Dear brothers and sisters, when Job was plunged into this spiritual crisis, he was able to stand up spiritually and say:
Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither:
the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away;
blessed be the name of the Lord.
When he was tested, he could say:
Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?
Very courageous. Very victorious. Satan was silent. God was honoured.
In the spur of the moment, when all these things suddenly came to him, he was able to stand for God. He was able to show an unselfish love, a pure love, toward God.
Yes, that was great. He was able to do that out of all the spiritual reserve within him. You know, he did not have time to reflect. All things came so suddenly. He did not even have time to think.
He reacted almost automatically, spontaneously. And you find that this reaction was of God: “Naked came I, naked shall I return. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Why is it that Job had such an instantaneous reaction, such a marvellous reaction, in the spur of the moment? It shows that there was spiritual reserve.
You know, if you say something after reflection, that does not necessarily represent you. But what you say in the spur of the moment shows what you really are. It showed that Job had spiritual reserve within him.
Oh, but, dear brothers and sisters, this reserve is not enough. He was able to withstand the attacks of the enemy. He was able to withstand the assault of the adversary. But you will find that, when his three friends came to comfort him, it searched him to the very bottom.
From Job 3 to Job 31, we call it soul-searching.
Now, of course, I do believe that Job was a real person. I do believe that his three friends were real people. I do believe that what is recorded in these chapters is true. There was a discussion going on—a debate among these friends. You find that the discussion is most interesting, and the debate is very heated.
But, dear brothers and sisters, may I suggest a way to read these chapters? Now remember, I do believe these are historical records, put in poetical form. But these are facts: real persons, real discussions, real debates.
But I would like to put it in an allegorical, or parable, form. By parable, I do not mean that it is not true and real, because this is the way Job used the word parable. He continued his parable, and yet his parable related to his real experience.
But what I mean is this: I would like to present these chapters in the form of a naked soul as it stands before God. It goes through a time of searching.
The words of Job and the words of his three friends represent what is going on within the soul. The voice of Job and the voices of his three friends are the voices of his soul. He was musing within himself. Things were going on within that soul. His soul, being naked, was being searched out under the light of God.
Now, whether that makes sense to you or not, I do not know. It makes sense to me.
A soul naked before God—brothers and sisters, you will never know your soul until it is made naked before God. When you have all your sons and daughters, all your possessions, all your virtues, all your own works and knowledge, you are not able to penetrate to the very depths of your soul and know it.
That is the reason why God has to strip us. And when we are in a state of nakedness, then you find a deep soul-searching, and we are being found out.
I find it very difficult. I have to go to Job 3 now.
You see, if you want to know exactly what is going on, you have to compare Job 29 and Job 30. There in Job 29, Job tries to tell us, in the days of his prosperity, when the Lord preserved him, what a life he lived—a life of enlightenment, of illumination, a life full of good works.
And he thought he could go on peacefully to the end. But there was a secret fear, fearing that it might not be so. You see the point?
But when you read Job 30, you find that it was an entirely different picture. He became the song of all people. He was mocked, despised.
Someone suggested that it is almost like a picture of the suffering of our Lord. If you try to compare Job 30 with some of the verses in Psalms concerning the Messiah, how the Lord would suffer, you will find parallels all along.
Here you find a person stripped of everything, and he is going through a period of darkness. If only God would remain with him, if only God would let him know that He was with him, he could bear all these things. But he cannot find God. He cannot find God. He is confused, puzzled.
Some people like to call this the dark night of the soul. Or you may call it the deeper working of the cross.
It is when a person is put under such a time that you find he begins to know the real condition of his soul.
Well, let us begin.
The three friends came to see him. They were his friends, his best friends. They loved him very much. They came from a great distance. They came with the purpose of comforting him.
But, of course, before they arrived at the site, they must have talked among themselves, and they had come to a common agreement even before they came.
When they came and saw Job sitting on the dunghill among the ashes, they could not recognise him. How a prince had fallen! They saw that his agony was so great that they could not open their mouths. They sat with him seven days and seven nights, being silent. You can see the greatness of the trial, the depths of the experience.
Job could stand the assaults of the enemy, but he could not stand the sympathy of his friends. Something was going on in his soul all these days. He did not understand.
So finally, he broke out in cursing the day of his birth. It is better not to live at all. It is better to die. There is comfort and peace in death, in the grave. Why should I see light in them? What is the meaning of all this? Why does not God allow me to die?
One who had so bravely said, “Shall we not receive evil from God as we have received good?” now said, “I would rather die. I do not want to live.” There was too much for him.
Brothers and sisters, is there a contradiction? Why is it that Job, who could stand so bravely before the enemy, capitulated before his friends? Is it a contradiction?
You know, in a time of crisis, we may gather up all our spiritual reserve and meet the crisis and seem to overcome it. But after that, you begin to reflect, and as you reflect, there is a reaction.
Very often in our spiritual experience, after a great victory there will be a fall. Why? Because you have exhausted your reserve. The most difficult and trying time is not at the time of crisis; it is the time immediately after the crisis.
As Job began to reflect, he could not understand. And because he could not understand, he could not deny God. He feared God. He could not overthrow the basic axiom of the universe: that God punishes the evil and God rewards the righteous. He could not overthrow that axiom, and yet he felt himself righteous. How could he reconcile these things?
And because of all the sufferings outside and the misery within, he would rather die than live. He said, “It is better to die.”
You know, this often happens. When we come into a time of confusion, disturbance, and perplexity, we tend to think that way too: “It is better to die than to live.”
We do not know the privilege of living. We forget that God is the God of the living and not the God of the dead. We tend to forget that there is meaning to life. Why should we be here? Why does God not take away our life? It is because God has a purpose to fulfil, to accomplish.
And yet, God insists. Sometimes, when we are thinking of our own trouble, we become so self-centred that we forget God’s purpose. We would rather die to get some comfort for ourselves. Oh, how a mighty priest has fallen!
Now, these three, after they had heard Job cursing the day of his birth, began to teach. They came as friends, as the best of friends, but they almost departed as the worst of enemies.
Before we go into detail, let me mention one point. The principle, or truth, that the three friends held over Job was simply this: God punishes the evil; God rewards the good.
So then, this is the truth that is basic, firm, and unchangeable. When they saw Job’s sufferings, they could not understand, but they tried to understand. To their limited understanding, this was it: “It must be that secretly you had sinned greatly, and that was the reason why you were punished. Confess your sin to God, and days of comfort will come. Days of restoration will come from God.”
This was the only thing they could say, and this was the only thing they knew. Is it true? Certainly it is.
If you overthrow this truth, the whole universe will become chaos. Of course God is just. Of course God is the Judge of the whole earth. God punishes the wicked. Of course, God rewards the righteous. This is the basic truth of the universe. How can you overthrow this? If you overturn this basic truth, everything is chaotic.
The three friends held on to this truth—a truth, but not the whole truth. It is true universally, too, but the application of it has to be done by the Holy Spirit.
In other words, in individual cases there can be exceptions—not in the sense of overturning the truth, but in the sense that there may be another truth, a truth other than this basic one.
So, dear brothers and sisters, this is something we have to learn. Sometimes we hold on to a truth and try to generalise it and apply it to everybody. But remember: it is true, but sometimes the application cannot be generalised.
God may have another truth to apply at a certain time to a certain person, other than that basic one. God was dealing with Job by a higher truth than the basic truth. God had not overturned the basic truth—you will see that afterwards—but God was dealing with him at that particular point by a higher truth.
Even the truth of chastisement, of discipline, of child-training, is different. But, of course, at that time they did not know it. So the three friends thought that Job must have sinned, and the more they insisted, the more Job rebelled. He said, “I was not. I was righteous.”
The dilemma of Job was this: he could not overturn this basic truth, and yet he found that it could not be applied to him. And he did not know why. That is the reason why all the confusion came about—all the confusion.
All right, let us get down to business.
Here you find a soul exposed, fully exposed: a soul that was good; a soul that entered into a crucible of trial; a soul that underwent the process of the deeper working of the cross, but a soul that did not understand.
He dared not deny God, nor the righteousness of God, but he could not give up his own righteousness.
So here comes Eliphaz.
You know, Eliphaz represents, outwardly, mysticism; inwardly, the emotion.
Eliphaz was the first spokesman. He was the leader, and he came out trying to instruct Job. All his instructions were based upon some mystic experience. If you read the Book of Job, you will find that.
He said:
Now a thing was secretly brought to me,
and mine ear received a whisper thereof.
In thoughts from the visions of the night,
when deep sleep falleth on men,
fear came upon me, and trembling,
which made all my bones to shake.
Then a spirit passed before my face;
the hair of my flesh stood up.
It stood still, but I could not discern the appearance thereof;
a form was before mine eyes:
there was silence, and I heard a voice, saying,
Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Shall a man be more pure than his Maker?
Behold, He putteth no trust in His servants;
and His angels He chargeth with folly:
how much more, them that dwell in houses of clay,
whose foundation is in the dust,
who are crushed before the moth!
He based all his instruction upon a secret: “A spirit appeared to me. I was frightened. Then I heard, ‘Shall mortal man be more just than God? Shall a man be purer than his Maker?’ So it must be that you have sinned.”
Very mystic, is it not? His whole experience was based upon mysticism—something mysterious, a spirit.
Now, brothers and sisters, in a very broad sense, every Christian is a mystic, because by mystic I simply mean one who seeks God with his heart and has an inner experience of God. In that very general sense, every Christian is a mystic, because we have to know God inwardly; otherwise, we do not know Him.
But, you know, mysticism is something else. May I use this opportunity just to fellowship with you a little on this subject?
Mysticism, as the world knows it today, is not restricted to Christianity. But with the mysticism that the world knows today, there are a few things that we should know.
First, they believe there is a spark of divine life in each person, and all you need to do is to bring up that spark. This is not true. We do not have life in us. Life is in Christ. It is only when we believe in the Lord Jesus that we receive life. So that is where the mystic starts on a wrong proposition.
Secondly, the mystics insist upon the merit of their own suffering. They think there is merit in it. In other words, they cannot get away from the idea of doing penance, which is wrong.
We know that we are forgiven not because of how much we suffer, but because of the suffering of Christ.
Thirdly, the mystics do not see the difference between the soul and the spirit. To them, it is a mixed experience. Very often you find in the writings of the mystics things highly spiritual, and yet mixed with things deeply soulish.
Number four: mysticism has the tendency of falling into emotionalism. They mistake emotion for spiritual experience.
We do not know what spirit it was that appeared to Eliphaz. It cannot have been the right spirit. You say, “But it said the right words.” Yes, but it might not have been the right spirit. We do not know what spirit that was.
Oh, the testing of spirits is something that God wants us to do. Not every spirit is good. There are good spirits, there are bad spirits, and you have to discern them.
So outwardly, we may say that Eliphaz represents mysticism. When a person has come into a crisis, a spiritual crisis, mysticism tries to explain it. Mysticism tries to solve it, saying that there is merit in suffering, that punishment itself is a purification.
Yes, sometimes you find good things in mysticism, because Eliphaz mentioned this matter of correction: God may be correcting you. But for him, correction is more negative than positive. It is more punishment than child-training.
Sometimes you find little lights coming up in mysticism, but it does not solve a spiritual crisis.
Or you may take Eliphaz as the emotion of the soul. Here you find what is emotionally involved. Oh, our emotions! When we enter into a kind of crisis, then our emotions begin to stir, and we become emotionally involved.
We begin by trying to justify God. Our emotions seem to stand for God and with God: “Can a mortal man be more just than God?” Impossible.
But you find that our emotions never solve our spiritual problem.
In answering Eliphaz, Job also said that he was terrified in his dreams and visions. Yes, you say that you have a mystic experience, saying, “Can a man be more just than God?” But I also have such dreams and visions, and I was nearly crushed. It is terrifying.
One emotion says, “God is just.” The other emotion says, “But I am righteous too.” How are you going to reconcile these two things? It is not possible.
And you find, in the third round, Eliphaz, seeing that he could not subdue Job by emotional appeal—saying, “You had better repent, and God will be good to you”—finally became angry and accused Job of many things which were untrue.
Is that not our emotion? Our emotion is fickle and changes all the time. At one time, we justify God, and another time, we try to justify ourselves. At one time we try to make appeals, and at other times we get angry. We enter into false accusation even. We are all emotionally stirred.
Can it be that the conversation between Eliphaz and Job represents the stirring of the emotion within the soul? It does not solve the problem.
Now, dear brothers and sisters, when you come to your own experience, you will find that when you enter into a spiritual crisis, your emotion will be the first thing to be stirred.
And you will find your emotion is very changeable. It shifts from one position to another position, and it can be very unreasonable. It is not rational.
But as you have gone through the searching in the emotion of your soul, you come out without accomplishing anything. The emotion never solves the problem.
The second one, Bildad, represents outwardly traditionalism; inwardly, the mind of the soul.
Because you find in Job 8:8-10:
Inquire, I pray thee, of the former age,
and apply thyself to that which their fathers have searched out
(for we are but of yesterday, and know nothing,
because our days upon earth are a shadow);
shall not they teach thee, and tell thee,
and utter words out of their heart?
Bildad did not base his instruction upon mystic experience. He based his teaching upon the tradition of the fathers. He said, “Now, we know nothing, but our fathers made researches, and surely their conclusion cannot be wrong.”
And what was their conclusion? God will never pervert His judgment. The wicked will be punished, and the good will be rewarded: the tradition of the fathers.
Now, brothers and sisters, tradition is not altogether bad. You know, sometimes we can go to extremes. The good thing about tradition is that it does stabilise society, does it not? If there is no tradition, society is not stabilised.
Of course, the bad thing is that tradition hinders progress. It can be a strengthening, but it can be a bondage too.
We should not throw away our traditions. There are Christian traditions which we have to keep.
And this is the very word used by Paul in 1 Corinthians 11. Paul used this very word, tradition. He commended the people in Corinth because they kept the traditions—the instructions.
There are traditions coming from the Lord, handed to us by the apostles, which we must keep. For instance, the Lord’s table.
When I was in New Zealand, you know, among the saints there, they were so free in the Lord and wanted to be free from all bondage that this matter of the Lord’s table became a problem.
Every Sunday they had the Lord’s table prepared, but put in a corner. Why? Because they never knew whether they would break the bread or not. If the Spirit so led, they would break the bread. If not, they would just leave it unbroken.
And the reason was that some young people thought, “We should not keep tradition. Therefore, we should not have the Lord’s table every Sunday—just as the Lord leads.” Is that spiritual?
This is one of the traditions that we must keep. Tradition is not altogether bad if it comes from God.
And in 2 Thessalonians 2, you find the same thing. Paul said, “Keep the traditions”—things that have come down from God through the apostles. These are things we have to keep, of course, keeping them in spirit and not just in form. That is important.
But it is the tradition of the fathers that we must be freed from. It is the tradition of the fathers that our Lord Jesus opposed. Why? Because they held the tradition of the fathers to such an extent that they broke the law of God. That becomes a bondage.
Brothers and sisters, never be bound by the traditions of the fathers. But we have an obligation to the tradition of the Lord.
Well, Bildad based all his teaching on tradition, and it was the tradition of the fathers. But Job found himself not under any obligation to such tradition, because he found that there are instances—especially in his own case—where that traditional teaching did not apply.
Well, inwardly, Bildad represents the mind of the soul. When we enter into a crisis, our mind begins to move. Our mind begins to search, to search for an answer.
Oh, brothers and sisters, whether it is a mind represented by Bildad or the mind represented by Job—the mind influenced by the traditions of the fathers or the mind free to move—you find neither solves a spiritual problem.
Do not think that because you have a mind that is free from tradition, therefore you find a solution. You do not. Our mind is dark. Our light is darkness. It is only in His light that we see light.
No matter how much you search, you will not find God. It will only confuse you. The mind does not help.
And then the third person, Zophar, represents outwardly dogmatism; inwardly, the will of the soul.
You know, there is a difference between doctrine and dogma. Sometimes we should be a little careful with the use of words. Sometimes we say, “We do not want any doctrine.” You have to have doctrine.
If you have no doctrine, you have no truth. You have no basis for spiritual experience. Doctrine is teaching. Doctrine is truth. The doctrine of the New Testament is the basis of our faith. How can you do without doctrine? You cannot.
Yes, doctrine alone is not enough. There must be experience following doctrine. But you cannot say, “I do not want doctrine.” If you do not want doctrine, you do not have experience, because everything is based upon doctrine, upon truth.
But dogma is different. Dogma is an arrogant assertion of a certain teaching, enforced as if it were an absolute fact. That is dogma. We should not be dogmatic.
But certainly, we should know the truth, and the truth shall set us free. The application of the truth is flexible, being in the hand of the Holy Spirit. But dogma is in the hand of man, of human institution. It is fixed and inflexible.
So here you find Zophar coming with dogma: “God punishes the wicked. God rewards the good. Therefore, you must have sinned.”
But the more you try to force a person by dogma, the more that person will rebel. It is a test of wills: the will of Zophar against the will of Job, and both have iron heels. Neither will give up.
This represents the two sides of our will. Sometimes I will say, “Well, let me believe.” But that will again rebels: “I cannot. But I am righteous. I cannot.”
You see, it is the conflict of the will within the person.
So here you find the picture. In these chapters, you find a soul-searching. This soul that is naked before God is going through these searchings in the realm of the emotion, in the realm of the mind, and in the realm of the will. Every department of his soul is being searched.
There is struggle and striving, but he comes to no conclusion. He does not solve the problem.
Yet the whole process is not a waste. Why? Because in the process of soul-searching, sometimes you find sparks of divine light breaking out into the soul.
Oh, it is very interesting. If you read these chapters and try to find out these marks of divine light penetrating into the darkened soul—for instance, when Job could not argue with his friends and his friends would not believe him, Job said, “But my witness is in heaven.” That is the only hope.
And then, when Job tried to defend himself, he said, “Though He slay me, yet will I wait for Him.” And he broke out with, “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and at the last He shall stand upon the earth.”
You find, from time to time, these lights break out into the darkened soul. But it comes and goes. So far as the soul is concerned, after the deep searching, you find there is nothing—nothing there that will explain the crisis, nothing there that will bring the crisis to an end.
Dear brothers and sisters, this process is necessary. When you go through a spiritual crisis, invariably you will find there will be searches in your soul.
It is not altogether unprofitable. It tells us the incompetence of the soul in solving spiritual problems. If there is a solution, it has to come from somewhere else.
And that is the second part: the soul-searching.
I think we covered a great deal this morning, but I think that is all we can say for the present. And I do hope that, as you read these chapters, you will bear these things in mind and see whether they will help you to understand.