Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 2732
“Behold, Igo forward, but He is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive Him: on the left hand, where He works, but I cannot behold Him: He hides Himself on the right hand, that I cannot see Him: but He knows the way that I take: when He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.” Job 23:8-10.
JOB, as we noticed in our reading, was at that time in very deep distress. I commend this fact to the notice of any here who are very sorely tried. You may be the people of God and yet be in a terrible plight, for Job was a true servant of the Most High, yet he sat down among the ashes and scraped himself with a potsherd because he was covered with sore boils and, at the same time, he was reduced to absolute poverty. The path of sorrow has been trod by thousands of holy feet—you are not the first one who could sit down and say, “I am the man that has seen affliction.” You were not the first tried one, you are not the only one and you will not be the last one. “Many are the afflictions of the righteous.” So let this be some comfort to you—that you are one of the Lord’s suffering children, one of those who have to pass through rough roads and fiery places in the course of their pilgrimage to Heaven.
Job had to experience one trial which must have been very keen, indeed, for it was brought about by his three choice friends who were evidently men of mind and mark, for their speeches prove that they were by no means second-class men. Job would not have selected for his bosom friends any but those who were of high character, estimable in disposition, and able to converse with him upon high and lofty themes. Such, no doubt, those three men were and I expect that when Job saw them coming towards him, he looked for a store of comfort from them, imagining that they would at least sympathize with him and pour out such consolations as their own experience could suggest, in order that he might be somewhat relieved. But he was utterly disappointed—these friends of his reasoned that there must be some extraordinary cause for such unusual distress as that into which Job had fallen. They had never seen wrong in him, but, then, he might be a very cunning man and so have concealed it from them.
As long as they had known him, he seemed to be a generous, liberal soul, but, perhaps, after all, he was one of those who squeeze the uttermost farthing out of the poor. They could not read his heart, so they put the worst construction upon his sorrows and said, “Depend upon it, he is a hypocrite! We will apply caustic to him and so we will test him, and see whether he really is what he professes to be. We will rub salt into his wounds by bringing various charges against him.” And they did so in a most horrible fashion. That is a cruel thing for anybody to do and one that cuts to the quick. Possibly, some people who used to court your company and would not let you go down the street without bowing to you—now that your circumstances are changed, do not recognize you. Or if they cannot help seeing you, they appear to have some distant recollection that, years ago, you were a casual acquaintance, or, perhaps, if they do speak in a kind, friendly way, though their words are smoother than butter, war is in their heart—though their words are softer than oil, yet are they drawn swords.
You must be a bad man because you have come down in the world—it cannot be that you are the respectable person they thought you were, or you would not have lost your estate, for, in the estimation of some folk, to be respectable means to have a certain amount of cash! The definition was once given, in a court of law that if a man kept a carriage and one horse, it was proven, by that fact, that he was respectable. That is the way of the world—respect and respectability
depend upon so much money—but the moment that is gone, the scene changes. The man is the same—yes, he may be a better and a nobler man without the money than with it—but it is only noble men who think so. It is only right-minded persons who judge not by the coat or the purse, but who say, with Burns—
“A man’s a man for a’ that,”
whatever may be his condition. Character is the thing to which we ought to look—the man himself, and not merely his surroundings. But Job had to bear just that ignoble sort of scorn that some men seem to delight to pour upon the sorrows of others!
I want, first, to call your attention to Job’s desire in the time of his trouble. It was his earnest desire to get to his God. Secondly, we will notice Job’s distress because he could not find Him. ’ ‘Behold, I go forward, but He is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive Him.” And, thirdly, we will consider Job’s consolation.”He knows the way that I take: when He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”
I. First, then, notice JOB’S DESIRE IN THE TIME OF HIS TROUBLE.