Neither Alone Nor Forsaken

Job 2:11-12

It had been some time since they had seen him and that was before all “this evil” had “come upon him.” Undoubtedly these men had enjoyed face-to-face fellowship over the years and they knew each other well enough to be truly invested in each another. But now things were very different for one of them. Job’s fortune was gone and all ten of his beloved children died in a single, tragic day. And now his health was perfectly demolished. The sight of their friend was something they could not have anticipated.

“Now when Job's three friends heard of all this evil that was come upon him, they came every one from his own place…they had made an appointment together to come to mourn with him and to comfort him” (2:11).

Traveling together for at least the last part of their journey so they could arrive together, the three men may have rehearsed some words of comfort that might console and encourage the heart of their friend. They all had known other men who had lost fortunes who recovered from their losses. They had known families that had lost children to tragedy, as well. But nothing could have prepared them to see their friend. “And when they lifted up their eyes afar off, and knew him not, they lifted up their voice, and wept; and they rent every one his mantle, and sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven” (2:12).

The sight of their friend, even at a distance, took their breath. Almost before they could speak, a chorus of grief poured out. They wept in utter disbelief. They threw dirt into the air and grieved, as if to vigorously say, “No, no, no!” Their first weeping soon gave way to quieter tears of sympathy for their beloved friend. Formerly bronzed by the sun, robust and dignified in every way, Job was now hardly more than a despised bag of stinking, broken bones.

He was unrecognizable. Sickness and suffering had taken such a toll. He didn’t appear to be the same person. What he had been through is truly beyond comprehension. Every description fails. Only the God-Man who took unto Himself true humanity and suffered more than any man, only He could ever fully enter into Job’s sufferings of body and soul. Sufferings had come, seemingly, from every possible direction in rapid-fire succession, all at once.

Ghastly sores erupted and oozed over his body. His intestines boiled. There was no way he could keep food down, so he soon became skin and bones; appetite was gone and pain beyond bone-deep and unrelenting. He winced all the time; he ached and hurt. His weeping stopped only because there was no more strength to cry. I imagine two lonely tears lingering in the corners of his sunken eyes.

He will say, “The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest” (30:17). “My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat” (30:30). Gaunt, ashen, black; gnawing, burning pain. Then there was the greater pain—none of his most earnest prayers brought the slightest relief. The great Friend of his soul seemed to have no interest in anything pertaining to His servant, Job. Every moment the burning question in that poor man’s soul must have been, “Why?”

Only the God-Man who would endure the cross could fully understand. It was He who would cry out in His most wrenching hour, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me” (Psalms 22:1)? Job was neither alone nor forsaken, but he felt that he was both, if ever any man was. –TSA