1 Then Job replied to the Lord :
2 "I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted.
3 You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?' Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.
4 "You said, 'Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.'
5 My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.
6 Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes."
"Second-hand Sam" was horrified to see a recent customer drive back into his used car lot. Just an hour before, that customer had bought one of Sam’s "second-hand specials." Sam stood in the doorway of his trailer and called across the lot, "Nothing wrong, is there?" The man who had bought the car shouted back, "No, I just wanted to return some things. Remember that you said this second-hand car was only driven to the bank once a week by a little old lady? Well, that little old lady left some cigars in the glove compartment and a bottle of Scotch under the front seat!"
Sam called his cars "second-hand" because another hand had first driven them. That word "second-hand" means not new, used or worn already by someone else. The word often has shady associations. For instance, in 1921, Grant Clarke wrote a song titled "Second-Hand Rose":
Chorus
I’m wearing second-hand hats, second-hand clothes,
That’s why they call me Second-Hand Rose.
Ev’ryone knows that I’m just Second-Hand Rose
From Second Avenue.
Like a used car and the possessions of Second-Hand Rose, one’s religious faith can be second-hand, too. In one sense, all of us began our religious life with a second-hand faith. As Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick wrote in A Faith for Tough Times:
We hear about Christian faith and life before we experience it; in family and church we accept its expressions before we vitally see for ourselves its meaning. As we hear, and in a way believe, that Beethoven is a great musician before we are inwardly, intimately captivated by him, so in every important realm second-hand acceptance precedes first-hand experience.
The very word "tradition" means literally something handed down. In his Letter to the Christians in the Greek city of Corinth, Saint Paul wrote: "First and foremost, I handed on to you the facts which had been imparted to me" (1 Corinthians 15:3, NEB). Paul used a traditional Jewish expression to stress the fact that he was passing on a tradition which existed before his own ministry. However, it is crucial to a vital faith that our traditional acceptance become a lively apprehension. It is by such a development that we grow from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience. "What you have inherited from your fathers," said Goethe, "you must earn for yourself before you can call it yours."
What is it that makes that transformation possible? I suggest three verbs to summarize the factors which change religious faith from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience. Those words are: wrestle, welcome, and wonder.
I
First, consider the word "Wrestle." Our religious faith is changed from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience when we wrestle with religious questions. That is what one Bible character named Job did. His religion had been inherited. It was of the second-hand variety. In times of prosperity, the traditional theology of his day was satisfactory. But, when Job suffered the strokes of destitution, pain, rejection by society, and his own sense of separation from God, the old neat religious formulas were not enough. Job had to wrestle with two issues: first, there was his conviction that God was just in his dealings with human beings; secondly, there was his conviction that the personal sufferings he was undergoing represented an injustice.
The Book of Job was written by an author who was challenging the orthodox religious teaching of that day. Like Rabbi Harold S. Kushner of our own day, that ancient author also felt troubled "when bad things happen to good people." The accepted teaching in those days was based on a simple equation: if you had misfortune in your life, if you suffered an accident or had bad health, it was directly due to personal sin on your part. The author of the Book of Job believed that this neat formula oversimplified the facts of life. Sometimes, of course, it is true that personal sin does cause personal suffering. For instance, when a person abuses the laws of health, he usually suffers from that abuse. However, argued this author, to trace all personal suffering to personal sin is an oversimplification. In this dramatic story from the Old Testament, Job wrestled with the loss of his children, his property, and his health. Job steadfastly refused to admit that he had done anything to justify such dreadful suffering as he endured. After several rounds of sparring with his three "comforters," Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, the Book reached its climax when God overwhelmed Job with the mysteries of creation:
Has the rain a father?
Who sired the drops of dew?
Whose womb gave birth to the ice,
and who was the mother of the frost from heaven...?
Can you bind the cluster of the Pleiades or loose Orion’s belt?
Can you bring out the signs of the zodiac in their season...? (Job 38:28-32a, NEB)
Until that dazzling encounter with the Divine, Job’s knowledge of God had been a theoretical one he had received by the reports of others. But, after his vivid personal experience of God’s overwhelming presence, he recognized the limitations of his understanding. Furthermore, he admitted that God’s governing of the universe went beyond systems of justice known to men. "In the past I knew only what others had told me," Job said to God, "but now I have seen you with my own eyes. So I am ashamed of all that I have said, and repent in dust and ashes" (Job 42:5-6, TEV).
Your religious faith will be transformed from a secondhand inheritance to a first-hand experience as you wrestle with the religious questions imbedded in the hurts and problems you now face.
II
Secondly, consider the word "Welcome." Our religious faith is changed from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience when we welcome new religious insights. Midway in the Holy Land of Christ’s day, between Galilee in the north and Judea in the south, lay the nation of Samaria. There was an age-old quarrel between the Samaritans and the Jews. As John reminded his readers, "Jews will have nothing to do with Samaritans" (John 4:9, TEV). At one point in Christ’s life he wanted to enter a Samaritan village. However, that village refused him entrance (Luke 9:53). Two of Christ’s friends, James and John, became so angry with the Samaritans’ inhospitality that they wanted to call fire down from heaven to destroy that place. Maybe that is why Christ nicknamed those two men "the Sons of Thunder" (Mark 3:17). This Samaritan village did not welcome Christ. Because of that refusal, their knowledge of Christ remained a second-hand thing.
There were other Samaritans, however, who did welcome Christ. They had heard about him from an infamous woman of their village. That woman had gone to the well in Sychar at noon to draw water. For her to go to the well in the heat of the day was unusual for an Eastern woman. Christ made such an impression on this woman that she hurried back to the village and said to the people, "Come and see a man who has told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?" (John 4:29). Those people of the village Sychar welcomed new religious insights. Because of their hospitality of mind, they passed from a second-hand grasp of Christ to a first-hand experience. Hear the pride in their voices as they say to the woman of the well: "We believe now, not because of what you said, but because we ourselves have heard him, and we know that he really is the Savior of the world" (John 4:42, TEV).
Welcoming new religious insights transforms religious faith from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience. That shouldn’t surprise us, should it? Our lives are decisively shaped by our hospitality - or lack of it - to new ideas! In 1868 this item appeared in a New York newspaper:
A man has been arrested in New York for attempting to extort funds from ignorant and superstitious people by exhibiting a device which he says will convey the human voice any distance over metallic wires, so that it can be heard by the listener at the other end. He calls this instrument a telephone. Well-informed people know that it is impossible to transmit the human voice over wires.
About that time, Mark Twain made a vow that he would never again invest in the new, strange inventions that kept coming his way. Shortly after he made that decision, Mark Twain was approached by a young man who asked him to buy stock in his new invention. When Twain refused, the young man left, disappointed. His name was Alexander Graham Bell and he had just invented the telephone!
III
Thirdly, consider the word "Wonder." Our religious faith is changed from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience when we wonder at the religious dimensions of human life. In Christ’s day, there were those who saw in him a dimension of divinely royal kingship. Those persons who were privileged to have that insight wondered at this religious dimension in the otherwise thoroughly human life of the Man from Nazareth. Over the centuries, there have been those who have had that same experience. Whenever persons have wondered in this way, their faith has gone from being a second-hand inheritance to being a first-hand experience.
Recall that Friday morning in the spring of the year A.D. 30 when Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, confronted Christ. After listening to the charges made against Christ by his enemies, Pilate went into his headquarters again. He summoned Christ and asked, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Some of Christ’s contemporaries interpreted that religious dimension of Christ in political terms. Such an interpretation worried Pilate. Listen to Christ’s answer: "Are you saying this because you have discovered it yourself, or because other people told you that I am?" (John 18:34, Barclay). Pilate, is this a second-hand opinion which you have inherited or is it a first-hand faith you have discovered as you yourself have wondered at the religious dimension of my life? That is what Christ’s question implies. Over a year before that day when Christ faced Pilate, he put the same question to his disciples. First, Christ asked them about the second-hand opinions of the public: "Who are people saying that I am?" (Mark 8:27, Barclay). After listening to their answers, Christ put the question to them directly: " ‘And you,’ he asked them, ‘who do you say I am?’ " (Mark 8:29, Barclay). By that question, we are challenged to wonder, to think about, to explore the religious dimension in the human life of Jesus Christ. That act of wondering transforms our faith from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience. Like Job, we end our exploration of Christ by saying, "In the past I knew only what others told me, but now I have seen you with my own eyes" (Job 42:5, TEV).
Paul Hovey recounted a discussion about the Bible. A woman in the group said, "I let the preacher read the Bible for me. He understands it so much better than I do." Another person in the group commented, "That’s like buying second-hand clothes or being content with leftover food at a restaurant. Anyone who relies on the preacher to do his Bible reading for him will never have anything but a second-hand religion." Your religious faith will be transformed from a second-hand inheritance to a first-hand experience as you wrestle with religious questions, welcome religious insights, and wonder at the religious dimension of daily life.
Job has challenged God’s justice repeatedly, declaring that if he only had his day in court, he could prove his innocence to God. Job calls on God to respond, confident in his case against the way that God has been running the world. God is about to show up, as Job has requested repeatedly, but things are going to go rather differently than Job expects.
God certainly has a sense of humor. In 9:16–17 Job declared poetically, “Even if I summoned him and he responded, . . . he would crush me with a storm.” Then in the final flowery speech of Elihu, the young speaker describes the power of God by connecting God to the lightning, wind, clouds, and rain of a storm (37:1–24). So it is rather ironic that when God does appear, he comes blasting down out of a storm, demanding, “Who is this that dark…
1 Then Job replied to the Lord :
2 "I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted.
3 You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?' Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.
4 "You said, 'Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.'
5 My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.
6 Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes."
Job can do nothing but confess his unworthiness and lack of understanding. But Job’s last words (42:6) are anything but clear. Job may be saying any of the following, and choosing one over the other depends on how one understands God’s speeches and Job’s reaction:
1. I despise myself and repent (sitting) on dust and ashes—an act of humbleness (so NIV);
2. I take back/retract myself (my words) and repent on dust and ashes;
3. I now reject and forswear dust and ashes—Job now rejects his symbols of mourning;
4. I retract my words and have changed my mind about dust and ashes—Job has changed his mind now about the human condition;
5. I retract my words and am comforted about dust and ashes—Job is at peace with the human condition;
6. I recant and relent being but dust and ashes—being human and not God he thus now understands that he must recant (so NJPS) (Newsom 1996, 629).
What does one make of these speeches? Just how is God answering Job? Newsom’s insight is worth our time (Newsom 2003, 239–41, 252–56). God and Job are vastly different. Their respective understandings of reality are worlds apart. Therein lies a problem. Job’s voice, especially in his closing soliloquy (Job 29–31), and God’s speeches stand in contrast to each other, perhaps in contest with one another. The space and territory each occupies affects their respective outlooks. (1) Even though God has not appeared to Job, Job nevertheless views God as looking in on him and humanity (31:4, 6, 14–15). God is “with” Job, though not physically. But God abolishes the notion that Job is truly with God (“Where were you?” 38:4). God purges Job from attendance at and knowledge associated with the foundations of the cosmos. Job is not close to God. (2) God’s and Job’s spaces are vastly different. Job’s sphere has centered on his family, his friends, his land, and his place in society. God’s space, in his speeches, has reached to the remotest portions of the cosmos: earth’s foundations, primordial sea, gates of death, and storehouses of weather.
The accumulative weight of God’s focusing on the wild and the chaotic is also key. The friends and Job, ironically, have both affirmed moral order, though in different ways. The friends are rooted deeply in the traditional paradigms of order related to punishment and reward. Job’s view of moral order underpins his cry to confront God with charges of derelict behavior. Job has expectations, rooted in his understanding of God’s orderly nature. God, rather, highlights the feral and chaotic. God crescendos to Leviathan, the epitome of chaos. Throughout, God appears not to be condemning or engaged in thwarting these forces. Disconcertingly, he seems to be celebrating them.
We are left at the very end with God, Leviathan, and Job. Perhaps we should see the latter two as antithesis, each representing but one aspect of the totality of existence. Neither order nor chaos alone is the full image. Most telling is the celebration of Leviathan’s pride (41:33–34), the very last words of God. Leviathan is not here humbled. Job is! Job’s pride has been addressed and dismantled. That pride, as Newsom has argued, characteristic of all humanity, is the expectation of and demand for order (Newsom 2003, 252). Job, in his last full speech where he rehearsed his days of orderliness compared to his present chaos (Job 29–31), voices the human drive for order, control, and safety, particularly for those close to us—the motive behind Job’s sacrifices on behalf of his family. His, and ours, is a passion to thwart or deny the tragic. The expectation, now seen as the arrogance, that everything should be orderly and go well underlies the crushing devastation one feels at the catastrophic, the appalling, the dreadful, and the awful. The image of Leviathan—the uncontrollable—exposes the human self-deception about order. Order and chaos are antithetic complements of existence. They are opposites, yet they are complete-ments. Job falls silent. He understands this now.
Herein is irony. Zophar, early on, argued that if God could speak, he would show Job how shortsighted he is, how atrophied his understanding of universal truth is (11:5). Of course, Zophar expects God to bring Job around to the friends’ understanding of truth. But Zophar’s view is every bit as gaunt as Job’s. All the friends have missed the mark, measured by God’s words. God’s condemnation of them is understandable. They have understood only the orderly side of life.
Big Idea: Job realizes that Yahweh’s ways are more wonderful than he has known before, and he comes to enjoy Yahweh’s renewed blessings on his life.
Understanding the Text
After Yahweh speaks to Job in chapters 38 and 39, Job replies tentatively to him in 40:3–5. Yahweh’s second round of questions, in 40:6–41:34, with his detailed descriptions of Behemoth and Leviathan, then evokes a more definitive response from Job in 42:1–6. In his second reply, Job acknowledges that he has come to a more accurate understanding of who Yahweh is and also of who he himself is as a finite mortal living under Yahweh’s authority.
In the epilogue (42:7–17), Yahweh brings resolution to Job’s situation. Yahweh affirms Job’s innocence against the charges of the friends, instructs the friends to ask Job to pray for them, and restores Job’s family and fortune. The epilogue contains many textual links back to the prologue (chaps. 1 and 2), so together they form the literary framework for the book. Job is not given an explanation for his adversity, and the dispute between Yahweh and the adversary is not disclosed to him. Even after his restoration, apparently Job has to live within the bounds of this divine mystery.
Historical and Cultural Background
The narrator speaks in unusual detail about the three daughters who are born to Job after his adversity is concluded. First, he names them (42:14), even though the names of Job’s sons are not stated. Their names all reflect their exceptional beauty (cf. 42:15): Jemimah means dove (cf. Song 2:14), Keziah refers to cinnamon, or cassia (cf. Exod. 30:24; Ps. 45:8), and Keren-Happuch speaks of a bottle that holds black coloring used for eye shadow (cf. 2 Kings 9:30; Jer. 4:30; Ezek. 23:40). It is also mentioned that Job gives his daughters an inheritance along with their brothers. In Israel, daughters usually did not inherit property unless there were no living sons in the family (Num. 27:1–11; 36:1–12). In early Greek and Canaanite literature, there were some cases of daughters inheriting property, but it was not the norm in the ancient world.
Interpretive Insights
42:2 I know that you can do all things. In verses 2–3, Job five times uses terms that refer to knowledge, plans, and understanding. This language evidences that Job has come to an enlarged recognition of the wisdom and power of Yahweh as he has contemplated the questions Yahweh posed to him in chapters 38–41. Job now knows in a better way how much more Yahweh understands than he does. Job realizes that his adversity must fall within the purpose of Yahweh, which cannot be thwarted by any force (cf. Dan. 4:35). Yahweh sovereignly directs history to his own ends, which may well be inscrutable to humans (Prov. 16:9; 20:24; 21:1).
42:3–4 Surely I spoke of things I did not understand. Job restates Yahweh’s question to him in 38:2, but now he answers by admitting that in the past he spoke beyond what he truly understood. Job does not confess that he has sinned, as the friends have insisted that he must (cf. Zophar’s words in 11:13–15). Instead, he acknowledges that previously he spoke too confidently about matters that in fact exceed the range of his knowledge. Yahweh’s questions have changed Job’s understanding, so that he now realizes how much he did not know.
42:5 but now my eyes have seen you. In verse 4, Job restates Yahweh’s words of cross-examination in 38:3 and 40:7. Earlier, in 19:25–27, Job expressed his desire to see God. Now, Job’s increased understanding of Yahweh’s superior knowledge has dramatically enhanced his perception of Yahweh, so Job says that his eyes have seen him. Everything Job knew before was just so much hearsay when compared with what he has come to know of Yahweh.
42:6 Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes. This verse is the key to understanding the entire book of Job, but it has been rendered in many diverse ways.1This cannot be Job’s repentance of sin, or else the friends would be right in their assessment of him. In verse 7 Yahweh makes it very clear that the friends have not spoken the truth, and he instructs them to offer a burnt offering and to ask Job to intercede for them in prayer. The term “despise” here can better be translated “recant” or “retract,” and thus it refers to Job’s withdrawal of his legal claim against God. Job repents in the sense of changing his mind, as he comes to the realization that he is just dust and ashes (cf. Gen. 18:27), a mere human before the transcendent Yahweh. Before the Sovereign Lord, Job is a finite creature who is limited in his knowledge. Because Job now recognizes how little he truly knows compared to the omniscient Yahweh, he retracts his insistence that Yahweh answer him (31:35). Job submits to Yahweh, without any knowledge that Yahweh will restore blessing to him in the epilogue.
42:7–9 you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has. In the epilogue, Yahweh assesses each of the major characters (except for Elihu, whom he totally ignores), and what he says about them is determinative for interpreting the book. The friends have tried to protect Yahweh’s reputation by insisting that Job must have sinned, but by extrapolating the retribution principle into an indictment of Job they have reduced Yahweh to a predictable deity who is confined by a fixed formula. Yahweh particularly singles out Eliphaz for criticism, which is ironic, because in 22:23–27 Eliphaz said that Job can intercede for others only if he first repents of his sins. Yahweh now calls on Job to reprise his role of a mediator and to intercede in prayer for his friends, who have angered Yahweh by not speaking the truth (42:8–9), just as previously he offered sacrifices for his own children in case they had sinned against God in their hearts (1:5).
It may seem startling to hear Yahweh imply that Job has spoken the truth, in contrast to what the friends have said wrongly. Numerous times in his speeches Job asks hard questions about God’s justice and fairness, and he often complains that he has been mistreated by God. How Job addresses God can be compared with the lament psalms, in which the psalmists in their pain frequently express their doubts, fears, and questions to the Lord (e.g., Ps. 13:1–2). As humans, we assess others by what we hear them say and see them do, but the Lord knows completely what is in the hearts of his people, and he has evaluated Job on that basis of perfect understanding.
42:10 the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before. These restored divine blessings are not contingent on Job’s confession of his own sins (contrary to what Bildad predicted in 8:7) but are granted by Yahweh after Job obediently intercedes for his friends. After all their harsh words to him, this could be a bit painful for Job to do, but nevertheless he overcomes their evil with good (cf. Rom. 12:21). In this, Job is not motivated by self-interest, as the adversary has wrongly charged in 1:9–11.
42:11 everyone who had known him before came and ate with him in his house. Yahweh has restored the vertical relationship between Job and him, and he has healed as well the horizontal relationships between Job and other people who were once close to him. During his time of need, Job’s family and closest friends abandoned him (19:13–19), but now they return to fellowship with him. Even though his crisis is over, Job still has to deal with the considerable loss that he has incurred, especially the death of his children. His solitude and pain are replaced by community and rejoicing, as Job receives belated consolation and encouragement.
42:12–17 And so Job died, an old man and full of years. Yahweh doubles Job’s animals over what he had before his calamity (42:10, 12). He also gives to Job seven more sons and three especially lovely daughters (42:13–15). Job goes on to live 140 years (double the typical life expectancy cited in Ps. 90:10), and he sees his great-grandchildren (42:16). With language that echoes the experiences of Abraham (Gen. 25:8), Isaac (Gen. 35:29), and David (1 Chron. 29:28), Job is described as living out a very good and satisfying life. The long life he enjoys is one of the blessings offered by wisdom in Proverbs 3:2, 16; 4:10; 9:11; 10:27.
Theological Insights
In the final section of the book, Job receives renewed blessing by Yahweh, so the book as a whole confirms the general legitimacy of retribution theology. However, it also clearly teaches that the retribution principle must not be pressed into a rigid formula that must hold for every specific case. Within the world that is ordered and governed by Yahweh, there are factors that appear anomalous to humans, such as the ostrich, which seems to have little sense (39:13–18). There are observable cases when evildoers prosper (Job 21; cf. Pss. 49 and 73), and Job’s adversity evidences that bad things can happen to righteous people. Nevertheless, the all-powerful and all-wise Yahweh accomplishes his inscrutable purpose, which transcends all that the human mind can comprehend. The book of Job does not answer all our questions, but instead it draws attention to Yahweh, who alone knows all the answers, even though he does not always choose to make those answers available to humans. Job compels us to trust the character of Yahweh even when we cannot comprehend all his ways.
Teaching the Text
In chapter 42, the long and complex book of Job comes to a satisfying conclusion. After the long dialogue section, in which Job becomes increasingly perplexed and agitated, he at last realizes that he must withdraw his legal complaint against Yahweh. Job is not given answers to all his questions, but he is willing to trust Yahweh, who does know all the answers. Job demonstrates that the person of faith must find answers in the character of the Lord, even when there are many questions left about why God does what he does.
The lengthy questioning by Yahweh in chapters 38–41 had its intended effect upon Job. As Job considers all of the unanswerable questions that Yahweh has posed to him, he comes to the realization that Yahweh knows vastly more than he does. Previously, Job spoke confidently about things that he now recognizes he did not really know at all. Before, Job viewed Yahweh through the lens of what he thought he understood, but now he views himself through the lens of what Yahweh actually understands fully. When Job looks through the lens of Yahweh, he acknowledges that he himself is very limited in his own knowledge but that Yahweh is omniscient. If we insist on viewing God through the lens of our experience, our understanding of God will be small and distorted. What we need to do is to view our experience through the lens of the Lord as the Bible reveals him, one who is all-powerful, all-wise, and ever good and who controls those things we cannot understand.
In the epilogue, Yahweh makes it clear that Job has not sinned, as the friends have charged repeatedly. Rather, Yahweh is angry with the three friends because they have not spoken the truth, as Job has. Yahweh directs them to offer burnt offerings and to ask Job to pray on their behalf. By this means, Yahweh clarifies that Job is indeed the righteous man whom he commended in the prologue. The all-knowing Yahweh knows the pure heart of Job. As we struggle with adversity, we, like Job, may ask questions that seem dangerous, and we may even express feelings that are raw, but we can be sure that the Lord searches our hearts and knows our thoughts (Ps. 139:23–24) and that he will lead us in his good way.
Illustrating the Text
Having seen God’s omnipotence, Job yields to God in great humility.
Book: In God’s Waiting Room, by Lehman Strauss. In this book, Strauss writes, “I expect to meet Job one day. I will thank him for his rich legacy. He has helped me to regard my trial, not as the fiery darts of Satan (Eph. 6:16) but as ‘the arrows of the Almighty’ (Job 6:4). He who sent the arrows has bound up and dressed the wounds. In His own time and for His good purpose, He will heal them perfectly.”2
Hymn: “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go,” by George Matheson. These words could well have been the exhausted cry of Job’s heart:
O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that foll’west all my way,
I yield my flick’ring torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
Yahweh vindicates Job, making it clear that he is a righteous man.
Church History / Biography: John Knox. John Knox (ca. 1514–1572), who headed up the Protestant Reformation in Scotland, suffered greatly in the process of obeying God’s calling on his life. He was once made a galley slave for the French; at another time, he was exiled in Germany and Switzerland. After Protestantism became the state religion of Scotland in 1560, Knox chaired the committee that produced the foundational document for the Scottish Church. He was described as having had “a sore fight of an existence, wrestling with Popes and Principalities; in defeat, contention, life-long struggle. . . . A sore fight: but he won it!” “‘Have you hope?’ they asked him in his last moment, when he could no longer speak. He lifted his finger, pointed upward, and so died! Honor to him! His works have not died. The letter of his work dies, as of all men’s; but the spirit of it, never.” That is God’s vindication of a man whose text was John 17:3: “And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou has sent.”3
The question of undeserved suffering has plagued humanity for as long as we have written records, as is demonstrated by several ancient Mesopotamian literary compositions going back to Sumerian times. Today too we wonder why bad things happen to good people. The book of Job raises this issue in the person of Job, a pious and blameless man who suffers unspeakable tragedies. However, the question of why Job suffers leads to an even more important question: Where can wisdom be found?
The genre of the book is a debate, the topic being the nature and source of wisdom. The various parts of the book contribute to this debate, beginning with the prose prologue (1:1 2:13) that introduces Job as a perfect wise man (1:1, 8–10). God presents Job as an example of a godly and wise man to “the Satan” (or “the accuser,” best understood as one of God’s angels, not the devil). No matter his exact identify, the accuser does not question Job’s character, but he does challenge his motivation. He believes that Job is righteous because God rewards him. God accepts the challenge and allows the accuser to harm his possessions and family, followed by a second round of suffering where the accuser afflicts by taking away his health. Job, however, persists in his proper attitude toward God. At the end of the prologue, we also hear of Job’s three friends, who move in to offer sympathy and support. They sit with him for seven days in silence.
Job is the first to break the silence, and what he says unsettles his friends. He complains about his present condition, cursing the day of his birth (Job 3). Job’s complaint triggers a debate about the cause of Job’s suffering as well as the best prescription to solve his problem (Job 4–31).
The three friends keep repeating the same argument. Job suffers because he is a sinner. They represent a traditional retribution theology, which states that if you sin, you suffer; therefore, if you suffer, then you must have sinned. The solution is obvious. Job needs to repent (4:7–11; 11:13–20). For his part, Job knows that he has not sinned in such a way to deserve to suffer as he is. But this creates a theological problem for him, since he too believes in the same theology of retribution held by the three friends. Thus, in his mind, God is unjust (9:21–24). Accordingly, his solution is to find God and present his case before him (23:2–7).
Although the subject of their debate is Job’s suffering, the heart of it concerns wisdom. Who is wise? Who has the correct insight into Job’s suffering? Both Job and the friends set themselves up as sources of wisdom and ridicule the wisdom of the other (11:12; 12:1–3, 12; 13:12; 15:1–13). The question “Who is wise?” dominates the book.
After their debate, a new character surprisingly emerges from the background. Elihu has observed the debate silently, but now he feels compelled to speak (Job 32–37). He is young and thus has deferred to the wisdom of the elderly, but he has been sorely disappointed. Now he realizes that wisdom is not always a matter of age, but comes from “the spirit in a person” (32:8). The reader expects a new argument from this brash young man, but instead Job is treated to another blast of the retribution theology of the three friends: Job suffers because he is a sinner (34:11, 25–27, 37).
Elihu represents another type of person who claims wisdom. Rather than age, he believes the spirit in a person gives wisdom. However, he comes up with the same old descriptions and solutions. This viewpoint is critiqued by silence; he is ignored. No one responds to his unpersuasive opinion.
At the end of chapter 31, Job had expressed his wish for an audience with God. Now he gets his wish. God appears in a whirlwind, an indication of his displeasure, and challenges Job’s purported wisdom: “Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge?” (38:2). God then bombards Job with a series of questions that he cannot possibly answer, since he is not God. God also describes how he is the one who distributes and withholds power and wisdom to his creatures.
He never addresses the reasons for Job’s suffering or the question of suffering in general. That is not the main purpose of the book. He asserts his wisdom, thus answering the question of the book: “Who is wise?” Only God is wise. What is the proper response to God’s wisdom and power? Repentance and submission, and thus Job responds two times (40:3–5; 42:1–6).
The epilogue raises a number of interesting questions for the interpreter. After Job repents, God restores his health and prosperity beyond what he had enjoyed at the beginning of the book. Does this not concede to the argument of the three friends and Elihu? All along they have been urging him to repent and be restored. However, such an interpretation misses a key point. Job has not repented of any sin that had led to his suffering in the first place. No, he has passed that test. However, as time wore on, he had grown impatient with God. He never takes the counsel of his wife to “curse God and die” (2:9), but he does question God’s justice without ever breaking relationship.
A second issue concerns God’s statement that Job has “spoken the truth about me” (42:8). Did God not just spend two chapters criticizing him? The best way to understand this comment is to understand it as God’s affirmation not of every word that Job has spoken about him, but rather of how Job has responded to God in the end. After all, he had never abandoned God, even in his darkest hour.
The act of repudiating sin and returning to God. Implicit in this is sorrow over the evil that one has committed and a complete turnabout in one’s spiritual direction: turning from idols—anything that wrests away the affection that we owe God—to God (1 Sam. 7:3; 2 Chron. 7:14; Isa. 55:6; 1 Thess. 1:9; James 4:8 10).
A distinction needs to be made between the various occurrences of the words “pray” and “prayer” in most translations of the Bible and the modern connotation of the same words. In the OT, the main Hebrew words translated as “to pray” and “prayer” (palal and tepillah) refer to the act of bringing a petition or request before God. They do not normally, if ever, refer to the other elements that we today think of as being included in the act of praying, such as praise or thanksgiving. The same is the case in the NT, where the main Greek words translated “to pray” and “prayer” (proseuchomai and proseuchē) also specifically denote making a petition or request to God. But other words and constructions in both Testaments are also translated “to pray” and “prayer,” and this article will deal with the larger concept, including praise, thanksgiving, petition, and confession, as opposed to the narrower meaning of the particular Hebrew and Greek terms (see also Praise; Thanksgiving; Worship).
Old Testament
In the OT there is no language or understanding comparable to modern ways of talking about prayer as conversational or dialogical. Prayer does not involve mutuality. Prayer is something that humans offer to God, and the situation is never reversed; God does not pray to humans. Understanding this preserves the proper distinction between the sovereign God and the praying subject. Therefore, prayers in the OT are reverential. Some OT prayers have extended introductions, such as that found in Neh. 1:5, that seem to pile up names for God. These should be seen as instances not of stiltedness or ostentation, but rather as setting up a kind of “buffer zone” in recognition of the distance between the Creator and the creature. In the NT, compare the same phenomenon in Eph. 1:17.
Many of the prayers in the OT are explicitly set in a covenantal context. God owes nothing to his creatures, but God has sworn to be faithful to those with whom he has entered into covenant. Thus, many OT prayers specifically appeal to the covenant as a motivation for both those praying and God’s answering (1 Kings 8:23–25; Neh. 1:5–11; 9:32; Pss. 25:10–11; 44:17–26; 74:20; 89:39–49). In postexilic books such as Ezra, Nehemiah, and Daniel, an important feature in the recorded prayers is the use of prior Scripture, praying God’s words (many times covenantal) back to him (in the NT, see Acts 4:24–30). Also, the closeness engendered by the covenant relationship between God and his people was unique in the ancient Near Eastern context. So Moses can marvel, “What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him?” (Deut. 4:7).
Prayer must be made from a heart that is right toward God. There is no guarantee that God will hear every prayer (Ps. 66:18; Prov. 1:28; Isa. 1:15; 59:2). For the most part, the “rightness” that God requires in prayer is “a broken and contrite heart” (Ps. 51:17; cf. Isa. 66:2).
Although several passages talk about prayer in the context of sacrifice (e.g., Gen. 13:4), there is surprisingly little emphasis on prayer in the legal texts about sacrifice in the Pentateuch, no prescriptions for the kinds of prayer or the words that are to be said in connection with the sacrifices. Interestingly, however, in later, perhaps postexilic contexts, where there is no temple and therefore no sacrifice, we find texts such as Ps. 141:2, where the petitioner asks God to accept prayer as if it were an offering of incense and the evening sacrifice (cf. Prov. 15:8; in the NT, see Rev. 5:8).
A presupposition of prayer in the OT is that God hears prayer and may indeed answer and effect the change being requested. Prayer is not primarily about changing the psychological state or the heart of the one praying, but rather about God changing the circumstances of the one praying.
There is a striking honesty, some would even say brashness, evident in many OT prayers. Jeremiah laments that God has deceived both the people (Jer. 4:10) and Jeremiah himself (20:7) and complains about God’s justice (12:1–4). Job stands, as it were, in God’s face and demands that the Almighty answer his questions (Job 31:35–37). The psalmist accuses God of having broken his covenant promises (Ps. 89:39). While it is true that God does, to some extent, rebuke Jeremiah and Job (Jer. 12:5; Job 38–42), he does not ignore them or cast them aside. This would seem, ultimately, to encourage such honesty and boldness on the part of those who pray.
Literarily, accounts of prayers in narratives serve to provide characterizations of the ones praying. The recorded prayers of people such as Abraham, Moses, Hannah, Ezra, and Nehemiah demonstrate their true piety and humility before God. By contrast, the prayer of Jonah recorded in Jon. 2, in its narrative context, betrays a certain hypocrisy on the part of the reluctant prophet.
New Testament
The depiction of prayer in the NT is largely consistent with that of the OT, but there are important developments.
Jesus tells his disciples to address God as “Father” (Matt. 6:9; cf. Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6). Although recent scholarship has demonstrated that “Abba” is not the equivalent of our “daddy,” it expresses a certain intimacy that goes beyond what was prevalent at the time, but retains an element of reverence as well. God is not just “Father,” but “our Father in heaven” (Matt. 6:9). Even Jesus addresses God as “Holy Father” (John 17:11), “Righteous Father” (John 17:25), and “Father, Lord of heaven and earth” (Matt. 11:25). And Paul, as mentioned earlier, uses a buffer zone, rarely in his epistles using the word “Father” by itself, but instead referring to “God our Father” (e.g., Rom. 1:7) and frequently using the phrase “the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 15:6; 2 Cor. 1:3; 11:31; Eph. 1:3; cf. Eph. 1:17; Col. 1:3). God is our Father, but still he is a Father before whom one reverently kneels (Eph. 3:14).
Prayer to God is now to be made in the name of Jesus (Matt. 18:19–20; John 14:13; 15:16; 16:23–26). While there is some debate as to the exact nuance of this idea, it seems clear that, at the very least, prayers in Jesus’ name need to be ones that Jesus would affirm and are in accordance with his holy character and expressed will. It is, in essence, saying to God that the prayer being offered is one that Jesus would approve.
Prayer can also be made to Jesus (John 14:14), and such devotion to him in the early church is evidence of his being regarded as deity. The instances of this in the NT are rare, however, and generally either exclamatory or rhetorical (Acts 7:59; 1 Cor. 16:22; Rev. 22:20). The norm would still seem to be that prayer is to be made to the Father, through Jesus’ name.
Unlike anything prior in the OT, Jesus tells his followers to pray for their enemies (Matt. 5:44). Jesus and his followers serve as examples (Luke 23:34; Acts 7:60).
The Holy Spirit plays a vital role in prayers. It is by him that we are able to call out, “Abba, Father” (Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6). The Spirit himself intercedes for us (Rom. 8:26). Our praying is to be done in the Spirit (Eph. 6:18; Jude 20; possibly 1 Cor. 14:15).
Jesus encourages fervent and even continual or repeated prayer (Luke 18:1–8), but not showy or repetitive prayer (Matt. 6:5–8).
Jesus becomes the model of prayer. He prays before important decisions (Luke 6:12–13) and in connection with significant crisis points (Matt. 14:23; 26:36–44; Luke 3:21; 9:29; John 12:27). He offers prayers that are not answered (Luke 22:41–44) and prayers that are (Heb. 5:7). Even as he tells his disciples to always pray and not give up (Luke 18:1 [which is also the meaning of the sometimes overly literalized “pray without ceasing” in 1 Thess. 5:17 NRSV]), so he himself wrestles in prayer (Luke 22:41–44; Heb. 5:7). He has prayed for his disciples (John 17; Luke 22:32), and even now, in heaven, he still intercedes for us (Heb. 7:25). Indeed, our intercession before God’s throne is valid because his is (Heb. 4:14–16).
A distinction needs to be made between the various occurrences of the words “pray” and “prayer” in most translations of the Bible and the modern connotation of the same words. In the OT, the main Hebrew words translated as “to pray” and “prayer” (palal and tepillah) refer to the act of bringing a petition or request before God. They do not normally, if ever, refer to the other elements that we today think of as being included in the act of praying, such as praise or thanksgiving. The same is the case in the NT, where the main Greek words translated “to pray” and “prayer” (proseuchomai and proseuchē) also specifically denote making a petition or request to God. But other words and constructions in both Testaments are also translated “to pray” and “prayer,” and this article will deal with the larger concept, including praise, thanksgiving, petition, and confession, as opposed to the narrower meaning of the particular Hebrew and Greek terms (see also Praise; Thanksgiving; Worship).
Old Testament
In the OT there is no language or understanding comparable to modern ways of talking about prayer as conversational or dialogical. Prayer does not involve mutuality. Prayer is something that humans offer to God, and the situation is never reversed; God does not pray to humans. Understanding this preserves the proper distinction between the sovereign God and the praying subject. Therefore, prayers in the OT are reverential. Some OT prayers have extended introductions, such as that found in Neh. 1:5, that seem to pile up names for God. These should be seen as instances not of stiltedness or ostentation, but rather as setting up a kind of “buffer zone” in recognition of the distance between the Creator and the creature. In the NT, compare the same phenomenon in Eph. 1:17.
Many of the prayers in the OT are explicitly set in a covenantal context. God owes nothing to his creatures, but God has sworn to be faithful to those with whom he has entered into covenant. Thus, many OT prayers specifically appeal to the covenant as a motivation for both those praying and God’s answering (1 Kings 8:23–25; Neh. 1:5–11; 9:32; Pss. 25:10–11; 44:17–26; 74:20; 89:39–49). In postexilic books such as Ezra, Nehemiah, and Daniel, an important feature in the recorded prayers is the use of prior Scripture, praying God’s words (many times covenantal) back to him (in the NT, see Acts 4:24–30). Also, the closeness engendered by the covenant relationship between God and his people was unique in the ancient Near Eastern context. So Moses can marvel, “What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him?” (Deut. 4:7).
Prayer must be made from a heart that is right toward God. There is no guarantee that God will hear every prayer (Ps. 66:18; Prov. 1:28; Isa. 1:15; 59:2). For the most part, the “rightness” that God requires in prayer is “a broken and contrite heart” (Ps. 51:17; cf. Isa. 66:2).
Although several passages talk about prayer in the context of sacrifice (e.g., Gen. 13:4), there is surprisingly little emphasis on prayer in the legal texts about sacrifice in the Pentateuch, no prescriptions for the kinds of prayer or the words that are to be said in connection with the sacrifices. Interestingly, however, in later, perhaps postexilic contexts, where there is no temple and therefore no sacrifice, we find texts such as Ps. 141:2, where the petitioner asks God to accept prayer as if it were an offering of incense and the evening sacrifice (cf. Prov. 15:8; in the NT, see Rev. 5:8).
A presupposition of prayer in the OT is that God hears prayer and may indeed answer and effect the change being requested. Prayer is not primarily about changing the psychological state or the heart of the one praying, but rather about God changing the circumstances of the one praying.
There is a striking honesty, some would even say brashness, evident in many OT prayers. Jeremiah laments that God has deceived both the people (Jer. 4:10) and Jeremiah himself (20:7) and complains about God’s justice (12:1–4). Job stands, as it were, in God’s face and demands that the Almighty answer his questions (Job 31:35–37). The psalmist accuses God of having broken his covenant promises (Ps. 89:39). While it is true that God does, to some extent, rebuke Jeremiah and Job (Jer. 12:5; Job 38–42), he does not ignore them or cast them aside. This would seem, ultimately, to encourage such honesty and boldness on the part of those who pray.
Literarily, accounts of prayers in narratives serve to provide characterizations of the ones praying. The recorded prayers of people such as Abraham, Moses, Hannah, Ezra, and Nehemiah demonstrate their true piety and humility before God. By contrast, the prayer of Jonah recorded in Jon. 2, in its narrative context, betrays a certain hypocrisy on the part of the reluctant prophet.
New Testament
The depiction of prayer in the NT is largely consistent with that of the OT, but there are important developments.
Jesus tells his disciples to address God as “Father” (Matt. 6:9; cf. Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6). Although recent scholarship has demonstrated that “Abba” is not the equivalent of our “daddy,” it expresses a certain intimacy that goes beyond what was prevalent at the time, but retains an element of reverence as well. God is not just “Father,” but “our Father in heaven” (Matt. 6:9). Even Jesus addresses God as “Holy Father” (John 17:11), “Righteous Father” (John 17:25), and “Father, Lord of heaven and earth” (Matt. 11:25). And Paul, as mentioned earlier, uses a buffer zone, rarely in his epistles using the word “Father” by itself, but instead referring to “God our Father” (e.g., Rom. 1:7) and frequently using the phrase “the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 15:6; 2 Cor. 1:3; 11:31; Eph. 1:3; cf. Eph. 1:17; Col. 1:3). God is our Father, but still he is a Father before whom one reverently kneels (Eph. 3:14).
Prayer to God is now to be made in the name of Jesus (Matt. 18:19–20; John 14:13; 15:16; 16:23–26). While there is some debate as to the exact nuance of this idea, it seems clear that, at the very least, prayers in Jesus’ name need to be ones that Jesus would affirm and are in accordance with his holy character and expressed will. It is, in essence, saying to God that the prayer being offered is one that Jesus would approve.
Prayer can also be made to Jesus (John 14:14), and such devotion to him in the early church is evidence of his being regarded as deity. The instances of this in the NT are rare, however, and generally either exclamatory or rhetorical (Acts 7:59; 1 Cor. 16:22; Rev. 22:20). The norm would still seem to be that prayer is to be made to the Father, through Jesus’ name.
Unlike anything prior in the OT, Jesus tells his followers to pray for their enemies (Matt. 5:44). Jesus and his followers serve as examples (Luke 23:34; Acts 7:60).
The Holy Spirit plays a vital role in prayers. It is by him that we are able to call out, “Abba, Father” (Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6). The Spirit himself intercedes for us (Rom. 8:26). Our praying is to be done in the Spirit (Eph. 6:18; Jude 20; possibly 1 Cor. 14:15).
Jesus encourages fervent and even continual or repeated prayer (Luke 18:1–8), but not showy or repetitive prayer (Matt. 6:5–8).
Jesus becomes the model of prayer. He prays before important decisions (Luke 6:12–13) and in connection with significant crisis points (Matt. 14:23; 26:36–44; Luke 3:21; 9:29; John 12:27). He offers prayers that are not answered (Luke 22:41–44) and prayers that are (Heb. 5:7). Even as he tells his disciples to always pray and not give up (Luke 18:1 [which is also the meaning of the sometimes overly literalized “pray without ceasing” in 1 Thess. 5:17 NRSV]), so he himself wrestles in prayer (Luke 22:41–44; Heb. 5:7). He has prayed for his disciples (John 17; Luke 22:32), and even now, in heaven, he still intercedes for us (Heb. 7:25). Indeed, our intercession before God’s throne is valid because his is (Heb. 4:14–16).
A distinction needs to be made between the various occurrences of the words “pray” and “prayer” in most translations of the Bible and the modern connotation of the same words. In the OT, the main Hebrew words translated as “to pray” and “prayer” (palal and tepillah) refer to the act of bringing a petition or request before God. They do not normally, if ever, refer to the other elements that we today think of as being included in the act of praying, such as praise or thanksgiving. The same is the case in the NT, where the main Greek words translated “to pray” and “prayer” (proseuchomai and proseuchē) also specifically denote making a petition or request to God. But other words and constructions in both Testaments are also translated “to pray” and “prayer,” and this article will deal with the larger concept, including praise, thanksgiving, petition, and confession, as opposed to the narrower meaning of the particular Hebrew and Greek terms (see also Praise; Thanksgiving; Worship).
Old Testament
In the OT there is no language or understanding comparable to modern ways of talking about prayer as conversational or dialogical. Prayer does not involve mutuality. Prayer is something that humans offer to God, and the situation is never reversed; God does not pray to humans. Understanding this preserves the proper distinction between the sovereign God and the praying subject. Therefore, prayers in the OT are reverential. Some OT prayers have extended introductions, such as that found in Neh. 1:5, that seem to pile up names for God. These should be seen as instances not of stiltedness or ostentation, but rather as setting up a kind of “buffer zone” in recognition of the distance between the Creator and the creature. In the NT, compare the same phenomenon in Eph. 1:17.
Many of the prayers in the OT are explicitly set in a covenantal context. God owes nothing to his creatures, but God has sworn to be faithful to those with whom he has entered into covenant. Thus, many OT prayers specifically appeal to the covenant as a motivation for both those praying and God’s answering (1 Kings 8:23–25; Neh. 1:5–11; 9:32; Pss. 25:10–11; 44:17–26; 74:20; 89:39–49). In postexilic books such as Ezra, Nehemiah, and Daniel, an important feature in the recorded prayers is the use of prior Scripture, praying God’s words (many times covenantal) back to him (in the NT, see Acts 4:24–30). Also, the closeness engendered by the covenant relationship between God and his people was unique in the ancient Near Eastern context. So Moses can marvel, “What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him?” (Deut. 4:7).
Prayer must be made from a heart that is right toward God. There is no guarantee that God will hear every prayer (Ps. 66:18; Prov. 1:28; Isa. 1:15; 59:2). For the most part, the “rightness” that God requires in prayer is “a broken and contrite heart” (Ps. 51:17; cf. Isa. 66:2).
Although several passages talk about prayer in the context of sacrifice (e.g., Gen. 13:4), there is surprisingly little emphasis on prayer in the legal texts about sacrifice in the Pentateuch, no prescriptions for the kinds of prayer or the words that are to be said in connection with the sacrifices. Interestingly, however, in later, perhaps postexilic contexts, where there is no temple and therefore no sacrifice, we find texts such as Ps. 141:2, where the petitioner asks God to accept prayer as if it were an offering of incense and the evening sacrifice (cf. Prov. 15:8; in the NT, see Rev. 5:8).
A presupposition of prayer in the OT is that God hears prayer and may indeed answer and effect the change being requested. Prayer is not primarily about changing the psychological state or the heart of the one praying, but rather about God changing the circumstances of the one praying.
There is a striking honesty, some would even say brashness, evident in many OT prayers. Jeremiah laments that God has deceived both the people (Jer. 4:10) and Jeremiah himself (20:7) and complains about God’s justice (12:1–4). Job stands, as it were, in God’s face and demands that the Almighty answer his questions (Job 31:35–37). The psalmist accuses God of having broken his covenant promises (Ps. 89:39). While it is true that God does, to some extent, rebuke Jeremiah and Job (Jer. 12:5; Job 38–42), he does not ignore them or cast them aside. This would seem, ultimately, to encourage such honesty and boldness on the part of those who pray.
Literarily, accounts of prayers in narratives serve to provide characterizations of the ones praying. The recorded prayers of people such as Abraham, Moses, Hannah, Ezra, and Nehemiah demonstrate their true piety and humility before God. By contrast, the prayer of Jonah recorded in Jon. 2, in its narrative context, betrays a certain hypocrisy on the part of the reluctant prophet.
New Testament
The depiction of prayer in the NT is largely consistent with that of the OT, but there are important developments.
Jesus tells his disciples to address God as “Father” (Matt. 6:9; cf. Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6). Although recent scholarship has demonstrated that “Abba” is not the equivalent of our “daddy,” it expresses a certain intimacy that goes beyond what was prevalent at the time, but retains an element of reverence as well. God is not just “Father,” but “our Father in heaven” (Matt. 6:9). Even Jesus addresses God as “Holy Father” (John 17:11), “Righteous Father” (John 17:25), and “Father, Lord of heaven and earth” (Matt. 11:25). And Paul, as mentioned earlier, uses a buffer zone, rarely in his epistles using the word “Father” by itself, but instead referring to “God our Father” (e.g., Rom. 1:7) and frequently using the phrase “the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 15:6; 2 Cor. 1:3; 11:31; Eph. 1:3; cf. Eph. 1:17; Col. 1:3). God is our Father, but still he is a Father before whom one reverently kneels (Eph. 3:14).
Prayer to God is now to be made in the name of Jesus (Matt. 18:19–20; John 14:13; 15:16; 16:23–26). While there is some debate as to the exact nuance of this idea, it seems clear that, at the very least, prayers in Jesus’ name need to be ones that Jesus would affirm and are in accordance with his holy character and expressed will. It is, in essence, saying to God that the prayer being offered is one that Jesus would approve.
Prayer can also be made to Jesus (John 14:14), and such devotion to him in the early church is evidence of his being regarded as deity. The instances of this in the NT are rare, however, and generally either exclamatory or rhetorical (Acts 7:59; 1 Cor. 16:22; Rev. 22:20). The norm would still seem to be that prayer is to be made to the Father, through Jesus’ name.
Unlike anything prior in the OT, Jesus tells his followers to pray for their enemies (Matt. 5:44). Jesus and his followers serve as examples (Luke 23:34; Acts 7:60).
The Holy Spirit plays a vital role in prayers. It is by him that we are able to call out, “Abba, Father” (Rom. 8:15; Gal. 4:6). The Spirit himself intercedes for us (Rom. 8:26). Our praying is to be done in the Spirit (Eph. 6:18; Jude 20; possibly 1 Cor. 14:15).
Jesus encourages fervent and even continual or repeated prayer (Luke 18:1–8), but not showy or repetitive prayer (Matt. 6:5–8).
Jesus becomes the model of prayer. He prays before important decisions (Luke 6:12–13) and in connection with significant crisis points (Matt. 14:23; 26:36–44; Luke 3:21; 9:29; John 12:27). He offers prayers that are not answered (Luke 22:41–44) and prayers that are (Heb. 5:7). Even as he tells his disciples to always pray and not give up (Luke 18:1 [which is also the meaning of the sometimes overly literalized “pray without ceasing” in 1 Thess. 5:17 NRSV]), so he himself wrestles in prayer (Luke 22:41–44; Heb. 5:7). He has prayed for his disciples (John 17; Luke 22:32), and even now, in heaven, he still intercedes for us (Heb. 7:25). Indeed, our intercession before God’s throne is valid because his is (Heb. 4:14–16).
