JOB 2
MRS. JOB
Skin for skin!
All that a man has he will give for his life.
—Job 2:4
The old man pointed his finger to the next line:
Then Satan answered the Lord and said, “Skin for skin! All that a man has he will give for his life. But stretch out Your hand and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse You to Your face.”10
“Oh, brother,” said the boy. “So much for that silver lining.”
“So much indeed,” said the man. “Job’s resistance delivers a stinging setback to Satan, so Satan asks God to ease up on the chains. ‘Pah!’ he says, acting unimpressed. ‘We merely haven’t gone far enough. A man in good health has hardly been tested at all. His wealth and his children were a scratch on the surface. But strike a man’s own well-being and he’ll surely turn his back on You!’”
“What does that mean exactly, ‘skin for skin’?” said the boy, advancing another pawn.
“It’s something of a proverbial expression along the lines of ‘tooth for tooth’ or ‘tit for tat,’ except not in line with retaliation. Satan means that to keep his own ‘skin’ intact, a man will readily sacrifice the ‘skin’ of another, even those dearest to him. He asserts that Job never complained because of the selfish fear of exposing his own life to danger. So Satan insists these calamities were just child’s play, that physical pain is much more grievous to the human soul. Job would be more than willing to go on praising God if it spares his own well-being, but afflict his body in a way that puts him on death’s door, and Job will reveal his true character, cursing God if it helps him to purchase health again. What Satan’s getting at is how God didn’t allow a test nearly severe enough with the current restrictions. But change the rules of the game, and we’ll squeeze a curse out of Job.”
“God isn’t gonna allow this, is He?” said the boy. “Read the part where He comes to His senses and says, ‘No, no. Job has suffered enough. I think we proved our point murdering his whole family.’”
“Afraid not,” said the man, shaking his head as he read the next line:
The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, he is in your hands. But you must spare his life.”11
“Oh, come on,” said the boy. “That’s just rude.”
“Not just rude, kid. Ruthless. As you said, we would hope God would come to mankind’s defense here, bring this all to a halt, and say, ‘Enough is enough. The man has suffered more than most will in a lifetime.’ But again, we’re shocked as God slackens the grip on Satan’s leash and grants even more chilling permissions. ‘Just don’t kill him,’ He says. ‘Anything else is fair game.’”
“Thanks for nothin’, God.”
“You know, kid. Here, I almost have to agree with you. Take my children and everything I own, and I’m not sure I could have held on to my integrity like Job. But take away my health on top of everything else? I’d imagine whatever’s left of my faith would be slipping from my grasp. But God moves the boundary toward the edge of Job’s tolerance anyway.”
“He’s a bit of a taker-backer, isn’t He?” said the boy. “How is He gonna let Satan smooth talk Him into torturing Job even more than he has? God just said they set out to destroy him for no reason. And now He casually says, ‘Just don’t kill him’? Seems like Job is proving to be morally superior to God here.”
The man’s eyebrows perked up. “Well, I’m not sure if I dare go as far as agree with you there, but I see the point you’re trying to make.”
The boy folded his arms. “So what happens?”
With a nod, the man looked down to read:
So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.12
The boy rolled his eyes as he shook his head in silence.
“As if the bottom of his life dropping out wasn’t enough,” said the man, “Job is now cursed with what some speculate to be elephantiasis, or an extreme form of leprosy. One boil is enough to cause a man pain and distress, but the emergence of this condition from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet would have been unbearable. The skin becomes encrusted and hard, scabby and dark, with painful cracks all over. It’s said to attack the limbs first, then gradually spread over the whole body until the swelling is so severe it creates the resemblance of an elephant’s legs. It’s hideous to behold, for it gives a man the appearance of an animal. Back then, as believed of all forms of leprosy, this would have been considered contagious with prolonged exposure and required separation from society. All of these circumstances would deeply injure this man of former rank and dignity. Job couldn’t sit, stand, or lie down for a moment of the day without being reminded of this by the pain. And knowing Satan, more than likely, the only thing spared was Job’s tongue, so that he may yell out and curse God anytime he needs.”
“I’m sorry,” said the boy, “but at this point, he should. That’s messed up. And again, I have to bring up the point that God brought this on.”
“And how’s that?” said the man.
“Look, in these holy councils, Satan doesn’t speak until spoken to. You already mentioned God returned a subtle jab, but you failed to mention He did so at Job’s expense. You’re over here like, ‘Yeah! One for the home team!’ But in reality, God doesn’t have any skin in the game here. He’s like, ‘Oh? Does that make you angry, Satan? And what are you gonna do about it?’ Knowing full well He’s not the one that has to deal with elephant… whateverus.”
“Elephantiasis.”
“Like I said. Point is, God egged Satan on. Maybe if God were more mature, He would have dropped the whole thing after watching Job suffer the way he did. But nooo, He’s gotta rub it in Satan’s face knowing full well Satan will come back and torture Job even more. If God’s standing in Job’s corner like you said, He’s really just there to taunt Satan and make it worse for Job.”
The man drew in a long breath to mull it over. “Whereas in the former gathering I can concede how it’s possible Satan came only to observe, here we know Satan had a bone to pick with God about His restrictions. The, well, excuse me, but the elephant in the room had to be addressed.”
The boy’s face slumped into a frown. “I bet you’re real proud of that one, aren’t you?” He shook his head at the old man. “Seriously, though. God saw what happened last time He asked Satan about Job, so what did He think was gonna happen this time? As if Satan would just roll over and say, ‘Oh yeah, God, you were totally right. Turns out Job was a pretty good guy. My bad.’ No. God’s all-knowing. He knew what would happen. Which makes God equally to blame for Job’s suffering as Satan. He’s a co-conspirator as far as I’m concerned.”
“Yes, well, we can dodge the problem by saying that while God gives permission, He’s not really responsible for what Satan does. But—”
“That’s just like you, dodging the problem. But I don’t want to dodge the pro—”
“Hold on, hold on,” said the man. “Let me finish.”
The boy offered his palm toward the man.
“The fact that God is ultimately in control may prompt us to praise Him, but it may also lead to a sense of dread. I know I’ve had the experience where the issue wasn’t believing God to be in control, but rather secretly doubting His ability to work out a scenario I might find favorable. How many times have I questioned, ‘Why this?’ or, ‘Why that?’ when down the road I could see what it was all for. I don’t think we doubt that God is in control, but in a moment of pain, we doubt whether He knows what our best interests are.”
“Tell that to Job’s children who had their heads squashed like grapes. After the first round of casualties, God didn’t exactly put the brakes on and say, ‘You took that a bit far now, didn’t you, Satan?’ No. He said, ‘Well, I’m sure that was in their best interest. Carry on then.’”
“Look,” said the man, “I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I know how difficult it is to wrap your head around this story. I’ve wrestled with it for years. I think the reader loses just as much hair as Job with all the head scratching that occurs mulling this one over. But like I said, we’ll hear from God soon enough.”
“Let’s just get there then,” said the boy. “This is ridiculous.”
“I hesitate to tell you it gets worse before it gets better.”
“Again? You gotta be kidding me.”
“I’m not,” said the man, looking down to read:
Then Job took a piece of broken pottery to scrape himself while he sat among the ashes.13
His wife said to him, “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”14
The man looked up to see the boy shaking his head again. “There’s much to unpack in these two lines.”
“There sure is,” said the boy. “Let’s start with that bitch wife of his.”
“Hold your horses,” said the man. “And easy with the language.” He gave the boy a glare before moving on. “The line before is crucial to paint the scene. When it says ‘the ashes,’ it’s not merely a metaphor for the condition of Job’s life. As we’ve already discussed, Job was dealing with this horrible disease. But if you recall, I also mentioned a level of contagiousness that requires separation from society. ‘The ashes’ refer to something like a city dump, as we call it, located outside of town. It was a place where rubbish and human excrement were dropped off and burned. This became Job’s place of existence, like the other rejects and beggars and lepers who probably dwelled there, with stray dogs fighting over scraps to eat and the like. Job was now living in abject poverty and shame. All he had left was his beloved wife.”
“Yeah, and she was certainly kind enough to pay a visit,” said the boy. “But honestly, not even the worst advice at this point. Maybe he should just roll over and die.”
“How sad that was,” said the man. “Wives can certainly heed a lesson from Job’s wife here. But before we get to that, I’d like to say that I once shared your point of view on Mrs. Job. Long before I was married myself, that is, and with a slightly less colorful description.” The old man gave the boy another stern look, but the boy stood his ground. “While we don’t hear much from her, and in fact, this is her only line, we have to remember that Mrs. Job also just lost her wealth and children.”
The boy’s stiffened demeanor eased, and he unfolded his arms. He looked down at the board and idly played with the pawn he’d removed earlier.
“Exactly,” said the man. “The story puts such an emphasis on Job that it’s easy to forget that his wife is a human being at the mercy of emotions herself. For starters, she enjoyed a long run at the side of ‘the greatest man of the East.’ A lifestyle such as this comes with perks and a sense of honor. All that Job lost was hers to lose as well. She was no longer a shining figure in the community but suddenly the pathetic wife of a bum who dwelled in the dump. She dropped from lavish living to an outcast in a day. Not to mention, she’d lost her life partner as she knew him to a horrible depression and disease. She probably feared living alone for the rest of her life without the man she loved. No more conversations and companionship, no more lovemaking by the fire. The marriage and romance she once enjoyed were now gone. But most importantly, until we’ve lost every one of our children in a single blow, let’s refrain from saying anything critical of someone going through that level of grief. It seems as though she blurted this out amidst the struggle of coping with her own losses.”
The boy gave a nod. “I take back what I said. I was caught up in the emotion myself.”
“I’d like you to keep that in mind when we get to Job’s reply,” said the man, “because Job could have let emotion fly back in his wife’s face as well. But we’ll get to his composure soon enough. First, I’d like to point out two things.
“One is the lesson that significant others can take away from this singular line Job’s wife had to offer. Yes, Mrs. Job had experienced the same awful disasters her husband had, arguably even more so as the person who gave birth to those children. And yes, she’s entitled to feel and express whatever emotions she’s going through. But the lesson here is that taking anger and frustration out on your spouse will do nothing but make you feel more alone in this world. Her husband was now in the darkest hour of his life, with disease and exile to suffer through on top of familial tragedy, but telling him to abandon his faith and kick the bucket is nothing short of cruel and inexcusable. Job surely needed his wife’s love and support then more than he ever had. And sure, Mr. and Mrs. Job may have had their tiffs here and there. It’s a marriage, isn’t it? But the fact that they’ve raised ten children while amassing such a level of wealth is a testimony to a flourishing relationship. These two have fought the good fight for decades. But now, in their most trying hour, Mrs. Job breaks down.
“Mr. Job is already drowning in pain and humiliation. Now his suffering is made worse as he’s emotionally abandoned by his own wife. In the lonely hours of a man’s greatest trial, no one’s words mean more to him than his spouse. Yet when Job struggles most to hold fast to his integrity, his wife says, ‘Why bother? Just give up.’ What he needed her to say was, ‘Hold on, Job! We’ll get through this together.’ When husbands lose their way, it’s their beloved wives that help them find the way back. Partners would be wise to guard their words while their significant other is going through hard times. That’s when we need emotional support and prayer more than ever. Job’s wife did exactly the opposite. She told Job to compromise his integrity, something that’s hard enough to sustain without the temptation to compromise it uttered by your wife. Enduring hard times will grind a man down, making us vulnerable. A state in which we might fall to such tempting suggestions. Which brings me to my second point.
“For those of us going through troubling times like Job, you never know what means Satan might employ to snatch you at your weakest hour. Naturally, Job would have looked to his wife to lean on in those times, so that’s exactly who Satan cast under his spell in hopes of hitting him where it hurt most. When speaking to God, Satan tells Him to ‘strike his flesh and bones.’ ‘Bones’ meaning Satan doesn’t just want to attack Job’s physical self, but his emotional self as well. He’s already gone after Job’s flesh, but here was an attempt to break his spirit. Job’s wife being spared at first appears to be part of a silver lining, but when she turns into a troubler and tempter of Job, well, that silver lining turns out not to be so silver after all.”
The boy took an unenthusiastic turn on the board.
“I believe it’s my turn,” said the man, and the boy pulled back his move. “And not to revisit water under the bridge, but since you brought it up before, doesn’t the manipulation of Job’s wife luring him into temptation sound vaguely familiar with what happened with Adam in the garden of Eden?”
The boy looked skyward for a moment before he gave a long, slow nod.
“Mhm,” said the man. “So the only thing silver around here seems to be the serpent’s tongue.”
“Alright, now you’re just gettin’ cocky,” said the boy.
“There they were,” said the man, “Satan and all his minions, peering on from behind piles of burning rubbish, watching Mrs. Job lean over and speak the same words Satan whispered in her ear before. ‘Why don’t you just curse God and die!’
“Oh, what a sucker punch that must have been,” said the man. “Back in the metaphorical ring, it’s the blow that broke poor old Job’s nose. All while Satan’s cheering section full of minions goes wild, watching Job stagger about on the ropes. Satan’s gloves go up in the air, breathing in the applause as he turns his back on Job, expecting him to drop for the count any second. But no. Dear old Job has more fight in him yet, as he finds his balance and wipes off the blood trickling down his chin. He smacks his gloves together and says, ‘Come on, Satan. I’m ready for more.’”
The man looked down and read Job’s response:
“You are speaking as one of the foolish women speaks. Shall we actually accept good from God but not accept adversity?” Despite all this, Job did not sin with his lips.15
“And so Satan turns around to find Job still standing,” said the man, “and he’s appalled, as are the minions in the crowd who fall into silent disbelief.”
“As much as I love the imagery,” said the boy, “there’s no mention of minions anywhere in there.” Then he pointed to the board and said, “Make your move.”
The old man nodded and peered into the pieces as the boy went on.
“I could just as easily paint a picture of God high-fiving angels in the stands like, ‘Yeah! Take that! No big deal we crushed some innocent children with a house.’ Then He swirls His finger in the air and says, ‘Bartender! Next round of holy water on Me.’ You know what I’m saying? I think you’ve been watching too many cartoons with this devilish production of minions in your sermon. All these comments from the peanut gallery aside, how do you know it’s Satan speaking through Job’s wife anyway?”
“Fine, fine,” said the man, smacking his queen down into play. “But just look at the language used. It mirrors Satan’s exchange with God exactly. ‘Holding on to integrity,’ ‘Curse God and die’? You think that’s a coincidence? The Devil’s slickest device is to speak through a voice mistaken for someone you love. Job’s wife was an instrument employed by Satan to tempt Job into abandoning his faith. That was the sound of the bell for round three if I’ve ever heard one.”
“I’ll give you points for creativity,” said the boy, “but let’s move on to the part where God speaks on the matter.”
“Very well then,” said the man. “On we go.” And with that, he looked down to his Bible.
“Actually, wait,” said the boy.
The man looked up again with surprise.
“Just to play devil’s advocate here, or, I guess, non-devil’s advocate, let’s assume she wasn’t inhabited by Satan. I mean, she’s kinda got a point.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“I mean, if something like this can happen, what’s the point of being so religious in the first place? I’m guessing she was just as religious as Job, assuming he has the standards to settle down with someone on the same page anyway. So if I was her, having to endure labor ten times and then all of a sudden that slate is wiped clean, I’d be pretty upset too, ya know? Like you said, at this point they assume it’s God making all this happen. Which, technically, He’s responsible anyway. So why should someone go on suffering through this physical disease on top of everything? What else is there to live for? Everything you worked for your entire life is gone. Is there even a point to starting over? Maybe she was just speaking out of sympathy while watching her husband sit in despair and couldn’t bear it any more. Maybe it was like the old dog my parents used to have, limping around the house with arthritis and cancer, barely able to eat because his teeth were rotting away. How long should you drag out the inevitable before, well, you know, one day someone takes old Sparky for a ride and that’s the last you see of him?”
“But clearly, there was still some fight left in Job,” said the man.
“I’m not so sure, man. The more I put myself in Mrs. Job’s shoes, the more I see a shell of my former husband. The big, strong farmer guy who’s the richest man in the East is now moping around the town dump, playing with pottery. What a sorry sight, ya know? I’m starting to side with her on this one. I think she has the right to be angry at God. Meanwhile, sorry old Job is like, ‘I love God so much I’ll just bend over and take it with praise!’ She’s probably wondering what kind of man she married, like, ‘Did I really have ten kids with that guy?’”
“I beg your pardon, my boy, but Job’s reaction is a reflection of his righteousness and piety. We can all learn a lesson about maintaining our faith and integrity from Job.”
“Are you sure though?” said the boy. “Seems like you think God is some kind of baby that can’t handle a little anger? What, He’s such a fragile maiden that He doesn’t want people speaking their minds? Job’s reaction is kind of lame, honestly. It’s like, come on, dude. Grow a pair. Show God a little emotion here, won’t ya? Show him you’re still a man with some piss and vinegar in you. Stand up for yourself instead of sitting in a heap of ashes licking your wounds. ‘What the hell, God? What was that all about?’ At least ask the questions. Where’s the fight for justice and morality in this world?”
“Kid, God deserves our utmost love and resp—”
“I know, I know, but look at things from God’s perspective, will ya? He volunteers Job to see what kind of fight His creation puts up against Satan and this is the result? Some bum at the dump, ‘accepting adversity,’ to use Job’s words? Without so much as a curse? This is God’s mighty warrior? Shit, He may as well have put a punching bag in there. Or Mrs. Job, for that matter. At least she’s a bit scrappy. But Job, man. He’s ready to pull his pants down at a moment’s notice. If he even wears pants. Seems like Mrs. Job has that responsibility. If I were God, I’d feel a tad embarrassed, honestly. Probably why He’s been so quiet in response to Job’s praises lately.”
“Are you trying to ruin these stories for me?” said the man. “Because you’re doing a fine job. First, the Prince of Darkness is just some ticket cop, and now our hero is being diminished to a punching bag.”
“I’m just offering an alternate perspective,” said the boy, “that’s all. It’s like you said, Job doesn’t even know he’s dealing with Satan. He thinks he’s in the ring with God breaking his nose. He’s stumbling on the ropes, yeah, but he’s not saying, ‘I’m ready for another round, Satan.’ He’s saying, ‘Thank you, God! I wish I had a hundred noses for you to punch in! I wish I had a thousand children for you to slaughter!’ It’s gross, is all I’m saying. I’m just not so sure God cares for all this groveling all the time, ya know? Nobody respects a broken brown-noser.”
“What are you, some kind of Satan apologist?” said the man. “This is preposterous. I’m not even going to agree to disagree with you here. It’s just wrong.”
“Whatever, man. Let’s just hear what God has to say about all of it then.”
“I’m sorry to tell you, but we’re quite a long way from hearing from God.”
“What the hell, man? Is Satan coming back for more? How much is God going to allow?”
“No, no. We’re done with Satan. Next we—”
“See what I mean?”
“Oh, what are you blathering on about now?” said the man.
“Even Satan couldn’t stand to be around Job anymore. He’s all, ‘Oh, thank you, thank you! Torture me more!’ and Satan got weirded out. That’s no fun for a bully. They thrive on resistance and tears, not gratitude. He was like, ‘I’m not dealing with this pussy anymore.’”
“Language!”
“I’m just sayin’, Job’s wife dumped him, Satan’s bored of him, and God’s had nothing to say but whatever makes things worse for Job. Nobody likes this guy. He’s a fuckin’ loser.”
Tension hung in the air with the boy’s last words. The man stared long and hard at the boy, unblinking. Then, he drew in a deep and calming breath as he said, “Really, if you can’t tone down the language, I’m going to have to leave.”
“Alright, alright, my bad,” said the boy, looking down at the board to take his turn.
“I can respect your difference in opinion, but there are lines.”
“Sorry,” said the boy, fingering a piece on the board. “I got carried away. Really. What’s next?”
With a deep sigh, the man looked down and began to read.
“Wait,” said the boy, making the move he had eyed.
“Now what?” said the man.
“Let’s say your theory that Job is winning the boxing match with Satan is correct.”
“It’s not a theory,” said the man. “That’s how the story has been understood for hundreds of years.”
The boy paused as he tilted his head to the side. “You know, you look good for your age.”
The man crossed his arms and said, “What are you getting at this time?”
“Oh, nothing,” said the boy. “I’m just saying, for a guy who’s hundreds of years old and knows how this story has been understood from the beginning of time, you look pretty good, that’s all. What was it like living in the East when all this was happening?”
The man pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he took a moment for himself.
“Must’ve been tough living without electricity and al—”
“Alright, alright,” said the man. “My point is that the traditional understanding of the book of Job is that Job remains steadfast in his faith despite the trials of Satan.”
“And my point is that God didn’t exactly choose to throw Mrs. Job into the ring with Satan, now did He?”
The man furrowed his brow and stared at the boy in confusion.
“Look, all I’m sayin’ is that Mr. and Mrs. Job went through roughly the same trials before Mrs. Job broke, right?”
With a pause and a look of skepticism, the man said, “Right.”
“Right. So I’m noticing that when Satan came to the holy council that day, God didn’t exactly say, ‘Have you considered Mrs. Job? She’s the richest woman in the East, and a bit scrappy if you ask me.’”
The man did his best not to crack a smile.
“Why do you think that is?” said the boy.
“I don’t know,” said the man, “because the story is about God’s servant Job, a righteous and upright man, and his wife plays a supplementary role?”
“No, it’s because God already knew Job would win.”
The man furrowed his brow once more.
“This was a fixed game, man. The match was rigged. It’d be like you taking a time machine back to your childhood a thousand years ago and betting on every sports match since then, already knowing the results.”
The man forced a laugh through his nostrils as he rolled his eyes.
“God didn’t pick reasonably righteous Larry or semi-integrity Tom. He picked Job, a guy he knew had so much integrity that he wouldn’t lose. He didn’t say, ‘Have you considered one of my average worshippers like Mrs. Job?’ because He knew she’d fail Satan’s test. He spoke up before Satan had the chance to pick out anyone himself, and He chose Job because the result was in the bag.”
The boy’s words hung in the air for a while before either of them spoke again.
“Checkmate!” said the boy with a smile.
“No, not checkmate,” said the man, mulling over his next words carefully. “While I see your point, this begs the question of whether we strive to be one of God’s average worshippers, or should we strive to be like Job?”
The boy thought about it for a moment. “Well, I guess for the sake of the story, there wouldn’t be much of a lesson for us without him.”
“Exactly,” said the man. “This story is an example of how God’s most loyal followers deal with adversity. And His most loyal followers are often the ones who get tried the hardest. If the story was, ‘Have you considered Mrs. Job?’ and after one trial, she cursed God and died, well…”
The boy began laughing. “Satan would win, and we’d all feel doomed. Alright, alright. Let’s move on.”
The man began laughing himself. “No, it’s fine. I’m glad you brought it up, actually. I had to think about that one, and thinking is always a good thing to do. It was a good segue to wrap up the chapter before we move on.” Then he looked down to read.
“Wait.”
The man’s eyes widened, and he blinked a few times rapidly.
The boy smiled. “You said something about Job’s composure.”
The man furrowed his brow.
“In response to his wife.”
“Oh,” said the man as the lightbulb clicked on. “Good remembering, yes. So whether Job’s wife delivers some mockery toward God or an attempt at counseling her husband toward suicide, Job responds by telling her, ‘You are speaking as one of the foolish women speaks.’ What I meant was we saw how emotional Job’s wife was, so Job could have easily retaliated with his own emotion by saying, ‘What a foolish woman you are!’”
The boy squinted at the man. “I don’t really see the difference.”
“It’s subtle, yes, but remember, this is a man dealing with such unrelenting physical pain that he can hardly sleep, yet even in his condition, he had the composure not to attack her directly. He provides a gentle reminder that she’s speaking as a foolish woman might but that she herself is not a foolish woman. He doesn’t sugarcoat his delivery much, but he does deliver the truth. And you should always be truthful with the ones you love. In effect, he’s saying, ‘No, no, sweetheart. Don’t even go there.’
“Then he goes on to say, ‘Shall we accept good from God but not adversity?’ Meaning we’ve walked with God all this time, we’ve been blessed for many years. Should we abandon our great Benefactor the moment He visits us with pain? Job’s not suggesting we should grin and bear it, per se, but rather that whatever happens, we must continue to love and trust in God. And difficult times, painful as they are, can draw couples closer together. Job sees their situation as an opportunity to teach this lesson to his wife, guiding her back on track from this temporary lapse in the faith she once had. And in all my years, I’ve never met a spiritual woman who said, ‘I have no interest in hearing what my husband has to say about God.’”
“Mhm,” said the boy. “I see what you mean about the composure, but the jury’s still out for me until I hear what God has to say.”
“Shall we get there then?” said the man, examining the board in search of a move.
“Let’s.”
A warm breeze blew through the trees.
“What a day,” said the man, fingering a pawn as he debated where to place it.
“Seriously,” said the boy, watching, anticipating. “Really warmed up from this morning.”
The old man made his move and then looked down into his Bible again. Then he paused, peering up again at the boy through the corners of his eyes.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just listening for anymore waits.”
“No more waits,” said the boy with a smile. “Keep going.”
“In that case,” said the man, “the moral of these chapters is wrapped up with the line, ‘Despite all this, Job did not sin with his lips.’ So, despite all his trials and tribulations and some malicious suggestion to the contrary, Job has proved to be the same righteous and upright man he was at the start. And so the chapter closes with—”
“Wait.”
With a quick and heavy sigh, the man said, “Kid, we’re never gonna get through this.”
“I’m just kidding,” said the boy, wearing a sly grin. “I don’t have anything this time.”
The old man shook his head. “And so the chapter closes with this image of Job, sitting alone among the ashes, scraping his sores with a shard of pottery, surely fighting back the creeping doubts that maybe, just maybe, his wife is right.”
The boy whispered, “I told you,” as the man looked down again to read.