Scripture Daily

Context No. 4236 of 4322 · Job

Context · Reflection

Job 7:1-16: in context

1“Isn’t a man forced to labor on earth? Aren’t his days like the days of a hired hand? 2As a servant who earnestly desires the shadow, as a hireling who looks for his wages, 3so I am made to possess months of misery, wearisome nights are appointed to me. 4When I lie down, I say, ‘When will I arise, and the night be gone?’ I toss and turn until the dawning of the day. 5My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust. My skin closes up, and breaks out afresh. 6My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and are spent without hope. 7Oh remember that my life is a breath. My eye will no more see good. 8The eye of him who sees me will see me no more. Your eyes will be on me, but I will not be. 9As the cloud is consumed and vanishes away, so he who goes down to Sheol will come up no more. 10He will return no more to his house, neither will his place know him any more. 11“Therefore I will not keep silent. I will speak in the anguish of my spirit. I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. 12Am I a sea, or a sea monster, that you put a guard over me? 13When I say, ‘My bed will comfort me. My couch will ease my complaint,’ 14then you scare me with dreams and terrify me through visions, 15so that my soul chooses strangling, death rather than my bones. 16I loathe my life. I don’t want to live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are but a breath.

Deep in his suffering, Job pours out his anguish with raw honesty. His life feels like hard, unrelenting labor; his nights are wearisome, his days swifter than a weaver's shuttle and spent without hope. Remember, he cries to God, that my life is a breath. He does not hide his pain or dress it up piously; he speaks out of the anguish of his spirit and the bitterness of his soul, laying it all before God.

Two things stand out. Job's unflinching honesty before God. He does not pretend to a peace he does not feel; he brings his raw grief, his complaint, his despair, directly to God rather than suppressing it. And his sense of life's brevity: my days are a breath, swifter than a shuttle. In his suffering he feels acutely how short and fragile life is.

God is not offended by our honest anguish; like Job, we can bring our raw grief and even our complaints directly to him rather than hiding behind forced piety. And Job's cry, my life is a breath, reminds us how brief and fragile our days are, teaching us to number them and to hold this passing life with open hands. Honest lament brought to God, and a sober awareness of life's brevity, are both marks of a faith that deals truthfully with reality.

When I am suffering, do I bring my grief to God with the honest lament Job shows, rather than hiding behind forced piety, and does the brevity of life, a breath, swifter than a shuttle, teach me to number my days and hold this passing life with open hands?

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