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‘Though He Slay Me’ — Why the Silence on This Verse?
Audio Transcript
Today’s question comes from a podcast host by the name of Tony. It’s from me! I’ve got a question that’s been on my mind, Pastor John. It’s something I’m trying to figure out. It’s about one of the most remarkable statements in the Bible when it comes to this topic of God’s sovereign design in our suffering. Job 13:15 is the text I’m thinking about. Job says, “Though he slay me, I will hope in him.” It’s a remarkable line, made famous in more recent times by Shane and Shane and their incredible and powerful song by that title: “Though You Slay Me.” Years back, Desiring God partnered with them to record a new edition of the music video that featured a sermon clip of yours, a remix we published in APJ 639. The music-video version of that song now has a whopping nine million views on YouTube, and counting!
So here’s my question about Job 13:15. I know you’ve made passing mentions over the years to this phrase “though he slay me,” but I see only one explicit mention of the text in your entire ministry corpus — from one of your earliest sermons, preached seven and a half years before you even became a pastor. It comes in a sermon titled “Your Calamity in 1973,” preached on New Year’s Eve 1972, in Greenville, South Carolina. As we approach another new year, and the fiftieth anniversary of that sermon, I see that you’ve never mentioned the text again in a sermon. And you’ve never tweeted the line either, though it’s a text that seems to be primed for short-form contexts. In mid-November, when your annual Bible-reading trek takes you through Job 13, you’ve tweeted a couple other verses from the chapter (like Job 13:5 and 24), but never Job 13:15. The meaning of the text is debated. So where do you land now? Are you certain, or uncertain, of its meaning? And with such a text that has become synonymous with Desiring God, why the silence? Wow, Tony, with a thorough question today!
“God, in his absolute ownership and sovereignty over all life, appoints the time and the kind of every death.”
The first thing to say is that I love the truth — and it is the truth, spoken from God’s own mouth — that God, in his absolute ownership and sovereignty over all life, appoints the time and the kind of every death of every person on this planet. And this fact of God’s right to give and to take life is not a reason to reject him, but a reason to hope in him. I love that truth, which means that I love the fact that every Christian — owned by the Creator, doubly owned by the Redeemer — can say and should say, “Though he slay me, I will hope in him” (Job 13:15). Yes, we can say that. We should say that.
Job’s God-Exalting Theology
That is the ESV of Job 13:15. It is virtually the same as the NIV, virtually the same as the NASB and the KJV. If the declaration that God slays — that is, takes the life of his own precious children — and I don’t doubt that Job was a precious, blood-bought child of God, the blood of Jesus going back over the Old Testament and covering all the saints’ sins, as it says in Romans 3:25. I don’t doubt that. If that declaration, that God takes the life of his people — and that while he does it, we ought to keep hoping in him, trusting in him, loving him, treasuring him — seems foreign to us, or unbiblical to us, or contrary to God’s nature, then we have not been paying attention to our Bibles or thinking rightly about what we are reading, including the book of Job.
In the very first chapter of Job, God takes the life — you could use the word kills — all ten of Job’s children. Job saw this. He saw this, and he confessed that fact, tore his clothes, shaved his head, fell on the ground, and said, “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” (Job 1:21). That’s a breathtaking statement of worship. “The Lord has taken my ten children away. Blessed be his name.”
Sometimes people say, “Yeah, but Job was a bad theologian at that point.” No, the inspired writer comments in the next verse that Job “did not sin” with his lips when he said that, as if he knew what people would think when they read it (Job 1:22). It was true, godly worship. Then, in Job 12:10, Job said, “In [God’s] hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.” God owns all things. He has absolute rights over all living things. He gives and he takes when and how he decides in his infinite wisdom. This is part of what it means to be God, the Creator and sustainer and governor of all things. Deuteronomy 32:39 says (this is God talking), “See now that I, even I, am he, and there is no god beside me; I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.”
More Than the Sparrows
Now, Tony, you know that I wrote a book on providence recently. Fifty pages of that book are devoted to this one single biblical reality. It’s section 5, called “Providence Over Life and Death.” Dozens and dozens of texts say this, like James 4:15. Don’t presume upon tomorrow. “Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.’” If the Lord wills, John Piper will live to the end of this podcast. If the Lord does not will it, then this microphone goes silent, and you’re going to wonder what happened. Another minute of life, and it’s the Lord’s will or not. If he wills, we live. If he doesn’t will it, we die.
So whether the text of Job 13:15 has become synonymous with Desiring God, the reality has. And I am glad because it is true and it is glorious. I mean, really, whom would you like to be in charge of your martyrdom or your cancer? Satan? You want Satan to be in charge of your cancer? You want fate to be in charge of your cancer — meaningless, mindless, purposeless forces of nature?
It is a glorious thing that not a single sparrow falls from the sky apart from our Father in heaven. And how much more certainly does he govern the death of his precious children? Even the hairs of our head are all numbered. “Fear not,” Jesus says, “you are of more value than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:28–31).
So it is our joy at Desiring God to say, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26). We love to say, “To live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). We love to say, “away from the body and at home with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8). We love to say, “The steadfast love of the Lord is better than life” (see Psalm 63:3) — better than being kept alive.
So, the sentence “Though he slay me, yet I will trust him” is a beautiful expression of reality and biblical faith. God does take the life of his people. And they have every reason to keep on hoping in him, not in spite of that fact, but because of that fact — namely, that he is the all-wise, all-loving, purposeful God, doing nothing from any mistake or any lack of wisdom or any lack of love. Satan doesn’t have the final power over death. Disease doesn’t have the final power over death. Natural disasters don’t have the final power over death. Life and death are in the hand of God, finally. And he is our Father and our Redeemer. By the blood of his Son, he reached back and covered all our sins. And by the resurrection of his Son, he has conquered death.
‘I Have No Hope’?
The reason, Tony, that I have not made Job 13:15 (“Though he slay me, I will hope in him”) the touchstone of my exultation in this glorious truth of God’s sovereignty and our hope is that I knew that if I put too many eggs in that textual basket, someone could come along and make a plausible case that I’m building on sand, because the RSV, for example, translates the verse like this: “Behold, he will slay me; I have no hope.” That sounds like the very opposite of other translations: “Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him.”
“God’s right to give and to take life is not a reason to reject him, but a reason to hope in him.”
There is a real Hebrew textual problem in this verse. There are two Hebrew variants pronounced exactly alike, namely lōw. One variant has lamed-holem-aleph and means “no.” And the other variant has lamed-holem-vav and means “to him” or “in him.” So the readings are “I have hope in him,” or “I have no hope.” And I have not been able to have certainty in my mind, as I’ve worked and worked over the years on the Hebrew, which one the author intended. If the correct variant is “I have no hope,” it doesn’t have to mean (and I don’t think it would mean), “I have no hope beyond the grave,” because that would contradict Job 19:26: “After my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God.” Job, I do believe, was granted insight into eternal life. All it would mean is, “If God slays me now, my hope for vindication on the earth is over. My hope for restored fortunes is over. It’s gone. Life here is over. I’m not going to have a daughter named Jemimah. It’s over.” And that’s true. That would’ve been true. And it would not have been hopeless — just no hope for vindication here and now.
Now, in conclusion, I think the traditional translation, “Though he slay me, I will hope in him,” is the right one. If you put a gun to my head and said, “You’ve got to vote,” I’m voting for the traditional translation. I’m glad the ESV translates it that way. I know — now I don’t just think — that it expresses biblical truth; the traditional translation expresses biblical truth. But I have chosen, over the years, to defend and exult in that glorious biblical truth from dozens of other passages where I know the rug won’t be pulled out from under my exegetical feet.
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How Do I Make Christian Hedonism My Own?
Audio Transcript
Good Monday morning, everyone. Well, we are Christian Hedonists, and that’s something we have dedicated several episodes to explaining on the podcast. You could look at, for example, APJs 958, 1201, and 1281.
For those of you who want to teach this glorious truth, how do we take Christian Hedonism and make it our own? Or even more broadly asked, how do any of us take the key teachings of others and incorporate them into our ministry so that we’re not simply mimicking our teachers? That’s an important question faced by any budding Christian communicator, writer, teacher, or preacher. And it’s the question today in the inbox.
“Dear Tony and Pastor John, hello to you both! My name is Gabriel, an international student studying in Australia. I praise God for your ministry and for the realities you have pointed to in the Bible, especially in opening my eyes to the connection between our joy and God’s sovereign glory. My question is this: How do I make Christian Hedonism my own, especially when it comes to teaching? I’m young, but I hope to teach one day, maybe even preach the word. But often I find that I’m checking myself to see if I’m simply copying what you said. I see that the realities are there in the text and the Bible, but your ministry is so thorough and wholesome I almost feel I can’t say anything without echoing you. Perhaps I think incorrectly. How can we carry on encouraging, teaching, preaching this reality in our own voice? I would be honored to hear your thoughts.”
Gabriel’s question touches on a tension that every teacher feels when he has found something true and precious in God’s word, and desires that it be seen and loved by others, and that those others, generation after generation, preserve and pass on the truth and the preciousness of the reality that he has seen.
Tension of Treasured Truth
And the tension is this: On the one hand, we want the very thing we have seen in Scripture to be preserved and not distorted or corrupted or lost. And on the other hand, we know that if it is to be preserved for generations, the people that preserve it must have a grasp of it that is deeper than simply imitating the words of those who taught them the reality, showed them the reality. So, there’s a tension between holding fast to what is fixed and having freedom to give fresh and vital expression and application to that fixed reality.
So Gabriel has discovered the truth and the beauty of what we call Christian Hedonism — namely, the thought and the life that flow from the truth that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him. And as he grows in his understanding and seeks to share with others what he’s seen, he finds himself sounding like his teacher, like me in particular. And he wonders if there are steps he can take so that he isn’t what I would call — he didn’t use this language, this is my language — a secondhander, a mimic. We don’t want him to be that; he doesn’t want to be that.
Moving from Imitation to Maturity
Now, what would I point out to Gabriel first if he’s going to be helped beyond being a secondhander? What I would point out to Gabriel first is that he’s probably at a particular point in an inevitable process that moves from discovery, through imitation, through the maturity of creative expression, and onto more and more discovery, and so on.
So his question is really, I think, “How can I move along in a natural process that I’m in?” Let me use an analogy. Compare the mystery and the wonder of how little tiny children learn language. The first thing they do is listen, look, and feel; listen, look, and feel. So you’ve got this two-week-old baby — listen, look, feel, with some very uncreative crying to express inarticulate desires.
And then one day they echo back, “Mama.” “Dada.” You just burst with the thrill that they made the connection between the reality of a person and a word coming out of their mouth: “Mama.” “Dada.” And all of it right now is simply imitation, echoing, copying — but oh, how real it is, right? It’s real. You don’t say, “Oh, he’s just copying me.” This is an awesome point in his development.
And then, within a year or so, an absolutely astonishing thing happens. All of the reality that this baby has been processing quietly (eyes, ears, touch) suddenly comes together, miraculously it seems, in his mind and out comes a sentence — two words, three words — that the baby put together out of his own little head, imitating nobody. Nobody had just spoken that sentence to him. It emerged out of his own mind. Absolutely amazing. And the rest of their lives, they’ll be turning observed and desired reality into sentences, some of which have never been spoken in the history of the world. Amazing.
1. Imitate for a season.
Now that pattern of listening, then echoing, and then creating and ongoing discovery is the way we learn for the rest of our lives. So, my first piece of advice for Gabriel is this: don’t begrudge a season of discovery and imitation. When someone helps you see a reality that you hadn’t seen before, it is inevitable that you will describe the reality in the words of the one who helped you see it. That’s normal; it’s good. But you are right to be concerned that you should not remain in this early phase of understanding and expression. So how do you move on to find your own voice and not lose the reality?
2. Press through words to experience.
So my second piece of advice is that you practice pressing through language to reality, that you never settle for mere words — not my words, not even Bible words. When the Bible speaks, uses words, you press into those words, and through those words, to the reality — the reality of love, the reality of joy, the reality of faith, the reality of Christ, the reality of God. These are not mere words. This is the rock-bottom necessity of not remaining a child or a secondhander.
“Before you can find your authentic voice, you must have an authentic experience.”
Have you tasted the reality expressed in the words of your teacher or the Scriptures? That’s what everyone should ask. Have I tasted the reality, or is it just words? Before you can find your authentic voice, you must have an authentic experience of what you are trying to give voice to. This is a matter of earnest prayer, earnest study. O Lord, “open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law” (Psalm 119:18).
3. Observe the truth from different angles.
The third piece of advice I would give is that you not only press through your teacher’s words to that reality, but that you be constantly on the lookout in Scripture for more reality — realities that when they are brought together with the reality of Christian Hedonism will cause you to see it in fresh light, and the diamond will reveal more of its facets than you knew existed, perhaps even more than your teacher has ever seen.
4. Find fresh language for old reality.
The fourth piece of advice I would give is that you make a studied effort to find fresh, faithful, compelling, culturally appropriate language to describe the reality that you have come to love. This studied effort at creative expression will almost certainly go off the rails if the biblical reality is not clearly seen and firmly rooted in Scripture, and gladly embraced with your heart and your mind. Without this, the effort at creativity will almost certainly degenerate into creating new reality, rather than new expressions of old, unchanging reality.
5. Don’t despise tried-and-true expressions.
The fifth piece of advice I would give is that none of us be put off by old, tried-and-true expressions of reality. That is, we shouldn’t feel the need to always be saying things in new ways, as if old ways are inevitably inadequate. Some of the language describing a wonderful reality is so rooted in Scripture, and so well-suited to the reality, and so compelling in its application that it shouldn’t be left behind just because it’s been around for a long time.
“God gave us the language of Christian Hedonism, and we don’t need to be ashamed of repeating his old, happy language.”
“Delight yourself in the Lord” has been around for three thousand years (Psalm 37:4). “Satisfy me in the morning with your steadfast love” has been around for three thousand years (Psalm 90:14). “We have this treasure,” treasure in earthen vessels, has been around for two thousand years (2 Corinthians 4:7). “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice” has been around two thousand years (Philippians 4:4). “In your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” — that’s been around for three thousand years (Psalm 16:11). These aren’t John Piper’s words. God gave us the language of Christian Hedonism, and we don’t need to be ashamed of repeating his old, happy language.
6. Read widely.
And the last thing I would say is that you read widely concerning the things you care about. It is good to find a teacher who shows you things you’ve never seen. It is also good to listen to a half a dozen other teachers who can help you see the same thing from different angles, or other things that put the thing you love in an even brighter perspective.
No Longer a Secondhander
And I’ll just end by saying that in the mid-to-late ’70s, anybody who listened to or looked at the twentysomething John Piper, and also knew his teacher, Dan Fuller — they laughed. They laughed because my mannerisms, my tones of voice, my peculiar expressions, they all echoed my most influential teacher. I didn’t begrudge that. Frankly, I considered it a badge. I liked it. I was very happy to be the inadvertent imitator of the man who showed me so much glory. But I grew out of that, and there came a day when nobody saw me as an imitator anymore.
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You Are Not Nothing: Five Ways to Pursue Real Humility
I recently had the incomparable joy of visiting the Grand Canyon. Though visit isn’t quite the right word, I suppose. You don’t just visit the Grand Canyon — you marvel at it, stand in awe of it, catch your breath before it, and find yourself transfixed and transformed by it. You come away “canyoned” by the juxtaposed emotions of feeling smaller and bigger at the same time. As a Christian, I reveled in knowing that the Creator of such beauty also happens to be the Savior of my soul.
I believe gospel-shaped humility can have similar effects. It makes us feel smaller and bigger at the same time. But only if we have a proper understanding of humility, carefully defined, delineated, displayed, and distinguished — that is, only if we move past some common confusions about humility.
Humility Confused
I’ve heard some Christians say things like, “I’m nothing. I’m just a worm.” Or, “I didn’t do a thing. I’m just an empty vessel.” I don’t think such statements reflect a healthy view of humility. The New Testament calls us saints and God’s children and goes out of its way to declare just how loved, redeemed, and blessed we are. Our new identity cannot square with “I’m nothing.”
It’s easy to get confused about humility. Consider how C.S. Lewis put these directions into the mouth of Screwtape, the senior demon in charge of training a new tempter:
Your patient has become humble; have you drawn his attention to the fact? . . . Catch him at the moment when he is really poor in spirit and smuggle into his mind the gratifying reflection, “By jove! I’m being humble,” and almost immediately pride — pride at his own humility — will appear. If he awakes to the danger and tries to smother this new form of pride, make him proud of his attempt — and so on, through as many stages as you please. But don’t try this too long, for fear you awake his sense of humor and proportion, in which case he will merely laugh at you and go to bed. (The Screwtape Letters, 69)
Humility Defined
Merriam-Webster defines humility as “freedom from pride or arrogance.” But that leaves us needing another definition — one for pride. And we need the Bible’s authority, not the dictionary’s, to help us most.
“Humility is not thinking of yourself more highly than you ought but with sober judgment, according to what God says in his word.”
I suggest this definition adapted from Romans 12:3: humility is not thinking of yourself more highly than you ought but with sober judgment, according to what God says in his word. Thus, growing in humility is a lifelong venture as you increase in knowledge of God’s word and in appreciation for God’s work through Christ.
Humility Delineated
Clear thinking about humility is on display in Andrew Murray’s classic short book Humility: The Beauty of Holiness. He starts with this insight: “There are three great motives that urge us to humility. It becomes me as a creature, as a sinner, as a saint” (10).
First, we should be humbled by the fact that we did not create ourselves or have any say in the specifics of our birth. How is it that you weren’t born in the 1300s in an obscure, poverty-stricken, disease-ridden village? Can you provide breath at any given moment? Which talents came from your blueprint, and not God’s? Consider Paul’s insightful question, “What do you have that you did not receive?” (1 Corinthians 4:7).
Second, humility befits our fallenness. We’re sinners, rebels, transgressors, and worshipers of false gods. Reflect on Paul’s recounting of our before-salvation résumé: “We ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another” (Titus 3:3).
Third, we are saved by grace, “not because of works done by us in righteousness” (Titus 3:5) “so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:9).
Humility Displayed
Humility’s central text is Philippians 2:1–11, where Jesus is lifted up as the perfect example of humility. It’s easy to zoom in on verse 5, “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus,” and think, “I should be humble like Jesus was humble.” He is indeed our supreme example.
But we can follow his example only because he was also our supreme sacrifice. Don’t race past the first phrase of this chapter: “If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ . . . .” It is your union with Christ that transforms you into a new creature who can “consider others better than yourself,” and “look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:1–4 NIV).
Humility Distinguished
Humility, as the Bible puts forth, must be distinguished from vague ideas apart from the specifics of the gospel. Humility is not feeling bad about oneself. Humility is not comparing ourselves to others. And humility isn’t merely the absence of boasting. (What goes on inside our heads can be disgustingly self-exalting even while we keep our mouths shut.)
“Humility shaped by the gospel shows us just how bad we are and, at the same time, just how great God’s salvation is.”
Humility shaped by the gospel shows us just how bad we are and, at the same time, just how great God’s salvation is. It chastens while it emboldens. It puts us in our place, which, amazingly, is a place of both contrition and confidence. It is a proper and complete understanding of who we are — created, fallen, redeemed, and blessed. We live out our lives in humble boldness, knowing we deserve wrath instead of grace, judgment instead of justification, separation from God instead of the indwelling of his Spirit.
Humility Pursued
Note what immediately follows Philippians 2:1–11. Verse 12 begins with “therefore” and goes on to tell us to “work out [our] salvation with fear and trembling.” We do have a part to play in pursuing humility. Consider some practical suggestions.
Bodily Prayerfulness
The position of our bodies can make a difference in our prayer lives. Kneeling while interceding, raising our arms while praising, and opening our palms while giving thanks can intensify the blessings received through prayer. And it can help us grow in humility before God. It’s hard (although not impossible!) to feel self-empowered while kneeling.
Rigorous Confession
I’ll let C.S. Lewis present this case for me. He writes in The Weight of Glory,
I find that when I think I am asking God to forgive me I am often in reality (unless I watch myself very carefully) asking him to do something quite different. I am asking him not to forgive me but to excuse me. But there is all the difference in the world between forgiving and excusing.
Forgiveness says, “Yes, you have done this thing, but I accept your apology; I will never hold it against you and everything between us two will be exactly as it was before.” But excusing says, “I see that you couldn’t help it or didn’t mean it; you weren’t really to blame.” If one was not really to blame then there is nothing to forgive. In that sense forgiveness and excusing are almost opposites. (178–79)
Humility makes a regular practice of asking God, and others, to forgive us instead of excuse us.
Regular Periods of Fasting
Simply put, fasting makes us feel physically weak. That’s a good state for trusting entirely in God’s provision for everything. Fasting can take all sorts of forms and varieties. All of them can help in growth toward humility.
Outward-Facing Intercession
Jesus told us to include “our daily bread” (the most basic unit of physical sustenance) as well as “your kingdom come” (the most expansive scope of church growth) in our prayers. Prayer guides like Operation World (both the book and the app), which inform us how to pray for gospel advance in every country, help us see our individual needs on a larger canvas and forge humility.
Others-Centered Conversation
Many so-called dialogues are really simultaneous monologues. A gospel-humbled conversationalist can allow the interchange to be unbalanced — in the direction of the other person. Asking questions to draw more out of the other person can display Philippians 2 humility in tangible, practical ways.
Bowing Low, Standing Tall
Some might say standing before the Grand Canyon should have made me feel like “nothing.” But that wasn’t my experience. To be sure, I had no doubt that the nearly two thousand square miles of a mile-deep chasm dwarfed my 5-foot, 9-inch frame. If I did not know the Creator of both the physical universe and my physical body, I would have felt like dust.
But standing before an even greater wonder — the cross, where we are “united with Christ . . . in the comfort from his love . . . with the fellowship of the Holy Spirit . . . with tenderness and compassion” (Philippians 2:1 NIV) — forges a gospel-humility that bows us low and stands us tall.