ELIPHAZ

Then Eliphaz the Temanite replied: . . .  “As I have observed . . . those who sow  trouble reap it.” (4:1, 8) 

What sort of man was Eliphaz the Temanite? Many attempts have been made to read between the lines of the speeches of Job’s friends and to draw character sketches of them. Eliphaz usually emerges as the most mature member of the group, a kindly and articulate older man. Words such as balanced and diplomatic may spring to mind. We might almost picture this elder statesman with a fine head of snowy-white hair and full matching beard, together with an ample paunch and a twinkle in his lively gray eyes, all reflecting a keen intellect and a dignified presence.

Yet when all is said and done, Eliphaz’s noble bearing, his fatherly sincerity, and his adroit theologizing are not quite enough to cover up the underlying coldness of his heart. Certainly he presents a fine appearance—well-dressed, well-fed, and well-spoken—but eventually the book forces us to the conclusion that there is much of the pompous windbag about him. For Job sits before him stripped of everything, his heart torn and exposed, his words desperate, his eyes wild and probing and pleading for comfort, and what does the gentle Eliphaz have to offer? Amidst all his smoothly eloquent talk, perhaps the gist of his entire message may be summed up by the stinging yet almost hidden little comment in 4:8: “As I have observed,” he observes smugly, “those who sow trouble reap it.”

Surely under the circumstances these are words that drip with priggishness and, in fact, with contempt. “Like a lame man’s legs that hang limp,” says Proverbs 26:7, “is a proverb in the mouth of a fool.” Whatever comfort Eliphaz may have meant to convey to his suffering friend, the actual effect of his ministry might best be summed up in the words of another proverb: “Like one who takes away a garment on a cold day . . . is one who sings songs to a heavy heart” (Prov. 25:20).

It is one of the supreme ironies of this book that only after the arrival of these three bosom friends of his does Job really lose a grip on himself and fall off the edge into despair. Their pedantic theology, their reforming zeal, and their subtle slights are more than the poor man can take, and undoubtedly this backhanded betrayal by his friends is Job’s final and most severe trial. It is their utter failure to love him that hurts the most, and while this is not ostensibly the stated theme of the next thirty-five chapters of arduous dialoguing, it is the one that swims constantly and monstrously, like leviathan itself, just below the surface, so that in the long run the great questions of “theodicy” or the “problem of pain” very rightly take a backseat to the much more disturbing problem of correct but merciless theology, of the sort of religion that in its zeal to glorify God gives short shrift to the suffering of man.
 
Perhaps the New Testament figure whom Eliphaz most closely resembles is Nicodemus, as we first meet him in John 3. For Nicodemus too was a well-respected man, wise and courteous and with impeccable religious credentials. And yet Jesus told him straightforwardly that he was unregenerate, dead in his sins, and that until he was “born again” he could not know the first thing about the Kingdom of God. “How can this be?” asked Nicodemus, the wise man suddenly dull as an ox, and with gentle but firm irony Jesus rebuked him, saying, “You are Israel’s teacher, and you do not understand these things?” (John 3:9-10).

Depending upon our own spiritual temperament, we may not want to go so far as to condemn Eliphaz outright as a total and godless hypocrite, a man “separate from Christ . . . without hope and without God in the world” (Eph. 2:12). Yet at least it must be admitted that his growth in God fell far short of the towering maturity of Job, and that he stood very much in need of the sort of correctional challenge to his faith that might only come through realistic grappling with the problem of suffering. Jesus told Nicodemus that in order for men such as himself to be brought to saving faith, “the Son of Man must be lifted up” (John 3:14-15)—that is, glorified through the unspeakable suffering of crucifixion. In many ways the story of Job is the story of how, at the horrendous cost of the suffering of a righteous man, even a self-satisfied traditionalist such as Eliphaz could eventually be brought to see the light of the gospel, and to embrace from afar the wondrous mystery of the redemptive power of the cross.

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