This chapter begins Job's reply to that discourse
of Eliphaz which we had in the foregoing chapter; it is but the
second part of the same song of lamentation with which he had
before bemoaned himself, and is set to the same melancholy tune. I.
He upbraids his friends with their unkind usage of him,
1 Then Job answered and said, 2 I have heard many such things: miserable comforters are ye all. 3 Shall vain words have an end? or what emboldeneth thee that thou answerest? 4 I also could speak as ye do: if your soul were in my soul's stead, I could heap up words against you, and shake mine head at you. 5 But I would strengthen you with my mouth, and the moving of my lips should assuage your grief.
Both Job and his friends took the same way
that disputants commonly take, which is to undervalue one another's
sense, and wisdom, and management. The longer the saw of contention
is drawn the hotter it grows; and the beginning of this sort
of strife is as the letting forth of water; therefore leave it
off before it be meddled with. Eliphaz had represented Job's
discourses as idle, and unprofitable, and nothing to the purpose;
and Job here gives his the same character. Those who are free in
passing such censures must expect to have them retorted; it is
easy, it is endless: but cui bono?—what good does it do? It
will stir up men's passions, but will never convince their
judgments, nor set truth in a clear light. Job here reproves
Eliphaz, 1. For needless repetitions (
6 Though I speak, my grief is not assuaged: and though I forbear, what am I eased? 7 But now he hath made me weary: thou hast made desolate all my company. 8 And thou hast filled me with wrinkles, which is a witness against me: and my leanness rising up in me beareth witness to my face. 9 He teareth me in his wrath, who hateth me: he gnasheth upon me with his teeth; mine enemy sharpeneth his eyes upon me. 10 They have gaped upon me with their mouth; they have smitten me upon the cheek reproachfully; they have gathered themselves together against me. 11 God hath delivered me to the ungodly, and turned me over into the hands of the wicked. 12 I was at ease, but he hath broken me asunder: he hath also taken me by my neck, and shaken me to pieces, and set me up for his mark. 13 His archers compass me round about, he cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare; he poureth out my gall upon the ground. 14 He breaketh me with breach upon breach, he runneth upon me like a giant. 15 I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin, and defiled my horn in the dust. 16 My face is foul with weeping, and on my eyelids is the shadow of death;
Job's complaint is here as bitter as any
where in all his discourses, and he is at a stand whether to
smother it or to give it vent. Sometimes the one and sometimes the
other is a relief to the afflicted, according as the temper or the
circumstances are; but Job found help by neither,
Here is a doleful representation of Job's grievances. O what reason have we to bless God that we are not making such complaints! He complains,
I. That his family was scattered (
II. That his body was worn away with
diseases and pains, so that he had become a perfect skeleton,
nothing but skin and bones,
III. That his enemy was a terror to him,
threatened him, frightened him, looked sternly upon him, and gave
all the indications of rage against him (
IV. That all about him were abusive to him,
V. That God, instead of delivering him out
of their hands, as he hoped, delivered him into their hands
(
VI. That God not only delivered him into
the hands of the wicked, but took him into his own hands too, into
which it is a fearful thing to fall (
VII. That he had divested himself of all
his honour, and all his comfort, in compliance with the afflicting
providences that surrounded him. Some can lessen their own troubles
by concealing them, holding their heads as high and putting on as
good a face as ever; but Job could not do so: he received the
impressions of them, and, as one truly penitent and truly patient,
he humbled himself under the mighty hand of God,
17 Not for any injustice in mine hands: also my prayer is pure. 18 O earth, cover not thou my blood, and let my cry have no place. 19 Also now, behold, my witness is in heaven, and my record is on high. 20 My friends scorn me: but mine eye poureth out tears unto God. 21 O that one might plead for a man with God, as a man pleadeth for his neighbour! 22 When a few years are come, then I shall go the way whence I shall not return.
Job's condition was very deplorable; but had he nothing to support him, nothing to comfort him? Yes, and he here tells us what it was.
I. He had the testimony of his conscience
for him that he had walked uprightly, and had never allowed himself
in any gross sin. None was ever more ready than he to acknowledge
his sins of infirmity; but, upon search, he could not charge
himself with any enormous crime, for which he should be made more
miserable than other men,
1. He had kept a conscience void of
offence, (1.) Towards men: "Not for any injustice in my
hands, any wealth that I have unjustly got or kept." Eliphaz
had represented him as a tyrant and an oppressor. "No," says he, "I
never did any wrong to any man, but always despised the gain of
oppression." (2.) Towards God: Also my prayer is pure; but
prayer cannot be pure as long as there is injustice in our
hands,
2. This assertion of his own integrity he
backs with a solemn imprecation of shame and confusion to himself
if it were not true,
II. He could appeal to God's omniscience
concerning his integrity,
III. He had a God to go to before whom he
might unbosom himself,
IV. He had a prospect of death which would put a period to all his troubles. Such confidence had he towards God that he could take pleasure in thinking of the approach of death, when he should be determined to his everlasting state, as one that doubted not but it would be well with him then: When a few years have come (the years of number which are determined and appointed to me) then I shall go the way whence I shall not return. Note, 1. To die is to go the way whence we shall not return. It is to go a journey, a long journey, a journey for good and all, to remove from this to another country, from the world of sense to the world of spirits. It is a journey to our long home; there will be no coming back to out state in this world nor any change of our state in the other world. 2. We must all of us very certainly, and very shortly, go this journey; and it is comfortable to those who keep a good conscience to think of it, for it is the crown of their integrity.