Job 14:1-16: a reflection

1“Man, who is born of a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble. 2He grows up like a flower, and is cut down. He also flees like a shadow, and doesn’t continue. 3Do you open your eyes on such a one, and bring me into judgment with you? 4Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Not one. 5Seeing his days are determined, the number of his months is with you, and you have appointed his bounds that he can’t pass. 6Look away from him, that he may rest, until he accomplishes, as a hireling, his day. 7“For there is hope for a tree if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, that the tender branch of it will not cease. 8Though its root grows old in the earth, and its stock dies in the ground, 9yet through the scent of water it will bud, and sprout boughs like a plant. 10But man dies, and is laid low. Yes, man gives up the spirit, and where is he? 11As the waters fail from the sea, and the river wastes and dries up, 12so man lies down and doesn’t rise. Until the heavens are no more, they will not awake, nor be roused out of their sleep. 13“Oh that you would hide me in Sheol, that you would keep me secret until your wrath is past, that you would appoint me a set time and remember me! 14If a man dies, will he live again? I would wait all the days of my warfare, until my release should come. 15You would call, and I would answer you. You would have a desire for the work of your hands. 16But now you count my steps. Don’t you watch over my sin?

In the depths of his suffering, Job meditates on the brevity and frailty of human life: man, born of woman, is of few days and full of trouble, springing up like a flower and cut down, fleeing like a shadow. And he notes a painful contrast: a tree, though cut down, has hope of sprouting again, but man lies down and does not rise. Then, from that despair, rises a question that aches with longing: If a man dies, will he live again? And a fragile hope: You would call, and I would answer you.

Notice the longing buried in Job's lament. Confronted with death's finality, he cannot quite let go of a hope for something beyond it, a hope that God might one day call and he would answer, that death might not be the end. It is a question asked in darkness, without a clear answer in Job's own time, but it reaches toward something, a longing for life beyond the grave that death itself cannot fully extinguish.

That ancient question, if a man dies, will he live again? is one the gospel finally answers. What Job could only long for in the dark, Christ has brought to light: he who conquered death promises that those who trust him will live, that God will indeed call and his own will answer and rise. The longing Job felt was not in vain. When you face the frailty and brevity of life, or grieve at death's apparent finality, bring Job's question to the risen Christ. He is the answer to it. If a man dies, will he live again? In Christ, yes; death is not the end, and the God who made you will call you, and you will answer.

Lord, in his suffering Job cried, if a man dies, will he live again? longing in the dark for a hope beyond death, that you would call and he would answer. Thank you that what Job could only reach toward, Christ has brought to light: that death is not the end for those who trust you, that you will call your own and they will rise. When I face the frailty and brevity of life, or grieve at death's apparent finality, help me bring Job's question to the risen Christ, who is its answer. Let the longing for life beyond the grave find its rest in him. You who made me will call me, and in Christ I will answer and live.