Job 39 — The Gospel of the Untamed
Yesterday the storm was our catechism; today God leads Job on a wilderness pilgrimage. The questions are not meant to humiliate but to widen the horizon: from meteorology to zoology, from power to tenderness, from our need to control to God’s joy in what we cannot harness.
Hidden births (39:1–4) The chapter begins with mountain goats and deer giving birth on inaccessible cliffs. In Hebrew, God asks if Job “knows” their times—the intimate yada of a midwife. Ancient rock art across the Levant often features ibex; their birthing ledges are nearly unreachable. God is not only Commander of storms; He is the quiet Attender of deliveries no human ever sees. Justice, therefore, begins not with our courts but with His care for the hidden and small (cf. Psalm 104).
Freedom without utility (39:5–12) Enter the wild donkey (pere)—the onager of Mesopotamian deserts, found in Bronze Age sites—and the wild ox (re’em), likely the now-extinct aurochs. Neither will plow for us. God delights in their freedom. The modern West, raised on productivity, can miss this: useless-to-us does not mean useless-to-God. Creation’s meaning is not exhausted by human profit. Our earlier reflections noted that God “delights in the ‘wild’ we dismiss.” Here He names them.
The ostrich and the stork (39:13–18) A famous crux: “the wings of the ostrich” (kanaph renanim) are contrasted with the stork (chasidah, “the kindly one,” from hesed). The ostrich seems foolish—eggs left on warm sand, little maternal sense—yet God gives her speed to mock horse and rider. Wisdom literature dares to say: God distributes different gifts, and the “foolishness of God” outruns our cleverness (1 Corinthians 1:25). Archaeologists find ostrich eggs in Levantine tombs—prestige objects in the ancient world—reminding us this creature ran these very lands Job knew.
Horse, hawk, and eagle (39:19–30) The warhorse thrills us with the shofar’s blast, nostrils flaring, “eating the ground” as he charges. God’s description is not an endorsement of war but a declaration: even what we appropriate for our empires belongs first to Him. Israel’s kings were warned not to multiply horses (Deuteronomy 17:16). The Lord of Job 39 later rides into Zion not a warhorse but a donkey (Zechariah 9:9; Matthew 21), transfiguring power by humility.
The hawk “toward the south” hints at the great Levantine flyway along the Jordan Rift, where millions of raptors still migrate. The nesher—often “eagle,” likely including vultures—nests high and feeds where the slain lie. Western piety averts its eyes; God does not. He governs even the ecology of death, where carrion becomes provision. Jesus echoes this hard line—“where the vultures gather” (Matthew 24:28, New International Version)—reminding us that the world is upheld in a wisdom both bracing and kind.
Receiving the lesson Gregory the Great allegorized these animals (Moralia in Job), and his readings can edify; yet the first gift is literal: God’s world is not human-centered. It is Christ-centered (Colossians 1:16–17). The One who revels in the warhorse’s thunder chooses a colt; the Lord of the high eyrie descends to a cross; life is fed at places of death and raised in glory. Job is not given a scheme; he is given a wider love.
Cross-references - Psalm 104; Matthew 6:26 - Deuteronomy 17:16; Zechariah 9:9; Matthew 21:5 - 1 Corinthians 1:25; Romans 11:33; Colossians 1:16–17 - Matthew 24:28 (New International Version)
Hymn suggestion “God of the Sparrow, God of the Whale” (Jaroslav Vajda)
Prayer Maker of cliffs and cradles, of trumpets and thermals, teach my heart to honor what I cannot manage. Free me from the tyranny of usefulness. Let the folly of the ostrich, the freedom of the onager, and the high patience of the nesher school me in Your wisdom. Lead me, with Job, from answers to adoration, from control to consent, from fear to praise, through Jesus Christ, the humble King. Amen.