The Midwifery of God: Text: Job 39:1-4
Introduction: The Courtroom of the Whirlwind
We come now to the heart of the matter. After thirty-seven chapters of human reasoning, of accusation, of self-defense, and of theological posturing, God finally takes the stand. But He does not enter the courtroom as a defendant, which is what Job, in his misery, had demanded. He does not submit Himself to cross-examination. He does not hand over the blueprints of His providence for Job's review. No, God shows up as the prosecutor and the judge, and He speaks from the whirlwind. The whirlwind itself is a sermon. It is a visible display of power that is untamable, uncontrollable, and utterly indifferent to the opinions of men. It is beautiful, and it is terrifying, and it is a fitting lectern for the Almighty.
Job wanted answers. He wanted to know why. Why me? Why this suffering? Why has the machinery of the universe, which I understood to operate on a principle of righteous cause and tidy effect, suddenly malfunctioned so catastrophically? And God's answer is to change the subject entirely. Or rather, He reveals that Job was asking the wrong questions because he was operating from a false premise. Job's foundational error, and the error of his three friends, was the assumption that man is in a position to audit God's books. They all assumed a universe small enough to fit inside their heads. And so, God begins His cross-examination of Job, not to crush him, but to correct him. He does this by taking him on a tour of the wild places, the untamed corners of creation that operate on principles that have nothing whatever to do with man.
This is a foundational lesson in worldview. The modern secularist, and even the squishy evangelical, wants a God who is manageable, a God who runs the universe according to principles we can all agree are "fair." But the God of the Bible is not the chairman of a committee. He is the absolute sovereign. The questions He poses to Job are designed to demonstrate the vast, unbridgeable chasm between the Creator and the creature. They are designed to dismantle Job's pride, not by showing him his sin, but by showing him his ignorance. Before you can rightly repent of your sin, you must first repent of your intellectual arrogance. You must confess that you are not God. That is the beginning of all wisdom, and it is the lesson of the mountain goat and the deer.
The Text
"Do you know the time the mountain goats give birth? Do you keep watch over the calving of the deer? Can you count the months they fulfill, Or do you know the time they give birth? They kneel down; they bring forth their young; They send out their labor pains. Their children become strong; they grow up in theopen field; They leave and do not return to them."
(Job 39:1-4 LSB)
God's Secret Knowledge (v. 1-2)
God begins His interrogation with two creatures that epitomize the wild and inaccessible parts of His world.
"Do you know the time the mountain goats give birth? Do you keep watch over the calving of the deer?" (Job 39:1)
The mountain goats, the ibex, live in the highest, most desolate crags. They are shy, elusive, and their lives are lived far from the sight of men. The deer, or hind, is famously secretive when she gives birth. God's point is immediate and sharp. "Job, you are concerned with the great questions of justice and my moral governance of the universe. Let's start smaller. Let's start with basic animal husbandry. Do you know the gestation period of a goat that lives where you cannot climb? Do you, Job, serve as the midwife for the deer in the deep forest?" The answer is, of course, a resounding no. Job knows nothing of it.
This is a direct assault on human pride. We live in an age drunk on its own information. We have mapped the genome, split the atom, and sent probes to the outer edges of the solar system. And yet, the vast majority of the inner workings of God's world remain a complete mystery to us. God's question reveals that His knowledge is not general, but granular. He is not a deist God who wound up the clock and let it run. He is intimately involved in the precise timing of every birth, in every hidden place. He is the one who keeps watch. The word for "keep watch" implies careful, sustained observation and protection. God is personally attending to the birth of every fawn.
"Can you count the months they fulfill, Or do you know the time they give birth?" (Job 39:2)
God presses the point. It is not just a matter of general knowledge. Can you, Job, number their months? Do you have their due dates written on your calendar? The questions are rhetorical, designed to reveal Job's utter incompetence to govern the world. If you cannot manage the obstetrics of the wild animal kingdom, what makes you think you are qualified to critique my handling of your life? If these small matters are outside your jurisdiction and knowledge, then the great matters of divine justice certainly are. This is the Creator/creature distinction in sharp relief. God knows, and we do not. He is the ultimate insider; we are, and will always be, outsiders looking in. To demand that God explain Himself to us is as absurd as a goat demanding an explanation from a zoologist.
A World Not About Us (v. 3)
God then describes the event itself, and the picture is not sentimental. It is raw and unadorned.
"They kneel down; they bring forth their young; They send out their labor pains." (Job 39:3 LSB)
There is no human assistance here. There is no sterile environment. There is just the creature, in the wild, obeying the creational mandate God has placed within it. They crouch, they give birth, and they cast out their sorrows. The image is one of self-sufficiency, but it is a self-sufficiency entirely provided and orchestrated by God. This is a world that runs perfectly well without our input, our management, or our approval. It is not for us. The Rocky Mountains are not a national park that we graciously allow to exist. They are God's goat pasture. The deep woods are not a nature preserve. They are God's delivery room for the deer.
This is a profound theological corrective. We tend to be anthropocentric. We think the world revolves around us. We think that the value of a thing is determined by its utility to man. But God here reveals a world that has a purpose and a glory that is entirely independent of us. These animals are born, they live, and they die as part of a drama that God is directing, and we are not the main characters. Their lives bring glory to God directly. This is a severe mercy for Job. His suffering has made his world shrink down to the size of his own pain. God is now violently expanding his horizons, forcing him to see a world that is vast, wild, and teeming with purposes that have nothing to do with him. And this is a comfort. It means the world is not resting on his shoulders, or on ours.
God's Rugged Provision (v. 4)
The final verse in this section describes the result of this God-managed birth. The outcome is strength and independence.
"Their children become strong; they grow up in the open field; They leave and do not return to them." (Job 39:4 LSB)
There is no prolonged adolescence here. There is no failure to launch. The young are made strong, they mature in the wild, and they leave. The cycle is efficient, unsentimental, and successful. The system works. God's design results in hardy, independent creatures that fulfill their purpose. The phrase "grow up in the open field" speaks of a rugged, untamed environment. They are not coddled. They are made strong by the very wildness of their surroundings.
And then, "they leave and do not return to them." This is not presented as a tragedy. It is simply the way God has ordered things. This is a direct counterpoint to human family life, with all its complexities, attachments, and sorrows. God is showing Job a different kind of economy, a different kind of wisdom. It is a wisdom that seems harsh to us, but it is perfectly suited to its purpose. God is not asking for Job's approval of this system. He is stating it as a fact. This is how I run this part of my world. It works. You don't understand it. Therefore, be silent.
The cumulative effect of these four verses is to relativize Job's perspective. He has been judging God's governance based on his own limited, human-centered experience. God is showing him that the world is infinitely larger, stranger, and more complex than he ever imagined. He is being taught that God's wisdom is not just a bigger version of human wisdom. It is a different kind of thing altogether. It is wild, untamed, and sovereign.
The Gospel for Know-It-Alls
So what is the point of this zoology lesson? The point is humility. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the beginning of the fear of the Lord is the realization that you are very, very small and He is very, very big. Job is being driven to the end of his own resources, to the end of his own understanding. He is being prepared for faith. True faith is not understanding everything and then trusting. True faith is trusting when you understand that you cannot possibly understand everything.
This is the posture that prepares a man for the gospel. The gospel is the ultimate offense to human pride. It tells us that we cannot save ourselves, that our best efforts are filthy rags, and that we must rely entirely on the work of another. The cross is God's wisdom, and to the world, it is foolishness. It is as wild and unexpected as a goat giving birth on an inaccessible cliff. It does not operate according to our principles of fairness or justice. The innocent One dies for the guilty. God's own Son is forsaken. This is the ultimate whirlwind, the ultimate display of a wisdom that is not our own.
The God who knows the due date of every deer is the same God who, in the fullness of time, sent forth His Son, born of a woman. The God who watches over the calving in the secret places is the same God who was present at the birth in the stable in Bethlehem. The God whose creatures grow up strong in the open field is the God whose Son grew in wisdom and stature, and then set His face like flint to go to Jerusalem. The God who ordained that the fawns leave and not return is the God who sent His Son from His own bosom, knowing He would be cut off from the land of the living.
The questions God asks Job are designed to lead him to silence, to repentance, and to trust. "Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth" (Job 40:4). That is the only sane response. And it is the only response that opens us up to receive the grace of God in Jesus Christ. When we stop demanding answers and start trusting the one who asks the questions, we find that He has already given us the only answer that truly matters: His Son.