Now when Job’s three friends heard of all this adversity that had come upon him, they came each one from his own place, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite; and they made an appointment together to come to sympathize with him and comfort him. (Job 2:11)
We don’t know how far Job’s friends traveled; I’m guessing it was a significant distance or it wouldn’t be mentioned. At any rate, it likely took some time for news of Job’s calamity to reach them.
They had to meet to make plans, then make their way to Job’s home--all by camel or some such four-footed beast. Months could have passed since the time they’d heard the news.
There is no reason to believe they didn’t have families. they were probably men of reputation in their region, elders in their cities.
Certainly, whatever they had going on in their own lives, they were sacrificing to go and be with Job. There’s no question these men were more than acquaintances—they were Job’s friends.
When Job’s three friends saw the broken man in the distance, they could barely believe it was him. They began to weep when they saw the extent of his suffering. When they reached him, they did what was customary when grieving: they tore their clothes, threw ashes on their heads, and then sat with him in silence. (Job 2:11-13)
For seven days, they said nothing.
But the mind is never idle.
As Job’s friends mourned with him, they probably pondered the reasons for his suffering.
“How can this be?”
“Why would God allow this to happen to such a righteous man as Job?”
Their imaginations engaged. Standard answers began to present themselves. Hidden offenses, no matter how small, emerged. Well-known proverbs and principles came to mind. All could explain how Job got himself into this mess.
The same could instruct him how to get out.
The presumed duty of the friends changed: “How do we tell Job what he needs to hear?”
It was Job who broke the silence, and when he did, he asked the question his friends were waiting to hear: “Why did this happen to me?”
And his friends began offering their insights.
Eliphaz – “What goes around comes around.” (Ch. 4, 5, 15, 22)
Eliphaz came from Teman, a city known for its wisdom.
He’d known Job’s father; most likely he was much older than Job. He presented his arguments from the perspective of experience and age. “I’ve been there...” “I’ve seen it…” “I know it…”
In short, “I’m wiser than you.”
So, like a wise old uncle, he began, “Come on, Job. You know how this goes. You’ve taught it yourself. If you mess up, you pay the consequences (4:1-6).”
His inference was clear: since Job was suffering some pretty severe consequences, he certainly must have sinned.
Eliphaz was preaching a common doctrine.
It’s called retributive theology, or exact retribution. And it’s simple: You get what you deserve. You do good, you get good. You do bad, you get bad. God rewards and punishes in direct response to your actions. What goes around comes around. Eventually, it comes around.
Evidently, Job believed that, too. Why else would he question, “why?”
He had done good, and he deserved good from God. Yet here he was: his children dead, his fortunes ruined, lying on the ground with painful boils from head to toe.
Some support for retributive theology can be found in Scripture, especially in the book of Proverbs and the parables of Jesus, but as a doctrine, it’s unbalanced and incomplete.
Many of the Psalms, especially those written by David, echo Job’s righteous cries of “Why?” and as Jesus revealed the good news of redemption, He covered the parables with grace.
You can find a verse or two in the Bible to support almost any doctrine you’d like, but a doctrine based on anything but the truth of the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ and our purchased redemption is as good as false. Exact retribution has been cancelled by the cross.
When it was Eliphaz’s turn to speak again, he told Job he was full of hot air, calling him a know-it-all while calling himself wise (15:7-10).
When Job denied Eliphaz’s accusations, Eliphaz questioned Job’s character. He began spouting things he knew were not true, twisted Job’s words, and mocked him (Job 22).
His doctrine had become his truth, not the other way around.
Happens all the time.
True, Eliphaz’s arguments contained some wisdom, but they contradicted God’s testimony about Job:
“There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.” (Job 1:8)
Bildad: “It only makes sense.” (Job 8, 18, 25)
Bildad was an intellectual and brutally frank. His arguments were based on logic.
Since the obvious answer to his question, “Can God do wrong” (Job 8:3) is “no,” Bildad’s conclusion was, “Job, you did.”
Yet Bildad had no evidence to support his theory; he had no firsthand knowledge. He’d been far from Uz and he’d asked no questions of Job. Based on his logic alone, Bildad assumed Job was guilty.
Reach into the muddled mix of all that Bildad said, and chances are very good you’ll pull out something true. But when applied to Job’s situation, that maxim would lead to a false conclusion.
Because God considered Job godly.
Bildad was like the Pharisees who in another time Jesus rebuked—those who knew the Scriptures well yet knew very little about God. (John 5:39-40)
Bildad suffered from “pharisaism.”
“Pharisaism” flourishes in Christendom today: strict adherence to rules without the nature of true godliness. A “pharisee” has theology but no knowledge of God. A “pharisee” has answers, but no solutions. A “pharisee” is rigid and self-righteous, lacking compassion.
Bildad had no understanding of God’s care for man. He believed man was a maggot or a worm in God’s sight. (Job 25:6)
Bildad certainly didn’t understand God’s heart for Job and he certainly didn’t consider himself his brother’s keeper. He cared not at all for the effect his words were having on Job.
Bildad had created God in his own image—as a cold intellectual.
“It is better to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” - Mahatma Gandhi
Zophar: “I just know it.”(Job 11, 20)
Zophar was Job’s zealous friend — a hothead, passionate and emotional.
“Are all these words to go unanswered? Is this talker to be vindicated? Will your idle talk reduce others to silence? Will no one rebuke you when you mock?" (Job 11:2-3)
"You say to God, ‘My beliefs are flawless and I am pure in your sight.’" (11:4)
Not so.
Being righteous and being flawless are far from the same thing. A flawless man is always right; a righteous man maintains a right relationship with God through repentance when he is wrong.
God himself testified that Job was righteous.
Zophar took personal offense at Job's self-defense:
“My troubled thoughts prompt me to answer because I am greatly disturbed. I hear a rebuke that dishonors me, and my understanding inspires me to reply. (Job 20:2-3)
Zophar overflowed with rhetoric, exaggerating and twisting Job’s words for the sake of his poetry.
His bluster must have worn him out because while Eliphaz and Bildad each carried on through three rounds of discussion with Job, Zophar only went two.
Foolish platitudes and heartless accusations, a friend’s suffering used as an opportunity for a sermon. Friends had become adversaries, comforters turned mockers.
How in the world did they get here?
The friends didn’t set out with the wrong motivations. They’d come to comfort their friend. They hurt because Job hurt. They wanted to ease his pain.
And that’s where things began to go wrong.
Job’s friends believed some lies.
They thought they were there to bring a solution.
Listen to what Job said:
“I’ve never said, ‘Give me something to help me. Use your wealth to set me free. Save me from the power of my enemy. Rescue me from the power of mean people.’” (Job 6:22-23)
In words easier to understand: “Who asked you to come to my rescue? Who asked for your advice?”
The hurting seldom want answers. The suffering need friends who will listen, not talk.
But we like to fix things.
That’s noble, but not possible. We can’t fix people. The “why” of their pain in the middle of their pain isn’t our business. That’s for them and God to sort out.
They thought what they knew was the key to Job’s healing.
Their knowledge provided no more help than Job’s did. Sometimes, life just doesn’t make sense.
“Everybody knows these things!” Job said. (12:3)
“Behold, my eye has seen all this; my ear has heard and understood it. What you know I also know; I am not inferior to you.” (13:1-2)
There’s a right time for a Bible lesson and there’s a right time for prayer. There are times for quotes and there are times for comfort.
Friends know the difference.
They thought their own experience applied to Job’s situation.
It didn’t. It couldn’t.
It never will.
To the one suffering, advice coming from another’s experience sounds like a muffled voice from behind a wall.
“It is said that there are two kinds of people: those who have something to say, and those who have to say something."
Job just wanted his friends to stop talking. He said, “I’d rather argue with God.” (Job 13:3)
The three friends’ attempts to help Job almost spelled the end of their friendship.
Indeed, how in the world did they get there?
Perhaps this was at the root of it all:
Job’s pain made them uncomfortable.
And Job understood that.
“And now, my friends, you haven’t helped me either. You see the horrible condition I’m in. And that makes you afraid.” (Job 6:21)
Because life doesn’t always make sense.
We see our vulnerability in the middle of others’ pain; we think if it could happen to them, it could happen to us. So we’d rather close our eyes and slap on a Band-Aid.
So Job and his friends came to no resolution. Job knew he was innocent, and he could not lie by admitting to sin he hadn’t committed. It would relieve may some pressure on him, but it wouldn't solve the problem.
Job and God would still seem to be at odds.
“But I would speak to the Almighty,
And I desire to argue with God. (Job 13:3)
Job would like his friends to stop talking and God to start. (Job 13:22)
When there is no clear answer, or if there is and the one in pain is not able to accept it, what is the wisest thing to say?
As in the case of Job’s friends, the wisest thing, the most loving thing to do — even though it’s the most uncomfortable thing — is to simply sit quietly beside them.
For the despairing man there should be kindness from his friend; So that he does not forsake the fear of the Almighty. – Job 6:14
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