It’s considered by many that the book of Job is the oldest book of the Bible. Whether it was written before the time of Moses no one knows, but the story itself seems to have taken place long before Moses’ era. Anyone who has spent time studying the book of Job knows that whereas it is a profound declaration of God’s power and glory, it is also a rather uncomfortable book to read. Why?

 

Because we are all afraid of being Job. Just listen to the beginning of this story:

 

“The Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it. And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?”

Now, why in the world God is spending even a moment of His time bantering about with Satan is one of the befuddling things about this story. However, what usually grips our attentions is this whole notion, “Hast thou considered my servant Job?” That could easily read, “Hast thou considered my servant Eric?” or “Hast thou considered my servant (insert your name here!)?”

 

It’s funny, but whereas most of us would love to be noticed by God, applauded by God, and selected by God for the most important tasks, there is a very large part of us that does not want God bringing up our name in conversation—especially with Satan, the enemy of our souls. After all, for those of us familiar with the story, Job goes on to lose everything—his children, his estate, his livestock, his health, and his dignity—all because of this crazy conversation that, in all of our minds, was ill-conceived on God’s part in the first place.

 

Long and short, there is hardly a one of us on planet Earth who wishes to be Job. Sure, he sounds like a wonderful man, but most of us are willing to forgo the “wonderful” description to avoid the misery that this man incurred.

 

I have spent a lot of time thinking, studying, and praying about this man’s life. I recognize that there is a part of me that wishes to back away from being made available to God in such a manner. There is a part of me that wishes to remain anonymous in Hell. There is a part of me that just utterly resists the notion of publishing my address on Satan’s bulletin board with a message that reads, “Bring it!”

 

But this cowardly part of me is growing lesser and lesser with every passing month. And there is another part of me that is awakening, finding its legs, and discovering its growl. There is an ever-increasing bravehearted part of me that is wanting precisely what Job had.

 

In fact, if I could say it succinctly, I want to be just like Job.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not wishing for the enemy to have unhindered access to my children, my estate, my livestock, my health, and my dignity. But I am wishing for my all-powerful God to have unrestricted license to do with my children, my estate, my livestock, my health, and my dignity anything that He deems fit—for His glory!

 

The book of Job is a book about God’s glory. We always look at it as a book about an abused man. But this whole drama isn’t about a man. Rather, it is about this man’s God.

 

Satan had tarnished both God’s glory and His honor. Satan was seeking to undermine the faith of the inhabitants of heaven in their Sovereign King.

 

Right there, at the beginning of the book, Satan claims that followers of God, such as Job, follow Him only out of lust and not love. Before all the hosts of Heaven Satan threw down the gauntlet, saying that God’s servants serve Him only because God bribes them with health, wealth, and prosperity, thus implying that God was not loved as a benevolent master but was rather little more than a well-to-do dictator who bought the favor of His subjects with His coin.

 

Who would answer this challenge? Who would rise to the occasion and wipe the spit from off God’s face?

 

The answer is Job.

 

After all, who else could do it? Job was the subject in question. Did he serve God for love? Or did he serve for profit?

 

“Remove Your protection from him and he will curse You to Your face!” Satan screamed.

 

But God knew Job. He knew His servant. And He knew the stuff that Job was made of.

 

“Everything he has and everything he is I will place within your hands,” God replied. “But you are wrong. Job is perfect. And he is upright in all his ways. And though you bring all the weight of the world down like a hammer upon him, he will shun evil and he will choose good. You will fail. And he will defeat you.”

 

God wagered His entire reputation on the faithfulness of one man. That man was Job. And he was God’s champion.

 

Job 29 says that righteousness covered Job like clothing covers a body. But why? What made him so righteous? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy. Or that, like Jesus, he was eyes to the blind, and feet to the lame; or even more so because he was a father to the poor. In other words Job had the respect of God as a perfect and upright man because he was living out, on a daily basis, what James called pure and undefiled religion, which was to care for the widows and the orphans.

 

If a pure and undefiled religion truly governed our lives—how we spent our time, how we spent our money—and every aspect of our existence, then it’s not too hard to see how we just might end up being singled out by Jehovah as a perfect and an upright demonstration of His kingdom pattern.

 

But it wasn’t only God who respected Job. Scripture says that because Job “delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him,” and because Job “caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy” and was “eyes to the blind, and feet…to the lame,” and because Job was “a father to the poor: and the cause which I knew not I searched out,” and because Job “brake the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil out of his teeth”—because of this life of pure and undefiled religion—when “the young men saw [Job], they hid themselves: and the aged arose, and stood up. The princes refrained from talking, and laid their hand on their mouth. The nobles held their peace, and their tongue cleaved to the roof of their mouth.”

 

Now that’s respect. And not just from God, but from men. From young and old, from rich and poor, from commoner to king. Why? Because Job lived a life that they all knew they should be living but didn’t have the guts to. Because Job had enough of the manly stuff to give his strength and wealth away to those who were weak and had nothing. Which, of course, is something that everyone admires, but which few are actually willing to do.

 

Job 29 is the poetry of the Bravehearted Gospel. This poetry is missing in our world today, and is in desperate need of being reinfused back into the body of Christ, where it belongs. We are missing that spiritual growl that delivers the poor that cry, causes the widow’s heart to sing for joy, and breaks the jaws of the wicked. We are lacking the authority that causes the youthful petulance and brazenness to hide itself and the aged wisdom to arise and lend its ear. We have not been eyes to the blind, nor feet to the lame, nor fathers to the poor.

 

There are causes all over this world that “we know not” and that we are not searching out. But this world, its orphans, its widows, its lame, and its destitute are waiting in the darkness for the Light of Life, whom only the church can bring.

 

What are we going to do about it?

 

We have lost the whiskery bassier tones of truth. We have become an unbalanced body strong on the charm but light on the real-life substance that gets the job done.

 

We need the grit of Job. We need men filled with the stuff of this extraordinary 29^th chapter.

 

And when that happens—when the bloodline of Job walks the earth again—watch out!

 

But the question that has been scratching around at the back of my mind for quite some time is this: How in the world did we ever end up abandoning something so grand, so powerful, and epic as the Bravehearted Gospel for such a weak and puny version of Christianity in the first place? And that is exactly the question this book is going to attempt to answer.

 

From The Bravehearted Gospel: The Truth Is Worth Fighting For by Eric Ludy, copyright 2008, published by Harvest House, used by permission. Click here to order the book.