Commentary - Job 8:11-19

Bird's-eye view

In this section of Job, we are hearing from Bildad the Shuhite, one of Job's three friends who came to "comfort" him. Of course, their comfort turns out to be anything but. Bildad's approach here is to appeal to what he considers settled wisdom, the wisdom of the ancients. His argument is straightforward and, on the surface, quite logical. He uses a series of illustrations from the natural world to make a theological point: the wicked, those who forget God, may flourish for a season, but their prosperity is rootless and their ultimate end is destruction. Just as a papyrus plant needs a marsh and rushes need water, so a man needs God. Take away the source of life, and the impressive greenery withers in an instant.

Bildad's central error is not that his general principle is wrong; the Bible teaches elsewhere that the prosperity of the wicked is fleeting. His error is in his wooden and merciless application of this principle to Job. He has already concluded that Job's immense suffering must be the direct result of some great, hidden sin. Therefore, all this talk of withering plants and spider's webs is a thinly veiled accusation. He is essentially telling Job, "You are this man. You have forgotten God, and that is why your life has collapsed." This is the core problem with the "comforters", they operate on a rigid, mechanical view of divine justice that has no room for the mysterious sufferings of the righteous or the sovereign purposes of God that transcend simple tit-for-tat retribution.

Outline

Context In Job

This passage is part of the first cycle of speeches between Job and his friends. Eliphaz has already spoken, suggesting Job's suffering is for discipline. Job has responded in chapter 6 and 7, lamenting his condition and protesting his innocence. Now Bildad, the second friend, takes his turn. He is harsher and more direct than Eliphaz. He begins his speech (Job 8:1-7) by bluntly telling Job that his children died because they sinned and that if Job were truly pure, God would restore him. The section we are examining (8:11-19) provides the supposed "wisdom" to back up this harsh judgment. It is an argument from the created order, intended to prove that godlessness cannot ultimately prosper. This sets the stage for Job's next reply, where he will continue to grapple with the reality that God's ways are not as simplistic as his friends believe.

Key Issues

The Logic of the Godless

Bildad is a traditionalist. He appeals to what "the former generation" taught (v. 8). His argument is a piece of natural theology, and like a great deal of natural theology, it gets some things right while missing the main thing entirely. He sees a principle in creation: things need a source to live. A plant needs water. Cut it off from its source, and it dies. From this, he correctly deduces that man needs God. To forget God is to sever your own root from the only source of true life. So far, so good. This is basic biblical wisdom.

The problem is that this is the beginning of wisdom, not the end of it. Bildad's theology is a closed system. For him, A always leads to B. Righteousness always leads to immediate prosperity, and suffering is always the direct result of specific sin. He cannot comprehend a righteous man suffering, because it would break his neat theological box. He sees Job's collapsed life and works backward, assuming there must be a secret sin to account for it. He is a man who trusts his syllogism more than he trusts his friend. The lesson for us is that true biblical wisdom is not a sterile, logical formula. It is a living relationship with a sovereign God who often works in ways that confound our tidy categories. A half-truth, applied with the force of a full-truth, can be a cruel and destructive lie.

Verse by Verse Commentary

11-12 “Can the papyrus grow up without a marsh? Can the rushes grow without water? While it is still green and not cut down, Yet it dries up before any other plant.

Bildad begins with a rhetorical question that expects an obvious "no." Papyrus and rushes are plants that are defined by their environment. They are lush, green, and vibrant, but only because they are saturated with water. Their entire existence depends on the marsh. Take away the water, and their flourishing is their greatest liability. Because they are designed for abundance, they are the very first to wither in a drought. A cactus can handle a dry spell; a reed cannot. Their apparent strength is actually a profound vulnerability. The greener they are, the faster they shrivel when their source is cut off.

13 So are the paths of all who forget God; And the hope of the godless will perish,

Here is the application of the parable. The "paths" or the course of life of those who forget God are just like these marsh plants. They might look prosperous. They might appear green and successful to the outside world. But their entire life is built on a lie, disconnected from the only true source of life, who is God Himself. To "forget God" here is not a simple lapse of memory. It is a settled, practical atheism. It is to live as though God does not matter, to build one's life, family, and business on a foundation other than Him. Bildad rightly says that the "hope" of such a man will perish. Because his hope is in his circumstances, his health, his wealth, all things that are as temporary as a marsh in a drought.

14 Whose confidence is fragile, And whose trust a spider’s web.

Bildad shifts metaphors to drive the point home. The confidence of the godless man is "fragile." The Hebrew word here can mean loathsome or cut off. It's a rotten thing. And his trust, what he relies on for security, is a spider's web. A spider's web is a marvel of engineering for its intended purpose, which is to catch flies. But as a security system for the spider, it is utterly useless. A breath of wind, a passing hand, and it is gone without a trace. This is a brilliant image for the security of the man who trusts in himself. His web of contacts, his financial portfolio, his reputation, it all seems intricate and strong, but when the judgment of God blows upon it, it offers no protection whatsoever.

15 He relies on his house, but it does not stand; He holds fast to it, but it is not established.

This follows directly from the spider's web analogy. The spider's web is its house. The godless man leans on his "house", his family dynasty, his estate, his business empire, but it has no foundation. When the storm comes, it will not stand. He can cling to it with all his might, but it will not endure because it was not established by God. The psalmist tells us that unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain (Ps. 127:1). The godless man is a frantic builder, but he is building on sand, and the tide is coming in.

16-17 He thrives before the sun, And his shoots go forth over his garden. His roots wrap around a rock pile; He looks upon a house of stones.

Bildad returns to the plant metaphor, but with a twist. This is not a marsh plant now, but a vigorous vine or shrub. It looks incredibly healthy. It is green "before the sun," soaking up the energy and growing rapidly. Its tendrils spread out over the whole garden. It seems to have found a source of great stability, its roots wrapping themselves around a pile of rocks. It "looks upon a house of stones," suggesting it is even strong enough to begin breaking into the foundation of a stone house. This is a picture of the wicked at the height of their power. They seem strong, established, and utterly secure, their roots sunk deep into the very structures of the world.

18 If He swallows him up from his place, Then it will deny him, saying, ‘I never saw you.’

And here is the shocking reversal. The "He" who acts here is God. In a moment, God can "swallow him up," utterly removing him from his place of prominence. The plant that was so vigorous, so dominant, is simply gone. And the most chilling part is the response of the place where he grew. The very ground, the rock pile his roots clung to, will disown him. "I never saw you." His impact, which seemed so permanent, is completely erased. He leaves no legacy, no memory. The world he dominated moves on without a ripple, as though he never existed. This is the ultimate terror for the man who lives for his own glory, the prospect of being utterly and completely forgotten.

19 Behold, this is the joy of His way; And out of the dust others will spring.

Bildad ends with a biting, sarcastic irony. "Behold, this is the joy of his way." This is the glorious end of the man who forgets God. His flourishing was a joke, and his end is oblivion. And life goes on. Out of the same dust where he once stood, other plants, other people, will arise. The world does not miss him. God's purposes continue, and the place of the wicked is given to another. The point is one of utter futility. To build a life apart from God is to build a monument to nothing, a monument that erases itself.

Application

Bildad's words, though misapplied to Job, are a sharp and necessary word for us. We live in a world that is drunk on the success of the godless. We see men and women who have forgotten God entirely, and yet their businesses thrive, their influence spreads, and their roots seem to wrap around the very foundations of our culture. It is easy to become envious, or to begin to think that perhaps forgetting God is not such a bad strategy after all.

Bildad reminds us that this is a fatal illusion. Every human life is either a marsh plant with its roots in the living water of God, or it is a marsh plant in a land where the water is about to be cut off. There is no third option. Your job, your savings, your reputation, your family, if these things are your ultimate trust, they are a spider's web. You may be leaning on them now, but they will not hold you in the day of trouble. True security is not found in wrapping your roots around the rock piles of this world, but in being planted by the river of God, a tree whose leaf does not wither (Ps. 1).

The ultimate difference between Job and the man Bildad describes is the object of his faith. Even in his confusion and pain, Job's arguments were with God. He never forgot God; he was wrestling with Him. The godless man does not wrestle with God; he ignores Him. Our hope is not that we will have a life free from trouble, but that when trouble comes, our roots are sunk deep into the bedrock of Jesus Christ. He is the one who was cut down and swallowed up by the grave, only to spring forth from the dust in resurrection. To be united to Him by faith is to be connected to a source that can never run dry, and to have a hope that will never, ever perish.