"That's it, Job! It's your arrogance!" Eliphaz backs away and stares at him with that glare, saying, again, "You are getting exactly what you deserve!" The style of communication Eliphaz employs is not that unusual to those who lack grace.
"That's it, Job! It's your arrogance!" Eliphaz backs away and stares at him with that glare, saying, again, "You are getting exactly what you deserve!" The style of communication Eliphaz employs is not that unusual to those who lack grace. It may not always be this brutal, but haven't you noticed this tone when you're around people who evidence no grace? When you're down, they kick you. When you're drowning, they pull you under. When you're confused, they complicate your life. And when you're almost finished, they write you off. Other than that, they're pretty good folks.
It is easy to forget the grief Job was trying to get past—the shocking loss of his adult children. Releasing the vise grip of grief that comes from a sudden death takes an enormous toll.
I can't help but think of that when I see Job, as he sits there enduring this, awash in his grief, trying his best to believe his ears—that this man who was once a friend is saying such graceless words. I'm left with one thought: "Lord, if you are teaching us anything through Job's endurance, teach us the value of grace. Teach us about demonstrating grace. Show us again that grace is always appropriate. Always needed.
The person sitting near you in church next Sunday, the lady pushing that cart in the grocery store, the one who's putting gas in his car at the next pump, the man behind you at the movies, waiting to buy his ticket, the student across from you at school. You have no idea what that person is going through. If you did, chances are you'd be prompted to show grace or to say a few encouraging words even quicker. Remember this please: grace is always appropriate, always needed!
"Amazing grace—how sweet the sound!"