Commentary - Job 5:17-27

Bird's-eye view

Here we have the conclusion of Eliphaz's first speech to Job. Having laid the groundwork that man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward, he now turns to what he believes is the solution. The problem with Job's counselors is not that they were always wrong, but rather that they were right woodenly. They possessed a tidy theological system where righteousness always results in immediate blessing and suffering is always the direct consequence of some specific sin. The Bible does teach that God is not mocked; a man reaps what he sows. But the counselors affirm the consequent, assuming that because sin leads to hard consequences, all hard consequences must mean there was a specific sin. They had a two-plus-two-equals-four theology, and since they saw the four of Job's suffering, they were hunting under every rock for the two and two of his sin.

Eliphaz here delivers what, in another context, might be a beautiful sermon on the blessedness of God's fatherly discipline. He speaks truths. God does reprove, wound, and heal. He does deliver His people. The problem is not the truth of the individual statements, but the application. Eliphaz is a doctor prescribing the right medicine for the wrong disease. He is urging Job to repent of some secret iniquity, assuming that this will turn everything around. In doing so, he speaks better than he knows. The suffering of the righteous is a profound theme, and it finds its ultimate expression not in Job, but in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was wounded for our transgressions, and by whose stripes we are healed. Eliphaz offers a formula for restoration, but the gospel offers true redemption through the suffering of the truly innocent One.

Outline

Context In Job

This passage is the climax of the first of three rounds of speeches between Job and his friends. Eliphaz the Temanite, likely the eldest and most respected, speaks first. His approach is based on a combination of personal experience and a supposed mystical vision (Job 4:12-21). He has established his central premise: God is just, and He punishes the wicked while the righteous are secure. Therefore, Job's immense suffering must be a sign of some great, hidden sin. This section (5:17-27) is the "application" part of his sermon. It's his call to action for Job. "If you would just confess," he implies, "all this blessing I am about to describe can be yours." The irony is thick. Job is a righteous man, as God Himself testified (Job 1:8). So while Eliphaz's words contain much that is theologically true about God's character and His dealings with His covenant people, the entire premise of his speech as it applies to Job is utterly false. This sets the stage for Job's frustrated replies and the subsequent speeches, which dig the theological hole even deeper.

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 17 “Behold, how blessed is the man whom God reproves, So do not reject the discipline of the Almighty.”

Eliphaz begins with a beatitude, a declaration of blessedness. And the substance of what he says is absolutely true. The book of Hebrews quotes a similar sentiment from Proverbs: "My son, do not despise the chastening of the Lord, Nor be discouraged when you are rebuked by Him; For whom the Lord loves He chastens" (Heb. 12:5-6). The capacity to receive correction is a mark of a son, not a bastard. So, is it a blessing to be reproved by God? Absolutely. Is it wise to not reject the discipline of Shaddai, the Almighty? Of course. But in this context, it is a truth bent into the shape of a club. Eliphaz is not offering pastoral comfort; he is delivering a theological ultimatum. He says "the man whom God reproves," but his whole demeanor screams, "that man is you, Job." The discipline he speaks of is not the gentle shaping of a loving father, but a punitive judgment for a capital crime he assumes Job has committed.

v. 18 “For He inflicts pain and gives relief; He wounds, and His hands also heal.”

Again, this is sterling theology. God's sovereignty extends to both the affliction and the restoration. He is not a cosmic dualist, where God does the good things and Satan happens to do the bad things. As Moses would later sing, "I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I heal" (Deut. 32:39). God is sovereign over the wounding and the healing. His hands, the very instruments of His power and action, do both. This is a profound comfort for the believer who understands it rightly. It means that our suffering is not random, not meaningless. The same God who allowed the wound is the one who holds the balm. But Eliphaz presents this as a simple transaction. God has wounded you, Job, because of your sin. Stop the sin, and He will apply the healing. He reduces the sovereign God to a predictable machine. Job's problem is that he knows God is sovereign, but he cannot see the neat and tidy reason for the wounding that Eliphaz assumes is there.

v. 19 “From six distresses He will deliver you, Even in seven evil will not touch you.”

Here Eliphaz employs a common Hebrew poetic device, the "x, x+1" formula, to signify completeness. Six, and yes, even seven, a perfect number. The point is that God's deliverance is total, comprehensive. Whatever trouble you find yourself in, God is able to get you out. The promise is that evil will not ultimately "touch" you. This doesn't mean you won't experience affliction, but that it will not have the final say. It will not destroy you. For the believer, this is a glorious promise rooted in the preserving grace of God. But for Job, sitting on an ash heap, scraped raw and bereaved, this must have sounded like a bitter mockery. Eliphaz is describing a world that seems entirely disconnected from Job's reality. He is promising a clean bill of health to a man in the terminal ward, on the condition of a confession to a crime he did not commit.

v. 20 “In famine He will redeem you from death, And in war from hands with swords.”

Now Eliphaz begins to list the specific kinds of deliverance. He covers the big two: famine and war. These are covenant curses, the kind of national calamities that God would bring upon a disobedient people. In famine, when there is no food, God will ransom you from death itself. In war, He will protect you from the power of the sword. These are real promises that God makes to His people. But Eliphaz is dangling them in front of Job like a carrot on a stick. "See all this wonderful protection, Job? It could be yours. Just repent." He is taking general principles of God's covenant faithfulness and misapplying them as a universal diagnostic tool for individual suffering.

v. 21 “You will be hidden from the scourge of the tongue, And you will not be afraid of devastation when it comes.”

The "scourge of the tongue" refers to slander, gossip, and false accusation. It is a whip that can lash a man's reputation to ribbons. God promises protection from this. And when devastation, or destruction, comes upon the land, the righteous man need not be afraid. His trust is in the Lord. The irony here is painful. Who is scourging Job with his tongue at this very moment? Eliphaz. He is promising Job protection from the very thing he himself is doing. He and the other counselors are the "scourge of the tongue," accusing Job of secret sin. And they are the ones trying to make Job afraid of the devastation that has already come, telling him it is a sign of God's wrath.

v. 22 “You will laugh at devastation and starvation, And you will not be afraid of the beasts of the earth.”

The state of the righteous man is one of such profound security that he can laugh at calamity. Devastation and starvation, things that make the nations tremble, become a source of mirth. This is not the laughter of a fool who is ignorant of danger, but the laughter of faith that knows God is in control. He is also secure from wild beasts. This is a picture of shalom, of peace, where the created order is no longer a threat. It is a restoration of the harmony that was lost in the fall. A beautiful picture, but for Job, it is salt in his wounds. He is not laughing. He is mourning. The beasts of the earth are less of a threat to him than the words of his friends.

v. 23 “For your covenant will be with the stones of the field, And the beasts of the field will be at peace with you.”

This is a remarkable statement. The righteous man will have a covenant, a formal treaty, with the stones of the field. This means the land will be fruitful. The stones won't hinder the plow; the ground will yield its increase. And the wild animals will be pacified. This is a picture of Edenic peace, a restoration of man's proper dominion over creation. It is what the prophets would later describe as a hallmark of the Messianic age, when the wolf will dwell with the lamb. Eliphaz is tapping into a deep stream of biblical hope. But he is offering it as the direct result of a simple quid pro quo with God. He is selling a restored creation as a reward for good behavior.

v. 24 “You will know that your tent is at peace, For you will visit your abode and fear no loss.”

The blessing moves from the field to the home. Your tent, your household, will be in "peace" (shalom). You will be able to check on your property, your flocks, your affairs, and find nothing missing, nothing out of place. The Hebrew for "fear no loss" can also be translated "and you will not sin," suggesting that your inspection will find no fault, either in your possessions or in your own conduct. This is a promise of domestic tranquility and security. For Job, who had lost all his children in one catastrophic blow and all his livestock to raiders and fire, this promise of domestic peace was a description of the very world that had been violently ripped away from him.

v. 25 “You will know also that your seed will be many, And your offspring as the vegetation of the land.”

The promise extends to future generations. Your children and descendants will be numerous, as plentiful as the grass of the earth. This was a central part of the covenant promise to the patriarchs. A great name and many descendants was a sign of God's favor. Eliphaz is essentially offering Job the Abrahamic blessing. And he is doing it right after all ten of Job's children have been killed. It is hard to imagine a more pastorally clumsy and cruel thing to say. He is holding up the ideal of a full quiver to a man whose quiver has just been violently emptied.

v. 26 “You will come to the grave in full vigor, Like the stacking of grain in its season.”

The final blessing is a long and full life. You will not die prematurely, but will come to your grave at a ripe old age, in "full vigor." The image is of a shock of grain, harvested at the perfect time, full and ready, and brought into the barn. It is a picture of a life completed, a course finished well. It is a good death after a good life. Job, on the other hand, is longing for death as an escape from his misery (Job 3:21). Eliphaz promises a fruitful death in old age, while Job is praying for an immediate death in his prime.

v. 27 “Behold this; we have investigated it, and so it is. Hear it, and know for yourself.”

Eliphaz concludes with an appeal to authority. "We," he says, likely referring to himself and his companions, and perhaps the collective wisdom of their tradition, "have searched this out." This is not just his opinion; this is the result of careful investigation. "So it is." He presents his tidy theological system as an established fact. And his final exhortation to Job is to "hear it, and know it for yourself." In other words, "accept our diagnosis, Job. Apply it to your own case. This is how the world works. Get with the program." It is the confident, but tragically mistaken, conclusion of a man who cannot see past his own theological grid. He has a map of the world that is neat and clean, and he is telling Job that the problem is not the map, but Job's refusal to find his proper place on it.

Application

The words of Eliphaz are a standing warning to all who would counsel the suffering. It is not enough to speak true things; we must speak them in a true way, at the right time, and with a right heart. Eliphaz weaponized truth. He took the precious doctrines of God's sovereignty, fatherly discipline, and covenant blessing, and he used them to beat a righteous man. We must be careful not to do the same. When we see a brother or sister in deep affliction, our first impulse must not be to find the "reason" for it in some supposed sin. Our first impulse must be to weep with those who weep.

At the same time, the truths Eliphaz spoke are still truths. God does discipline His sons. He does wound and He does heal. He does promise deliverance and restoration. But these promises are not a simple formula. They are secured for us not by our own repentance and righteousness, but by the suffering of the truly righteous One, Jesus Christ. He was the one who endured the ultimate famine, war, and scourge of the tongue. He was the one whose offspring are now as the vegetation of the land, all those who are united to Him by faith. The blessings Eliphaz describes are real, but they are found only in Christ. Job could not see this clearly, but he looked forward to it in faith when he said, "I know that my Redeemer lives" (Job 19:25). Our hope in suffering is not that if we behave, God will make it stop. Our hope is that our Redeemer lives, and because He lives, we shall live also.