(Job 33)
The entire book of Job illustrates, in a very forcible manner, the interest which God takes in the history, the experience, and the condition of a single soul. It is a lengthened book of forty-two chapters, containing a statement of various events and circumstances, varied agencies and influences, all looked at in reference to the history of one soul. Heaven, earth, and hell are all brought upon the scene. Jehovah, Satan, the Sabeans, the Chaldeans, fire from heaven, and wind from the wilderness, Job’s wife, Job’s friends—all are seen in action, all busily engaged in reference to a single soul. This one fact is sufficient to clothe the book of Job with peculiar interest. It teaches us a lesson—a deeply impressive lesson as to God’s estimate of one soul, and His interest in all that concerns it, whether great or small.
However, my present object is not, by any means, to enter upon an exposition of the book of Job, as a whole, but merely to call my reader’s attention to the ministry of Elihu; the place which that ministry occupied; and the effect which it was calculated to produce in Job’s spiritual history.
The meaning of the word Elihu is, “God is he;” and he stands before the spiritual mind as the marked type of the Lord Jesus Christ, who is “God over all, blessed forever”—“God manifest in the flesh”—“The one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” The point at which Elihu enters the scene is worthy of my reader’s special attention. Job’s three friends had utterly failed to meet his case. Their ministry was entirely one-sided. They brought a considerable amount of truth to bear upon him, but there was no grace. Take a single example illustrative of the tendency of all their addresses. “How then can man be justified with God? or how can he be clean that is born of a woman? Behold even to the moon, and it shineth not; yea, the stars are not pure in his sight. How much less man, that is a worm? and the son of man which is a worm?” (chap. 25:4-6.) Bildad and his companions could raise these questions, but they could not answer them. They could wound, but not heal; they could break down, but not bind up; and hence we find Job breaking forth, again, and again, in such strains as the following, “No doubt but ye are the people, and wisdom shall die with you”—“Ye are all physicians of do value”—“Miserable comforters are ye all”—“How long will ye vex my soul?”—“Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, Ο ye my friends”—“Oh! that I knew where I might find him”—“How hast thou helped him that is without power? How savest thou the arm that has no strength? How hast thou counseled him that hath no wisdom?”
Such were the accents which Job poured out under the one-sided ministry of his three friends, whose intentions were, no doubt, good and sincere; but they lacked one grand element which alone could have fitted them to deal with a sinner. They lacked grace. They could not tell Job where he was to find the One for whom he was searching. They had no power for the powerless, or wisdom for the foolish, or pardon for the guilty, or balm for the wounded, or medicine for the sick, or life for the dead. There was an air of legal sternness, and unbending austerity about these three well-intentioned but mistaken men, which rendered them wholly unfit to deal with a poor, blind, helpless, needy, guilty sinner. In order to stand before Bildad and his colleagues one would need to be without a wound, without a bruise, without speck or stain. Let there be but one wound, and on that these “valueless physicians” would be sure to fix their stern gaze in order to raise the harassing question as to why and wherefore it was there. Let there be but one calamity, and on that these “miserable comforters” would be sure to fix the eye of cold severity, and ask why it had come. Let there be but one flaw, and on that, these stern judges would be sure to lay the finger and inquire why it was not removed.
It was, therefore, obviously impossible that Job and his friends could ever come to an understanding. They demanded what he could not produce; and he needed what they could not give. They were on the wrong ground in dealing with him, and they were unable to put him on the right ground to answer them. Thus it stood between Job and his friends. He would justify himself; here was his error. They would condemn him; here was their defect. Had they changed places, they might have understood each other better; but, as it was, naught could be looked for but an endless strife—an interminable controversy. He would not make any confession to them; and they would not make any allowance for him. He had no penitential breathings for them; and they had no soothing accents for him. The case was hopeless.
Thus, then, the stage was cleared for Elihu to enter. He was the man for the occasion. He brought with him the very thing which Job needed, but which his friends were unable to supply. Job had plaintively sighed for such a one. He had earnestly longed for a daysman; and now this daysman stood before him in the typical person of Elihu—the figure of that blessed One by whom both “grace and truth “ came from God to man. “The law was given by Moses; but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.” Here the moral glory of Christ’s Person and ministry shines forth in all its matchless luster. He brought “truth” to reveal the real condition of man; and He brought “grace” to meet that condition as thus revealed. Truth puts the sinner into his right place; and grace brings God down to meet him when there. Grace cannot act apart from truth; and truth will not act apart from grace. Both are inseparably linked together in the precious ministry of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. The glory which belongs to each, when looked at apart, is enhanced, when viewed in connection. “Truth,” which vindicates the holy claims of God, shines all the more brightly because of its connection with the grace which perfectly meets all the deep necessities of the sinner; and “grace,” which meets the sinner’s need, is all the more glorious because of the basis of truth on which it rests. We shall find these two elements of grace and truth beautifully developed in the ministry of Elihu, to which we shall now direct our attention.
When Job had ended his words, and when his three friends had ceased to answer; or, in other words, when all parties had left off, just where they began, “Then was kindled the wrath of Elihu, the son of Barachel, the Buzite, of the kindred of Ram; against Job was his wrath kindled, because he justified himself rather than God. Also against his three friends was his wrath kindled, because they had found no answer, and yet had condemned Job.”
Here, Elihu, in the exercise of his truthful ministry, seizes the exact point in which both Job and his three friends had erred, from the very outset. He first addresses himself to the friends. “Behold,” he says, “I waited for your words; I gave ear to your reasons, whilst ye searched out what to say. Yea, I attended unto you, and, behold, there was none of you that convinced Job, or that answered his words. Lest ye should say, we have found out wisdom: God thrusteth him down, not man.” They had condemned him without convincing him. The divine method, on the contrary, is to convince a man and make him condemn himself. The language of a divinely-convicted soul is, “Let God be true, but every man a liar; as it is written, That thou mightest be justified in thy sayings, and mightest overcome when thou art judged.” (Rom. 3:44God forbid: yea, let God be true, but every man a liar; as it is written, That thou mightest be justified in thy sayings, and mightest overcome when thou art judged. (Romans 3:4).) But Job’s friends had failed to reach this result, in his case, and of this the faithful Elihu convicts them, and they are obliged to remain dumb and astonished in his presence.
Thus much, as to the three friends. Let us now turn, for a little, to his address to Job. All is in lovely moral order. We shall confine ourselves, for the present, to two or three leading points in chapter 33.
And, first of all, Elihu stands before Job as the very one who could meet his need. “Behold, I am according to thy wish in God’s stead; I also am formed out of the clay.” What a striking type of Christ “In God’s stead,” and yet “formed out of the clay.” This is the one for a poor needy sinner. “Behold my terror shall not make thee afraid, neither shall my hand be heavy upon thee.” Here, the touching, soul-subduing notes of grace fall upon the ear of Job. That ear which had hearkened to accents of harsh judgment and cutting severity, now listens to words of heart-melting tenderness. And oh! what joy fills the heart of a convicted sinner when he hears from the lips of Jesus those words, “Neither shall my hand be heavy upon thee!” And such is, in very truth, His gracious language to everyone who takes his true place as a lost sinner. The hand of Christ never was, never will be, never can be heavy upon a penitent soul. He will never break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax.
Now, the sinner finds it very hard to believe that the Lord’s hand will not be heavy upon him. “Day and night,” says one, “thy hand was heavy upon me.” But why was this? Because he had not taken his true place, in confession and self-judgment. But the very moment he said, “I acknowledge my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid: I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord;” it was no longer the heavy hand, but, “Thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.” (Psalm 32) Thus it is ever. Divine forgiveness follows hard upon human confession. So long as the sinner holds back—so long as there is any reserve—any cloaking or palliation, any hiding of the sins, any pretension to righteousness or religiousness, any assumption of strength or wisdom, so long there must be the heavy hand; but the moment the sinner takes the place of self-judgment, the word is, “My terror shall not make thee afraid, neither shall my hand be heavy upon thee.” The heavy hand of Eternal Justice was laid upon the Sin-Bearer when He hung upon the cross, in order that it might be forever removed from the poor self-condemned sinner.
This will fully explain Elihu’s meaning, when he says, “If there be a messenger with him, an interpreter, one among a thousand, to show unto man his uprightness; then he is gracious unto him, and saith, Deliver him from going down to the pit, I have found a ransom.” It is, indeed, only “one among a thousand” that will show unto a man what his uprightness really is. For one that will tell him the truth as to this, there are nine hundred and ninety-nine that will tell him that his uprightness consists in doing his best, in his endeavoring to live a good life, in efforts after self-improvement and the like. If “uprightness” were to consist in these things, Job had abundance of it. If my reader will turn, for a moment, to chapter 29, he will see that Job stood, as we say, at the very top of the wheel, as a man of reputation for high-toned morality and large-hearted benevolence, things really beautiful in themselves. And yet, when the faithful “messenger”—the true “interpreter”—the “one among a thousand,” enters the scene, be gives a totally different view of the matter. He tells us that man’s uprightness consists in his owning himself a sinner. “He looketh upon men; and if any say “What?” I have lived a good life—I have given thousands in charity—I have said many prayers—shed many tears—observed many fasts—heard many sermons—read a great many chapters—done all manner of good works.” Is this it? Nay; but “if any say, I have sinned and perverted that which was right.” What then? “He will hurl him into the pit of hell?” Nay; but “He will deliver his soul from going into the pit and his life shall see the light.”
Reader, note this, I pray you. Man’s uprightness is to confess that he has sinned. How simple! And yet simple as it is, how hard it is to get the heart to take this ground! How hard Job found it! What arguments! What strife of words! What self-vindication! What recording of his good deeds! What reference to public opinion! What a process. What immense difficulty in getting him to the end of self, and evoking from his heart those accents of true uprightness—the three monosyllables, “I am vile!” Thus it is with the poor human heart. It is so hard to see the entire superstructure of one’s personal reputation lying in ruins around one! And yet, it is only amid the ruins of self that one can get a view of the glories of Christ. Establish your own character—build up your own reputation—work out your own righteousness, and what are you doing? Just raising an insuperable barrier between your soul and God’s salvation. That barrier must be demolished, it must crumble into dust at your feet, before ever your soul can bask in the sunlight of that free grace which reigns through righteousness, Unto everlasting life, by Jesus Christ our Lord.
It is of the very last importance to get a clear understanding of this question of man’s uprightness. It is to be feared that very few really apprehend it. The only upright ground for a sinner to occupy is the confession of utter ruin. “I have sinned.” This is what I have done. “I am vile.” This is what I am. These few words make up the sum total of man’s conduct and condition, and furnish the only formula for an upright soul. “Behold, his soul which is lifted up is not upright in him: but the just shall live by his faith.” (Hab. 2:44Behold, his soul which is lifted up is not upright in him: but the just shall live by his faith. (Habakkuk 2:4).) “God be propitiated to me a sinner,” is the only breathing of an upright heart. If I have not, from my inmost soul, owned myself lost, I am not upright. If I imagine that there is a single redeeming feature in my nature and character, as before God, I have not yet heard aright the voice of the interpreter—the one among a thousand.
And, now, let me ask, what does a soul receive when it has learned its uprightness? It receives, according to the language of Elihu, three things; namely, ransom, righteousness, and resurrection. The divine testimony to every convicted, self-condemned soul is this, “I have found a ransom.” It is not, “Go thou and find it where thou canst.” No; God assures me He Himself has found it—found all that was needed—found it for all who know and own themselves lost—found it for me. God declares Himself satisfied with the ransom. He could not be otherwise seeing He Himself has found it. He has proved Himself satisfied by raising from the dead the One who “paid in blood the dreadful score, the ransom due for me.” He can now pronounce, in the sinner’s hearing, those emancipating words, “deliver him from going down to the pit”—words, which, while they tell me of the grace that delivers, tell me also that there is a pit to be delivered from. God can now address the poor trembling penitent, and say, “My hand shall not be heavy upon thee;” and, as He speaks, He points to the cross where the ransom was paid, in the life-blood of His co-equal and co-eternal Son. May my reader know now, if he has not known it before, the value of the ransom, and the completeness of the deliverance founded thereon.
Intimately connected with this ransom, yea based upon it, is the divine righteousness which God “brings near” to the soul that knows and owns its guilt and rain. Elihu says, “He will render unto man his righteousness.” That is, God renders unto me His righteousness, directly I take the only upright position before Him, which is to own that “I have sinned.” The very moment my heart confesses that I have naught but guilt for God, that moment He tells me that He has righteousness for me—a divine righteousness, founded upon a divine ransom. This is the very opposite of my endeavoring to find a righteousness for God. All I can say is, “Behold, I am vile.” The divine response falls with clearness on the ear of faith, “I bring near my righteousness.” God has found the ransom; God brings near and renders the righteousness. When we were slaves He paid the ransom, and when we were guilty, He provided the robe of spotless righteousness. It is all of God. So long as the sinner remains under the impression that he must find a righteousness for God, it is all gloom; and the gloom is deep in proportion to the exercise of conscience. But the moment he finds out from the true interpreter—the “one among a thousand”—that he is all wrong, that he is under a complete mistake, that instead of his toiling to get righteousness for God, God has actually gotten a righteousness for him, and this righteousness is a “gift” through Jesus Christ our Lord, then is his heart relieved, his conscience enfranchised, his whole soul filled with peace and joy; he sees his folly in having so long sought to establish his own righteousness, and he is able to begin, here below, the song which he shall sing forever in glory, to the praise of “Him who loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood.”
And, now, one word, in conclusion, on the hope of resurrection which Elihu introduces, after his own peculiar fashion, “His flesh shall be fresher than a child’s; he shall return to the days of his youth.” This completes the lovely picture. The ransom is the foundation of the righteousness, and resurrection-glory is the proper hope of all those who stand in the condition of righteousness. “We, through the Spirit, wait for the hope of righteousness by faith.” (Gal. 6) That is the hope which suits our condition. We have gotten righteousness, and we wait for the time when we shall appear in resurrection glory with Christ. Then there shall be no more sorrow, no more sighing, no more sickness or pain, weakness or death, no more parting, bereavement or desolation. The verdure and freshness of immortality shall characterize us forever. We shall know an eternal youth. “It doth not yet appear (is not yet manifested) what we shall be; but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.” (1 John 3:22Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is. (1 John 3:2).) “He shall change our vile body that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things to himself.” Philip, 3:21.
May the Lord, by His Spirit, engrave these holy lessons on the tablets of our hearts, so that we may form a loftier estimate of the ransom, and of the righteousness founded thereon, and cherish a more earnest hope of that resurrection-glory in which we shall shortly appear!
“The Lord of life in death hath lain
To free me from all charge of sin;
And, Lord, from guilt of crimson stain,
Thy precious blood hath made me clean.
And now a righteousness divine
Is all my glory, all my trust;
Nor will I fear, since that is mine,
While Thou dost live, and God is just.
Clad in this robe, how bright I shine!
Angels possess not such a dress;
Angels have not a robe like mine,
Jesus the Lord’s my righteousness.”