Job CIII

 Job 7:1-5, “Is there not a time of hard service for man on earth? Are not his days also like the days of a hired man? Like a servant who earnestly desires the shade and like a hired man who eagerly looks for his wages, so I have been allotted months of futility, and wearisome nights have been appointed to me. When I lie down, I say, “When shall I arise, and the night be ended?” For I have had my fill of tossing till dawn. My flesh is caked with worms and dust; my skin is cracked and breaks out afresh.”

While the destruction of everything he had, including his ten children, came in quick succession, Job’s physical suffering was a long, protracted, and drawn-out thing. We don’t have to guess at it or assume; it’s plainly written in the text, and his ordeal, by this point, had been going on for months. Although the pain of loss may not have been as fresh on his mind these months later, the torment he suffered in the flesh grew incrementally worse, to the point that his flesh was now caked with worms and dust, and his skin cracked and broke out afresh.

The night itself brought no solace. There was no rest, no blissful slumber for a few hours where he could descend into the land of dreams. He tossed till dawn, and the nights were wearisome to him. The length and depth of Job’s suffering are essential to understand for two main reasons. First, it gives weight to his desire to be done with it all, to have a finality to his struggle, and to go back to the dust of the earth. There are times and situations where death is not the worst thing that can happen but rather seen as a grace. I realize that sounds harsh, but having been by the bedside of enough souls who were languishing in abject pain for months on end, I can attest that when the time came for them to shuffle off this mortal coil, they saw it as a blessing.

Just as we have no choice as to when we enter the scene, we have no choice as to when we exit. It’s becoming ever more popular for individuals to decide for themselves the when and how of their exit from this life, but this neither makes it right nor biblical. Even with his flesh caked with worms and dust, his skin breaking out afresh, being unable to sleep, wallowing in misery, and desiring to die, Job never once entertained the thought of doing the deed himself or circumventing the sovereignty of God just because it would put an end to his pain.

The second all-important truth we discover from Job’s travails is that the imagery of our enemy walking about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour is not exaggeration or hyperbole. There is no mercy, sympathy, or kindness in our foe. His heart is not moved by your suffering or mine; rather, he revels in it, hoping that it will be the means by which he can displace our faith and trust in God or sow the seeds of bitterness and despair in our hearts. He is a cruel taskmaster even to those who serve him, for their destruction is assured, and the road to it is paved with untold pain and privation.

I have yet to meet a happy or contented addict. I’ve met quite a few former addicts who were able to leave the shackles of their old life behind and embrace the freedom that is Christ, but as far as those currently surrendered to addiction, not one. Their stories are simultaneously unique and eerily similar. Even if they started on different rungs of the societal ladder, with varying degrees of means at their disposal, they all ended up in the same place, at the bottom, wondering how they’d gotten there, having destroyed their lives, families, livelihoods, and any semblance of joy in the single-minded quest of satisfying their compulsion.

To top it all off, those to whom Job might have looked for comfort turned out to be less than comforting. It’s one thing when strangers let you down, disappoint you, or fall short of your expectations; it’s another when friends do it. It’s a more stringent kind of pain, one that can only be understood when you’re on the receiving end of it, especially when it seems that those you deemed friends turn on you and choose to believe the worst possible explanation rather than reason out the situation based on the prior friendship they had with you.

I’ve always been an introvert. Being a social butterfly has never been in my wheelhouse, and I think that spared me the disillusionment of fake friends for the most part, but I’ve had my share of experiences when it comes to ministry and trusting people who turned out to be untrustworthy, and it stings. I’ve thought about why the sting is so pronounced when the blow comes from one you deemed a friend rather than a stranger, and I believe it’s because while you have to deal with being stabbed in the back, you’re also trying to reason out how you could have been so foolish, how you couldn’t see the telltale signs, and how you allowed yourself to be blindsided so thoroughly.

Job even reminded his friends that he hadn’t sent out telegrams or asked them to visit; he never asked them to bring something to him or deliver him in any matter, and although it’s commendable that they came and sat with him for seven days, their attitude toward their friend and their assertion that he had sinned was pouring salt on an already open, and painful wound.

Those who bear the scars of life have come to understand the truth in Solomon’s musing, that there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother, who will never be absent, indifferent, cold, or callous, who will give wise counsel, and even carry you when you are weary. Lean on Him, trust in Him, and follow Him, for He will lead you in the paths of righteousness and make you to lie down in green pastures.  

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr. 

Posted on 25 January 2025 | 12:40 pm