I used to spend time out on the patio with a basketball, squashing ants. It did not occur to me that I should be reluctant to so casually remove life that God had created, with no reason or benefit—the ants brought no harm to the house or garden.

Sometimes we might be inclined to see ourselves as the ants and God as the mindless adolescent with the basketball. He is not simply exercising power because he can, or demonstrating cruelty, so that it impossible for us to either question him or explain his actions. This view does not represent sound biblical or theological thinking. We should not adopt any of the following elaborations of “I am God and you are not:”

• I am God, mind your own business.

• I am God, I can do whatever I want.

• I am God, you are worthless.

In light of the book of Job, the only acceptable elaboration would be: “I am God, I care deeply, and I want you to trust me even when you don’t understand.” By affirming such a view of God, we do not dismiss suffering as meaningless but try to understand it in the larger context of God’s wisdom and the world in which we live.

Kelly’s Story14

JHW: WE HAVE REACHED the end of the book, Kelly, but you still have your life before you. Could you conclude by reflecting on how the book of Job has changed your perspective about your situation and what the future looks like for you (both in terms of your physical condition and your perspectives on it)?

Kelly: This process has changed my perspective on suffering and my situation in so many ways, I am not sure where to begin. Looking back at the lunch conversation with you in the Wheaton College dining hall when you asked me to consider being a part of this commentary in the spring of 2009, I remember feeling honored, excited, horrified, way underqualified, and confused all at the same time. I remember thinking, “Why on earth is he asking me? I feel like the last person to be giving my thoughts on suffering for a Job commentary. Maybe he hasn’t noticed that God and I are in a bit of a disagreement at the moment.” It was as though you read my mind because you then said, “Struggling through the hard questions, wrestling with the unknown, and having someone share their raw and real emotions in the midst of trial will be what readers relate to.”

When I think about the honor I have had to be a part of this project, I see God’s involvement, or rather his purpose, written all over it. As I reflect on my testimony, there are still many unanswered questions, and I may never know the answers—nor am I entitled to. When it comes to this book on Job, however, it is clear how God used the timing of this opportunity for a greater purpose.

I was broken. I was in the thick of it. When I first started writing my section of this book, typing was still a difficult task since I had lost my fine motor skills in my left hand and was still recovering and trying to strengthen those muscles. I am grateful that as I type now, it is a task I can do with ease. As we know from what we learned in studying Job, God is not a God who micromanages every detail; but I do believe he is a God who answers prayers, equips us, and gives us the strength—or in my case, the project—to help us through our trials.

God knew that I was angry, confused, hurt, and suffering, and that I would most likely bottle all of my emotions. I would not talk about my questions to God, or even what I was struggling through, but then I willingly signed a contract stating that I have to talk about the trial I’m in and write out my questions and dialogue with God in the process. He may not have removed the thorn, but what a better way to carry me through the trial than to say: “Kelly, I’m going to have you sign a contract for a commentary on the book of Job. So while you are in these trials, you are going to study Job and the topics of suffering on earth and my involvement in it. You will then talk about how those themes are directly connected to your personal testimony, and then be forced to deal with deep-rooted issues in regard to the lies that you have believed about me as a result of your painful experiences.” It has been a process for which I am grateful. There were times where you would send me questions that I would have to skip and return to later on, because I wasn’t ready to address that area of my faith or my life.

So once I was in the process, how did studying the book of Job change my perspective? First, I learned how to pray while in suffering, which greatly impacted my perspective. I learned that in my moments of pain I should seek wisdom (as we talked about in Job 28), ask for the strength to endure, and pray for a heavenly perspective, rather than focusing solely on the trial and begging for an escape. I learned that when I was challenging God and asking him “Why?” it did not reveal God’s distorted character, but my distorted view of him. This caused me to reflect on the lies that I was believing about my own worth and about God that were formed from painful experiences on earth. But the largest thing that changed my view on my situation was identifying my lack of trust in God. The restoration of my trust in him and knowing his love for me brought emotional and spiritual healing.

There were times where I felt like the ant that you described in your story. In times like those I felt as if God was carelessly causing me pain, but I had to remember his love for me and that in the midst of the pain, I must trust that his plan is good, because his character does not change.

A lot has changed in my life throughout this process. I graduated from Wheaton College with a degree in Fine Art Photography and Spanish, moved back to my home state of Colorado to start up my photography business, and I got married in the summer of 2011 to my best friend. I know I would be in a very different place if I had not restored my trust in God, which has allowed me to heal from the lies that were binding me in my suffering. The trials and the story continue. I still have excruciating nerve pain, failed medical procedures, and medical bills for those failed procedures, and I know that such experiences will most likely be a part of my life in the future. But the only reason I talk in the past tense when referring to my view of my situation is because even though the suffering remains today, the refreshed perspective acknowledges that God is sovereign, and I believe in him, and his love gives me a renewed strength to trust his wisdom, to overcome the trials, and to be content in the mystery of the unknown.

As I write these words I want to be careful because even though I am joyful for the healing that has taken place and for my refreshed perspective, that does not mean I do not still have days where I feel weak and struggle. The trials are just as real today as they have been over this past decade. So as I encounter trials and pain in my life, I have to continue to seek God and seek wisdom to retain that perspective. I guess what I am saying is that it is not a one quick fix. Doubts and lies can still creep into our way of thinking, so we need to be praying for strength and for discernment when thoughts come into our minds that distort our view of God.

I do not know what the future holds in terms of my physical condition. I am continuing to learn how to do new things with one arm (I learned how to rock climb recently, and this past summer I had a surfing lesson!), but nerve pain is a continual battle. But in it all, I can say that I trust God and his wisdom, and that he will equip me to persevere through whatever this next season will bring.

Kelly’s story, like most of our own stories, has no neat tying up of loose ends—no quasi-happy endings like the one we find in Job. Her story continues to unfold. As she noted, the pain continues as does the disability; bills remain; medical solutions are evasive; people continue to offer unhelpful or even hurtful advice. Kelly has chosen not to include many additional hurts in some of her personal relationships, but the ripple effects of those continue as well. The trust that we are called upon to exercise is not trust that God will bring resolution. That would be the wrong conclusion to draw from the book of Job. Instead, we trust in God’s goodness and love, even when our experiences cause us to question those attributes.

This key aspect of trust was also the direction promoted in William Paul Young’s wildly popular 2007 novel, The Shack, which gained a number-one position on the New York Times bestseller list.15 The center portion of the book contains lengthy discussions between God and the main character about numerous theological topics, including, prominently, suffering. The following speech by God tracks well to what I have suggested is part of the teaching of the book of Job.

You try to make sense of the world in which you live based on a very small and incomplete picture of reality. It is like looking at a parade through the tiny knothole of hurt, pain, self-centeredness, and power and believing you are on your own and insignificant. All of these thoughts contain powerful lies. You see pain and death as ultimate evils and God as the ultimate betrayer, or perhaps, at best, as fundamentally untrustworthy. You dictate the terms and judge my actions and find me guilty.

The real underlying flaw in your life, MacKenzie, is that you don’t think I am good. If you knew I was good and that everything—the means, the ends, and all the processes of individual lives—is all covered by my goodness, then while you might not always understand what I am doing, you would trust me. But you don’t.16

This conversation is drawn to a powerful conclusion:

MacKenzie, you cannot produce trust, just as you cannot “do” humility. It either is or is not. Trust is the fruit of a relationship in which you know you are loved. Because you do not know that I love you, you cannot trust me.17

So now we have reached the end of the matter: trust in the wisdom of God born of our absolute conviction that he loves us. That is the way through the struggles of life.

The fitting benediction comes from Romans 11:33–36 (with my italics for emphasis):

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!

How unsearchable his judgments,

and his paths beyond tracing out!

“Who has known the mind of the Lord?

Or who has been his counselor?”

“Who has ever given to God

that God should repay him?”

For from him and through him and to him are all things.

To him be the glory forever! Amen.