Study Desk

"Such God-denying people are never content with what they have or who they are; their greed drives them relentlessly. They plunder everything but they can't hold on to any of it. Just when they think they have it all, disaster strikes; they're served up a plate full of misery. When they've filled their bellies with that, God gives them a taste of his anger, and they get to chew on that for a while. As they run for their lives from one disaster, they run smack into another. They're knocked around from pillar to post, beaten to within an inch of their lives. They're trapped in a house of horrors, and see their loot disappear down a black hole. Their lives are a total loss— not a penny to their name, not so much as a bean. God will strip them of their sin-soaked clothes and hang their dirty laundry out for all to see. Life is a complete wipeout for them, nothing surviving God's wrath. There! That's God's blueprint for the wicked— what they have to look forward to."

"It's not you I'm complaining to—it's God. Is it any wonder I'm getting fed up with his silence? Take a good look at me. Aren't you appalled by what's happened? No! Don't say anything. I can do without your comments. When I look back, I go into shock, my body is racked with spasms. Why do the wicked have it so good, live to a ripe old age and get rich? They get to see their children succeed, get to watch and enjoy their grandchildren. Their homes are peaceful and free from fear; they never experience God's disciplining rod. Their bulls breed with great vigor and their cows calve without fail. They send their children out to play and watch them frolic like spring lambs. They make music with fiddles and flutes, have good times singing and dancing. They have a long life on easy street, and die painlessly in their sleep. They say to God, ‘Get lost! We've no interest in you or your ways. Why should we have dealings with God Almighty? What's there in it for us?' But they're wrong, dead wrong—they're not gods. It's beyond me how they can carry on like this!

"But who are we to tell God how to run his affairs? He's dealing with matters that are way over our heads. Some people die in the prime of life, with everything going for them— fat and sassy. Others die bitter and bereft, never getting a taste of happiness. They're laid out side by side in the cemetery, where the worms can't tell one from the other.

"Give in to God, come to terms with him and everything will turn out just fine. Let him tell you what to do; take his words to heart. Come back to God Almighty and he'll rebuild your life. Clean house of everything evil. Relax your grip on your money and abandon your gold-plated luxury. God Almighty will be your treasure, more wealth than you can imagine.

"I travel East looking for him—I find no one; then West, but not a trace; I go North, but he's hidden his tracks; then South, but not even a glimpse.

"But he knows where I am and what I've done. He can cross-examine me all he wants, and I'll pass the test with honors. I've followed him closely, my feet in his footprints, not once swerving from his way. I've obeyed every word he's spoken, and not just obeyed his advice—I've treasured it.

"They are scraps of wood floating on the water— useless, cursed junk, good for nothing. As surely as snow melts under the hot, summer sun, sinners disappear in the grave. The womb has forgotten them, worms have relished them— nothing that is evil lasts. Unscrupulous, they prey on those less fortunate. However much they strut and flex their muscles, there's nothing to them. They're hollow. They may have an illusion of security, but God has his eye on them. They may get their brief successes, but then it's over, nothing to show for it. Like yesterday's newspaper, they're used to wrap up the garbage. You're free to try to prove me a liar, but you won't be able to do it."

"All the buried dead are in torment, and all who've been drowned in the deep, deep sea. Hell is ripped open before God, graveyards dug up and exposed. He spreads the skies over unformed space, hangs the earth out in empty space. He pours water into cumulus cloud-bags and the bags don't burst. He makes the moon wax and wane, putting it through its phases. He draws the horizon out over the ocean, sets a boundary between light and darkness. Thunder crashes and rumbles in the skies. Listen! It's God raising his voice! By his power he stills sea storms, by his wisdom he tames sea monsters. With one breath he clears the sky, with one finger he crushes the sea serpent. And this is only the beginning, a mere whisper of his rule. Whatever would we do if he really raised his voice!"

Having waited for Zophar, Job now resumed his defense: "God-Alive! He's denied me justice! God Almighty! He's ruined my life! But for as long as I draw breath, and for as long as God breathes life into me, I refuse to say one word that isn't true. I refuse to confess to any charge that's false. There is no way I'll ever agree to your accusations. I'll not deny my integrity even if it costs me my life. I'm holding fast to my integrity and not loosening my grip— and, believe me, I'll never regret it.

Job now resumed his response: "Oh, how I long for the good old days, when God took such very good care of me. He always held a lamp before me and I walked through the dark by its light. Oh, how I miss those golden years when God's friendship graced my home, When the Mighty One was still by my side and my children were all around me, When everything was going my way, and nothing seemed too difficult.

"If the very ground that I farm accuses me, if even the furrows fill with tears from my abuse, If I've ever raped the earth for my own profit or dispossessed its rightful owners, Then curse it with thistles instead of wheat, curse it with weeds instead of barley." The words of Job to his three friends were finished.

"Here's what you said. I heard you say it with my own ears. You said, ‘I'm pure—I've done nothing wrong. Believe me, I'm clean—my conscience is clear. But God keeps picking on me; he treats me like I'm his enemy. He's thrown me in jail; he keeps me under constant surveillance.'

"But let me tell you, Job, you're wrong, dead wrong! God is far greater than any human. So how dare you haul him into court, and then complain that he won't answer your charges? God always answers, one way or another, even when people don't recognize his presence.

"You're veterans in dealing with these matters; certainly we're of one mind on this. It's impossible for God to do anything evil; no way can the Mighty One do wrong. He makes us pay for exactly what we've done—no more, no less. Our chickens always come home to roost. It's impossible for God to do anything wicked, for the Mighty One to subvert justice. He's the one who runs the earth! He cradles the whole world in his hand! If he decided to hold his breath, every man, woman, and child would die for lack of air.

"He has his eyes on every man and woman. He doesn't miss a trick. There is no night dark enough, no shadow deep enough, to hide those who do evil. God doesn't need to gather any more evidence; their sin is an open-and-shut case. He deposes the so-called high and mighty without asking questions, and replaces them at once with others. Nobody gets by with anything; overnight, judgment is signed, sealed, and delivered. He punishes the wicked for their wickedness out in the open where everyone can see it, Because they quit following him, no longer even thought about him or his ways. Their apostasy was announced by the cry of the poor; the cry of the afflicted got God's attention.

"If God is silent, what's that to you? If he turns his face away, what can you do about it? But whether silent or hidden, he's there, ruling, so that those who hate God won't take over and ruin people's lives.

"It's true that God is all-powerful, but he doesn't bully innocent people. For the wicked, though, it's a different story— he doesn't give them the time of day, but champions the rights of their victims. He never takes his eyes off the righteous; he honors them lavishly, promotes them endlessly. When things go badly, when affliction and suffering descend, God tells them where they've gone wrong, shows them how their pride has caused their trouble. He forces them to heed his warning, tells them they must repent of their bad life. If they obey and serve him, they'll have a good, long life on easy street. But if they disobey, they'll be cut down in their prime and never know the first thing about life. Angry people without God pile grievance upon grievance, always blaming others for their troubles. Living it up in sexual excesses, virility wasted, they die young. But those who learn from their suffering, God delivers from their suffering.

"Do you have any idea how powerful God is? Have you ever heard of a teacher like him? Has anyone ever had to tell him what to do, or correct him, saying, ‘You did that all wrong!'? Remember, then, to praise his workmanship, which is so often celebrated in song. Everybody sees it; nobody is too far away to see it.

"He pulls water up out of the sea, distills it, and fills up his rain-cloud cisterns. Then the skies open up and pour out soaking showers on everyone. Does anyone have the slightest idea how this happens? How he arranges the clouds, how he speaks in thunder? Just look at that lightning, his sky-filling light show illumining the dark depths of the sea! These are the symbols of his sovereignty, his generosity, his loving care. He hurls arrows of light, taking sure and accurate aim. The High God roars in the thunder, angry against evil."

"Whenever this happens, my heart stops— I'm stunned, I can't catch my breath. Listen to it! Listen to his thunder, the rolling, rumbling thunder of his voice. He lets loose his lightnings from horizon to horizon, lighting up the earth from pole to pole. In their wake, the thunder echoes his voice, powerful and majestic. He lets out all the stops, he holds nothing back. No one can mistake that voice— His word thundering so wondrously, his mighty acts staggering our understanding. He orders the snow, ‘Blanket the earth!' and the rain, ‘Soak the whole countryside!' No one can escape the weather—it's there. And no one can escape from God. Wild animals take shelter, crawling into their dens, When blizzards roar out of the north and freezing rain crusts the land. It's God's breath that forms the ice, it's God's breath that turns lakes and rivers solid. And yes, it's God who fills clouds with rainwater and hurls lightning from them every which way. He puts them through their paces—first this way, then that— commands them to do what he says all over the world. Whether for discipline or grace or extravagant love, he makes sure they make their mark.