Job 35: Do You Think This Is Right?

“Do you think this is right? Do you say, ‘My righteousness is more than God’s’?” — Job 35:2

Challenging the Drift Toward Despair

Elihu begins with a rebuke rooted in concern. He’s addressing not a single quote from Job but a trajectory in Job’s speeches—the gradual drift from lament to something dangerously close to accusation. Job never directly claims to be holier than God, but Elihu hears in his despair a subtle suggestion that God has acted unjustly. Thus, Elihu presses the question: “For you say, ‘What advantage will it be to You? What profit shall I have, more than if I had sinned?’” (v. 3). He’s paraphrasing from Job’s earlier discourse, “Yet they say to God… ‘Who is the Almighty, that we should serve Him? And what profit do we have if we pray to Him?’” (21:14a, 15). In other words, just like the wicked, Job is beginning to wonder if righteousness is worth it.

This is a real temptation for the suffering believer. When affliction comes despite integrity, the heart may begin to ask, “What’s the point? What is the point in praying?” I have wondered the same exact thing in my own suffering on CRM status. Elihu doesn’t dismiss the pain, but he does challenge the conclusion. He warns against a theology of futility—a belief that obedience makes no difference, and that God is too far removed to care. Although Elihu’s tone can be sharp, his intention is to draw Job back from the edge of despair and back into trust.

Thus, he points upward: “Look to the heavens and see; and behold the clouds—they are higher than you” (v. 5). God is not like us; He’s not swayed by human manipulation. “If you sin, what do you accomplish against Him? Or, if your transgressions are multiplied, what do you do to Him?” (v. 6). This is a beautiful Gospel statement. God is not made greater by our obedience or diminished by our sin. But this does not mean He’s indifferent; it means He is beyond our corruption. His justice is not reactive or transactional—it is rooted in His perfect being.

And yet, Elihu knows transcendence is not the whole story. God may not need anything from us, and our sins may accomplish nothing for or against Him, but that doesn’t mean He ignores us. “Because of the multitude of oppressions, they cry out; they cry out for help because of the arm of the mighty” (v. 9). People cry out in suffering, and God hears. But Elihu notes not every cry is born of repentance. “There they cry out, but He does not answer, because of the pride of evil men” (v. 12). The problem is not God’s silence—it is the heart that cries out without faith, seeking relief but not trust.

If you’ve ever felt liked your prayers vanish into the sky—that your voice is too small, your pain too insignificant, or your heart too fractured for God to care—Elihu’s reminder is a lifeline. God is not moved by manipulation; He is deeply attentive to humble, faith-filled cries. His transcendence is not distance—it is purity. He’s not like the idols of this world who reward their sycophants and ignore the weak. God is holy beyond our imagining, yes, but He’s also near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18). He’s not made greater by your worship, but He does gladly receive it. He’s not made less by your sin; He longs to forgive it.

This means your voice matters. Your pain is not lost in the clouds. The God who shaped the heavens has stooped to hear your sighs. In Christ, His transcendence has become incarnational presence. His holiness has drawn near in incarnated mercy. So cry out—not with entitlement, but with trust. He is not far off. He is the One who entered our suffering to lift us out of it. And even if His answer tarries, He has not forgotten you. The One who rides on the clouds also walks beside you with nail-scarred hands (Psalm 104:3 ff.).

The Call to Wait in Trust

Elihu concludes with a sobering reminder: “Although you say you do not see Him, yet justice is before Him, and you must wait for Him” (v. 14). He’s referring to Job’s words in 9:11, “If He goes by me, I do not see Him; if He moves past, I do not perceive Him.” Here is one of the wisest things Elihu says: God’s justice is not always immediate, but it is never absent. Waiting on God is not passive resignation but active trust. Even when God seems hidden, His purposes are unfolding. And for those who cry out with humility and hope, He will not remain silent forever.

Elihu warns against empty complaint: “Therefore, Job opens his mouth in vain; he multiplies words without knowledge” (35:16). This is not a condemnation but a cautionary warning. Job’s suffering has been real, but his theology of the cross at times unravels under the weight of pain. Elihu wants to steady him not with simplistic answers but with a vision of a God who is high above yet near enough to hear, holy beyond our grasp yet gracious enough to act.

Chapter 35 speaks to every believer who’s looked at their suffering and has asked, “What’s the point of trying to live righteously? What’s the point of praying to God when He’s clearly not listening?” Elihu reminds us that God’s justice is not measured by immediate rewards. Righteousness is not a currency we spend to buy blessings—it is the shape of a life lived in reverence. God is not indifferent to our faithfulness. He is not moved by flattery, but neither is He blind to our pain—especially now that, in Christ, He knows exactly what it feels like (Hebrews 4:15).

If you’re in despair, Elihu offers a rebuke clothed in concern. Don’t give up. Don’t trade truth for bitterness (a lesson I’ve recently had to learn). Don’t confuse God’s silence with absence. In Christ, we now see what Job could not: that God is not only transcendent but incarnate. He not only hears our cries—He took on our flesh and made His own cries in Gethsemane and on the cross. He not only sees our suffering—He bore it. And because of Him, your righteousness is not in vain. It is rooted in grace, sustained by mercy, and crowned in glory.