Faith on Trial, Faith in the Fire Text: Job 13:13-19
Introduction: The Courtroom of Suffering
The book of Job is not a tidy theological treatise on the problem of evil. It is a bare-knuckle brawl in a cosmic courtroom. And in the middle of it all is a man, Job, stripped of everything but his own skin and his own integrity. His friends, who are miserable comforters, have been prosecuting him relentlessly. Their argument is a neat, tidy, and utterly false syllogism: God is just, and therefore He always punishes the wicked and blesses the righteous in this life. You, Job, are suffering terribly. Therefore, you must be a terrible sinner. Fess up.
This is the wooden prosperity theology that still plagues the church today. It is a theology that works fine in the sunshine, but it shatters to pieces in the furnace. Job knows it is false. He knows he has not committed some secret, monstrous sin to warrant this devastation. And so he finds himself in an impossible position. He must defend his own integrity against his friends, and yet he must also bring his case before the very God who is afflicting him. He is suing God for damages, and God is the judge. This is a staggering thing to do.
In our passage today, Job has had enough of his friends' counsel. He tells them to be silent so that he can speak. And what comes out of his mouth is one of the most breathtaking declarations of faith in all of Scripture. It is a faith that is not born of comfort and ease, but one that has been forged in the crucible of agony. This is not a faith that has all the answers neatly filed away. It is a faith that clings to God even when God appears to be his mortal enemy. This is a faith that is willing to argue, to wrestle, and to demand a hearing from the Almighty, all the while trusting Him completely. It is a picture of what true, rugged, biblical faith looks like when it is pushed to the absolute limit.
We live in a soft age that wants a soft faith. We want a God who is manageable, predictable, and who exists primarily for our comfort. Job’s faith offends our modern sensibilities. He is raw, he is honest, and he is fiercely determined to get to God. And in this, he shows us the path not just to endurance, but to vindication.
The Text
"Be silent before me so that I may speak; Then let come on me what may. Why should I take my flesh in my teeth And put my life in my hands? Though He slay me, I will hope in Him. Nevertheless I will argue my ways before Him. This also will be my salvation, For a godless man may not come before His presence. Listen carefully to my words, And let my declaration fill your ears. Behold now, I have arranged my case for justice; I know that I will be declared righteous. Who will contend with me? For now I am silent and will breathe my last."
(Job 13:13-19 LSB)
A Desperate Resolve (vv. 13-14)
Job begins by silencing his accusers and steeling himself for the ultimate confrontation.
"Be silent before me so that I may speak; Then let come on me what may. Why should I take my flesh in my teeth And put my life in my hands?" (Job 13:13-14)
Job is done with the platitudes and false accusations of his friends. He demands the floor. Their counsel has been worthless, a ministry of pouring salt in his wounds. He dismisses them entirely. "Let come on me what may." This is the cry of a man who has nothing left to lose. He has lost his children, his wealth, his health, and his reputation. All he has left is his case, his argument. He is going to speak his piece to God, regardless of the consequences. If it means more suffering, so be it. He has hit rock bottom, and the only way to look is up, even if the heavens look like brass.
The phrases "take my flesh in my teeth" and "put my life in my hands" are ancient idioms for extreme, desperate risk. He is like a cornered animal, ready to tear at its own flesh to fight. He is taking his life, what little is left of it, and he is wagering it all on this one, final appeal to God. He is all in. This is not the quiet, demure piety that we often mistake for faith. This is a faith that is active, striving, and even combative. He is not passively resigning himself to fate; he is actively seeking the face of the God who is hidden from him.
The Pinnacle of Faith (v. 15)
What follows is perhaps the most audacious and profound statement of faith in the entire Old Testament.
"Though He slay me, I will hope in Him. Nevertheless I will argue my ways before Him." (Job 13:15)
Let this verse sink into the marrow of your bones. This is the heart of the matter. Job looks at his situation. God has taken everything. His body is wracked with pain. Death seems imminent. From all outward appearances, God is hunting him down to destroy him. And Job's conclusion is this: even if the final outcome is that God strikes him dead, he will still trust in that very God who slays him. His hope is not in his circumstances. His hope is not in a favorable outcome. His hope is in God Himself.
This is the absolute antithesis of a consumer faith. A consumer faith says, "I will trust God as long as He delivers the goods: health, wealth, and happiness." Job’s faith says, "God Himself is the good. And if I lose everything else, but I have Him, I have everything." This is a faith that has grasped the absolute sovereignty of God. Job knows there is nowhere else to go. If God is against him, who can be for him? But his logic runs deeper. He knows that the God who is seemingly against him is the only one who can ultimately be for him. His only appeal from God is to God.
But notice the second half of the verse. This trust is not a passive, stoic resignation. "Nevertheless I will argue my ways before Him." In the same breath that he declares his undying trust, he also declares his intention to argue his case. He is not saying, "I trust God, so I will shut up." He is saying, "Because I trust God, I will speak up." He trusts God enough to know that God is a just judge. He trusts that God is reasonable. He believes that if he can just get a hearing, if he can just present his case, the truth will come out. This is not arrogance; it is a profound confidence in the character of God. He believes God is just, even when all the evidence of his life screams that God is unjust.
The Assurance of Salvation (vv. 16-18)
Job's confidence in God's character leads him to a startling assurance of his own vindication.
"This also will be my salvation, For a godless man may not come before His presence. Listen carefully to my words, And let my declaration fill your ears. Behold now, I have arranged my case for justice; I know that I will be declared righteous." (Job 13:16-18)
How can this desperate, argumentative appeal be his salvation? Job's logic is impeccable. "For a godless man may not come before His presence." The very fact that he desires to come before God, that he is seeking God's face and not running from it, is evidence of his right standing. The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion. A hypocrite, a godless man, would never dare to bring his case before the Almighty. He would want to hide from that consuming fire. Job's desire for an audience with God is itself a mark of his salvation.
This is a deep truth. True faith does not run from God in times of trial; it runs to Him. Even if it runs to Him with clenched fists and a thousand questions, it still runs in that direction. The ungodly want nothing to do with God. The fact that Job is staking everything on a divine hearing is the proof that he is not ungodly.
And so he prepares his case. "Behold now, I have arranged my case for justice; I know that I will be declared righteous." This is not the language of presumption, but of faith. He is not trusting in his own righteousness as the ultimate ground of his standing. He is trusting in the justice of the Judge. He knows that if his case is heard fairly, on the merits, he will be vindicated. He is so confident in this that he speaks of it as a settled fact: "I know that I will be declared righteous." This is justification by faith, seen through a glass darkly. He is looking for a verdict from God that will declare him to be in the right.
The Final Challenge (v. 19)
Job concludes this section with a challenge and a statement of ultimate surrender.
"Who will contend with me? For now I am silent and will breathe my last." (Job 13:19)
He throws down the gauntlet. "Who will contend with me?" He is challenging any accuser, human or divine, to bring a formal charge against him in God's court. He is ready for the trial. But then the tone shifts. "For now I am silent and will breathe my last." This can be understood in a couple of ways. It could mean, "If someone can prove me wrong, if someone can successfully contend with me, then I have nothing left to say and will accept death." Or, it could be a way of saying, "Until I get that hearing, I will fall silent and die."
Either way, it underscores the totality of his commitment. He is pushing all his chips into the middle of the table. His entire existence now hangs on this legal appeal to God. He is resting his case. And in doing so, he is resting in the one he is suing.
Christ, Our Advocate and Judge
As Christians reading this, we must see the shadow of a greater reality here. Job's desperate cry finds its ultimate answer in the person and work of Jesus Christ.
Job longed for a hearing. He wanted to arrange his case and argue his ways before God. But we have something far better. We have an advocate, a defense attorney, who argues our case for us. "My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. And if anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous" (1 John 2:1). Our case has been arranged, not by us, but by Him. Our defense is not our own integrity, but His perfect righteousness, imputed to us.
Job was confident that he would be declared righteous. He knew it by faith. We know it as a fact of the gospel. "Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans 5:1). The verdict is already in. God the Father, the Judge of all the earth, looked upon the finished work of His Son on the cross and declared "Righteous." And because we are in Christ, that verdict is now our verdict. When God looks at us, He sees the righteousness of His own Son.
Job said, "Though He slay me, I will hope in Him." This is the logic of the cross. God the Father did slay His only Son. He crushed Him under the full weight of His wrath against our sin. And Jesus, in that moment of ultimate dereliction, cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" and yet in the next breath, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." He trusted the very God who was slaying Him. And because He did, He was raised from the dead, vindicated, and seated at the right hand of the Majesty on High.
Our faith, therefore, is not a desperate gamble like Job's. It is a settled confidence. We do not have to fight our way into the courtroom. The veil has been torn. We can come boldly before the throne of grace. Our Judge is our Savior. The one who would hear our case is the one who bled and died for us. Job’s raw, rugged faith is a magnificent testimony. But it is a testimony that points forward to the greater, unshakable assurance that we have in the gospel of Jesus Christ. He is our salvation, and because of Him, we can come into the presence of God, not as the godless, but as beloved children, forever declared righteous.