What’s the Point? (Job 3:1–26)

Many years ago, singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell wrote a brilliant song titled, “The Sire of Sorrow: Job’s Sad Song.” The jazz of the song is haunting because it matches the lamenting lyrics, which come straight from the book of Job.

As I listened to it this past week, more than once, I was struck afresh by how close Joni kept to the text of the book of Job, and not only to the well-known verses with which many are familiar. Throughout the unusually long song, she quotes from Job’s speeches as well as those of his three friends. It’s clear that she has read and contemplated this biblical book many times. Yet it struck me that, unlike the book of Job, her poetic expression ends as it began. Hers is simply a sad song about the Sire of Sorrow. She, as it were, gets stuck in the hopelessness of chapter 3, asking the same existential questions as did Job. Unlike him, she never seems to answer of the most important question: “What’s the point of living?” With all her attention to the book of Job, it seems that she missed the point. She is now eighty-one years old. I hope she will soon get it. I hope each of us will as well.

Perhaps, like Job, you have experienced, or are experiencing, affliction—perhaps even affliction that is boiling over. And perhaps the angst of your anguish has led to you questioning, “Why was I born?” or, “Why can’t I just die?” or, “Why am I living?” And so, with a heart full of grief, you may be asking, or rather crying out, “What’s the point?” If so, you will perhaps be able to relate to Job 3.

We will study this passage in its three major sections (vv. 1–10; 11–19; 20–26), each of which asks the kind of questions that many wrestle with when undergoing affliction that boils over. I trust we will see that those who live on this side of the cross have an answer that even righteous Job did not have.

Job Cursed

The chapter opens with Job cursing:

After this Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth. And Job said: “Let the day perish on which I was born, and the night that said, ‘A man is conceived.’ Let that day be darkness! May God above not seek it, nor light shine upon it. Let gloom and deep darkness claim it. Let clouds dwell upon it; let the blackness of the day terrify it. That night—let thick darkness seize it! Let it not rejoice among the days of the year; let it not come into the number of the months. Behold, let that night be barren; let no joyful cry enter it. Let those curse it who curse the day, who are ready to rouse up Leviathan. Let the stars of its dawn be dark; let it hope for light, but have none, nor see the eyelids of the morning, because it did not shut the doors of my mother’s womb, nor hide trouble from my eyes.

(Job 3:1–10)

Anderson observes that “self-control is not the same as not showing one’s emotions.” With this opening section, we begin to hear the heart of a righteous sufferer. It is a solitary soliloquy. “They are words addressed to no one but himself” (Cline). Of course, this is a problem. Job was not speaking to God; he was merely speaking about God. It’s not pretty, but it’s real.

There is a definite change of tone from the prologue. “Now we are taken inside Job’s heart and made to feel his anguish.” (Atkinson). Longman notes that chapter 3 is a “a powerful and disturbing monologue. [Job] expresses his utter agitation with life.” Alden says, “The third chapter of Job must be one of the most depressing chapters in the Bible.” Ash considers this “the darkest chapter of the book.” And Mckenna comments, “Job spits out his bitterness, shouts his doubts, and sobs his wish for death.” Joni Mitchell (perhaps referencing 7:11 and 10:1) captures its tone in the opening line of her song: “Let me speak, let me pour out my bitterness.” Job’s heartache requires poetry for its fullest expression.

The first two chapters of Job, as well as the epilogue (42:7–17), are written in prose. Prose is written or spoken language in its normal form. The writer uses prose to set the stage describing the events and characters around which the rest of the book will revolve. However, with the commencement of chapter 3, all the way through 42:6, the form switches from prose to poetry. This is significant.

Poetry often better expresses one’s heart. Poetry is often more descriptive than prose. With the use of imagery, feelings are often more helpfully expressed. Further, poetry forces the thoughtful reader to slow down and contemplate what is written. The way that Hebrew poetry is structured is a great help in driving home the thoughts, experiences, and feelings of the author. Hebrew poetry is known for its parallelism. Simplistically, in parallelism, the second line reenforces the thought of the first line. We will begin to see this in our study of chapter 3.

You’ve heard the saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” We can perhaps play on that famed aphorism to suggest that, when life gives you problems, make poetry. Job broke the silence with poetry. Let’s listen and learn.

The Commencement of the Curse

Tempted to curse God, Job held steady amid his anguish in chapters 1–2). He kept trusting. But he increasingly felt the pressure. And though he did not and would not curse God, here he cursed his birthday (v. 1). Rather than celebrating what is normally a happy day (see 1:4, 13), Job here condemned that day. Though he did not curse God, he did begin to complain against him as he cried out in lament.

The Content of the Curse

It will be worth our while to spend some time briefly considering the content of Job’s curse in vv. 2–10.

Job wished he had never been born and expressed this by wishing away the day of his birth (v. 3). He wished that he had never been conceived. He was lamenting with the question, “Why was I born?”

Pause for a moment to observe that Job viewed his life beginning at conception. And if this is the oldest book of the Bible—the most ancient biblical wisdom—then modern decisions supporting abortion are not merely personal choices but rather the murderous fruit of folly. When a society celebrates such murderous folly, only God’s mercy can rescue it. May he do so through his gospel and through his church that faithfully proclaims and practices it.

Some connect verse 7—“let no joyful cry enter it”—to v. 3 and suggest that the Hebrew term implies the ecstatic, joyful experience of conception. If so, Job was subtly complaining against his parents for bringing him into this world. After all, no one chooses to be conceived.

Job continued to curse the day of his birth in vv. 4–7. When God created the world, he began with words of life by speaking light into existence (Genesis 1:1–3). In Scripture, the words “light” and “life” are often used synonymously. Job was calling for a reversal of creation in reference to his birthday. Rather than David’s response to walking through death’s dark shadow (Psalm 23:4), Job wanted that same valley to obliterate the day of his birth (v. 5). In other words, “Job views his own birthday as a disaster” (Anderson) .In sum, Job wanted the calendar obliterated from history. He wished he had never been born.

Though this was logical absurdity, it expressed the deep anguish of his heart (hence poetry!). Have you ever been there? Even today, some view their birthday as a bad and very sad day. They carry afflicting memories of neglect or abuse, or the present affliction of deep sorrow and they wonder “What was the point of me being born?” Sadly, such nihilistic thinking is what drives the abortion industry. I love the stories of those who were to be aborted who were not and who are living to the glory of God.

In v. 8, Job refers to either mythology (which no more means Job believed mythology than a preacher believes a novel that he references in an illustration) or to professional “cursers,” like Balaam (Numbers 22:1ff). Longman explains, “Leviathan is an awesome sea beast who represents the forces of chaos.” Smick elaborates: “The figure … may be of an awakened sea monster of chaos who could perhaps swallow that day or even usher in the end of days.” Job wished that, if possible, something could go back in time and swallow up the day of his birth.

Job lamented that the early morning appearance of bright planets had ushered in that day for that new day was the day when his mother gave birth setting him up for the miseries he is now experiencing (v. 9). Have you ever been there? Are you there now? Be careful. Though we sympathise with Job, we must recognise that he was critiquing the sovereign Creator, Yahweh, who birthed his birthday.

It seems that Job was not talking to God but rather talking subtly about God. There is a world of difference—and the difference can be dangerous. When we speak abstractly about life without reference to God, without exercising reverence, we are in danger of blasphemy. Though we should be honest to God when we speak to him—and there are plenty of scriptural examples of wrestling with God in prayer—our questioning should be characterised by holy honesty and reverent rhetoric.

Before moving on let me say something about biblical lament. There seems to be a reformation of thinking about the place of lament in the life of the Christian and in the local church. This is helpful, so long as we understand the ingredients of biblical lament: crying out to God; bringing our complaints to God; confessing the greatness of God; and placing our confidence in God (see Psalms 64, 69; Lamentations 3; etc.). In Job 3, while there is plenty of crying and complaining, it does not seem directed to God. We need to be careful of equating complaining with lamenting. You might only be grumbling.

This brings us to the next point: We should at the same time compassionately consider that, for some, the pain of life is so dark that they wish they never lived. And yes, Christians can sometimes feel this way too.

Job Complained

The second major section of this chapter (vv. 11–19) records Job’s complaint:

Why did I not die at birth, come out from the womb and expire? Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breasts, that I should nurse? For then I would have lain down and been quiet; I would have slept; then I would have been at rest, with kings and counsellors of the earth who rebuilt ruins for themselves, or with princes who had gold, who filled their houses with silver. Or why was I not as a hidden stillborn child, as infants who never see the light? There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest. There the prisoners are at ease together; they hear not the voice of the taskmaster. The small and the great are there, and the slave is free from his master.

(Job 3:11–19)

I don’t use the word “complaint” pejoratively. I am not, like Longman, accusing Job of sinful grumbling. But these words do reveal that Job was not happy with his lot, which led to him asking several “why” questions. He was confused. After all, he loved and served and trusted God, yet all these afflictions had befallen him. Fundamentally, he wished he were dead because all seems futile. Though perhaps he understood the absurdity of wishing away his birth, he seems to be have asked, “Though I was conceived, and that cannot be undone, why then did I not die at birth?”

Job wished that he had been stillborn (vv. 11–12; cf. v. 16). Nine months in the womb was good, but entering a world where he would experience anguish was too much for him to bear. He elaborated in vv. 13–19 on how his death at childbirth would have been favourable for him.

Job clearly did not believe that all existence ends at death. He did not believe in annihilation at death. Though I am not persuaded that he had a clear understanding of the biblical doctrine of life after death, he evidently did believe that had he died, he would have “been quiet” (v. 13), “have slept” (v. 13), “been at rest” (vv. 13, 17), been “at ease” (18), and been delivered from the “troubling” caused by the wicked in this world (v. 17). He was weary to the bone with his heartache and existential confusion. “O that I was at rest!” How he envied those who never saw the light of day and the darkness to which it brought them.

Job mentioned various groups of people, such as “kings and counsellors” (v. 14), “princes” (v. 15), “infants” (v. 16), “the wicked” (v. 17), “prisoners” (v. 18), “the small and great,” and “the slave’ (v. 19). The main idea is that death is the great equaliser in that, in death, regardless of one’s achievements or afflictions in life, all are at rest and at ease. They are free from the assaults in life. Again, the book of Job does not give us a precise doctrine on life after death. The poetic language should guard us from a wooden literalism.

In summary, Job, realising he could not wish away his birthday, articulated his wish that he had died at childbirth. Surely God could have done that and delivered him from this misery? We are beginning to see that Job desired what he had experienced prior to chapters 1–2: peace, rest, tranquillity, and prosperity. No wonder he was confused and complaining. This brings us to the final section of his lament.

Job Confessed

Job’s confession is found in vv. 20–26. In these closing verses, he asked more pointedly, “What’s the point?” by asking “Why am I alive?”

Having been born, and having survived birth, Job intimated that he would prefer to die (vv. 20–23). He didn’t appreciate the gift of life. Anderson captures the essence of these verses: “What’s the point of living when life is ‘trouble and misery’—under the hand of God. It makes no sense to him. Life is no longer seen as wonderful but rather it is seen as intolerable” (Anderson). Or as Longman says, “Now he asks why God has given life to anyone who is miserable and depressed.”

We must note, however, that, as much as Job cursed and complained about being alive, he never suggested suicide as a solution, anywhere in the book. Had he wanted to do so, he could have taken his wife’s advice (2:9).

In the closing verses (vv. 24–26), Job expressed the continual agony of his anguish by saying that his food and drink was sighing and groaning. He had lost his appetite for living. He was, in the imagery of John Bunyan, in the “slough of despond” because the thing he feared in his pre-affliction days had come to pass. And what was that? Loss of ease, quiet, and rest through the onslaught of trouble. As Anderson comments, Job’s words are like stabs: “I cannot relax! I cannot settle! I cannot rest! And agitation keeps on coming back!”

Until the point of affliction, Job seemed to conflate piety and prosperity. He did not do so in a wrong-headed, prosperity gospel kind of way but rather by assuming that faithfulness to God necessarily brought ease, quiet, and rest. Conversely, the gifts of ease, quiet, and rest were indicative that one was right with God. While that may normally be the case, God is not controlled by the norm. He is committed to his glory and our good and he wants us to get this point.

If we listen carefully, I believe we can hear Job’s confession of an underlying fear amid his prosperity: the fear that he might lose the blessings, and how he would respond to God if that happened. I suspect that Job was fearful of losing the fear of the Lord. His confession was not a confession of sin as much as it was an honest confession of desire to live a peaceful, restful existence amid the fear of the Lord. Just as he had in 1:1–5.

Having lost this, I suspect that Job assumed the Lord was against him. No wonder he wished away his birthday. No wonder he wished he had died at birth. No wonder he wished he were not alive. He really did understand the fear of the Lord (cf. Matthew 10:28). But he needed to hear the gospel. He needed the assurance that he was not under condemnation. He needed to hear what you and I are privileged to hear: the gospel of Jesus Christ.

What’s the Point?

Prior to these afflictions, Job had feared the Lord and he feared that his children would not (1:1, 5). Perhaps the weight of their death had led him to wonder if his intercession had failed. Though he was blameless before man, nevertheless, at this point, perhaps he began to contemplate what he would state later: “How can man be right with God?” (9:2). He feared that he would lose God’s favour. He feared the day when he might no longer be accepted by God. He had concluded that he had lost God’s favour and had no idea why.

You see, Job had not heard God’s commendation in 1:8 and 2:3. He did not know that he was accepted. He did not know that God had declared him to be righteous. He did not know what believers living on this side of the cross know. All he could see was the afflictions of this world and the quiet of the grave. He did not see what we see: that, for the believer, all things work together for good to those who love God. He could not see that, even though God’s people are sometimes slaughtered in this sinful world, we are always the objects of his love, proven by God not sparing his Son but rather giving him up for us (Romans 8:28–39). He did not see the eternal weight of glory that awaits those trusting in the Redeemer that God would send (19:25).

Most of Job’s confusion and argumentation throughout the book is because he did not have the light we have. Faithful Christians are better equipped for afflictions that boil over because the incarnation provided clarity that Job did not have. As Belcher puts it, “Followers of Christ have even more reason to persevere in the midst of suffering because we see clearly His victory over suffering, sin, and death.”

With the coming of the Lord Jesus, the light shone into the darkness of a world asking, “What’s the point?” By his sinless life, by his death in the place of believing sinners, by his resurrection from the dead, and by his ascension to the right hand of God the Father, Jesus Christ gives us a hope that Job did not have. Job wanted to die merely to rest from troubles. The faithful Christian, like Paul, faces life with the view, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). This attitude is to characterise every Christian amid our calling to and experience of suffering (Philippians 1:29). The faithful Christian shares Paul’s outlook amid anguish and affliction

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;  always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

 

Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, “I believed, and so I spoke,” we also believe, and so we also speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

 

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,  as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

 

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling,

(2 Corinthians 4:7–5:2)

Christian, this is the point that has been revealed to us. There is a sense in which we can understand, if not fully excuse, Job’s confusion. But we who have Christ and his word have no excuse. Job’s sad song has been replaced with good news: “He is risen!” Rather than singing Job’s sad song, let us sing “the song of the Lamb,” saying, “Great and amazing are your deeds, O Lord God the Almighty! Just and true are your ways, O King of the nations! ⁴ Who will not fear, O Lord, and glorify your name? For you alone are holy. All nations will come and worship you, for your righteous acts have been revealed” (Revelation 15:3–4).

AMEN