FALLING TO PIECES

“Why do I put myself in jeopardy and take my life in my hands?” (13:14)

Why am I doing this?” cries Job. “Why am I spilling out my guts to you fellows and making a complete fool of myself in front of you?” Consider how easy it would have been for Job to have handled his friends’ criticisms in a different way, by simply turning his face to the wall and groaning, “Go away and leave me alone.” Silent sulking is one of the most alluring strategies open to sufferers for wresting at least some meager satisfaction out of their misery. Job, however, chose a much harder course in deciding to stand his ground and argue the issue through with his friends. Why was he prepared to do this? Why put himself through all the added stress and unpleasantness of a heated discussion? Surely it was because Job deeply cared for these men, and he took their friendship seriously.

The more intimate we are with people, the more likely we are to voice our displeasure freely. With strangers we put on a bright and confident face; but among our own family we have the liberty to gripe, moan, and weep, and if we do not, then we are probably not a very close family. Among loved ones the stoical maintenance of a saintly exterior, at the expense of honest and meaningful sharing, is nothing short of sinful. To hide one’s struggles from another is to withhold the gift of oneself.

By talking openly and at length about his inner trials, then, Job is actually paying his three friends a great compliment. It is the compliment of trust, of deep faith in the quality of their friendship. “Greater love has no one than this,” said Jesus, “that one lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). There are many ways, short of shedding one’s blood, of laying down a life. Shedding lies, shedding masks, shedding dead traditions, shedding inhumanity in any form: these also can be convulsive and revolutionary acts of sacrificial love.

Job was like Paul who wrote to his Corinthian congregation, “I am afraid that when I come I may not find you as I want you to be, and you may not find me as you want me to be. I fear that there may be quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger . . .” (2 Cor. 12:20). Paul was afraid that he as well as the Corinthians would become embroiled in argument. He was afraid of outbursts of anger on both sides. What is so painful about this letter is the way Paul has to plead so pitifully for the Corinthians’ affections, begging them to “make room for us in your hearts” (7:2). The whole of the epistle is, in a way, a defense of Christian passion, of the frantic, yearning, desperate side of genuine love. Paul goes so far as to say, “If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God” (5:13).

Job could have made the same claim. Paradoxically, it is not those who somehow manage to stay on top of their problems who are necessarily the most mature believers. Often it is the ones who come apart at the seams who exhibit the greatest faith of all. Just to fall apart is nothing. But to fall apart in the hands of God is to lay down one’s life for others. It is to show the world what it means to depend on God and on nothing else, what it means to stand on a rock even when that rock feels like quicksand.

Job’s daringness in relating to his friends grows directly out of the daringness of his relationship with God. The friends say that they believe in a powerful and gracious God. But does not their rigid, uptight behavior speak louder than all their words? In Job, however, we have someone who is disarmingly frank, who says and does outrageous things, who even goes so far as to pray intensely personal prayers in front of others. Here we have a man who weeps publicly, who squirms, groans, shouts, and beats his breast, a man in crippling pain who nevertheless summons the presence of mind to engage in serious conversation. Just think for a moment about this sort of behavior, and then consider the question, What sort of faith does such a man have? Regardless of what he says, regardless of all the doubts and confusion and anger that he gives vent to in words, what is it that his actions indicate? Do not the actions show that, in his heart of hearts, here is someone who believes? Is not this the conduct of one who has come to trust implicitly in a God of love, and who therefore is utterly distressed and perplexed when his Heavenly Father should apparently leave him in the lurch? A child who has grown up in a loving home reacts with shock and horror when plunged into a loveless environment. But a child who has never known love, never expects love. For that one, lovelessness becomes the norm.


Mason, M. (2002). The Gospel According to Job: An Honest Look at Pain and Doubt from the Life of One Who Lost Everything. Crossway.