Chuck Larsen

God calls Job “blameless and upright.” That is quite a commendation, especially considering God repeats it to Satan, as if reading Job’s spiritual résumé aloud: “Have you considered my servant Job… a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil?” Yet the Book of Job highlights just one practice from his daily routine, and it appears in the opening verses. Job rose early in the morning to offer sacrifices on behalf of his children. Scripture says, “He would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings… Thus Job did continually.” Whatever else could be said of Job, farmer, father, philosopher, or sufferer, he was an early morning worshiper. He did not hit the snooze button; he hit his knees. It is a simple detail, but it quietly reveals the rhythm of a life anchored in God long before trouble ever arrived.

Throughout Scripture, many of the Bible’s heroes seemed to keep a similar rhythm. Abraham rose early to stand before the Lord. Jacob greeted the dawn with worship after seeing a ladder of angels. Moses climbed Sinai in the early hours, likely before anyone had time to complain about the lack of breakfast. Joshua rose early to prepare for Jericho, perhaps before the walls had finished their morning stretch. Gideon stepped out at daybreak to inspect his fleece, checking whether God had answered him in dew or dryness. Even Jesus, according to the Gospels, rose early and went to a solitary place to pray. It is enough to make a late sleeper feel slightly suspicious of sunrise. Still, their shared habit was not about the clock but about the priority. They sought God before the noise of the day could drown out His voice, reminding us, even gently, that our schedules often reveal what we value most.

Our connection to Jesus brings this into clearer focus. I have always been a morning person, largely because the Navy trained it into me with the subtlety of a foghorn. Following Job’s example fits naturally for me, but I have learned that others meet God at very different hours. Max Lucado once joked that he tried early devotions too, but “the tow truck I needed to pull me out of bed could not make it up the stairs.” So he spends his evenings with God instead. The point is not the hour. The point is the habit. As Job 1:5 reminds us, “Thus Job did continually.” And Jesus said, “Abide in me” (John 15:4). He also modeled that steady rhythm Himself, withdrawing to pray and remain in communion with the Father. Whether at sunrise or long after the day winds down, drawing near to Him shapes not only our schedule but also our hearts.

As I began my study of the Book of Job some time ago, I first looked at the overall message. Let me summarize the storyline and its ultimate meaning. Job, a blameless worshiper of God, is hit by a series of devastating tragedies, losses that arrive faster than junk mail after buying a used car. Three friends come to comfort him but quickly transform into ancient theologians armed with clipboards, charts, and a strong belief that extreme suffering must be caused by extreme sin. Job vigorously refutes them and points instead to the injustices God permits in the world. A young observer cautiously offers the idea that suffering might serve purposes other than punishment. Then God Himself answers Job, not with explanations, but with questions that remind Job who is God and who is not. Job lowers himself before God, his friends are corrected for their rigid “retribution theology,” and Job is restored to a long and blessed life. It is a simple story with a profound message: God is sovereign even when life feels senseless.

That is the reality we face as well. God does not always explain Himself. Life does not always make sense, even when we tilt our heads and squint like we are trying to read the fine print on the back of a shampoo bottle. We are not given all the answers to suffering, nor do we always understand why the wicked sometimes prosper while the righteous struggle. I admit that I would prefer a clear outline, perhaps even a labeled diagram, but faith rarely arrives with bullet points. Like Job, we learn that our place is not to solve God but to trust Him. When God tested Abraham and commanded him to offer Isaac, the very son He had promised, there was no tidy explanation. God forbade human sacrifice, yet told Abraham to sacrifice his son. If Abraham had owned a whiteboard, it would have been covered in question marks. And yet he trusted, showing that faith often means walking forward when understanding stays behind.

Our connection to Jesus brings this truth into clearer focus. Life remains confusing and full of misfortune, potholes, and the occasional emotional flat tire, but we are not left alone in it. The New Testament assures us, “All things work together for good to those who love God” (Romans 8:28), even when that good is not immediately visible. Jesus Himself said, “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20), not only in clarity but also in confusion. He entered a world where suffering did not make sense and endured it without receiving a full explanation in human terms. In Him we see that trust is not blind but anchored in His presence. I am not called to understand God fully. I am called to trust Him, and in that quiet trust, confusion begins to give way to a steady and lasting peace.

The primary theme behind Job’s friends’ teaching is that suffering is always the result of some hidden sin, as if every headache were a divine slap on the wrist. Their logic is neat, predictable, and completely unsatisfying when life refuses to cooperate. But in Elihu’s speech to Job and the three friends, he offers a more thoughtful explanation. He suggests another possible reason God allows hardship: troubles get our attention. In Job 36:15, Elihu explains, “He delivers the afflicted by their affliction and opens their ear by adversity.” In other words, suffering itself can become the very means of rescue, like an alarm clock set by God, although admittedly one without a snooze button. Elihu recognizes what Job’s friends do not: pain can be purposeful, not merely punitive, and that idea quietly reshapes how we look at our hardest days.

We understand this pattern in everyday life, even if we do not always welcome it. Physical pain, while unpleasant, often serves us well. A writer once noted that pain “grabs our attention, making it difficult to concentrate on other tasks,” which is exactly what we want when our hand meets a hot stove. It reroutes our focus from the recipe to the emergency. But when discomfort lingers without clear purpose, it becomes an irritation that refuses to leave, like a smoke alarm that chirps at two in the morning for no obvious reason. In a similar way, God uses emotional and spiritual pain to redirect our hearts when nothing else will. David Watson, the minister from England who died of cancer before his reflections were published, wrote, “It is sometimes only through suffering that we begin to listen to God. Our natural pride and self-confidence have to be stripped painfully away.” He admitted he never understood why God allowed his illness, but he could hear God’s voice more clearly because of it. C. S. Lewis went further, famously calling pain “God’s megaphone.” Moses needed years in the wilderness to listen. Paul needed blindness on the Damascus road. We tend to prefer gentler methods, but we often hear more clearly when life grows quiet in uncomfortable ways.

Our connection to Jesus becomes clear when we remember that He, too, speaks through suffering, not only ours but His own. The New Testament tells us, “He learned obedience from what he suffered” (Hebrews 5:8). That verse is not easy to absorb, and it invites a slower, more careful reading. Jesus does not remain distant from human pain; He steps directly into it. When we hurt, He understands in a way that is not theoretical. When pain draws us toward God, it draws us toward Him. Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice” (John 10:27), and sometimes adversity clears our ears in ways comfort never could. As Elihu observed long ago, “God delivers the afflicted by their affliction and opens their ear by adversity.” Through suffering, Jesus meets us where we are and turns even our hardest moments into places where His voice can be heard more clearly.

Sometimes the words of Solomon ring painfully true. In the book of Ecclesiastes he sighs that everything is “vanity of vanities.” Many of us have had days that seem to prove his point. The lawn mower refuses to start, the laundry multiplies like rabbits, and the toaster burns breakfast just to remind us who appears to be in charge. Job struggled with a similar frustration. He looked around and saw that both good people and wicked people suffered. At times it seemed that doing what was right offered no clear advantage. Elihu addresses this concern directly when he quotes Job’s question: “What advantage will it be to you? What profit shall I have, more than if I had sinned?” That question still echoes in modern life. If everyone eventually reaches the same finish line, why try so hard to live rightly? Old advertisements once encouraged people to “Go for the Gusto,” squeezing every drop of pleasure from life. Job’s struggle sounds surprisingly modern.

Yet the question misses something important. It assumes that goodness is simply a deal we make with God, a trade where good behavior earns blessings in return. In that view, righteousness becomes a transaction. If the rewards disappear, the motivation disappears as well. This idea actually echoes the accusation made by Satan earlier in Job’s story. He suggested that Job served God only because God protected and blessed him. Remove the benefits, Satan argued, and Job would abandon God faster than a shopper leaving a checkout line after spotting the sign that reads “Cash Only.” That kind of faith does not last long. When following God becomes difficult, a reward-based faith quickly runs out of steam. Real faith grows from a different place. It recognizes that obedience may bring hardship and sacrifice. Scripture does teach that wise living often leads to a healthier life, but mature faith moves beyond calculating personal gain. It seeks God because of love rather than profit.

The New Testament explains that the center of faith is not a religious system but a relationship through Jesus Christ. Religion tends to focus on what people do, while the gospel focuses on what God has done. Jesus said, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16). That statement reveals the heart behind everything. God acts first in love. Jesus did not come merely to establish another set of rules. He came to restore a relationship between God and humanity. In John 17:3, Jesus describes eternal life this way: “This is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” Knowing God changes the question entirely. Life is no longer about calculating benefits or measuring rewards. Instead, it becomes about knowing the One who created us and discovering that goodness flows naturally from that relationship. When Christ stands at the center, righteousness stops feeling pointless and begins to look like love in action.

When the people of Israel demanded answers for their suffering, the prophet Jeremiah gave them a simple picture: a clay pot questioning the potter about why it was shaped the way it was. The image is both clear and a little uncomfortable. Clay does not interview the potter or request a design change. In the same way, when God finally speaks to Job, He does not offer a long explanation of suffering. Elihu prepares Job for this by reminding him how different God is from human beings. People can be bribed, persuaded, flattered, or pressured by power. God cannot. Elihu highlights God’s perfect fairness and unshakable character. He says, “He shows no partiality to princes, nor regards the rich more than the poor, for they are all the work of his hands.” Titles, crowns, and large bank accounts do not impress God. Everyone stands on equal ground before Him. That truth leads to an old philosophical puzzle: Is God right because He does what is right, or is whatever God does right simply because He does it? Elihu’s answer is simple. Either way, God wins the argument.

Elihu also reminds Job that God’s knowledge is complete. Job believes he deserves a hearing, as if he could present new information that might help God understand the situation better. Elihu gently explains that God does not need additional evidence, witness testimony, or a stack of supporting documents. “For his eyes are on the ways of a man, and he sees all his steps.” God already sees everything. Nothing escapes His attention. Elihu adds another striking line: “He shatters the mighty without investigation.” The meaning is not that God acts carelessly. It means He does not need to gather information before making a decision because He already knows the full story. Human judges must examine evidence and debate conclusions. God never struggles to discover the facts. His knowledge is complete from the beginning. This truth is meant to move Job away from arguing his case and toward trusting God’s justice. It speaks to us as well, especially when life produces situations that make about as much sense as a screen door on a submarine.

The New Testament shows that the justice and wisdom Elihu describes are perfectly revealed in Jesus Christ. Scripture says of Jesus, “He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth” (1 Peter 2:22). Even so, He trusted the Father completely, including during suffering. In the garden before His crucifixion, Jesus prayed, “Not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42). He also reassured His followers that “your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matthew 6:8). In Christ, the Potter Himself steps into the world of clay. His life shows that God’s will is not distant or careless but deeply personal and wise. The One who shapes our lives understands every detail, even when the design is not clear to us yet.

In the Book of Job, Elihu offers a powerful insight about God’s character: God does not give up on people. While Job’s other friends spend their time accusing and debating, Elihu looks at suffering from a different angle. He suggests that pain can be one of the ways God gets our attention when we are distracted, stubborn, or overly confident in our own thinking. Elihu explains, “Behold, God works all these things, twice, in fact, three times with a man” (Job 33:29). The point is clear. God keeps reaching out again and again. Scholar David McKenna notes that the number could easily stretch even further, perhaps “seventy times seven,” echoing the language Jesus used when He spoke about forgiveness. Elihu believes suffering can serve both a protective and a healing purpose. He says God works through hardship to “Bring back his soul from the Pit, that he may be enlightened with the light of life.” In this view, pain is not simply punishment. It becomes something like a bright marker across the page of life, drawing attention to God’s grace when we might otherwise skip right past it.

That idea runs against how many people naturally think about suffering. When life becomes difficult, it is easy to assume that God has stepped away or lost interest. The old tempter enjoys encouraging that conclusion. Hardship becomes his favorite talking point. He whispers that pain proves God does not care, that suffering means we have been abandoned, and that difficulty signals divine anger. The goal is simple: convince people to mistrust God. Yet the Bible describes a very different picture. Our struggles are not signs of cruelty from heaven. Instead, they can be evidence that God is still involved in our story. Paul wrote in Romans 2:4 that God “has been very kind and patient, waiting for you to change,” and that His kindness is meant to lead people toward repentance. Pain can sometimes function like the warning lights on a car dashboard. They are not pleasant, but they are meant to prevent something worse. In daily life, hardship can redirect our attention, slow our pace, and remind us that we are not nearly as self-sufficient as we sometimes imagine. Many of us have discovered that we listen more carefully when life becomes uncomfortable. Apparently our hearing improves when the road gets rough.

The message of the New Testament shows how deeply God cares for people even in suffering. The Psalmist celebrated this love long before the time of Christ, writing, “For his unfailing love is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth. He has removed our sins as far from us as the East is from the West.” The New Testament continues that theme. Paul assures believers that “God is faithful… He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear” (1 Corinthians 10:13). Jesus Himself promised His followers, “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20). These words reveal that God’s presence does not disappear when life becomes painful. Instead, Christ enters directly into human suffering and walks beside His people through it. The cross itself shows that God does not stand at a safe distance from human pain. He steps into it. Because of Jesus, suffering is no longer a signal that God has abandoned us. It becomes another place where His steady love continues working, guiding lives back toward the light.

After Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar finish delivering their three volume lecture series on suffering, Elihu steps forward with a question that cuts straight to the point. Why does Job accuse God of being silent? Job had cried out for answers. He wanted explanations, reasons, and preferably a clear presentation titled something like “Why Job Suffers: A Divine Overview.” When clarity did not arrive, Job grew frustrated and demanded that God explain Himself. When those answers did not come right away, Job concluded that heaven had gone quiet. Elihu responds with calm insight. He says, “God speaks in one way, and in two, though man does not perceive it.” In other words, the problem is not that God has stopped speaking. The problem is that people often fail to recognize His voice. Elihu gently suggests that God may already be communicating, but human ears are not always tuned to hear Him. It is a little like missing a phone call because the ringer is turned off and then wondering why nobody ever calls.

That idea feels very familiar in daily life. God is always speaking, yet many of us only seem to notice if the message arrives wrapped in flashing lights or delivered by someone wearing a name tag and holding a microphone. Scripture teaches that God is constantly at work around us, inviting us into a real relationship with Him. He speaks through the Holy Spirit, through Scripture, through prayer, through circumstances, and often through other believers. Still, we sometimes treat His timing like a delayed message that never arrived. When God calls, His invitation usually leads us toward faith and action, which explains why many of us hesitate. We can resemble Bilbo Baggins when Gandalf invited him on a grand adventure. Bilbo blinked and replied, “Adventure? Oh no! Adventures make one late for dinner.” That line captures something about human nature. We often prefer a quiet breakfast, a comfortable chair, and a predictable day. Following God rarely fits neatly between morning coffee and evening television.

The New Testament explains why God keeps speaking. His purpose is to shape His people into the likeness of Jesus Christ. The apostle Paul writes that believers are to be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Romans 8:29). That process requires change, and change tends to make people a little uneasy. Jesus described the relationship in simple terms: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27). Hearing His voice leads to following Him, and following Him reshapes a life from the inside out. Through Christ we see the clearest picture of God’s heart, especially at the cross where His love was displayed. As people worship God “in spirit and truth” (John 4:24), serve others, and grow through obedience, God continues to work within them. Since none of us reaches the finish line in this life, the process continues. Sometimes we step forward. Sometimes we pause. Sometimes we hesitate like a hobbit worried about missing supper. Yet through it all, God continues speaking and forming Christ within those who listen.

Job had four friends, though at times they behaved less like comforters and more like a team of prosecuting attorneys. Each one accused him of some hidden sin, though their arguments differed in tone and creativity. Among them, Elihu stands out. He appears in chapter thirty two, and his name means “My God is He.” Elihu came from the land of Buz, a place connected to Job’s own family line, since Buz was the brother of Uz, the forefather of Job. Their names almost sound as if they belonged on matching coffee mugs in a family kitchen. Elihu also descended from the family of Ram, with roots connected to the tribe of Judah. This background gives his thinking a distinctly Hebraic flavor. Some scholars dismiss Elihu as an unnecessary addition to the story, but those family connections suggest otherwise. He was not simply a curious bystander who wandered into the discussion. He shared a heritage that tied him both to Job and to the spiritual traditions of Israel. His entrance into the story brings a different tone. While the other friends rush forward with accusations, Elihu first steps back and listens.

That detail becomes surprisingly important. A commentator once wrote, “As humans, we fundamentally want and need to be understood… being understood requires receptive listening.” That observation touches something very familiar in daily life. People long to be heard, yet many conversations resemble two people waiting for their turn to talk rather than truly listening. Another commentator noticed that Elihu quietly models four principles of good listening. Let others speak first. Listen carefully. Be patient and do not interrupt. Try to enter into the experience of the speaker. Elihu does all of this with remarkable restraint. He allows Job, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar to speak at length, more than once, while he sits quietly. One could almost picture him waiting patiently like a man holding a ticket at the Department of Motor Vehicles, watching the numbers slowly crawl toward his turn. Job’s other friends clearly were not listening; they were simply loading their next argument like lawyers preparing closing statements. Many of us recognize that habit because we have practiced it ourselves. Our ears appear open, but our minds are busy building the next rebuttal. Elihu takes a different path. He tells Job, “I listened to your reasoning,” and adds, “I waited while you searched out what to say.” He allows Job to speak honestly, to breathe, and to grieve without interruption. Instead of treating Job like a puzzle to solve, he treats him like a person.

Jesus reflects this kind of listening in a perfect way. The New Testament often shows Him pausing to hear people others ignored. When blind Bartimaeus cried out beside the road, Jesus stopped and asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51). When the Samaritan woman spoke of her complicated past, Jesus listened before speaking about living water (John 4:7–26). His attention was not hurried or distracted. The apostle Peter later wrote, “Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). Christ does not merely hear words; He understands the heart behind them. Elihu gives a glimpse of thoughtful listening, but Jesus embodies it fully. His listening brings comfort, clarity, and the quiet assurance that no story is overlooked by the One who hears it.