Read the series.
I’ve saved the Wisdom Literature for last in this series; ending with this biblical genre, I think, forms a nice climax to this material.
Job may well be the oldest book in the Bible. Genesis records earlier events, of course, since it begins with creation, but Job, the man, sounds as though he’s earlier than Moses, possibly by quite a bit.
We all know the story. Satan, the Accuser, accuses Job of taking the easy path in life, and God, knowing otherwise, puts Job to the test. Job and his three friends, plus a latecomer named Elihu, discuss all this at some length, and in poetry. I’ve addressed some of these matters before.
Jumping to the end of the story, we find God addressing Job’s questions not by answering them, but by noting, in so many words, that Job is not in a position to understand the answer if he were to give it (Job 38.1-3). In essence God says, “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
He begins that response with Creation (Job 38.4-7) and then proceeds to Providence (Job 38.8ff).
4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Declare, if thou hast understanding.
5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest?
Or who hath stretched the line upon it?
6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened?
Or who laid the corner stone thereof;
7 When the morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy?
Here God speaks to the very beginnings of philosophy. Those who search for meaning have to start somewhere, and God asserts that they simply don’t have the data they need to do that.
When God began drawing the blueprints for the cosmos, he made decisions about measurements—scale, metrics, and so on (Job 38.5). We’re not equipped even to probe that question; as far as we can tell, the cosmos is infinite. Scientists give it a radius of about 50 billion light years—oh, within a gigaparsec or so—but that’s not a radius; it’s just how far we can see (the “observable universe”). They’re pretty sure that’s not where “the edge” is—and how would we recognize “the edge” if we could see it?
So maybe it’s infinite.
But how can it be infinite?
We have no idea what we’re even talking about.
God’s response to Job continues.
With the blueprints in place, he began pouring the footers, so to speak.
Into what did he pour them (Job 38.6)?
And where did he place the cornerstone?
We know that in the early days of civilization, humans mastered construction techniques that still puzzle us today.
- How did they build the pyramids?
- How did the Rapa Nui create those massive human moai on Easter Island?
- How did the Incas perfect dry-fit ashlar masonry?
But for all we humans could do, even early in our history, we can’t begin to fathom how to position a cosmos in empty space—or how to create the empty space to begin with.
When God did that, the angels of heaven were astonished and overjoyed to the point of exultation (Job 38.7).
God is infinitely beyond us. He is knowable, but he is not comprehensible. And creation demonstrates that, from the very beginning.
Sometimes the only appropriate response is just to sit quietly, to see, and to wonder.
To wonder at the glory of it all, and to wonder that this Creator offers us a relationship with him.
Those who will not see have no idea what they’re missing.
