Commentary - Job 14:1-6

Bird's-eye view

In this chapter, Job continues his lament, but it broadens out from his personal affliction to the universal condition of man. This is not just Job's problem; it is everyman's problem. He is staring into the abyss of the grave and asking the question that has haunted mankind since the gates of Eden were shut behind us: if a man dies, will he live again? (v. 14). The first six verses of this chapter lay the groundwork for that question by painting a bleak but realistic portrait of human existence east of Eden. Man is born of woman, which means he is born into a world of sin and sorrow. His life is short, full of trouble, and as fleeting as a flower or a shadow. Job then turns his gaze upward, questioning why the holy God would fix His eyes on such a frail and unclean creature, bringing him into judgment. He rightly concludes that no one can bring a clean thing out of an unclean, a foundational understanding of original sin. And because God has sovereignly set the limits of man's life, Job's only request is for a brief respite, for God to look away so he can at least find the small comfort of a hired hand finishing his day. This is a dark passage, but it is a darkness that makes the light of the gospel shine all the brighter. Job is asking the right questions, even if he doesn't have the final answers yet. The final answer is a person, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Outline

Context In Job

Job 14 serves as the conclusion to Job's response to his three friends in this first cycle of speeches. He has systematically dismantled their tidy, wooden, and ultimately false application of prosperity theology. They insist that great suffering must be the result of great sin. Job, knowing his own case, rejects this. But in doing so, he is forced to wrestle with the raw facts of his condition before a holy God. This chapter is one of the most poignant expressions of human frailty and mortality in all of Scripture. Job is not just complaining about his boils anymore. He is looking at the finality of death and the seeming hopelessness of the human condition. While the book as a whole will eventually lead us to God's majestic answer from the whirlwind, and to Job's profound confession of his Redeemer who lives (Job 19:25), here we are in the valley. This is the necessary theological groundwork. Before you can truly appreciate the resurrection, you must first stare unflinchingly at the reality of the grave.

Key Issues

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 1 Man, who is born of woman, Is short-lived and full of turmoil.

Job begins with a universal statement. This isn't just about him; it's about everyone. "Man, who is born of woman." This is a standard biblical way of referring to humanity in its natural, fallen condition. To be born of woman is to be born into the world that was cursed in Genesis 3. It is to be born in Adam. And what is the character of this life? Two things: it is short, and it is full of turmoil. "Few of days," the text says. Compared to the eternity of God, our lives are a vapor, a handbreadth. Jacob told Pharaoh his days had been "few and evil" (Gen. 47:9). This is the sober reality. And not only are our days few, they are "full of trouble." The word means agitation, turmoil, restlessness. This is the opposite of the shalom that God intended for man. Sin has introduced a fundamental agitation into the very fabric of our existence. We are restless because we are estranged from our Creator.

v. 2 Like a flower he comes forth and withers. He also flees like a shadow and does not stand.

Job uses two powerful metaphors to expand on the brevity of life. First, man is like a flower. He springs up, perhaps shows a flash of color and beauty, and then is cut down. Isaiah would later use this same imagery: "All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field" (Is. 40:6). Peter picks it up in the New Testament (1 Pet. 1:24). This is a consistent biblical theme. Our life, our strength, our beauty is transient. To place your ultimate hope in it is to build on fading petals. Second, man is like a shadow. A shadow has no substance of its own, and it is constantly moving. As soon as the sun shifts, it is gone. "He does not stand," or does not continue. There is no permanence. The psalmist says, "man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow" (Ps. 144:4). Job is looking at his life and seeing nothing solid, nothing lasting.

v. 3 You also open Your eyes on him And bring me into judgment with Yourself.

Here Job pivots from the general condition of man to his own specific interaction with God. And this is the terrifying thing. This frail, withering, shadowy creature is the object of divine scrutiny. "You also open Your eyes on him." For a holy God to fix His gaze on a sinful man is a fearful prospect. It's not a look of fatherly affection that Job has in mind here, but rather the piercing gaze of a judge. And that is exactly where he goes next: "And bring me into judgment with Yourself." Job feels like he has been hauled into the celestial courtroom. But what kind of contest is this? A flower standing before the mountain? A shadow arguing with the sun? The matchup is absurdly one-sided. How can a creature so insignificant and flawed possibly stand in judgment with the infinite and holy God? This is the sinner's great dilemma.

v. 4 Who can make the clean out of the unclean? No one!

This is a magnificent and foundational statement of theology, erupting from the depths of Job's suffering. He recognizes the root of the problem. It is not just that man does unclean things, but that he is unclean. The problem is one of nature. He is asking a rhetorical question. How can you get a clean, pure, righteous thing from a source that is inherently unclean, impure, and unrighteous? The answer is emphatic: "No one!" You cannot do it. This is a clear articulation of what we call the doctrine of original sin. David would later say, "Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me" (Ps. 51:5). Jesus Himself said, "That which is born of the flesh is flesh" (John 3:6). Job understands that his problem is not just a few bad decisions. His very nature is tainted, and so he is unfit to stand before a holy God. He is unclean, and he cannot make himself clean.

v. 5 Since his days are determined, The number of his months is with You; And his limits You have set so that he cannot pass.

Job now returns to the theme of man's brevity, but this time he places it squarely under the sovereignty of God. Our days are not just short by accident. They are "determined." The number of our months is "with You." God holds the count. He has set our "limits" or boundaries, and we cannot cross them. This is a profound statement of God's absolute sovereignty over the length of every human life. Nothing happens to us by chance. Our first day is appointed, and our last day is appointed. This can be a great comfort for the believer, knowing that his times are in God's hand (Ps. 31:15). But for Job, in his current state, it feels more like being trapped. He is in a cage, and God has set the dimensions and the duration. He cannot escape his suffering, and he cannot extend his life.

v. 6 Turn Your gaze from him that he may cease from toil, Until he accepts his day like a hired man.

Based on everything he has just said, Job makes his plea. Because man is frail, because he is unclean, and because God is sovereign over his short life, Job asks God to simply look away. "Turn Your gaze from him." The constant, intense scrutiny of God is too much to bear. He asks for a little rest, a moment to breathe before the end. He wants God to let him "cease from toil." The image he uses is that of a hired man. A day laborer works hard under the sun, but he looks forward to the evening when his work is done and he can receive his wages and rest. Job asks for the same small mercy. Let me finish my appointed time in peace. Let me enjoy my day, as it were, before it is over. He is not asking for deliverance here, but just for a temporary reprieve from the intensity of God's afflicting hand. It is a cry of desperation, the plea of a man who knows he cannot win a fight with God, and so only asks that the fight might stop for a little while.

Application

Job's lament is not the final word, but it is a necessary word. We live in a culture that denies the very truths Job is affirming. Our world tells you that you are inherently good, that your life has no limits but the ones you set, and that death is just a natural part of a beautiful circle. Job tells us the truth. We are born in sin, our lives are short and full of trouble, and we will all die and face a holy God.

The first step in appreciating the gospel is to agree with Job's diagnosis. You must see that you are unclean and cannot make yourself clean. You must understand that your fleeting life will end in a divine courtroom where you have no case to plead. You must feel the weight of this. This is the bad news that makes the good news glorious.

For if we are unclean, who can make us clean? Job says "No one!" But God says, "I can." God did the impossible. He sent His own Son, born of a woman, to live a short life, one truly full of turmoil. He lived the perfect life we could not live. And on the cross, this one clean man was made unclean for us. He was brought into judgment with God, and the full force of God's gaze fell upon Him. He did this so that when God looks at us, He sees not our filth, but the perfect righteousness of His Son.

Job asked, "If a man dies, will he live again?" He saw only the finality of the grave. But on the third day, Jesus Christ gave the definitive answer. He walked out of His own tomb, having defeated death. Because He lives, all who are in Him will live also. Our days are still determined, but death is no longer a limit we cannot pass. It is now a doorway into eternal life. So we do not have to ask God to look away. We can cry out, "Abba, Father," and invite His gaze, because in Christ, that gaze is no longer one of judgment, but of infinite, fatherly love.