The Cruelty of Correct Doctrine
Introduction: When Good Theology Goes Bad
We come now to the second round of speeches from Job's friends, and it is here that the gloves truly come off. If you have ever wondered how it is possible to be theologically orthodox and yet pastorally monstrous, Bildad the Shuhite is here to give us a master class. The book of Job is a divine revelation, but it is a revelation that often works by showing us what not to do. And in this chapter, we are given a pristine example of how to weaponize truth, how to use correct principles as a bludgeon against a suffering soul.
Bildad's first speech in chapter 8 was harsh enough, but here in chapter 18, his patience has run out. He is no longer interested in dialogue. He is frustrated, offended, and he is here to lower the boom. What he is about to say concerning the fate of the wicked is, in large part, entirely true. You could take many of these verses and find them echoed in the Psalms and Proverbs. The problem is not the doctrine in the abstract; the problem is the application. Bildad has his theological ducks in a row, but he is marching them straight over the cliff of pastoral malpractice.
He sees Job's suffering, and he has a neat, tidy system to explain it. It is the doctrine of absolute and immediate retribution. The righteous prosper, the wicked suffer. Since Job is suffering horribly, the conclusion is inescapable: Job must be secretly and stubbornly wicked. Bildad is a man with a hammer, and to him, everything, including his friend's shattered life, looks like a nail. This is the great temptation for all of us who love doctrine. We can become so attached to our system, to our theological grid, that we force the raw, messy data of human pain to fit into it, no matter how much damage we do in the process. Bildad's speech is a warning to all of us. It is a warning against the kind of orthodoxy that has no tears, the kind of truth that has no grace.
The Text
Then Bildad the Shuhite answered and said, "How long until you put an end to your words? Show understanding and then we can talk. Why are we regarded as beasts, As dense in your eyes? O you who tear yourself in your anger, For your sake is the earth to be forsaken, Or the rock to be moved from its place? Indeed, the light of the wicked goes out, And the flame of his fire gives no light. The light in his tent is darkened, And his lamp goes out above him. His vigorous stride is shortened, And his own counsel brings him down. For he is thrown into thenet by his own feet, And he steps on the netting. A snare seizes him by the heel, And a device snaps shut on him. A rope for him is hidden in the ground, And a trap for him on the path. All around terrors frighten him, And harass him at every step. His vigor is famished, And disaster is ready at his side. The firstborn of death eats parts of his skin; It eats parts of him. He is torn from the security of his tent, And they march him in step before the king of terrors. There dwells in his tent nothing of his; Brimstone is scattered on his abode. His roots are dried below, And his branch is cut off above. Memory of him perishes from the earth, And he has no name abroad. He is driven from light into darkness, And chased from the inhabited world. He has neither offspring nor posterity among his people, Nor any survivor where he sojourned. Those in the west are appalled at his fate, And those in the east are seized with horror. Surely such are the dwellings of the unjust, And this is the place of him who does not know God."
(Job 18:1-21 LSB)
The Offended Counselor (vv. 1-4)
Bildad begins not with sympathy, but with sheer exasperation. He is tired of Job's complaints and defenses.
"How long until you put an end to your words? Show understanding and then we can talk. Why are we regarded as beasts, As dense in your eyes?" (Job 18:2-3)
The first thing to notice is that Bildad makes this about himself. Job is the one covered in sores, his children are dead, his life is in ruins, but Bildad is concerned with his own wounded pride. "Why are you calling us stupid, Job?" He is not listening to the content of Job's agony; he is offended by the tone of Job's lament. This is a classic move of a bad counselor. When the person you are trying to "help" does not receive your counsel well, you take it as a personal insult. You shift the focus from their suffering to your feeling of being unappreciated. Bildad is essentially saying, "Stop your emotional ranting, Job, and listen to my calm, superior logic."
He then moves from insult to mockery.
"O you who tear yourself in your anger, For your sake is the earth to be forsaken, Or the rock to be moved from its place?" (Job 18:4)
This is dripping with sarcasm. Bildad sees Job's anguish, his physical and emotional torment, and diagnoses it as simple, childish anger. Then he poses a ridiculous rhetorical question. "Are you so important, Job, that the fundamental moral laws of the universe, as fixed as the mountains, should be suspended just for you?" He accuses Job of wanting special treatment from God, of demanding that the universe be reordered to suit him. But this is a gross caricature. Job is not asking for the law of gravity to be turned off. He is asking why. He is wrestling with the fact that the moral law of the universe seems to have been turned upside down in his particular case. Bildad cannot handle this complexity. In his rigid system, there are no exceptions, no mysteries, no sovereign purposes that might include the suffering of the righteous. There is only the rule, and Job is clearly breaking it.
The Fate of the Wicked (vv. 5-21)
Having dismissed Job's complaints, Bildad now launches into a long, detailed, and poetic description of the downfall of the wicked. Every single line of this poem is aimed directly at Job. It is a piece of passive-aggressive pulpitry, where the preacher is talking "about" a general sinner, but everyone in the room knows exactly who he means.
He begins with the metaphor of light being extinguished.
"Indeed, the light of the wicked goes out, And the flame of his fire gives no light. The light in his tent is darkened, And his lamp goes out above him." (Job 18:5-6)
Light in Scripture represents life, prosperity, joy, and God's favor. Bildad declares that for the wicked man, this is all temporary. His family life ("light in his tent") and his personal vitality ("his lamp... above him") will be snuffed out. This is a direct jab at Job, who has lost his children and sits in darkness.
Next, he describes how the wicked man's own plans lead to his ruin.
"His vigorous stride is shortened, And his own counsel brings him down. For he is thrown into the net by his own feet, And he steps on the netting." (Job 18:7-8)
This is the principle of poetic justice, which is a very real biblical theme. The wicked man is hoisted by his own petard. His own cleverness, his own schemes, become the very instrument of his downfall. He weaves a net for others and ends up catching himself. Bildad is telling Job, "Whatever you did in secret, whatever clever sin you thought you were getting away with, it has now come back to bite you."
The imagery of traps and terrors continues, painting a picture of a man living in constant fear and paranoia.
"A snare seizes him by the heel... All around terrors frighten him, And harass him at every step. His vigor is famished, And disaster is ready at his side." (Job 18:9, 11-12)
The world of the wicked man is a minefield. There is no peace, no security. Disaster is personified as a loyal companion, always waiting at his side. Again, think of Job. He is surrounded by terror, his strength is gone. Bildad is holding up a mirror to Job's condition and labeling it "the portrait of a wicked man."
The description becomes even more graphic and personal.
"The firstborn of death eats parts of his skin; It eats parts of him. He is torn from the security of his tent, And they march him in step before the king of terrors." (Job 18:13-14)
"The firstborn of death" is a powerful Hebrew idiom for a most terrible disease. Bildad is looking at Job's boils and sores and saying, "There it is. Exhibit A." The wicked man is ripped from his home, the place of his security, and paraded before the "king of terrors," a personification of Death itself. His end is not peaceful; it is a humiliating defeat.
Finally, Bildad describes the total annihilation of the wicked man's legacy.
"His roots are dried below, And his branch is cut off above. Memory of him perishes from the earth... He has neither offspring nor posterity among his people... Surely such are the dwellings of the unjust, And this is the place of him who does not know God." (Job 18:16-17, 19, 21)
The destruction is absolute. His family tree is killed from root to branch. His name is forgotten. His children are gone. Every one of these points is a poisoned dart aimed at Job's heart. And then comes the final, brutal conclusion in verse 21. After painting this horrifying picture, he turns to Job and says, "This is you. This is what happens to people who do not know God." He has moved from counselor to prosecutor to judge, and has delivered his final, damning verdict.
The Gospel for Bad Counselors and Suffering Saints
So what do we do with this? Bildad is a theological bully. But the Holy Spirit included his sermon in Scripture for our instruction. Why?
First, it is a warning to us. It is possible to have a zeal for God's righteousness that is utterly devoid of God's compassion. It is possible to defend the truth in such a way that you attack the people God loves. Bildad's problem was not that he believed in God's justice. His problem was that his belief in God's justice was not contained within a larger belief in God's sovereignty and mysterious wisdom. He had a tidy system, and God is not tidy. The cross is not tidy. Grace is not tidy.
Second, Bildad's description of the wicked man, while misapplied to Job, is a terrifyingly accurate description of every one of us apart from Christ. Who is it that is caught in the net of his own feet? It is every sinner trapped by his own lusts and lies. Who is it whose lamp deserves to be put out in utter darkness? It is every rebel who has shaken his fist at heaven. Who is it that stands guilty before the King of Terrors? It is every descendant of Adam, for whom the wages of sin is death.
Bildad's speech is a portrait of the damnation we all deserve. Our light should be extinguished. Our roots should be dried up. Our name should be blotted out forever.
But God, in His mercy, provided a substitute. There was one truly righteous man who willingly entered into the curse that Bildad describes. Jesus Christ, on the cross, was driven from light into darkness. His stride was shortened as he stumbled toward Golgotha. He was caught in a snare, not of his own making, but of ours. The "firstborn of death" consumed His body in the grave. He was torn from the security of His Father's presence and marched before the King of Terrors. His posterity was, for a moment, cut off. He endured the full force of this curse, the curse that belongs to the wicked.
And why? So that for those who trust in Him, the entire script could be flipped. Because He went into the darkness, we are given a light that can never be extinguished. Because His roots were cut off, we are grafted into Him, the true vine. Because His name was dishonored, we are given a new name. He faced the King of Terrors and disarmed him, triumphing over him by the cross (Colossians 2:15). The true comfort for Job, and for us, is not an explanation for our suffering. The true comfort is a person. It is the knowledge that our Redeemer lives, and that He has taken the curse for us. May God give us the grace to offer that comfort, and not the cold, cruel counsel of Bildad.