We easily critique Job’s “so called” friends: Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. They work tirelessly to paste neat and easy answers over Job’s anguish and pain. For some strange reason, they feel compelled to take turns trying to explain evil, defend God, and unpack the dark mystery of why bad things happen to good people. Eliphaz’s words are painfully simple and harsh. Bad things don’t happen to good people, which leads him to one conclusion: “Is not your wickedness great? . . . Therefore snares are around you” (22:5, 10).
Job’s anguished response bares his soul and the depths of his grief. He is weak from crying and is overcome with fear and dread: “I am scared by his presence. . . . God has weakened my mind; the Almighty has frightened me. Still I’m not annihilated by darkness” (23:15-17, ceb). I believe both Eliphaz and Job have something to teach us about grief and human suffering.
Eliphaz models what not to do. I am not sure we have learned much about spiritual consolation over the years. Too often we speak into another person’s pain with equally unhelpful and ill-considered words like “everything happens for a reason,” “God won’t give you more than you can bear,” or some other half-truth that does little more than add insult to injury. We all experience moments when we feel like life is nothing but stormy chaos. We desire certainty not ambiguity; we want answers not more questions—and that is precisely where we can learn from Job. It is OK not to have all the answers. It is OK to lament—to express our anger, our confusion, and our fears to God in prayer. There is a time and a place for expressions of joy and praise, and there is also a time and place for lament.