Commentary - Job 29:18-20

Bird's-eye view

In this section of Job's final monologue, we are given a window into the settled expectations of a righteous man living under the old covenant. Job is recounting his former glory, not as a braggart, but as a man bewildered by his sudden and catastrophic reversal of fortune. He is describing what he thought his life would be, based on the observable blessings of God upon his faithfulness. These verses are a poignant expression of what we might call a robust Deuteronomic confidence. God promises to bless obedience, and Job had been obedient. Therefore, he expected a long, stable, and fruitful life. The tragedy, and the central theological puzzle of the book, is that God's ways are not always so straightforward. Job's confidence was not entirely misplaced, but it was grounded in a wisdom that was about to be deepened and purified through a terrible fire. This passage sets the stage for the revelation of a God whose blessings are not transactional, but are sovereign, mysterious, and ultimately find their meaning not in earthly stability alone, but in the Redeemer who stands at last upon the earth.

What we have here is a textbook description of righteous prosperity. Job is not describing a health-and-wealth fantasy; he is describing the normal course of God's favor upon a man who walked in integrity. The images he uses, the nest, the sand, the well-watered root, the dew-laden branch, the ever-new glory, and the renewed bow, all speak of security, fecundity, vitality, and strength. This is the kind of life that Proverbs describes. Yet, the book of Job exists to show us that the straight lines of Proverbs can sometimes run through the valley of the shadow of death. The gospel truth is that while righteousness is indeed the path to life, that path sometimes leads to a cross before it leads to a crown. Job is learning this lesson in the hardest way imaginable, and his lament here is the cry of a man whose map of the world has just been torn to pieces.

Outline

Context In Job

Chapter 29 is Job's final, extended defense of his life before his calamities. It is a nostalgic and powerful recollection of his "days of autumn," when the friendship of God was upon his tent. He has described his role as a respected leader, a champion of the poor and needy, and a man blessed with a loving family and great wealth. The verses we are examining (18-20) form the capstone of this self-portrait. They reveal the inner convictions that undergirded his public life. He wasn't just acting righteously; he believed that his righteous life was secure under God's blessing. He had every reason to believe this. The promises of God in the covenant were plain. This makes his current state, sitting on an ash heap, covered in sores, bereft of his children, and accused by his friends, all the more jarring and inexplicable. This passage is crucial because it shows that Job's crisis is not just about suffering, but about the very character and justice of God. If a man like Job could fall so far, what do God's promises actually mean?

Verse by Verse Commentary

v. 18 Then I said, ‘I will breathe my last in my nest, And I shall multiply my days as the sand.

Job begins by quoting his own heart. "Then I said..." This was his settled conviction, his internal monologue during his days of prosperity. He expected to die in his "nest." A nest is a picture of security, domestic peace, and a place prepared for the next generation. It is a home, a place of warmth and safety. Job expected to finish his life where he had lived it, surrounded by the fruit of his labors and the comfort of his family. This is not the desire of a wicked man, but the righteous expectation of a patriarch. He believed his end would be peaceful, not catastrophic.

Furthermore, he expected to "multiply my days as the sand." This is a classic Hebrew metaphor for immense, uncountable quantity. He didn't just expect to live to a ripe old age; he expected a superabundance of life. This was the blessing promised to those who honored God. He looked at his life, his integrity, his family, and the clear favor of God, and he drew a reasonable conclusion. He concluded that his future was secure. The problem is not that his conclusion was unreasonable, but that he had not yet factored in the reality of the heavenly court, the accusations of the satan, and the sovereign purposes of God that transcend the simple calculus of earthly reward and punishment.

v. 19 My root is spread out to the waters, And dew lies all night on my branch.

Here Job uses agricultural imagery to describe the source of his stability. He saw himself as a mighty tree. His "root is spread out to the waters." This is a picture of deep, unshakable security. A tree with roots by the water does not fear drought. It has a constant, hidden source of life and nourishment, regardless of the surface conditions. This is how Job saw his own life. His foundation was not in the shifting sands of public opinion or the fickle nature of the market; his roots, he believed, went down deep into the river of God's favor. He was tapped into a source of life that could not fail. Psalm 1 gives us the same image for the righteous man.

And not only was he secure from below, but he was also blessed from above. "Dew lies all night on my branch." Dew was a sign of God's gentle, consistent, life-giving blessing in an arid land. It was not a violent downpour, but a quiet, daily refreshment that kept the leaves green and the fruit abundant. So Job saw his life as being sustained from every direction, deep roots below and daily grace from above. This is a beautiful picture of a life lived in communion with God. The irony, of course, is that the storm has come, the drought is upon him, and the tree that seemed so secure has been stripped bare. His theology of blessing was not wrong, but it was incomplete. It did not account for the kind of divine pruning that feels like utter destruction.

v. 20 My glory is ever new with me, And my bow is renewed in my hand.’

In this final verse, Job moves from metaphors of stability to metaphors of personal vitality and honor. "My glory is ever new with me." The word "glory" here refers to his honor, his reputation, his substantial presence in the world. He says it was "ever new," or fresh. It wasn't a fading glory, the remnant of past achievements. Every day, his honor was renewed. He was not a man resting on his laurels, but one whose integrity and wisdom continually affirmed his standing among his people. This was not the empty pride of a self-made man, but the recognition that God was continually upholding his name and his influence.

And this internal sense of honor was matched by an external strength. "My bow is renewed in my hand." The bow is a symbol of strength, of power, of the ability to act and defend oneself. A bow that is "renewed" is one that does not lose its tension or its power. Job is saying that he never felt his strength failing. He was not growing weak or irrelevant. His capacity to act, to lead, and to project strength was constantly being replenished. He felt as though he could meet any challenge. This is the confidence of a man living in the fullness of God's blessing. But what happens when that glory is turned to shame, and the bow is broken in your hand? This is the question Job is facing. The answer will not be found in a return to his old strength, but in a new kind of strength found in weakness, a glory that is perfected in suffering, and a righteousness that comes not from his own hand, but from his Redeemer's.

Application

We must be careful how we read a passage like this. It is easy to cluck our tongues at Job for his apparent self-confidence, for what looks like the prelude to a fall. But that would be to read the story like Job's friends, who assumed that such prosperity must have been built on a foundation of pride. But the text gives us no reason to believe that. Job is describing the goodness of God to him, and his expectations were shaped by the promises of God.

The application for us is twofold. First, it is right and good to desire and expect God's blessing on our faithfulness. We should live in such a way that we can expect to die in our "nest," with our days multiplied. We should sink our roots deep into the waters of God's Word and expect the daily dew of His grace. This is not the prosperity gospel; this is historic, biblical, Deuteronomic faith. God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.

But second, we must hold these blessings with an open hand. We, on this side of the cross, know something that Job was only beginning to learn. We know that our ultimate security is not in our nest on earth, but in our place in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Our life is not counted by the sands of the sea, but is hidden with Christ in God. Our glory is not our reputation among men, but the imputed righteousness of Christ. And our bow, our strength, is made perfect in our weakness. Job's story teaches us that God's blessings are real, but His ways are higher than our ways. Sometimes He allows the nest to be destroyed, the roots to be exposed, and the bow to be broken, so that we might learn to trust not in the blessings, but in the Blesser Himself.