THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN

“When your children sinned against him, he gave them over to the penalty of their sin.” (8:4)

Bildad strikes a low blow indeed when he tries to drag Job’s children into the argument. Whether or not the latter may have been involved in serious sin is, perhaps, not the main issue. The main issue is that before God Job’s own conscience is clear on this matter, and now Bildad is trying to muddy the waters. He is prying into a naturally sensitive area and seeking to stir up fresh pangs of guilt. Back in the Prologue, we were told that Job’s children were in the habit of throwing big parties, and it is no secret that young people can get carried away on such occasions. This very problem seems to have preyed on Job’s peace of mind, and hence his regular custom after his children’s shindigs was to “send and have them purified” and to “sacrifice a burnt offering for each of them” (1:5). Just as Christians today view their sacraments as outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace, Job would have believed implicitly in the effectiveness of his purificatory rites to secure divine forgiveness. At the very least, his own heart would have been set at ease that he had done everything in his own limited power to safeguard his family’s sanctity. Without the availability of such assurance, what God-fearing father or mother could survive the ravages of parenthood?

Bildad, in rehashing the issue of family sin, throws all of this into question. In effect he casts doubt on the very foundation of the gospel, which is the reality of God’s forgiveness. As we have already seen, this is one of Satan’s favorite ploys against believers. If he cannot burden us with our own sins, then he will gladly get at us through the sins of our children. Satan loves to persuade people that real, heartfelt forgiveness of sins is unobtainable, and that there is no such thing as a clear conscience.

What then is Bildad’s advice? Ironically, all he can suggest is the enactment of yet another religious ritual, but this time a specious one: “If you will look to God and plead with the Almighty, if you are pure and upright, even now he will rouse himself on your behalf” (8:5-6). Your first sacrifices, Bildad implies, obviously did not work; therefore go and dig up the cold ashes and burnt carcasses and haul them back onto the altar; maybe God will hear you this time—that is, provided you are “pure and upright”! Significantly, Bildad makes the cardinal blunder of thinking that one must be pure before he can approach God. Jesus exposed the folly of this when He taught, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick” (Matt. 9:12).

Bildad’s counsel may appear harmless enough. But essentially he is tempting Job to repent for things of which he has already repented—or, more subtle still, to produce a confession for crimes of which he is not guilty. Seen in this light, Bildad’s innocent little promptings take on the proportions of a blackmailer’s threats, or the strong-arm tactics of a secret police squad.

But Job is not to be taken in by the alluring yet false comfort of an extorted confession. Like any vigorous believer, he already lives and breathes repentance and he does not need to be exhorted to it. Unlike his pious friends it does not occur to him to dwell morbidly on his past sins, and therefore he cannot be coerced into bringing back to God’s altar what he has already left there. What good is faith if it does not free us from carrying by ourselves the impossible load of sin and guilt? Job believes heartily in such freedom. Even in the absence of inner peace or assurance, still he believes robustly in the reality of forgiveness.

Do we think repentance means only being sorry for our sins? But that is not repentance; that is remorse. Remorse can lead to repentance, but it is also possible to get stuck in remorse and never move on. Full repentance means facing the fact that we cannot carry our own sins, that we cannot carry the guilt and the sorrow for them, and so turning everything over to God. If a wealthy friend were to invite me out to dinner, when I had not a penny in my pocket, would I fight with him over the bill? Even if the waiter made the mistake of presenting the bill to me, the only gracious (to say nothing of practical!) thing to do would be to slide it over to my host, saying quietly, “I believe this belongs to you.”

Faith is the knowledge that whenever we try to foot the bill for our own sin, we are crushed, but that nothing can crush the Lord. It is humility, not pride, which lets God pay the whole shot.

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