Job Chapter 39
Job 39:1–4
“Knowest thou the time when the wild goats of the rock bring forth? or canst thou mark when the hinds do calve?
Canst thou number the months that they fulfil? or knowest thou the time when they bring forth?
They bow themselves, they bring forth their young ones, they cast out their sorrows.
Their young ones are in good liking, they grow up with corn; they go forth, and return not unto them.”
The Lord continues His interrogation of Job, not to crush him, but to recalibrate his perspective. The questioning now descends to what might appear to be simple matters of wildlife biology. The mountain goat and the deer are not cosmic mysteries like the foundations of the earth or the ordinances of heaven. These are observable creatures, living out their cycles in the wilderness. Yet even here, Job is silent.
The Lord asks, “Knowest thou the time?” The issue is not merely awareness of gestation periods, but sovereign oversight. The Hebrew sense carries the idea of intimate governance. God is not asking whether Job has read about the process, but whether he controls it. Can Job appoint the hour of labor? Can he determine the months of development? Can he sustain the unborn in the hidden places of the rocks?
The wild goats of the rock dwell in inaccessible heights. Their birthing is concealed from human observation. God is present where man cannot go. This reinforces divine omnipresence and providence. “The eyes of the LORD are in every place, beholding the evil and the good” (Proverbs 15:3). Even in crags where no shepherd climbs, God watches.
Verse three emphasizes that they “bow themselves” and “cast out their sorrows.” The imagery is vivid. The animal enters labor without midwife, without veterinary assistance, without human intervention. Yet the process works. Pain comes, life emerges, and order is maintained. This reflects the Creator’s design established in Genesis. “And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after his kind: and it was so” (Genesis 1:24). The phrase “after his kind” implies continuity and structured reproduction. Job did not establish this law, nor can he alter it.
Verse four presents a remarkable reality. The young are “in good liking,” meaning healthy and strong. They “grow up with corn,” referring to the provision of sustenance in the wild. Then they “go forth, and return not unto them.” Unlike human children who require extended nurture, these offspring quickly mature and depart. The Lord has designed a self-sustaining pattern. No committee formed this system. No human engineered it. It functions because God ordained it.
The theological thrust is clear. If God governs gestation in remote cliffs, sustains newborn life without oversight, and orders growth and independence in creatures Job barely observes, then God’s governance over Job’s suffering is not accidental. The same wisdom that governs the birth of mountain goats governs the afflictions of saints. Job is being confronted with a choice, deny God’s wisdom because he does not understand his pain, or trust the God whose wisdom is evident in creation.
This aligns with broader revelation. “O LORD, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches” (Psalm 104:24). If creation reflects manifold wisdom, then providence must as well, even when hidden.
Job 39:5–8
“Who hath sent out the wild ass free? or who hath loosed the bands of the wild ass?
Whose house I have made the wilderness, and the barren land his dwellings.
He scorneth the multitude of the city, neither regardeth he the crying of the driver.
The range of the mountains is his pasture, and he searcheth after every green thing.”
The focus shifts from birth to freedom. The wild donkey, or onager, represents untamed independence. The Lord asks, “Who hath sent out the wild ass free?” The answer is self evident. Not Job. God alone determines the boundaries and liberties of His creatures.
The phrase “loosed the bands” suggests emancipation from restraint. Domesticated animals are bound to labor, cities, and drivers. The wild donkey rejects such control. Its dwelling is the wilderness. Its home is the barren land. God designed it for harsh terrain. What appears inhospitable to man is perfectly suited for the creature God formed.
Verse seven states that the animal “scorneth the multitude of the city.” The noise, confinement, and imposed authority of civilization are foreign to it. It “regardeth not the crying of the driver.” In other words, it answers to no human master. This is not chaos. It is divine allocation of habitat and instinct.
The mountains are its pasture. The same mountains that hide the birthing goats now feed the roaming donkey. The phrase “he searcheth after every green thing” indicates provision within scarcity. Even in barren land, sustenance is found. God provides within the environment He assigns.
This echoes the providential care expressed elsewhere in Scripture. “These wait all upon thee; that thou mayest give them their meat in due season.
That thou givest them they gather: thou openest thine hand, they are filled with good” (Psalm 104:27–28). The wild donkey is not forgotten. Its independence does not remove it from divine oversight.
There is also an indirect rebuke embedded here. Job has argued that his suffering suggests disorder in God’s moral government. Yet the Lord demonstrates that even untamed creatures operate within boundaries established by divine decree. Freedom itself is regulated by God. If Job cannot explain why a wild donkey remains untamable while lions can be subdued, how can he presume to critique the governance of the Almighty?
The broader theological principle is sovereignty. “The LORD hath prepared his throne in the heavens; and his kingdom ruleth over all” (Psalm 103:19). That rule extends from heavenly ordinances to rocky cliffs to barren deserts.
The cumulative weight of these questions presses upon Job. Creation operates with coherence, strength, provision, and timing. Birth happens without oversight. Freedom exists within boundaries. Provision appears in wilderness. If God is this meticulous in the life of animals, then His governance of human suffering is not reckless. It is purposeful, even if concealed.
Job 39:9–12
“Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee, or abide by thy crib?
Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow? or will he harrow the valleys after thee?
Wilt thou trust him, because his strength is great? or wilt thou leave thy labour to him?
Wilt thou believe him, that he will bring home thy seed, and gather it into thy barn?”
The Lord now directs Job’s attention to the wild ox, translated “unicorn” in the Authorized Version. The term refers not to a mythical creature, but to a powerful wild bovine, most likely the aurochs, an immense and untamable beast known in the ancient world for its strength and ferocity. The emphasis is not on fantasy, but on uncontrollable power.
The Lord asks, “Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee?” Job was undoubtedly more intelligent than the animal, yet intelligence does not equal dominion. The creature will not “abide by thy crib,” meaning it will not submit to domestication. It will not lie calmly beside Job’s feeding trough like an ox trained for agriculture. Knowledge without authority is useless.
The imagery becomes pointed in verse ten. “Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow?” The picture is deliberately striking. No farmer would attempt to yoke such a beast to plow fields. To imagine Job tying ropes around its neck and directing it through cultivated rows exposes the absurdity. God is highlighting the limits of human mastery. There are forces in creation that exist outside human control.
Verse eleven continues the line of reasoning. “Wilt thou trust him, because his strength is great?” The wild ox possesses immense strength, yet that strength is not at Job’s disposal. Strength without obedience is of no use to man. God alone directs power according to His will. This reflects a broader biblical truth. “The horse is prepared against the day of battle: but safety is of the LORD” (Proverbs 21:31). Power exists, but its effective use is subject to divine sovereignty.
Verse twelve asks whether Job would rely on the animal to bring home grain and gather it into the barn. Agriculture requires reliability, submission, and consistency. The wild ox offers none of these. It cannot be trusted with harvest. The implication is clear. If Job cannot command a creature of the field, how can he presume to evaluate the governance of the universe?
This reinforces the doctrine of divine dominion. “Whatsoever the LORD pleased, that did he in heaven, and in earth, in the seas, and all deep places” (Psalm 135:6). God governs untamable strength. Job does not.
The point is not to belittle Job’s intelligence. It is to reveal the boundaries of his authority. Human beings may observe, categorize, and describe nature, but ultimate control belongs to the Creator. If Job lacks mastery over one wild beast, he certainly lacks the standing to question the moral administration of Almighty God.
Job 39:13–18
“Gavest thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks? or wings and feathers unto the ostrich?
Which leaveth her eggs in the earth, and warmeth them in dust,
And forgetteth that the foot may crush them, or that the wild beast may break them.
She is hardened against her young ones, as though they were not hers: her labour is in vain without fear;
Because God hath deprived her of wisdom, neither hath he imparted to her understanding.
What time she lifteth up herself on high, she scorneth the horse and his rider.”
The Lord now shifts from brute strength to apparent absurdity. The ostrich is a creature that seems inconsistent. It has impressive wings, yet it cannot truly fly. It runs with remarkable speed, yet appears foolish in its habits.
Verse thirteen contrasts wings and feathers with utility. The bird possesses “goodly wings,” yet they do not function like those of the stork. Job is confronted with design that does not conform to his expectations. The existence of wings does not necessitate flight. God is not obligated to design according to human assumptions.
Verses fourteen and fifteen describe the ostrich’s nesting practice. She leaves her eggs in the earth, warming them in dust, seemingly exposed to danger. From a human perspective, this appears careless. “She forgetteth that the foot may crush them.” The language is anthropomorphic, describing instinct as though it were forgetfulness. The Lord highlights behavior that appears irrational.
Verse sixteen intensifies this description. “She is hardened against her young ones, as though they were not hers.” The bird drives off her offspring at maturity. What appears harsh is part of God’s ordering of species. The text states plainly, “Because God hath deprived her of wisdom.” The Creator distributes capacities according to His design. Not every creature receives the same measure of instinct or intelligence.
This underscores a fundamental theological truth. God is the giver of wisdom. “For the LORD giveth wisdom: out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding” (Proverbs 2:6). If wisdom in man comes from God, then the varying degrees of instinct in animals also derive from Him. He bestows, and He withholds.
Yet the passage concludes with irony. “What time she lifteth up herself on high, she scorneth the horse and his rider.” Though lacking apparent wisdom, the ostrich outruns the war horse. What appears foolish is not without advantage. The creature that cannot soar can sprint with astonishing speed.
The humor in this section is intentional. After chapters of heavy suffering and intense debate, the Lord forces perspective through irony. Creation includes creatures that defy tidy human categories. Some are useful for labor, like domesticated oxen. Some are uncontrollable, like the wild ox. Some appear foolish, like the ostrich, yet possess hidden strengths.
The lesson for Job is profound. God’s governance does not conform to human expectations of efficiency or symmetry. The world contains both order and seeming irregularity, yet both are under divine control. If God can create a bird that appears absurd yet functions exactly as designed, then He can permit circumstances in Job’s life that seem irrational while serving a greater purpose.
This aligns with the broader testimony of Scripture. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8–9).
Job is being brought to submission, not through abstract theology, but through observation of creation. The wild ox demonstrates power beyond human control. The ostrich demonstrates design beyond human expectation. Both testify to a Creator whose wisdom exceeds human reasoning.
Job 39:19–25
“Hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?
Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible.
He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men.
He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword.
The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield.
He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage: neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.
He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.”
The Lord now turns from untamable beasts and absurd birds to a creature familiar to man, the war horse. Unlike the wild ox or ostrich, the horse was domesticated and used in battle. Yet even here, where man appears to have partnership with the animal, the Lord presses Job with piercing questions.
“Hast thou given the horse strength?” The obvious answer is no. The muscular build, endurance, and explosive power of the horse originate in divine design. Job may admire it, ride it, even train it, but he did not create its sinews or breathe vitality into its frame. This question strikes at the core of creatorship. God alone is the source of life and power.
Scripture consistently attributes strength to God’s sovereign bestowal. “The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped” (Psalm 28:7). If even human strength is derivative, how much more the brute force of a war horse.
The phrase “hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?” is poetic and vivid. The image likely refers to the flowing mane and the explosive snorting that accompanies movement. The horse’s neck, arched and muscular, seems wrapped in storm power. The snorting breath echoes like thunder before battle. God is saying, did you design that majesty? Did you engineer that intimidation?
Verse twenty asks, “Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper?” The idea is not that the horse fears like a grasshopper, but that its leaping and surging energy resemble the sudden movement of locusts. Its nostrils flare with terror to enemies. “The glory of his nostrils is terrible.” The war horse is not timid. It radiates force.
Verse twenty one describes anticipation of combat. “He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength.” Instead of shrinking from danger, the horse delights in its vigor. “He goeth on to meet the armed men.” This is contrary to self preservation. An animal running toward swords and spears defies natural instinct. Yet this courage is built into its nature.
Verse twenty two intensifies this description. “He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword.” The horse does not reason through battlefield risks. It surges forward at the command of rider and trumpet. Its fearlessness is part of its design.
This reflects a broader theological point. God not only creates life, He implants dispositions. Courage in the horse mirrors divine empowerment. “The LORD is a man of war: the LORD is his name” (Exodus 15:3). If the war horse displays such might, what of the Lord Himself, who is the ultimate warrior?
Verse twenty three paints the battlefield scene. The quiver rattles, spears glitter, shields flash. The horse is surrounded by lethal instruments, yet it continues forward. Verse twenty four states, “He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage.” The imagery suggests devouring distance. The horse charges so rapidly that terrain seems consumed beneath it.
“Neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.” The trumpet signals battle. Rather than hesitating, the horse interprets it as summons to action. Verse twenty five captures its response, “Ha, ha.” The animal appears to relish the moment. It “smelleth the battle afar off.” Even before the clash, it senses tension. It responds to “the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.”
The Lord’s purpose is not merely to describe an impressive animal. It is to confront Job with the source of such design. Job did not give the horse its strength. He did not clothe its neck with thunder. He did not implant its warlike spirit.
The implication is unmistakable. If Job cannot explain the origin of courage in a horse, how can he presume to evaluate the purposes behind suffering in his own life? The same God who fashioned warlike strength also governs human trials.
Scripture reinforces this sovereignty. “There is no king saved by the multitude of an host: a mighty man is not delivered by much strength.
An horse is a vain thing for safety: neither shall he deliver any by his great strength” (Psalm 33:16–17). Even the war horse, magnificent as it is, does not determine outcomes. Victory belongs to the Lord.
The cumulative effect of this section is overwhelming. From mountain goats to wild donkeys, from wild oxen to ostriches, and now to the war horse, every creature reveals intentional design, allocated instinct, and controlled power. Job stands not as master, but as observer.
Job 39:26–30
“Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom, and stretch her wings toward the south?
Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high?
She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, upon the crag of the rock, and the strong place.
From thence she seeketh the prey, and her eyes behold afar off.
Her young ones also suck up blood: and where the slain are, there is she.”
The Lord now lifts Job’s gaze from the earth to the heavens. After mountain goats, wild oxen, ostriches, and war horses, the questioning ascends to the realm of flight. The hawk and the eagle represent majesty, vision, instinct, and sovereign movement in the skies.
“Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom?” Flight is one of the most astonishing realities in the natural order. Aerodynamics, muscle coordination, instinctive migration patterns, and navigational precision are involved. The hawk does not consult Job’s counsel before spreading its wings. It does not await human instruction before migrating south. Its seasonal instinct, its internal compass, its mastery of air currents, all testify to a wisdom not derived from man.
The Lord asks whether this flight occurs “by thy wisdom.” The implied rebuke is sharp. Job may possess human insight, but he does not supply instinct to birds. He does not design feather structure. He does not calibrate wing span or hollow bones for lift. The mechanics of flight reflect divine intelligence embedded in creation.
Scripture elsewhere recognizes this wonder. “Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle and the crane and the swallow observe the time of their coming; but my people know not the judgment of the LORD” (Jeremiah 8:7). Migratory precision is part of God’s ordering of nature. The hawk’s southward movement operates within divinely set rhythms.
Verse twenty seven shifts to the eagle. “Doth the eagle mount up at thy command?” The eagle ascends with effortless authority. It rises on thermal currents far above the terrain. It builds its nest “on high,” inaccessible to predators and man alike. God asks Job whether he commands such elevation.
The imagery of height emphasizes security and sovereignty. The eagle “dwelleth and abideth on the rock.” It inhabits the crag, the stronghold. Its dwelling is fortified by altitude. Job did not assign this habitat. He did not design the bird’s capacity to thrive in such locations.
Verse twenty nine describes the eagle’s vision. “From thence she seeketh the prey, and her eyes behold afar off.” The bird’s eyesight is extraordinary. From staggering heights it discerns movement below. Its perception exceeds human limitation. This too is designed by God.
The Lord continues in verse thirty, “Her young ones also suck up blood: and where the slain are, there is she.” The eagle’s diet is not sanitized for human comfort. It consumes flesh. It appears at scenes of death. The Creator does not apologize for this. The ecosystem includes predators and prey. Life and death are intertwined within divine governance.
This echoes earlier biblical testimony. “They give drink to every beast of the field: the wild asses quench their thirst.
By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the branches” (Psalm 104:11–12). God provides for all creatures, including those that feed on carrion. His sovereignty extends to harsh realities.
The theological thrust here is sweeping. Job cannot command the hawk’s migration. He cannot order the eagle’s ascent. He cannot endow eyesight or program instinct. If he lacks mastery over the skies, how can he presume to govern the moral architecture of the universe?
Yet there is tenderness in the Lord’s approach. He does not list Job’s sins. He does not rehearse hidden transgressions. He does not prosecute him as a criminal. Instead, He teaches. He restores perspective through revelation of Himself in creation.
The greater answer to Job’s suffering is not an explanation of Satan’s accusations, nor a disclosure of heavenly dialogue. The answer is the majesty of God. Creation testifies that the Lord’s wisdom exceeds human comprehension.
Scripture affirms this repeatedly. “The LORD is righteous in all his ways, and holy in all his works” (Psalm 145:17). If He is righteous in all His works, then even the unexplained suffering of the righteous servant is not outside divine goodness.
The eagle soaring above crags, the hawk stretching southward, the war horse charging into battle, the ostrich running in absurd dignity, the wild ox resisting domestication, the mountain goat birthing in hidden cliffs, all proclaim one truth. The Creator governs with wisdom beyond human calculation.
Job is not being crushed. He is being invited to trust.
