What is the message of the book of Job for us today? First, our faith is sure to be tested. Pain may be inevitable, but misery is to an extent optional. We have no control over the weather that surrounds our lives, but we can do something about the climate of our inner life. What happens to us is less important than what happens in us.

As well as being inspired Scripture, the book of Job is one of the literary masterpieces of the world. We don’t know who the author was, but the setting is in the days of the patriarchs.
Job was a wealthy, influential man with a well-deserved reputation for uprightness and integrity: he “feared God and turned away from evil” (1:1). The Accuser (Satan), however, claims that Job serves God only because God protects him and grants him prosperity: “Stretch out your hand and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face” (1:11).
God accepts the challenge, to show that the accusation is false. He allows a series of disasters that result in the loss of everything Job possesses—livestock, servants, and, finally, his own sons and daughters.
Though grief-stricken, Job does not curse or renounce God, as the Accuser had claimed he would. Instead, he bows before God in worship, saying:
“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (1:21).
Job had withstood the Accuser’s first assault, showing that his worship of God was not governed by self-interest. Though stripped of everything, he still trusted in God.
But the Accuser still doubts that Job’s faith will hold firm under all circumstances: “Stretch out Your hand and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse you to your face” (2:5). Again, God permits Satan to afflict Job, this time in body, provided only his life is spared (2:6). Job is afflicted with “loathsome sores” all over (2:7). His wife advises him to “curse God and die” (2:9). But Job gives this magnificent reply: “Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” (2:10).
Job’s “Comforters”
The second assault had failed. Now the Accuser fades out of the picture, and Job’s three ‘friends’—Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar—come to mourn with him and comfort him. So wretched is Job’s condition, they barely recognize him. “They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great” (2:13).
At the end of that time, Job vents his emotions:
“Why did I not die at birth, come out from the womb and expire?… For then … I would have been at rest” (3:11–13).
That most mysterious question, ‘Why?’, is now on Job’s lips, as for many since.
His three friends now begin to speak. Three times each in turn addresses Job, who promptly replies, pouring out his agony of spirit. At first, they deal gently with him, expressing surprise that one so noted for his faith and encouragement of others should break down and find God’s treatment of him so discouraging (4:3–5).
As Job continues to answer in defence of his integrity, his friends become increasingly impatient with him. Their main proposition is that all individual suffering is the result of that individual’s sin (4:7–8; 8:4; 11:13–15). Since Job’s suffering is so great, his sin must be very great indeed.
Job agrees that he is not without sin (7:21; 9:2), but wants his day in court, to prove that whatever peccadilloes he may have unwittingly committed in the past, the extent of his suffering is out of all proportion. But in his despair Job doubts that God would even bother to give him a hearing (9:16). Instead, God would overwhelm him with His superior wisdom and power (9:3–4,17–19). Job desperately longs for a mediator—someone who will argue his case and testify to his innocence before God (9:33–34).
Now and then amid his lamentation and agony, Job strikes the note of hope. He expresses an assurance that God Himself will be his Vindicator, if not in this life, then in the life to come:
“I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another” (19:25–27).
The debate rages back and forth, with neither Job nor his friends prepared to shift position. Eventually they reach a complete impasse. The three friends are silent at last because Job, despite his terrible afflictions, has insisted on his innocence (32:1).
Job’s friends—no doubt exhausted and frustrated—are unable to bring him round to their view and have no more to say. At this point the reader is ready to hear from God Himself. But instead, there is a series of speeches from Elihu (Chapters 32–37).
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An excellent example of the tendency to adopt ideas that are known to be false and yet are made the basis of policy is the Scottish government’s bill to reduce the legal obstacles to sex change. The bill proposed that adolescents from the age of sixteen could change their sex (for all legal purposes) without having to undergo any medical examination or treatment, and simply after completing three months of living as the sex that they desired to be.

One of the peculiarities of our age is the ferocity with which intellectuals and politicians defend propositions that they do not—because they cannot—believe to be true, so outrageous are they, such violence do they do to the most obvious and evident truth. Agatha Christie (a far greater psychologist than Sigmund Freud), drew attention almost a century ago to the phenomenon when she had Dr. Sheppard, the protagonist and culprit of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd say, “It is odd how, when you have a secret belief of your own which you do not wish to acknowledge, the voicing of it by someone else will rouse you to a fury of denial. I burst immediately into indignant speech.”
Among the propositions defended with such suspect ferocity is that men can change straightforwardly and unambiguously into women, and vice versa. Now everyone accepts that they can change into something different from ordinary men and women, and can live as if they were of the opposite of their birth sex; moreover, there is no reason to abuse or otherwise maltreat them if they do, and kindness and human decency require that we do not humiliate them or make their lives more difficult than they are. But this is not at all the same as claiming that those who take hormones and have operations actually are the sex that they choose, or that it is right to enshrine untruth in law and thereby force people to assent to what they know to be false. That way totalitarianism lies.
To propound and defend ideas that you know are false is intellectually and morally frivolous, but it lacks the usual enjoyment that frivolity is supposed to supply. It is combined with earnestness but not with seriousness: one thinks of the Austrian saying under the Habsburgs, “the situation is catastrophic but not serious.”
An excellent example of the tendency to adopt ideas that are known to be false and yet are made the basis of policy is the Scottish government’s bill to reduce the legal obstacles to sex change. The bill proposed that adolescents from the age of sixteen could change their sex (for all legal purposes) without having to undergo any medical examination or treatment, and simply after completing three months of living as the sex that they desired to be.
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I am convinced that removing the present wording of the statute of limitations in BCO 32-20 will lead to other serious problems and unintended consequences.  The proposed amendment will potentially open up members to harassment by the courts; it will allow the shepherding from elders to become lax; it will allow courts to settle for evidence that has been corrupted by time but fits a preconceived narrative; and, ultimately, it will harass and harm untold members of our congregations.

Removing the “Statute of Limitations” from the Book of Church Order (BCO) of the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA) is a serious matter, and I am concerned that last summer’s General Assembly hastily began that process without counting the costs.  If we move forward with the proposed substitute to BCO 32-20, I fear there will be significant unintended consequences.  I write in hopes that Presbyters across the PCA will better appreciate the wisdom of having a statute of limitations and, with Anton Heuss, I hope that the proposed replacement of BCO 32-20 will NOT be approved and that better language will be put forward.
As it stands today, BCO 32-20 begins, “Process, in case of scandal, shall commence within the space of one year after the offense was committed, unless it has recently become flagrant.”  This amounts to what some, including the SJC and an important commentator, have called a “Statute of Limitations” for church discipline,[1] at least for cases of “scandal.”  The new proposal sent to Presbyteries for their advice and consent removes this language altogether and only codifies the right the accused already has to object to indictments and names “degradation of evidence” as one possible ground for objection.[2]
Overture 22, which gave rise to the proposed language, and Howie Donahoe, the esteemed moderator of the 47th GA, raise a number of objections to the current BCO 32-20, but neither account for the significant costs of removing a statute of limitations altogether.  Nevertheless, I share their concern about abuse and other private sins that are not immediately known or discovered.  I wholeheartedly agree with criticisms of the current BCO 32-20 on this point, but this does not warrant overthrowing a statute of limitations altogether when an exception could be built into the BCO that provides a way to bring before the court cases of past abuse.
We need to remember why we have a statute of limitations in the first place, and I posit that there are at least three significant reasons to retain a statute of limitations for church discipline.

To Protect the Accused

A statute of limitations protects every member of the PCA from all kinds of harassment by the courts.  If a court declines to bring charges against a person, it can’t hold the possibility of charges over that person’s head in perpetuity.
Consider another situation.  Suppose a pastor or Session believes a church member is guilty of a particular sin, and, with a clear conscience, the church member does not believe he has committed it.  Or suppose a church member believes he is repentant of a certain sin, but his elders don’t think so.  What happens then?  Often in cases like these, the church member hears continual, frank, and strong counsel about how he needs to own up to his sin or to biblically repent of it.  The shepherds are doing what they believe is right: rebuking strongly from time to time, bearing with the individual over the long haul in a “pastoral” manner, calling him to be faithful to Scripture’s teaching, and seeking to keep the rest of the church pure from the potential defilement of sin.
But the actions of the elders wear down the church member. The elders don’t want to bring charges, so they are “patient.”  They don’t realize how the church member feels like the life is being squeezed out of him.  In these cases, forbearance isn’t the answer.  When the church member and Session legitimately disagree after prayerful dialogue and counsel, the pastoral answer is not to wait it out and hope the church member changes his mind.  The loving and right thing is often for the Session to bring charges.  From the Session’s perspective, he is in conscious sin, and it must be addressed immediately.  From the church member’s perspective, he has the right to have his case heard not just by his Session, but also to have it reviewed by the higher courts of the church.  It is a merciful thing that the church member has his day in court to vindicate himself and to appeal to higher courts for assistance.  We are Presbyterians, and this is Presbyterianism at its best.  This is good for both the Session and the church member because there will be resolution to the disagreement.
A statute of limitations requires Sessions to bring charges sooner rather than later.  It protects the accused from a forbearance in the name of pastoral kindness that ends up being harmful.  Where legitimate disagreement exists, a statute of limitations puts an end to it by requiring action, and it protects the accused from all kinds of potential harassment by the courts of the church.

To Encourage Diligent Shepherding

If a court is not able to bring a charge on day 366, it is forced to be diligent in shepherding its flock in the first 365 days after a disciplinable offense takes place.  When a court knows that a sin cannot be addressed through process after one year, a statute of limitations actually compels action.  We want to encourage the shepherds of the church to conscientiously care for the hurting and wandering sheep and not to let a sheep walk away from the fold for years before beginning the process of bringing him back.
When someone commits an offence of the sort that often gives rise to formal discipline, it often takes several months for the dust to settle, for the church to understand what happened, and for the offender and the offended parties to appreciate the fallout.  The spiritual realities are not usually immediately clear.  So the statute of limitations ought not be too short to require the court to act before it can shepherd the parties through these early days and gain clarity of the situation.  But it seems that a year has been plenty of time in the PCA to understand what happened, counsel the parties, assess their responses, and determine if formal process is fitting.  These situations are difficult, and courts must be diligent shepherds to adequately care for its members.  A statute of limitations requires them to be engaged intentionally from day one, and that is a good thing.

To Ensure Accurate Evidence

As time goes on, the quality of evidence degrades.  Memories fade.  Witnesses move away, die, or otherwise disappear.  Documentary evidence, whether digital or physical, corrupts or goes missing.  The immediacy of the offence is lost to time, and the accuracy of the remaining testimony decreases in quality.  Overture 22 admits as much.  Of course, there is no certain time where good evidence goes bad, but the principle still stands:  It is better to call upon witnesses and use evidence when it is as fresh as possible so that the accuracy and truthfulness of that testimony is best preserved and conveyed.
Additionally, the further one is from an event, the easier it is to falsify documents or to produce fraudulent testimony.  We minimize the risk of false accusations if we maintain a statute of limitations.
The substitute proposal includes an encouragement to courts to not entertain an indictment if the evidence has been too degraded, but such a question is far too subjective and could easily be answered to accord with the court’s view of the merits of the case.  I question the wisdom of placing this as the only named backstop on the court’s ability to do adjudicate ancient cases.  A bright-line statute of limitations takes this question out the hands of the court in the interests of fairness.
Conclusion
While I deeply appreciate the concern about some alleged offenses that may not be immediately known, I am convinced that removing the present wording of the statute of limitations in BCO 32-20 will lead to other serious problems and unintended consequences.  The proposed amendment will potentially open up members to harassment by the courts; it will allow the shepherding from elders to become lax; it will allow courts to settle for evidence that has been corrupted by time but fits a preconceived narrative; and, ultimately, it will harass and harm untold members of our congregations.
There are better ways to word an amendment to handle the problem of alleged offenses in the church than to remove a reasonable and limited time period altogether, avoiding throwing the proverbial baby out with the bathwater.
I urge Presbyteries to vote against the proposed amendment to BCO 32-20 and then let us find a better solution to the perceived problem.  Concerned members of the PCA can work to make sure a better alternative isn’t too far away.
Jason Piland is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and serves as Associate Pastor of Redeemer (PCA) in Hudson, Ohio.

[1] See, e.g., Grace RPC Session v. Heartland Presbytery, Case No. 93-14, M23GA, 113–121; Morton H. Smith, Commentary on the Book of Church Order of the Presbyterian Church in America, 5th ed. (Greenville: Southern Presbyterian, 2004), 313.
[2] The full text of the proposal is as follows:
The accused or a member of the court may object to the consideration of a charge, for example, if he thinks the passage of time since the alleged offense makes fair adjudication unachievable.  The court should consider factors such as the gravity of the alleged offense as well as what degradations of evidence and memory may have occurred in the intervening period.