Commentary - Job 10:13-17

Bird's-eye view

In this section of Job's lament, he moves from questioning God's creative purpose to accusing Him of a hidden, malicious intent. Having just recounted how wonderfully God had made him, Job now pivots and says that behind all that apparent goodness was a secret plan to ruin him. This is the cry of a man trapped in a world governed by a sovereign God, but a God whose goodness he can no longer see. Job feels he is in a divine catch-22: whether he is wicked or righteous, the outcome is the same, condemnation and misery. He portrays God as a relentless hunter, a lion who pounces on any flicker of hope. This passage is a raw and honest depiction of what it feels like to be under the hard sovereignty of God without the comfort of the gospel. Job is articulating the terror of relating to God on the basis of law and performance, a relationship in which every move is scrutinized and no righteousness is ever enough.

What we are reading is the honest complaint of a man who is trying to make sense of his suffering from his vantage point on the ash heap. He does not have the benefit of the prologue, where we see the conversation between God and Satan. Nor does he have the benefit of the cross, where we see the ultimate answer to the problem of suffering. Job's words are therefore a perfect illustration of our desperate need for a mediator, for the revelation of God's character in Christ, which turns the terror of His sovereignty into our greatest comfort.

Outline

Context In Job

This passage comes in the middle of Job's second major speech, his reply to his friend Bildad. Bildad has just delivered a fairly standard piece of retribution theology: God is just, so you must have sinned. Job agrees in principle that God is powerful and just, but he cannot square that with his own experience. In chapter 9, he despaired of ever getting a fair trial with God. Here in chapter 10, he continues his direct address to God, which is really a lawsuit filed in the court of heaven. He has just finished marveling at how God knit him together in his mother's womb (10:8-12), which makes his current accusation all the more potent. The contrast between God the careful creator and God the cruel tormentor is at the heart of Job's anguish.

Key Issues

Commentary

Job 10:13

"Yet these things You have concealed in Your heart; I know that this is within You:"

Job begins with a profound theological statement that is both true and, in his application, terribly wrong. He acknowledges God's decretive will, that hidden counsel by which He governs all things. Job says, "I know you had a secret plan all along." The Bible teaches this everywhere; God "works all things according to the counsel of his will" (Eph. 1:11). But Job, viewing this truth through the lens of his boils and grief, interprets this secret plan as a malicious trap. He is saying that the kindness of his creation was just a setup for the punchline of his destruction. This is what happens when we try to interpret God's providence apart from His revealed character in Christ. Without the cross, the absolute sovereignty of God can appear to be nothing more than absolute tyranny. Job sees the hidden hand of God, but he concludes it is a clenched fist.

Job 10:14

"If I sin, then You would take note of me And would not acquit me of my guilt."

Here Job describes a relationship with God that is based entirely on the law. He feels he is under constant, unforgiving surveillance. God is watching him, not as a loving Father, but as a celestial parole officer, waiting for him to slip up. The phrase "take note of me" means to watch closely, to scrutinize. And the result of this scrutiny is that God "would not acquit me." There is no grace here, no pardon. Every sin is marked down in a ledger, and the account is never cleared. This is a perfect description of life under the covenant of works. It is a picture of the conscience screaming under the accusations of the law. Job is feeling the weight of what Paul would later describe: "by the works of the Law no flesh will be justified" (Gal. 2:16).

Job 10:15

"If I am wicked, woe to me! And if I am righteous, I dare not lift up my head. I am sated with disgrace, so see my misery!"

This is the central dilemma, the knot that Job cannot untie. He lays out two possibilities, and both lead to ruin. First, if he is wicked, then "woe to me." This is straightforward. The wicked deserve punishment, and Job knows it. But the second part is the kicker: "if I am righteous, I dare not lift up my head." Why not? Because his own righteousness provides him no standing, no confidence, before this God. Even if he could prove his case, he knows it wouldn't matter. His integrity is a shield made of paper. This is a profound insight into the nature of self-righteousness. Even at its best, even when it reflects genuine moral effort as it did with Job, it is utterly insufficient. It cannot bear the weight of God's holiness. Men are not truly converted until the day their virtues humiliate them. Job is full of disgrace because he is trying to stand on his own two feet before God, and he is discovering that he has no legs.

Job 10:16

"Should my head be set on high, You would hunt me like a lion; And again You would show Your wonders against me."

The imagery here is terrifying. Any moment of relief, any flicker of pride or hope, is an invitation for God to attack. If Job dares to lift his head, God pounces like a lion. The majesty and power of God, which ought to be a source of comfort and awe, have become instruments of terror. God's "wonders" are no longer the wonders of creation or deliverance, but rather marvelous and inventive ways to inflict pain. This is what the raw, unmediated power of God feels like to a sinner. To stand before the throne of God without an advocate is to stand before a consuming fire. God's holiness is predatory toward sin, and because Job is still trying to find a righteousness within himself, he feels that this predation is aimed at him personally.

Job 10:17

"You renew Your witnesses against me And increase Your vexation toward me; Hardship after hardship is with me."

The trial is relentless. God is not just a hunter; He is a prosecuting attorney. Every new suffering is a new "witness" brought into the courtroom to prove Job's guilt. The vexation, the divine anger, is not static but increasing. The final phrase, "Hardship after hardship," can be translated as "changes and warfare." It pictures waves of reinforcements being sent into battle against him. God is not just fighting him; He is escalating the assault. From Job's perspective, this is a war of annihilation. From God's perspective, which Job cannot yet see, this is the painful dismantling of a man's self-reliance. God is at war, not with Job, but with Job's pride and his insistence on understanding everything before he will trust. God is stripping him of everything so that he might have nothing left but God Himself.

Application

Job's cry is the cry of every man who tries to approach God on his own terms. He sees God's sovereignty, but it feels like fate. He sees God's justice, but it feels like condemnation. He appeals to his own righteousness and finds it is worthless. He is a man under the law, and the law always crushes.

The answer to Job's dilemma is not a better argument or a philosophical explanation for suffering. The answer is a Person. Job famously longed for a "mediator" (Job 9:33), and that is precisely what he, and we, need. We need someone to stand between us and the Lion. That someone is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, who became a Lamb for us.

Because of Christ, we can look at the hidden counsel of God and know that it is a counsel of love, for "He who did not spare His own Son... how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?" (Rom. 8:32). Because of Christ, we know that when God takes note of our sin, it is to cover it with blood, not to condemn us. Because of Christ, we who are righteous in Him can lift up our heads with confidence. God's wonders are once again for us, not against us. The warfare is over. The hardships we face are not fresh witnesses for our prosecution, but rather tools of sanctification in the hands of a loving Father. Job's honest, raw, and mistaken lament serves to show us the darkness from which Christ has delivered us.