Commentary - Job 39:1-4

Bird's-eye view

Here, at the climax of the book, God finally answers Job out of the whirlwind. But the answer He gives is not the one Job demanded, nor is it the one we, in our tidy systematic theologies, might have expected. Job wanted a day in court, a legal explanation for his suffering. God, in response, does not hand him a legal brief. He takes him on a tour of the zoo. Specifically, He directs Job's attention to the wild and untamable parts of His creation. This is not a non-sequitur. It is the heart of the matter. God is dismantling Job's man-centered perspective by overwhelming him with a God-centered reality. The point is not that the universe is chaotic, but rather that it runs according to a wisdom that is utterly inaccessible to Job. These first four verses concerning the mountain goats and deer set the stage for this grand display of divine sovereignty. God's questions are designed to reveal Job's profound ignorance and, consequently, his utter incompetence to judge the Almighty.

The Lord begins with obstetrics in the high crags. He interrogates Job about the most basic, yet hidden, realities of animal life. These are not creatures that Job has domesticated or studied. They are symbols of a world that exists entirely outside of human control and for a purpose that serves God's own good pleasure. By forcing Job to confess his ignorance about the gestation periods of goats, God is showing him that the moral government of the universe is, if anything, infinitely more complex. If you cannot even begin to grasp the rudimentary biology of the wilderness, what makes you think you can call the Creator of it all to account?

Outline

Context In Job

After thirty-seven chapters of human speech, Job's lament, the counselors' flawed wisdom, and Elihu's youthful intervention, God Himself finally enters the conversation. His arrival is not quiet. He speaks from a whirlwind, a manifestation of uncontrollable power that mirrors the untamable nature of the creatures He is about to describe. Job had repeatedly asked for an audience with God, convinced that if he could just state his case, he would be vindicated. But God does not engage Job on his own terms. He completely reframes the debate. The issue is not Job's specific suffering, but rather God's absolute authority and wisdom as Creator. This section, beginning with chapter 38 and running through 41, is God's own testimony about Himself, and He uses His creation as His primary exhibit. The questions about the mountain goats are the opening salvo in this divine cross-examination, intended to humble Job and bring him to a right understanding of his place in the cosmos.

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

Verse 1: “Do you know the time the mountain goats give birth? Do you keep watch over the calving of the deer?"

God begins with a question of knowledge. Not esoteric knowledge, but basic, observational knowledge of the natural world. "Do you know?" The implied answer, of course, is a resounding "No." The mountain goats, the ibex, live in places men cannot. They inhabit the sheer cliffs, the inaccessible places. God is their midwife; He knows the precise moment of their delivery. The calving of the deer, or hinds, is similarly a private affair, hidden away in the thickets. God's point is immediate and sharp: "Job, your world is very small. You are concerned with the events in your own house, on your own ash heap. But I am running a universe teeming with life and processes that you are not even aware of, let alone in control of." This is the doctrine of God's providence in its most granular form. He is not a distant, deistic clockmaker. He is intimately involved in the birth of every wild thing. He keeps watch. The verb here implies careful, sustained attention. While Job was cursing the day of his birth, God was superintending ten thousand other births in the wilderness, all according to His perfect timing.

Verse 2: "Can you count the months they fulfill, Or do you know the time they give birth?"

The questioning intensifies. First, it was a general knowledge of the event; now it is the specific duration. Can you number their months? Do you have their gestation periods written down in your ledger? This is not just about knowing a fact, but about the authority that comes with such knowledge. The one who numbers the months is the one who appointed them. God is the one who set the biological clock for these creatures. He decreed that it would be so many months, and not one more or less. Job, who has been so concerned with his own time, his own lifespan, is being reminded that time itself is a creature of God. The rhythms of life and birth in the animal kingdom are a testimony to God's faithful, sustaining ordinance. Job cannot know this information because it is not his business. He is not the one running the show. This is a direct assault on human pride, which always seeks to master, to quantify, and to control. God is showing Job that the vast majority of reality is completely outside the scope of human management.

Verse 3: "They kneel down; they bring forth their young; They send out their labor pains."

Here God moves from what Job does not know to what He Himself orchestrates. The description is simple, yet profound. "They kneel down." This is the posture of birth, a humbling of the creature to bring forth new life. And in this posture, God is the one who enables them to "bring forth their young." The next phrase is striking: "They send out their labor pains." Or, as some versions have it, they "cast out their sorrows." The pain of labor, a consequence of the fall for humanity (Gen. 3:16), is here depicted as something that is brought forth and then cast aside. In the wild, there is no epidural. There is only the sovereign decree of God that brings the young into the world and brings the mother through the ordeal. He is the one who sees them through it. For Job, who feels his own pains are endless, this is a subtle reminder that God is also the master of suffering. He appoints it, He superintends it, and He brings it to its appointed end.

Verse 4: "Their children become strong; they grow up in the open field; They leave and do not return to them."

This final verse in the section highlights the rugged independence of the wild. The young are not coddled. They "become strong" and "grow up in the open field." There is no sheltered upbringing. They are immediately subject to the realities of a fallen world, predators, scarcity, weather, and yet they thrive. Why? Because God's providential care extends to them. He is the one who makes them strong. And then comes the final stroke: "They leave and do not return to them." The family unit is dissolved. There is no long-term sentimentality. This is not a human family. This is God's economy for the wild, and it works perfectly according to His design. This stark, unsentimental reality is a rebuke to Job's desire for a universe that operates on terms he finds emotionally satisfying. God's wisdom is not sentimental; it is sovereign. He has created a world that is beautiful, dangerous, and utterly dependent on Him, and it does not exist to make Job feel comfortable. It exists for the glory of God.

Application

The first lesson for us is one of profound humility. We are Job. We live in our small worlds, consumed by our own troubles, and we are tempted to think our problems are the center of the universe. We demand answers from God as though He were a mid-level manager who owes us an explanation. God's response here is to pull the camera back, way back, and show us a world that is wild, intricate, and entirely His. We don't know the first thing about running it. Our inability to answer these simple questions about mountain goats should silence our arrogant questions about His moral governance. If we cannot grasp the physical, how dare we presume to judge the metaphysical?

Secondly, we see the majestic sovereignty of God. He is not flustered by the chaos of the world. He is superintending the birth of every fawn in the forest. This should be a profound comfort. The God who pays such close attention to the calving of the deer is the God who has numbered the hairs on our head. His eye is on the sparrow, and we are of more value than many sparrows. Our suffering is not random. It is not a sign that God has lost control. It is part of a pattern woven by a wisdom so deep we cannot begin to fathom it.

Finally, this passage points us to Christ. God's speech here reveals a wisdom and power that is far beyond us. But in the gospel, this same God has drawn near. The one who presides over the birth of wild goats was Himself born in a stable, a place for domesticated animals. The Lord of the untamable creation made Himself meek and lowly. In Jesus Christ, the unapproachable God has approached us. He did not give us a lecture from a whirlwind; He gave us His Son on a cross. And through faith in Him, we are brought into the family of this sovereign Creator, not as subjects who must remain ignorant, but as adopted sons and daughters who can cry out, "Abba, Father."