Once Upon a Time, There Was a Man From the Land of Uz.
Monday 8 December 2025 at 14:31
Visible to anyone in the world
"For the creation was subjected to futility, not by its own will,
but because of the One who subjected it, in hope
Romans 8:20 (BSB).
Once Upon a Time, There Was a Man From the Land of Uz.
“Once upon a time, there was a man from the land of Uz.” With an opening like that, you already sense you are in for a good ride.
The story of Job doesn’t just begin with suffering—it begins with mystery, depth, and a kind of ancient holiness that still feels startling today. It raises the question, can a person be faithful to God despite suffering?
One question has always stayed with me: How did Job know so much about God? He lived long before Scripture was written as we know it. Yet the Bible calls him “blameless and upright” (Job 1:1)—a man who feared God, rejected evil, and clung to his integrity even when everything was stripped away. Where did that kind of faith come from?
Job likely lived during the age of the patriarchs, when God’s truth travelled by word of mouth instead of printed page. Long before the Law was given, stories of creation, the flood, and God’s dealings with humanity would have been told around fires and passed through generations. Perhaps Job heard of Adam and the fall, of Noah and the ark, maybe even whispers of Abraham and his covenant. Scripture doesn’t connect their lives directly—but it’s compelling to imagine that news of God’s promises moved farther and wider than we often realize.
Still, Job’s knowledge of God feels deeper than second-hand tradition. When he speaks, his words carry the weight of personal encounter. This is not borrowed faith—it is lived faith. I imagine Job gazing into the same night sky we see today, sensing that the stars themselves declared the glory of a Creator far greater than human understanding. Romans 1:20 tells us that God’s invisible qualities are clearly seen in what He has made. I believe Job saw that clearly too.
There’s another thought I keep returning to: what if God revealed Himself to Job in ways that were never recorded for us? Scripture hints at others—like Melchizedek—who served the one true God outside Abraham’s family line. Job may have belonged to a quiet, faithful remnant who walked with God simply because they sought Him. Even without written commandments, Job somehow knew what righteousness looked like. That alone is humbling.
Yet what makes Job’s faith so powerful is not just its depth—it’s how practical it was. This wasn’t an abstract belief system. Job rose early to offer sacrifices for his children, just in case their hearts had wandered. He understood sin, intercession, and the seriousness of standing before a holy God. How did he know to do that? Perhaps his awareness didn’t come from rules, but from reverence.
And then, of course, there is the suffering.
If faith is ever tested, it is tested in pain. Job lost everything, his children, his wealth, his health, and eventually even the support of those closest to him. He asked the hardest questions any human can ask. He grieved, he protested, he trembled before God. And yet, somehow, he never severed the relationship. “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him” (Job 13:15). Those words could only come from someone who truly knew God, not just as an idea, but as a presence.
Job’s suffering didn’t destroy his faith; it refined it. It stripped away easy answers and forced him to cling to God alone. And in the end, when God finally spoke, Job didn’t receive explanations. He received revelation. That was enough.
When I step back and look at Job’s life, I can’t help but think about how much we’ve been given today. We have the full story of Scripture, centuries of teaching, and the living example of Jesus Christ. And still, Job’s faith sometimes feels stronger than ours. His trust was built with fewer tools—and yet it stood firm under unimaginable pressure.
His life asks a piercing question: Do I truly know God, or do I simply know about Him?
Job reminds us that God has always been making Himself known—through creation, conscience, suffering, and divine encounter. Written Scripture is a priceless gift, but it was never the only way God spoke. Job found God because he sought Him with everything he had.
His story still whispers to us today: Seek. Trust. Hold fast. The God who met Job in the land of Uz is the same God who meets us now.
Once Upon a Time, There Was a Man From the Land of Uz.
"For the creation was subjected to futility, not by its own will,
but because of the One who subjected it, in hope
Romans 8:20 (BSB).
Once Upon a Time, There Was a Man From the Land of Uz.
“Once upon a time, there was a man from the land of Uz.” With an opening like that, you already sense you are in for a good ride.
The story of Job doesn’t just begin with suffering—it begins with mystery, depth, and a kind of ancient holiness that still feels startling today. It raises the question, can a person be faithful to God despite suffering?
One question has always stayed with me: How did Job know so much about God? He lived long before Scripture was written as we know it. Yet the Bible calls him “blameless and upright” (Job 1:1)—a man who feared God, rejected evil, and clung to his integrity even when everything was stripped away. Where did that kind of faith come from?
Job likely lived during the age of the patriarchs, when God’s truth travelled by word of mouth instead of printed page. Long before the Law was given, stories of creation, the flood, and God’s dealings with humanity would have been told around fires and passed through generations. Perhaps Job heard of Adam and the fall, of Noah and the ark, maybe even whispers of Abraham and his covenant. Scripture doesn’t connect their lives directly—but it’s compelling to imagine that news of God’s promises moved farther and wider than we often realize.
Still, Job’s knowledge of God feels deeper than second-hand tradition. When he speaks, his words carry the weight of personal encounter. This is not borrowed faith—it is lived faith. I imagine Job gazing into the same night sky we see today, sensing that the stars themselves declared the glory of a Creator far greater than human understanding. Romans 1:20 tells us that God’s invisible qualities are clearly seen in what He has made. I believe Job saw that clearly too.
There’s another thought I keep returning to: what if God revealed Himself to Job in ways that were never recorded for us? Scripture hints at others—like Melchizedek—who served the one true God outside Abraham’s family line. Job may have belonged to a quiet, faithful remnant who walked with God simply because they sought Him. Even without written commandments, Job somehow knew what righteousness looked like. That alone is humbling.
Yet what makes Job’s faith so powerful is not just its depth—it’s how practical it was. This wasn’t an abstract belief system. Job rose early to offer sacrifices for his children, just in case their hearts had wandered. He understood sin, intercession, and the seriousness of standing before a holy God. How did he know to do that? Perhaps his awareness didn’t come from rules, but from reverence.
And then, of course, there is the suffering.
If faith is ever tested, it is tested in pain. Job lost everything, his children, his wealth, his health, and eventually even the support of those closest to him. He asked the hardest questions any human can ask. He grieved, he protested, he trembled before God. And yet, somehow, he never severed the relationship. “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him” (Job 13:15). Those words could only come from someone who truly knew God, not just as an idea, but as a presence.
Job’s suffering didn’t destroy his faith; it refined it. It stripped away easy answers and forced him to cling to God alone. And in the end, when God finally spoke, Job didn’t receive explanations. He received revelation. That was enough.
When I step back and look at Job’s life, I can’t help but think about how much we’ve been given today. We have the full story of Scripture, centuries of teaching, and the living example of Jesus Christ. And still, Job’s faith sometimes feels stronger than ours. His trust was built with fewer tools—and yet it stood firm under unimaginable pressure.
His life asks a piercing question: Do I truly know God, or do I simply know about Him?
Job reminds us that God has always been making Himself known—through creation, conscience, suffering, and divine encounter. Written Scripture is a priceless gift, but it was never the only way God spoke. Job found God because he sought Him with everything he had.
His story still whispers to us today:
Seek. Trust. Hold fast.
The God who met Job in the land of Uz is the same God who meets us now.