It’s hard to be alone. When you’re grieving, or forgotten by all your friends, or when your troubles are so complicated that nobody could ever relate—then it can feel like you’re utterly alone.
That’s a little of how Job felt. With God’s permission, Satan attacked Job to prove that his faith would crumble as soon as his nice life fell apart. So God allows Job to lose all of his earthly wealth—and then every one of his children. Even so, at the end of that unthinkably dark day, Job blesses the LORD’s name. But Satan’s not done yet, for he’s allowed to take away Job’s health. And still he doesn’t turn his back on God.
Yet all this is only the beginning of anguish. Trauma is so often about what happens afterwards. For Job must now wrestle with his thoughts. And along come three friends: Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. As friends usually do, these come with good intentions. But after days of talking, they’ve brought precious little comfort. By chapter 19, Job has had enough of their bad theology.
This is another side to Job’s suffering, maybe the worst part: his loneliness. In his hour of need, so many have left him. Consider all who have abandoned Job:
Verse 13: “God has put my brothers far from me.”
Verse 14: “My relatives have failed me, my close friends have forgotten me.”
Verse 15 and 16 tell of how even his servants reject him.
Even his wife finds him repulsive (v. 17).
Now usually little kids are pretty accepting of others, but not the kids around Job, “Even young children despise me; when I rise they talk against me” (v. 18).
Verse 19: “All my intimate friends abhor me.”
Even worse is the thought that God is the one behind it all. Job cries out in verse 11, “He has kindled his wrath against me and counts me as his adversary.”
So we are amazed when we get to verse 25 and Job begins to climb out of the gloomy basement. He makes the startling confession that he has one friend yet, one helper:
I know that my Redeemer lives, and at last he will stand upon the earth.
Somehow even in his darkest hour and at his lowest place, Job knows he’s not alone. Forsaken by everyone, chastised by the LORD, deserted in his grief, he has a saviour: “My Redeemer lives!”
According to God’s law, your redeemer was your next of kin, a family member. And your redeemer did things for you when you weren’t able to take care of it yourself.
For instance, the redeemer ensured justice was done when a family member was murdered. Or if family property was going to be taken away because of debt, the redeemer stepped in and bought back the property. A redeemer even married his brother’s widow so that his line wouldn’t die out—think Ruth and Boaz.
It was in situations of great need that a redeemer would be called upon. When nothing else could be done, no options were left, a redeemer took up the cause: to help, to protect, to save!
That’s the kind of person Job cries out for. Because he’s dying, all alone, and needs someone to stick up for him. Sinners cannot stand before God as the holy and exalted one. For who is Job? Who are you, or who am I? We’re a passing breath, just a vapour—and lost in our sins. Job stands on the far side of the vast canyon which separates him and God. But he holds onto his helper: “I know that my Redeemer lives.”
So who was it? This is one of the book of Job’s mysteries. We think about Jesus our high priest who lives to make intercession. But Job didn’t know Christ. He hadn’t heard about the incarnation or the cross, because these things hadn’t happened yet. Yet Job believes and so he has hope.
That’s how it always was for the old saints like Job, Abraham and David. When it came to the gospel, they peered into the shadows and saw a faint outline of the One who was coming. Yet that was enough.
When you’re in trouble, it’s reassuring to know that someone’s coming to help. You can’t see them, but they’re on the way. That’s what Job knows: help is on the way. Whatever else happens, he’s got a Redeemer to take up his cause.
What Job didn’t see, we have seen. What Job didn’t know, we have been told. We can see our Saviour plainly, portrayed clearly in the Word. There once came a kinsman. He was our brother, from our own family. Yet He was sinless, so that He could speak with God freely. Jesus, the great Redeemer, restored us to communion with God.
By his divine power He paid our debt, secured our freedom, kept our line alive.
He went to the cross where our Redeemer was rejected—left friendless, left Fatherless, so that we could be accepted by God. It means that we’re never on our own. When we believe in Christ, we have a Redeemer who will never fail or forsake us. That is true, whatever our condition, whatever our place.
You are burdened by guilt for your past sins, and you feel like you’re carrying it all by yourself.
Or you are lost in a world of anxiety, like no one knows the depth of your troubles.
Or you are dreading the day of your death, unsure of how you can ever face it.
Or you feel like the loneliness in your heart is too much to bear.
Or maybe you think that you’re doing all right, that you’ve got a nice life, and that you can stand on your own two feet.
But whatever our condition and status, we have to know: We need a Redeemer. We have a Redeemer. And our Redeemer lives!