The Book of Job

Word Study

"anguish of my spirit," Hebrew tzar ruchi (צַר רוּחִי), the narrowness/distress of my spirit. Job resolves to speak, and to speak honestly: "I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit." The Hebrew word is one of narrowness: his spirit is hemmed in, pressed into a tight place with no room to breathe. He will not bottle up his pain or pretend to a peace he does not feel. He will pour out the real state of his soul, its anguish, its bitterness, before God, and he refuses to fake it.

"complain," asichah (אָשִׂיחָה), pour out a complaint, muse aloud in pain. "I will complain in the bitterness of my soul." The verb is not the word for petty grumbling but for musing aloud, pouring out what is inside. Importantly, from verse 11 on, Job increasingly directs his words not to his friends but to God (v12-21 is addressed to God directly). This is significant: Job's "complaint" is not the grumbling of unbelief that turns away from God, but the honest crying of a sufferer who brings his pain to God. There is a place in the life of faith for this. The psalms of lament do the same thing: "I poured out my complaint before him; I shewed before him my trouble" (Psalm 142:2); "how long wilt thou forget me, O LORD?" (Psalm 13:1). God is not offended by the honest anguish of His children brought to Him; He is far more honored by such raw honesty directed toward Him than by a false, forced serenity that hides the heart. Job speaks the bitterness of his soul, and he speaks it to God. This is not the way of unbelief but of a faith so real it can bring even its darkest complaint to the throne of God.

Explanation

Job resolves to speak honestly, refusing to bottle up his pain or fake a peace he does not feel: "I will speak in the anguish of my spirit." And from here he directs his words increasingly to God Himself. His "complaint" is not the grumbling of unbelief that turns from God, but the honest crying of a sufferer who brings his pain to God, as the psalms of lament do. God is not offended by the honest anguish of His children brought to Him; He honors such raw honesty far more than a forced serenity that hides the heart. Job refuses to fake it, and he speaks his bitterness to God.

Gospel Focus

"I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul" shows that faith can bring its rawest pain honestly to God. This is the language of biblical lament, which fills the psalms: "I poured out my complaint before him" (Psalm 142:2); "my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Psalm 22:1). Such honest crying to God is not unbelief but its opposite, a faith real enough to bring the whole truth of the heart to the throne. God does not want pretended peace; He invites us to "pour out your heart before him" (Psalm 62:8) and to cast "all your care upon him; for he careth for you" (1 Peter 5:7). The Lord Jesus Himself, in Gethsemane, did not hide His anguish, "my soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death" (Matthew 26:38), and prayed "with strong crying and tears" (Hebrews 5:7). So we need not put on a brave face before God or suppress our grief as though honesty were faithlessness. Bring your anguish, your bitterness, your hardest questions, to God, not away from Him. The crucial thing is the direction: Job spoke his complaint to God, not against Him from a distance. Faith laments toward God. He is a Father who receives the honest cry of His hurting children, and in Christ we have a High Priest "touched with the feeling of our infirmities" (Hebrews 4:15), to whom we may "come boldly unto the throne of grace" (Hebrews 4:16) with the whole truth of our pain.

Word Study

"magnify him," Hebrew tegaddelennu (תְּגַדְּלֶנּוּ), make him great, make much of him. Job asks a question that sounds much like Psalm 8, "what is man, that thou art mindful of him?" (Psalm 8:4), but Job means it very differently. Where the psalmist marvels that God should be so gracious as to notice frail man, Job, in his pain, cannot see why God should make so much of a creature so small: "What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him?" To make much of a man, in Job's present state, seems only to mean singling him out for hard dealing.

"set thine heart upon him," tashith elav libbekha (תָּשִׁית אֵלָיו לִבֶּךָ), fix your attention on him. Job feels God's constant attention as an unbearable scrutiny: "and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?", and the next verses show his meaning: "that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?... let me alone" (v18-19). Job is saying, in effect: why do you pay such close attention to a creature so small, only to test and afflict him? He wishes God would look away and give him rest. This is the honest, distorted perception of a suffering heart: God's presence and attention, which are in truth our greatest good, feel in the depths of pain like an oppressive weight. Job is wrong here, in his anguish God's careful attention is love, not torment, but Scripture records his cry without condemnation, for it is the real feeling of a man in the dark. And here is the wonder: the very question Job asks in bitterness, "what is man that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?", has a glorious answer Job could not yet see. God did set His heart on man, so much that He came to us and gave His Son. The attention Job felt as a burden is, in Christ, revealed as saving love.

Explanation

Job's question echoes Psalm 8's "what is man, that thou art mindful of him?", but he means it very differently. Where the psalmist marvels at God's gracious notice of frail man, Job, in his pain, feels God's constant attention as unbearable scrutiny, only testing and afflicting him, and wishes God would look away and leave him alone. This is the distorted perception of a suffering heart: God's presence, which is truly our greatest good, feels in deep pain like an oppressive weight. Job is wrong here, but Scripture records his honest cry without condemnation, as the real feeling of a man in darkness.

Gospel Focus

"What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?", Job asked it in bitterness, feeling God's attention as a torment, but the question has a glorious Gospel answer. The same words, in Psalm 8, express wonder: "what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?" (Psalm 8:4), and the New Testament applies that very psalm to Jesus, the true Son of Man, crowned with glory and honour (Hebrews 2:6-9). God did set His heart upon man, not to torment but to save. "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son" (John 3:16); "God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). The attention of God that Job, in his darkness, felt as an oppressive scrutiny is, in the light of Christ, revealed as the most precious thing in the universe: the love of God fixed upon frail, sinful man. When suffering makes God's dealings feel like a burden, we must not trust our distorted perception but the truth of the cross: God's heart is set upon us in love. He does "visit" us, not to destroy but to redeem; He does "try" us, not out of cruelty but to refine us for glory. The very closeness of God that can feel heavy in the dark is, rightly seen, our salvation. What is man, that God should set His heart on him? In Christ, the answer is: the object of a love that gave everything to save him.

Word Study

"pardon," Hebrew tissa (תִּשָּׂא) from nasa, to lift up, carry away, bear (as of sin). Job's stormy complaint ends, remarkably, with a plea for grace: "why dost thou not pardon my transgression?" Even in his confusion, believing his suffering to be from God's hand, Job's deepest longing turns toward forgiveness. The word for "pardon" is nasa, to lift up and carry away sin, the same picture as the scapegoat bearing away the people's iniquity (Leviticus 16:22). Job does not claim to be without any sin; here he asks God to lift his transgression away.

"take away," ta'avir (תַּעֲבִיר), cause to pass away, remove. The second half of his plea presses the same request: "and take away mine iniquity?" The verb asks God to make the guilt pass on and be gone, cleared out of the way entirely. Mingled with this is his sense of the shortness and fragility of life, "now shall I sleep in the dust... but I shall not be", he feels death near, and pleads for pardon before it is too late. There is something deeply right in this instinct: whatever else troubles the suffering soul, its greatest need is forgiveness, to have its sin lifted away by God. Job cannot yet see how God would pardon and "take away" iniquity; that would await the fullness of the Gospel. But his longing is exactly the longing the Gospel answers. He cries, "why dost thou not pardon?", and the answer, hidden from Job but revealed to us, is that God has provided the very pardon Job sought, in the Lamb who bears away the sin of the world. Even Job's darkest lament reaches, at its end, toward the mercy that God would one day fully unveil in Christ.

Explanation

Job's stormy complaint ends, strikingly, with a plea for grace: "why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity?" Even in his confusion, his deepest longing turns toward forgiveness, to have his sin lifted and carried away. Feeling death near and life fragile, he pleads for pardon before it is too late. There is something deeply right in this: whatever else troubles a suffering soul, its greatest need is to have its sin taken away by God. Job could not yet see how God would do this, but his longing is exactly what the Gospel answers.

Gospel Focus

"Why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity?" is the cry of the human heart's deepest need, and it is the very cry the Gospel answers. The word for "pardon" means to lift up and carry away sin, and that is exactly what God has done in Christ. John the Baptist saw Him and said, "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world" (John 1:29). What Job longed for, God has provided: "he was wounded for our transgressions... and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all" (Isaiah 53:5-6). On the cross, Christ bore and carried away the sin of His people, so that God can freely pardon: "in whom we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace" (Ephesians 1:7). Job cried "why dost thou not pardon?" not knowing how a holy God could justly forgive; the Gospel is the glorious answer: God has provided the sacrifice, borne the penalty in His Son, and made pardon free to all who come. And Job's sense of life's brevity, "now shall I sleep in the dust", presses the urgency: our great need is to have our sin taken away before we sleep in the dust, and the time to seek pardon is now. If, like Job, your soul longs to be forgiven, do not despair, for the pardon Job could only cry for has come. Come to the Lamb of God who takes away sin, and find your transgression lifted and carried away for ever in Jesus Christ.