What Consolation Does God’s Answer To Job Offer To Those Who Are Suffering?

Prior to the coming of Christ, the Old Testament book of Job represented humanity’s greatest possible answer to the problem of suffering. Even today, the book continues to offer many profound lessons for how we ought to approach the trials and ordeals which crop up in our lives, not least because the figure of Job himself points forward to the person of Christ.

But what are those lessons exactly? Can the book of Job be reduced to “Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die,” in Alfred Tennyson’s memorable phrase? Is this all the Old Testament has to offer to people in pain?

Here we must answer in the negative. Although the book of Job has a lot to say about the vast chasm between our understanding and God’s, still there is much more going on in the story.

One of the key takeaways from Job is the clarification that just because we suffer, that doesn’t mean we did something wrong. This may seem like a simple point, but even today we can sometimes lapse into the narrow way of thinking expressed by Job’s three “friends,” as well as their fourth companion, Elihu. Particularly when we or someone we know experiences an unusually severe amount of suffering, in our brokenness we can be tempted to doubt the love of our heavenly Father.

Perhaps we begin to wonder if God is a demanding and vindictive master after all. Maybe He is allowing me to undergo these ordeals as punishment for some sin I committed. Or maybe He knows how badly I messed up in a particular situation, and so He is allowing me to experience the full shame of what I did, just so that He can teach me a lesson.

The book of Job is a resounding rebuke to this blasphemous way of thinking. Of course, it is true that suffering can follow sin in this life, such as when the alcoholic wakes up with a piercing headache. But we must be extremely careful not to universalize this into saying that all suffering is the result of our sin. It most certainly is not, as Jesus Himself makes clear in the Gospels (see Lk 13:1-5).

Job teaches us that the God we worship is neither cruel nor vindictive, but rather “a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Ex 34:6). He is a Father, not a taskmaster—and those of us who have been blessed with a good human father should remember that the love of our earthly father is but a pale imitation of the infinite, unconditional love of our Father in heaven.

When Job and His friends finally finish talking, it is noteworthy that it is the friends, not Job, whom God rebukes for their deficient ways of thinking: “My wrath is kindled against you [Eliphaz] and against your two friends; for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (Job 42:7). Whereas the friends are rebuked, Job is praised precisely for his willingness to cry out to God, to complain to God, to express his frustration of God, and to be totally honest with God.

Hence, while it’s true that one of the themes in the book of Job is our inability to understand all of God’s purposes, this isn’t the whole story. From a theological standpoint, the narrative invites us into a new way of thinking which, rather than attempting to rationalize every piece of suffering, instead chooses to trust in a Person who is so much bigger than our pain, who knows what we are enduring, and who allows it for some greater purpose.

Emphatically, therefore, Job is not about a passive and gloomy embrace of one’s crosses. On the contrary, it is about an enthusiastic, proactive embrace of the Father who loves us and who “works all things for the good for those who love Him” (Rom 8:28). Reading the story of Job challenges us to trust that God may yet use our suffering for some greater purposes unknown to us at this stage in our lives. This insight was repeatedly returned to by Pope St. Paul II in his encyclical Salvifici Doloris:

In the messianic programme of Christ, which is at the same time the programme of the Kingdom of God, suffering is present in the world in order to release love, in order to give birth to works of love towards neighbour, in order to transform the whole of human civilization into a “civilization of love.” In this love the salvific meaning of suffering is completely accomplished and reaches its definitive dimension. (§30)

The Old Testament figure of Job begins to taste that mysterious, deep nexus between suffering and love which will become definitive in the person of Christ.

Through his many ordeals, Job is challenged to accept that his love of God can no longer be conditioned on experiencing good health or owning material possessions or enjoying a happy family. When all these things are stripped away, Job is faced with the central question of whether he will allow his horrendous sufferings to purify his love. Is Job willing to love and trust in the Father simply for who the Father is, even when all his feelings, emotions, and external circumstances might lead him to believe that he has been abandoned?

In a powerful and moving way, the story of Job should provide consolation to us with its vehement declaration that Job is not abandoned, no matter how bad things get. Indeed, it is precisely in his darkest hour that the Lord appears to him, and it is this personal encounter with the Divine which allows Job to somehow situate and process everything that has taken place in his life.

In perhaps the most important verse of the entire book, Job declares: “I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees thee” (Job 42:5). It is this seeing the face of God which prompts Job to backtrack whatever doubts he may have had. In the final analysis, Job finds the strength to face his sufferings in a solution which is not intellectual but rather interpersonal.

How much more should we Christians find strength and consolation in the person of Christ. For the frustration expressed by Job that “there is no mediator between us [and God]” (Job 9:33) is one in which we do not share! Whereas Job lived in longing for the revelation of the Christ who takes on our sufferings, imbues them with power, and makes the Father present to us, we are already privy to this precious reality.

Even more emphatically than Job, therefore, we should make his cry of trust our own when the storms and griefs of life come our way: “For I know that my Redeemer lives” (Job 19:25-26).

Further Reading:

Peter Kreeft, Making Sense Out of Suffering (Servant Books, 1986)