Faith Over Chaos

Instead of rehashing the usual questions—who Job was, why he suffered, or what God was doing—I want to take a closer look at the people around him. His friends. The ones who showed up, spoke up, and sometimes messed up. Because if I’m honest, I see pieces of myself in them—whether I’m talking with my family, walking with my friends, or even wrestling with my own thoughts. When they first arrived it says they did not recognize their dear friend. They felt anguish for him.

When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. Job 2:12 NIV

It says then that they sat there with him for 7 days and 7 nights, and no one spoke a word to him. Sometimes we need that, we need our friends or family to just sit with us and be quiet in our chaos, our grief, and our anguish. Then Job spoke and Eliphaz responded.

But silence is sacred. And sometimes, when we break it too soon, we trade comfort for correction. That’s what happened next.

Are you like Eliphaz? Eliphaz Energy. Weaponized Wisdom. 

Eliphaz was the first friend to speak up. And bless his heart, he came in swinging with a sermon. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t offer comfort. He didn’t even say, “Job, I’m so sorry.” Well as far as we know. Nope. He cracked open his spiritual toolbox and pulled out the hammer of “you must’ve done something wrong.”

“Consider now: Who, being innocent, has ever perished? Where were the upright ever destroyed?” — Job 4:7 NIV

Translation? “Bad things don’t happen to good people, so… what did you do?” 

Jeez, Eliphaz—that was harsh. Job had just lost his family, his home, and was covered in sores from head to toe (Job 2:7). And Eliphaz thought the right move was a theology lecture? He meant well (maybe), but he weaponized wisdom. He assumed suffering was proof of sin and tried to fix Job with a formula: repent + behave = restore. 

Sound familiar? Have you ever done this—looked at someone’s loss and thought, “They must have messed up”? Or worse, turned that formula on yourself? The New Testament blows that up. Jesus meets a blind man in John 9, and when asked who sinned, He says, “Neither.” Suffering isn’t always punishment—it can be purpose. 

Eliphaz missed that. He saw pain and reached for blame. Jesus saw pain and reached for healing.

Come on Eliphaz! That’s not comfort. That’s condemnation dressed up as wisdom.

Eliphaz turned pain into a problem to be solved instead of a burden to be shared. It’s easy to slip into Eliphaz’s shoes. With our friends, we rush to explain instead of empathize, tossing out clichés when what they really need is compassion. And with ourselves, we assume every setback must be punishment, rehearsing guilt over and over instead of receiving the grace that Christ freely offers. In both cases, we trade comfort for correction—and end up sounding more like Eliphaz than Jesus. 

Jesus Energy. Comfort over condemnation.

Paul flips that approach and teaches us to humanize suffering. He reminds us in Romans 12:15 to “mourn with those who mourn,” and in Galatians 6:2 to “carry each other’s burdens.” In other words, when chaos hits, our call isn’t to diagnose or lecture—it’s to show up and offer fellowship, not formulas. Bring blessing, not blame. Carry compassion, not condemnation.

Don’t get me wrong—sometimes we know we’ve made choices that stirred up the chaos we’re living in, and consequences are real. But here’s the caution: if you’re going to quote scripture to a hurting friend—or even to yourself—make sure it’s the Holy Spirit leading you, not your need to fix the moment, because otherwise you risk sounding like Eliphaz, slinging verses as band‑aids instead of offering Spirit‑led comfort.

At the end of the day, Eliphaz reminds us how easy it is to confuse correction with comfort. His words show what happens when we rush to explain pain instead of sitting in it. But Jesus calls us to something better— to let grace speak louder than guilt.

Helping you find peace in the garden again—by carrying burdens, not casting blame.

Deep breath, friend. Before you Eliphaz this moment, let the Spirit do the talking—time to reflect.

1. Do you ever catch yourself quoting scripture to fix a moment rather than letting the Spirit lead?
2. How often do you rehearse guilt instead of receiving grace when chaos hits your own life?
3. What would it look like for you to offer fellowship instead of formulas the next time a friend is hurting?
4. Where do you see the difference between Eliphaz’s “comfort” and Jesus’ compassion in your own relationships?