Job 2 Satan Tries Again

Satan goes into Heaven again and God holds up Job. “You failed to make him curse Me.” Satan tries again. “Skin for skin. Let me touch his body and he will curse you.”

As a mother and grandmother, I wonder about Satan’s assertion that Job hadn’t been truly tested because his own health was spared. The death of his children was a test that MANY do not withstand. Burying your child is one of the hardest things a parent can do. And it rips at your heart like nothing else. THANK GOD that I have never had to personally experience this. I have seen it in action though. It can destroy lives and relationships.

Satan isn’t satisfied with Job’s suffering. He didn’t curse God. Satan wants another crack at him. This time, the attack is extremely personal. He is not allowed to kill Job; only afflict him so bad that the wishes he was dead. Let’s rejoin Job as he endures being the example of faithfulness Satan HATES and God commends. Lead on Holy Spirit.

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It has been a month, on earth, since the day Job received his four servants. Since all that he had, including his children, was taken from him. He does not go about his day angry or railing against the Lord. YES. He still feels the weight of the loss, but he gets up every day and goes about the tasks set before him. He leans into the Lord for his strength. He knows that he can’t make it through the day on his own.

While Job is still revisiting that day in his story, Satan is again appearing before the Lord. He is dressed in robes like the angles to disguise himself more easily. God sees through it with ease. He greets and confronts Satan, just as before.

“From where have you come?” (Job 2:2a).

Satan answers with a shrug. “From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking up and down on it” (Job 2:2b).

Though not directly asking God to give him another crack at Job, he is hopeful that God will offer Job up again. He is not disappointed as God indeed holds Job up as a shining example.

“Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil? He still holds fast his integrity, although you incited me against him to destroy him without reason” (Job 2:3).

“I have Him now” thinks Satan. “I’ll destroy this one as surely as I destroyed His first creation.” Satan looks at God with a sly smile.

“Skin for skin! All that a man has he will give for his life. But stretch out your hand and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse you to your face” (Job 2:4-5).

God already knows how this contest is going to turn out, as He is not bound by time. He sits forward and gives Satan his parameters. “Behold, he is in your hand; only spare his life” (Job 2:6).

Satan is surprised. “He fell for it” he thinks. He politely bows his head and turns away. He nearly runs back to Job. “No. I won’t kill him. But by the time I’m done with him, he will wish he was dead. And he WILL curse God with all the strength he has left. When that happens, I’m not sure if I will kill him or let him live, making God suffer defeat every day this worthless man has left on earth. Another ‘shining example’ of MY power over His precious creatures.”

Satan is torn between an ‘all at once attack’ or a gradual onset. “If I allow him time to ‘get used to the pain’ it may take longer for him to succumb to despair. But if I do it all at once, I won’t get to enjoy the growing fear he experiences as he watches his body betray him.”

He settles for something in between. He will let the sores develop over a week and cover Job in them from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. Even his hair and beard will fall out from the sores. And the pain! Oh the pain. Satan delights just thinking about what Job will suffer. “I’ll give him two weeks to be begging for death and cursing God” he laughs as he prepares to work.

Job is sacrificing on his altar to the Lord when the first of the sores begin to emerge on his body. They are a burning itch that begs to be scratched. But Job ignores them as his mind and heart are centered on honoring the Lord.

Satan face grows dark with anger. He knows the sores would have made any other man stop what he is doing and scratch like crazy. “I guess I’ll have to turn it up a notch” he says to himself. He causes ten more sores to erupt on Job; two on his face.

Job feels the burning itch. He bites the sides of his cheeks to distract himself until he finishes his offering. “This is the Lord’s time; not mine.”

Satan is getting angrier. “This man should be writhing in the dirt by now, but he keeps working on his ‘sacrifice’ to God. The One who tole me I could do this!”

Job breathes a deep sigh as he lights the fire under his offering to the Lord. He stands back and waits for the wood to catch fire and the meat to begin to cook. It takes everything within himself to keep from digging at the places where his skin is on fire. He will wait until the meat is done and he shares a portion of it with the Lord before turning away.

It feels like an eternity as new places on his skin begin to burn every moment. Job tries with all his might to keep his mind focused on the Lord during their time together. This would usually be the time he offers praise to the Lord. Instead, he begins offering prayers. “Lord God of all creation, please take this pain away or let me endure it long enough to conclude our time together.”

Job isn’t certain, but he thinks he feels a small lessening of the pain. Enough that he can finish his sacrifice. As he reaches out and removes the reserved portion, he prepares to eat it. As he chews, he is certain that the pain slacks; but only a little.

As soon as he is finished with everything, he turns away and begins furiously scratching at the places on his skin that are burning him. As his hands move over his skin, he discovers large sores. Some are open and weeping while others are lifting the skin like a volcano ready to explode. These latter ones are causing the most pain. Job tries to open them with his fingernails to relieve the pain, but they stay stubbornly closed.

He looks around for a tool to help open them when his eyes fall on his knife; the one used in his sacrifice. He reaches his hand out towards it but pulls it back at the last moment. He can see in his mind’s eye what he would do with such a tool. He would dig these sores out, probably slicing himself to bits in the process. “No. I need a less damaging tool” he tells himself.

Satan is furious with Job’s restraint. “Why isn’t he cursing God yet? It’s not FAIR that God let him have a moment of relief. That was cheating. I should let him take his own life for that. But then I wouldn’t get the pleasure of hearing him curse God.” Satan breathes a deep sigh. “I’ll stick to the ‘rules’.”

Job goes to a table that he likes to sit at and enjoy the evening sun. On it is a clay jar. It is his favorite, but right now, he has another purpose for it. “If I break it, I can use the pieces of it to scrape the sores open without damaging myself too much. I pray this works!”

Job breaks the jar and picks up one of the pieces. He runs it across the unerupted sores. It opens them, giving him a tiny bit of relief. He keeps doing this until all his sores are open. It’s not enough to stop the pain, but it certainly helps.

Satan is angry and he strikes out like bees that have been disturbed. Sores quickly begin to form and push against the surface, causing Job even more pain. As soon as he opens one, three more begin.

Job finally falls to the ground in agony. Tears are streaming down his face and he is crying out for relief.

His wife hears him and comes running. When she sees the sores on his body, she recoils in fear. “What is this? What happened?” she cries.

“I don’t know” Job cries. “It just started and I don’t know how to stop it!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Can you take a piece of the jar and open to sores on my back? I can’t reach them. They feel better once they are open.”

She picks up a piece of the broken jar and advances towards her husband. Job tears the robe from his back so she can have access. She gasps at the sight of him. His back has sores all over it. Some are already open and oozing puss from them. She reaches out with a shaking hand but recoils as one of the sores bursts before her eyes.

“I can’t do it” she cries scurrying backwards.

“I need your help! I can’t reach the sores on my back and they hurt worse if they aren’t opened.”

“I’m afraid! What if it gets on me and I get them too?”

Job drops his head. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of his wife contracting this. That would hurt him more than this ever could, especially if it was because of helping him that she contracted it. But he needs help.

Job looks around the yard. His eyes light on the toolshed. He rises as best as he can. By now, even the soles of his feet have these sores on them. Limping and straining, he makes it to the toolshed. He throws open the door and looks around. There is a scythe, a rake, and a hoe within easy reach. All of these could be used to scratch with, but at what cost. Job settles on a broken handle lying to the side. He meant to throw this in the fire, but kept forgetting to do so.

Job takes the handle and uses the tip of the scythe to carve holes through it. Then he grabs some leather lacing. With these two pieces in hand, he returns to where the pottery shards sit. Job wedges pieces into the holes he cut and affixes a piece to the end of the handle with leather lacing. Once completed, he holds it out towards his wife.

Still afraid to get too close to him, Job’s wife says; “Lay it down and I will pick it up.”

Job does as instructed and backs away. She advances and picks it up from the ground. Job turns around and bears his back to her. Using the handle, and standing back as far as she can, she begins to lightly scratch at Job’s sores.

“You have to do it harder” he tells her.

She takes a step forward, and moves the pottery pieces over his sores again. This time several erupt. She jumps back and drops the handle.

“Please! Help me! What you did was perfect. Keep going.”

Reluctantly, she picks up the handle again and resumes scratching open his sores. Bile rises in her throat several times, but she forces it back down. This is the husband she loves and he NEEDS her help.

After an hour of scratching, all the current sores are open but they are beginning to scab over with the encrusted puss. Job sees this and his spirit sinks. “I can’t keep up with them” he cries.

“And my arms are exhausted” his wife offers. She lets the end of the handle fall to the ground. “What are we going to do? We can’t do this forever; or at least I can’t.”

Job starts looking around again. He looks over to the place where he makes his sacrifices. Beside it sits a pile of ashes that he cleans away with each new offering. His feet are so encrusted in sores that he cannot stand on them any longer. Even though it causes great agony, he crawls to the pile of ashes. He moves them around, creating a ring instead of a pile. He crawls into the center of the ring.

Taking a deep breath, Job begins trying his next idea. He uses his pottery pieces to open the wounds, then sprinkles ashes over them. It draws out the puss and flakes away. This is the best relief he has found yet.

“Please scrape the sores on my back one more time, then cover them with ashes please.”

His wife is a little bolder by now, so she does as Job asks.

Sore continue to erupt on clean places in his skin and compel him to scratch. Now they are in his beard and hair! As he scratches these open, handfuls of hair fall out as the pottery shard scrapes the sores open. By nightfall, nearly all of Job’s hair is gone. It lays scattered around him on the ground. He pushes it out of the way so he still has access to the ashes.

Job’s wife left him in the ashes after scraping his back that last time. She has to prepare something for them to eat. As the sun sets, she emerges from the house with a meal for her husband. She nearly drops it when she sees only patches of his once luxurious hair left hanging from his head. She steadies herself and approaches with his meal.

“I would ask if you are feeling any better, but I can see for myself the spread of disease. I don’t know what to do to help you.”

“This meal will be all I need for now. It will give me strength to endure the night. I cannot go inside and risk your health. The nights are warm and I have my robe if I need cover.”

Job looks into his wife’s eyes as she moves back after placing his meal on the ground. “Tomorrow, you need to go into town and bring back a healer.”

“But he might say you are cursed and forbid either of us from entering the village.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this on my own. Maybe he will have some potion or lotion that can help.”

“I will go as soon as the sun is up.”

“Thank you my love.”

Tears fill her eyes as she hurries back to the house. She closes the door and leans against it, as if to keep the disease consuming her husband from entering their home. Neither one of them sleeps this night.

When morning comes, Job’s wife sets off for the village. After describing her husband’s condition to the healer, he reluctantly agrees to come. He too is afraid of contracting what must surely be a horrible disease. The fact that she hasn’t shown any signs of it are what tips the scale for him.

The two of them arrive to find Job still scratching open his sores. He has taken to rolling in the ashes instead of sprinkling them over his sores. He has also figured out how to use the handle to scratch the places he can’t reach.

The healer’s heart goes out to Job but his fear keeps him ten paces away. “How can I help you” he calls to Job.

Job holds his arms wide and shakes his deformed head. “I don’t know. But anything you can do, I will pay you handsomely for it” promises Job.

“I have never seen anything like this before. Tell me how it started.”

“I don’t know what caused it, but it started as a burning itch. When the sores first start, they push from under my skin and the pain is excruciating. Once they are opened, they ooze this puss” Job says while pointing to a newly opened sore. “When the puss dries, it seals the wound again and the agony starts over. Using the ashes to absorb the puss and flake away is the only relief I have found.” Job shakes his head in despair.

I don’t know if lotions would make it worse, as they would be sealing the sores again. I can give you a healing potion to drink. One that will strengthen you while you endure this.”

“Is that all you have to offer?”

“For now, I’m afraid so.”

“Thank you. I will take whatever I can get. My wife will see to it that you are paid for your services.”

The healer and Job’s wife go to the house where he shows her how to prepare the potion for Job. “He should drink this at least two times a day. More if he can tolerate it.”

Job’s wife pays the healer handsomely and he departs. As soon as he returns to the village, he grabs fresh clothes and goes to the baths. He washes himself from head to toe. He doesn’t want ANY of Job’s disease clinging to him or his clothes.

Within a week, the whole town knows about Job’s condition. The healer retells his story over and over again. At first, he is asking anyone with any knowledge for help. By the end of the week, it is the town gossip.

Job’s wife is at her wits end. She can’t help him. The potion does nothing for him. “If it were me, I would curl up and die” she tells herself. Finally, she shares her frustration with her husband.

“Do you still hold fast your integrity? Curse God and die” (Job 2:9).

Even in his pain, Job will NOT consider doing this. “You speak as one of the foolish women would speak. Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” (Job 2:10).

She returns to the house shaking her head. “Stubborn old man” she whispers under her breath. Her anger at God is growing.

Word doesn’t stay confined to the village. It spreads to nearby towns. Three of Job’s dearest friends hear about his distress. They send messages to one another, speaking of coming to give him comfort. After three weeks, they meet together in the village near Job’s home.

“He may be over it by now, but we should still visit him and see if he needs anything.”

“Let’s hope he is over it. The way it was described is horrific! I can’t imagine what he has been going through.”

The three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite, set out for Job’s home. When the crest the final rise, they see a lump of a man lying on the ground. They don’t recognize it as their friend. As they get closer, they realize that it is Job. They tear their robes and let out mourning wails for the man they once knew. They grab handfuls of dust and throw it over their heads and let it settle on them before continuing on.

Once they reach Job’s home, they don’t recoil or retreat. They come within five paces of him and then sit down with him in the dust. No one says a word. They have no words to say; they are speechless.

The silence stretches on. In the evening, Job’s wife loads the outside table with good things to eat. Eliphaz and Bildad move the table closer to where Job sits. Zophar makes a plate for Job and places it within easy reach before retreating to his place. By this time, Job no longer even eats. The sores in his mouth prevent even that simple pleasure or relief. The only sound is that of Job scratching his skin with shards of pottery. Job’s wife clears the table without a word and retires for the night.

All three friends stay with Job through the night. A routine quickly develops. Job’s wife wordlessly brings food, his friends eat and offer him food, which is rejected, the food is removed, and silence continues. The never-ending scratching says all there is to say, with an occasional groan from Job.

This continues for a full week. Not a word is spoken inside or out of the house. Every time someone gets the urge to break the silence, words escape them. What do you say at a time like this? The friends pray that their company is lending Job some modicum of strength. But how long can they continue like this? How long can he go on in this agony? What can they do to help? And, will he listen if they offer advice?

(to be continued)

I am my husband’s caregiver. There are times when I’m called upon to do a task that I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole! That is what I was thinking of when Job asked his wife for help. Like her, when you love someone, you get over that feeling and fear. You do what you have to do.

In the end of the story, I started wondering about bathroom needs. I doubt anyone would want to touch Job, but if he ate, he would need to poop. I seriously doubt that he would lay in his own excrement. It would infect his wounds even more. So, I had him stop eating. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he did. But that runs into another problem.

How long does Job’s suffering last? Is it weeks, months, or even longer. One can only fast for so long before the body breaks down its own tissue to survive. If this is a long-term illness, he couldn’t fast through it and someone would have to brave taking him to a place where he could relieve himself, several times a day. Maybe he gritted his teeth and braved the pain. For that first week of silence though, I suppose he didn’t move from his place.

When thinking of long-term pain, I think back to those I know who have endured it themselves. My husband was in severe pain for more than 22 years. A new medical device finally eliminated most of it, and we are forever grateful. But he spent a LOT of his time holding his affected hand and rocking back and forth. Job’s whole body hurt. How did he cope? ONLY through his faith in God, or more likely, his fear of God.

Father God, thank You for allowing my husband relief from pain. We can ‘muddle our way’ through everything else. Having no way to solve that pain was soul crushing to me. I can’t imagine how Job’s wife felt. Did she eventually become numb to his pain? Did he stop asking her for help?

I STILL don’t understand why Job was made to go through this, but YOU are God and I am NOT. That is honestly the only answer that works for me. You have a purpose for ALL You do. I trust that You had one for Job as well. Even if that purpose is showing his faithfulness, no matter what, to the rest of the generations following him. That it IS possible to remain faithful to You, no matter the circumstances. I PRAY I exhibit that same reliance and steadfast love wherever I happen to be in life.