AN UNANSWERABLE QUESTION

“A despairing man should have the devotion of his friends. . . . But my brothers are as undependable as intermittent streams . . . that cease to flow in the dry season.” (6:14-17)

In many ways the mystery of Job’s friends is as deep and enigmatic as that of Job himself. What sort of faith, exactly, do these fellows have? Are they true believers whose minds have been temporarily darkened by the atmosphere of spiritual oppression surrounding Job? Are they solid, mature people whose wise counsel, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, would have been perfectly acceptable? Or are they the sort of folks we so often run into in churches today—sincere and knowledgeable but also rather arrogant and insensitive, doctrinally sound but lacking in compassion? Are these bona fide believers who just have a lot of growing to do? Or are they, perhaps, rank unbelievers, “having a form of godliness but denying its power” (2 Tim. 3:5)? Are they like the Pharisees of the New Testament whom Jesus flatly called “sons of hell” (Matt. 23:15)? Or would it be better to soften this judgment somewhat by suggesting they are “not far from the kingdom of God” (Mark 12:34)—that is, their religion, though on the right track, has not quite ripened into genuine saving faith?

These questions are immensely complicated by the fact that we meet Job’s friends only in extenuating circumstances. They have, after all, taken an indefinite leave of absence from their own families, jobs, and comfortable routines in order to hold the hand of a sick and hurting brother who, far from being thankful for their help, lashes out at them in anger. Might not even mature believers, under stress, lose control of themselves and be bereft of their customary wisdom? Moreover, if Job himself, even while criticizing his friends, calls them “brothers” (as he does in 6:15), who are we to exclude them from the family of God? On the other hand, when we reach the Epilogue it begins to appear that God Himself may have excluded them, for only through the prayer of the righteous Job does their sin become forgivable (see 42:8). How is it that Job has direct access to the throne of grace, while his friends do not? Again, there are large sections of the speeches of Job’s friends which, in any other setting, could hold their own as glorious hymns extolling the majesty of the one true God. And yet, if these men really are righteous before this God, could they not be expected to recognize righteousness in another? Is it not the guilty heart that is compelled to find guilt in others as well?

At least Job’s friends did not physically abandon him, as Paul’s friends apparently did when late in his life he complained, “Everyone . . . has deserted me” (2 Tim. 1:15). One wonders what can be said about all those Christians who deserted the great apostle in his time of need. Can any excuse be made for them? Or what are we ourselves to make of fellow believers who, however indirectly or with however good intentions, stab us in the back when the chips are down? What are we to do about professed Christians who consistently cloud and undermine the faith of others—and who do so, moreover, in a manner that may appear on the surface to be full of help, kindness, even wisdom? If we condemn such people outright as false believers, do we not run the risk of contracting their disease? And if we condemn the friends of Job as hypocrites, are we perhaps in danger of showing the same lack of compassion and discernment towards them that they do towards Job? Are not these men too mere human beings, just hurting and insecure people in need of love, people in process just as you and I are? When Jesus said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan” (Matt. 16:23), He did not on that account treat Peter as an unbeliever. On the other hand, if Peter had persisted unrepentantly in his stubborn blindness, would not the other disciples have been compelled eventually to follow Jesus’ instructions in Matthew 18:17—“Treat him as you would a pagan”?

Jesus said, “Do not judge” (Matt. 7:1). But to judge means not only to condemn; absolving others of guilt is also a judgment. Probably it is a mistake to try and pigeonhole Job’s friends too narrowly in regard to the condition of their souls. Yet if we cannot condemn the sinner, we must still condemn the sin. One of the major themes of Job is the righteousness of one man as pitted against the religious hypocrisy of his peers. If we water down the starkness of this contrast, then we end up with a weak view of the sin of pharisaism—a view that will touch not only upon the lives of three characters in a book, but upon our own lives as well. There is a sense in which the glory of the gospel can only become clear in bold relief against this subtlest of all evils, hypocrisy.

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