Job Chapter 19

Job’s Answer to Bildad, “I Know That My Redeemer Lives”
A. Job laments his comfortless affliction.

1. (Job 19:1–6) Job complains that his friends have not understood him at all.

“Then Job answered and said:
How long will ye vex my soul,
And break me in pieces with words?
These ten times have ye reproached me,
Ye are not ashamed that ye make yourselves strange to me.
And be it indeed that I have erred,
Mine error remaineth with myself.
If indeed ye will magnify yourselves against me,
And plead against me my reproach:
Know now that God hath overthrown me,
And hath compassed me with his net.” (Job 19:1–6, KJV)

Job’s response to Bildad opens with a lament that is both personal and piercing. He is not merely answering theological arguments, he is protesting the cruelty of their tone and the cumulative weight of their accusations. When Job asks, “How long will ye vex my soul,” he identifies the true injury as internal and spiritual rather than merely circumstantial. Their words have not comforted him, they have crushed him, fragmenting him inwardly, breaking him “in pieces with words.” Scripture here highlights the destructive power of speech, particularly when directed toward those already suffering under God’s providential hand.

Job’s statement, “These ten times have ye reproached me,” is not a literal count but a figure of completeness. He is saying that again and again, without restraint or shame, they have accused him, humiliated him, and treated him as a stranger rather than as a brother. Their lack of shame exposes not only poor theology but a failure of love. Even if Job had sinned, their relentless condemnation violates the moral law of mercy that God Himself expects among His people.

Job then draws a clear boundary. Even if he had erred, even if there were sin unknown to him, that matter would remain between himself and God. His suffering does not authorize his friends to exalt themselves morally over him or to use his affliction as courtroom evidence against his character. This is a critical point in the book. Job refuses the premise that suffering automatically proves guilt. His integrity will not be surrendered simply to satisfy their system.

When Job says, “Know now that God hath overthrown me,” he is not making a settled doctrinal claim but an anguished confession of perception. From Job’s vantage point, God appears to have acted against him unjustly. The imagery of the net conveys entrapment, helplessness, and loss of escape. Importantly, Scripture records Job’s words without endorsing every conclusion he draws, yet it does affirm the honesty of his lament. Job brings his raw perception into the open rather than masking it with pious language.

It must also be noted that Job is not denying God’s sovereignty. On the contrary, he attributes the situation entirely to God. His error is not unbelief in God’s power but confusion about God’s justice. That distinction is essential for understanding the book as a whole.

2. (Job 19:7–12) Job describes how God has attacked him.

“Behold, I cry out of wrong, but I am not heard:
I cry aloud, but there is no judgment.
He hath fenced up my way that I cannot pass,
And he hath set darkness in my paths.
He hath stripped me of my glory,
And taken the crown from my head.
He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone:
And mine hope hath he removed like a tree.
He hath also kindled his wrath against me,
And he counteth me unto him as one of his enemies.
His troops come together,
And raise up their way against me,
And encamp round about my tabernacle.” (Job 19:7–12, KJV)

Here Job moves from complaint about his friends to a direct description of his experience with God. The deepest agony is not loss of health or wealth, but the silence of heaven. Job cries out concerning wrong, not rebellion, and yet hears nothing in response. The phrase “there is no judgment” reflects Job’s sense that the moral order itself has gone silent, that justice has ceased to function as he once knew it.

The image of God fencing up his way echoes Job 3:23, reinforcing the sense of divine confinement. Darkness in his paths conveys disorientation, confusion, and the loss of guidance. Job no longer sees where to step, nor does he perceive any divine light ahead. This is the experience of a righteous man walking by faith when sight has entirely failed.

Job then catalogs his losses in royal and architectural imagery. Being stripped of glory and losing the crown suggests humiliation and reversal. He once held honor, authority, and respect, now all have been removed. The language of destruction on every side portrays total collapse. Nothing remains intact. His hope, once firmly rooted, has been pulled up like a tree torn from the ground. This is not a pruning, it is a removal, leaving nothing visible from which life might spring.

Perhaps the most painful statement is that God “counteth me unto him as one of his enemies.” This expresses not doctrinal certainty but relational anguish. Job feels treated like an adversary rather than a servant. He cannot reconcile this experience with his knowledge of God’s past faithfulness, which intensifies the torment rather than alleviating it.

The military imagery that follows is striking. God’s troops are depicted as advancing, building siege ramps, and surrounding Job’s dwelling. The irony is intentional. Job is not a fortified city, he is merely a tent, a fragile and temporary shelter. The disproportion between the perceived attack and the frailty of the target heightens the sense of injustice Job feels.

This passage traces a reverse siege progression. Instead of a city being built, defended, and crowned, everything is dismantled step by step. Captivity replaces freedom, dethronement replaces honor, walls are torn down, roots are ripped out, siege works are raised, and finally the encampment closes in. Job’s life has been undone in reverse order, and from his limited perspective, God Himself appears to be the one orchestrating the destruction.

Yet even here, Job does not curse God. He speaks, he cries, he protests, but he remains engaged with God rather than abandoning Him. This is not apostasy, it is faith under extreme pressure, faith that argues, faith that does not let go even when understanding is gone.

3. (Job 19:13–20) Job describes the bitter results of God’s attack upon him.

“He hath put my brethren far from me,
And mine acquaintance are verily estranged from me.
My kinsfolk have failed,
And my familiar friends have forgotten me.
They that dwell in mine house, and my maids, count me for a stranger:
I am an alien in their sight.
I called my servant, and he gave me no answer;
I intreated him with my mouth.
My breath is strange to my wife,
Though I intreated for the children’s sake of mine own body.
Yea, young children despised me;
I arose, and they spake against me.
All my inward friends abhorred me:
And they whom I loved are turned against me.
My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh,
And I am escaped with the skin of my teeth.” (Job 19:13–20, KJV)

Job now turns from describing divine affliction in general terms to its most painful consequence, complete relational collapse. The suffering that began with loss of property and health has now ripened into total social isolation. When Job says that God has put his brethren far from him, he is recognizing that even this relational alienation has come under God’s sovereign allowance. Those who once stood nearest to him have withdrawn, not merely physically but emotionally and morally.

The term “brethren” likely refers to Job’s closest companions, including Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, men who should have stood with him in covenant loyalty. Instead of acting as brothers, they have become prosecutors. Acquaintances and relatives alike have failed him, showing that suffering often reveals the fragility of human loyalty. When prosperity departs, many relationships quietly follow.

Job’s humiliation extends even into his own household. Those who dwell in his house and his maidservants regard him as a stranger. He has become an alien under his own roof. This reversal is especially sharp in an ancient patriarchal society where household authority and honor were central to identity. Job once commanded respect without asking for it, now he must plead even to be acknowledged.

The statement, “I called my servant, and he gave me no answer,” underscores the complete erosion of social standing. Job has fallen so low that even servants feel no obligation to respond. The phrase “I intreated him with my mouth” highlights the depth of humiliation, the master reduced to begging. Authority has evaporated, replaced by dependence and disregard.

Perhaps the most emotionally devastating lines concern Job’s wife and children. His breath being strange to his wife reflects both physical corruption and relational distance. His disease has rendered him repulsive, and his wife, already recorded as urging him to curse God and die in Job 2:9, now appears emotionally withdrawn. Job’s reference to “the children’s sake of mine own body” has been understood in several ways. Since Job’s ten children died earlier, this may refer to grandchildren, extended family, or symbolic offspring within his household. Others have suggested that Job is expressing anguish that even the memory of his children offers no softening of his wife’s rejection.

There is also a deeper emotional layer. Job may feel rejected even in the realm of legacy. In a patriarchal context, to be cut off relationally from one’s descendants, real or symbolic, was to be stripped of future honor and remembrance. This compounds his grief beyond the physical realm.

Job then notes that even young children despise him. This detail is striking because children, who typically reflect the attitudes of society without restraint, openly mock him. The image of Job rising only to be spoken against suggests public ridicule. His presence invites contempt rather than respect. Those who once deferred to him now feel free to scorn him.

The phrase “all my inward friends abhorred me” points to the deepest betrayal. These were not casual companions but intimate confidants. The ones he loved, the ones who shared his inner life, have turned against him. This is the final collapse of human support. Job stands alone, surrounded by rejection at every relational level, friends, family, household, and community.

Finally, Job returns to his physical condition. “My bone cleaveth to my skin and to my flesh” describes extreme emaciation and disease. His body has wasted away to the point that there is almost nothing left but bone and skin. The expression “I am escaped with the skin of my teeth” conveys the narrowest possible survival. There is virtually nothing left of him that is untouched by suffering. This phrase later became an English idiom for a narrow escape, but here it carries its original weight, Job is alive, but only barely.

Some have understood this to mean that only his gums remained unaffected, others that speech itself was all that remained intact. There is a sober irony here. Job’s body is nearly destroyed, yet his tongue remains. The very instrument Satan hoped Job would use to curse God is the instrument Job continues to use to speak, to lament, to reason, and ultimately to testify.

This passage shows that Job’s trial is not merely physical or theological, it is relational and existential. Everything that once defined his place in the world has been stripped away. He is alive, but cut off, sustained only by the bare minimum of life, and even that without comfort.

B. Job proclaims his trust in God as Redeemer and Judge.

1. (Job 19:21–22) Job pleads for pity from his friends.

“Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends;
For the hand of God hath touched me.
Why do ye persecute me as God,
And are not satisfied with my flesh?” (Job 19:21–22, KJV)

After laying bare the full extent of his suffering, Job turns once more to his friends with a direct and heartfelt plea. Having demonstrated the depth of his physical affliction, social isolation, and spiritual anguish, he now appeals not to theology but to compassion. The repetition, “Have pity upon me, have pity upon me,” underscores both desperation and sincerity. Job is not asking them to solve the mystery of his suffering, he is asking them to stop adding to it.

By identifying them explicitly as “my friends,” Job highlights the tragedy of their failure. Friends should comfort, defend, and bear burdens, yet these men have become accusers. Job acknowledges that the hand of God has touched him, showing once again that he does not deny divine sovereignty. His request is reasonable and restrained, since God has already afflicted him, there is no justification for his friends to act as additional instruments of suffering.

When Job asks, “Why do ye persecute me as God,” he draws a sharp contrast between divine authority and human presumption. God may afflict according to His sovereign purposes, but his friends have no such mandate. Their relentless accusations mirror divine judgment without divine knowledge. The phrase “are not satisfied with my flesh” conveys how excessive and unrelenting their attacks have been. His body is already wasting away, yet their words continue to consume what little remains of his strength.

This brief plea marks a transition. Job has exhausted every human avenue for relief. He has appealed to reason, to experience, and now to mercy. When even this fails, Job’s gaze will lift beyond his friends entirely.

2. (Job 19:23–29) Job’s triumphant proclamation of faith.

“Oh that my words were now written!
Oh that they were printed in a book!
That they were graven with an iron pen and lead
In the rock for ever!
For I know that my redeemer liveth,
And that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth:
And though after my skin worms destroy this body,
Yet in my flesh shall I see God:
Whom I shall see for myself,
And mine eyes shall behold, and not another;
Though my reins be consumed within me.
But ye should say, Why do we persecute him,
Seeing the root of the matter is found in me?
Be ye afraid of the sword:
For wrath bringeth the punishments of the sword,
That ye may know there is a judgment.” (Job 19:23–29, KJV)

In one of the most profound passages in all of Scripture, Job rises from lament to declaration. He begins with a longing that his words might be permanently recorded, inscribed with durability and authority. Job has no awareness that his words are, in fact, being preserved by divine inspiration for generations to come. Yet his instinct is correct. He senses that what he is about to say transcends his immediate circumstances and deserves permanence.

The imagery of engraving words with an iron pen and lead into rock speaks of permanence and public testimony. Job desires vindication beyond his lifetime, beyond the reach of his present accusers. This sets the stage for his climactic confession of faith.

“For I know that my redeemer liveth” is the turning point of the entire book. Job does not speculate, he asserts knowledge. In the midst of suffering, confusion, and apparent divine silence, Job anchors himself in certainty. The word translated “redeemer” is the Hebrew goel, a kinsman redeemer, one who stands in legal solidarity with another to defend, avenge, and restore. Job declares that such a Redeemer exists for him, and more importantly, that He lives.

This Redeemer is not an abstract principle or impersonal force. He is living, active, and future-oriented. Job declares that his Redeemer “shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.” This statement moves beyond present vindication to eschatological hope. Job anticipates a final appearance, a decisive moment when his Redeemer will act publicly and decisively.

Job then acknowledges the certainty of his own physical death. He expects his skin to be destroyed, his body consumed. There is no illusion of earthly rescue at this stage. Yet even here, his faith transcends decay. “Yet in my flesh shall I see God.” Job expresses confidence in personal, embodied vindication. He expects not merely survival of the soul, but a restored existence in which he will personally behold God.

The repetition emphasizes intimacy and certainty. “Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.” This is not secondhand knowledge, not representation through another, but direct encounter. Job’s yearning heart reflects the deep longing for communion with God that suffering has intensified rather than extinguished.

The phrase “though my reins be consumed within me” expresses the emotional toll of this hope. His inner being is exhausted, yet faith remains. Job then turns his declaration into a warning. If his friends continue to ask how they might persecute him, they should recognize that the root of the matter is found in him. Job maintains that true faith, integrity, and hope in God remain intact.

Finally, Job warns them to fear the sword. This is not a threat born of bitterness, but a sober reminder that divine justice is real. Wrath brings punishment, and judgment is certain. Job, remarkably, does not fear that judgment. He anticipates it, because he trusts his Redeemer to vindicate him. His friends, however, should tremble, because they presume to judge without knowledge and condemn without mercy.

This passage marks a decisive transformation. Job moves from defending himself against accusations to resting his case entirely with God. He has no visible evidence, no immediate relief, and no human advocate. Yet he stands firm in faith, confident that the living Redeemer will have the final word.