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There the wicked cease from raging, and there the ^[h]weary are at rest.  The prisoners are at ease together; they do not hear the voice of the taskmaster.  Job 3:17-18  NASB

Rest – What is the most important thing human beings desire?  Prosperity?  Health?  Long life?  A sense of purpose?  Fame?  Power?  Job asks for none of these, perhaps because he has already learned how fragile they are.  What Job desires, and what we also desire, is rest!  nûaḥ.

Our root signifies not only absence of movement but being settled in a particular place (whether concrete or abstract) with overtones of finality, or (when speaking abstractly) of victory, salvation, etc. For synonyms cf. šābat, connoting the absence of activity (or, of a particular activity), šāqaṭ which connotes the absence of disturbance from external causes, šālam, connoting wholeness, i.e. the state of well being, and dŏmî “quiet,” rāgaʿ“to be in repose.” . . . Basically the root nûaḥ relates to absence of spatial activity and presence of security, . . .”^[1]

Reflect on this for a moment.  Do any of those other desires really remove the risk of living, the potential of tragic circumstances, or the anxiety of uncertainty?  Are any of the others guaranteed?  Do any of them  take away the rollercoaster ride of good and evil?  No!  What Job seeks is a way out of the ambiguity of existence.  What did that ancient poet say?  Oh, yes—“Better to not be born at all, but if so, to die as quickly as possible.”  To escape the crushing vise of living.  To not go through the heartache.  To just cease to be.

In the post-Tanakh world, we seek an afterlife of blissful repose.  We think that heaven will be nothing but joy and peace.  We long for another world where pain and tears are no more.  But in an era when a heavenly afterlife was not part of religious thinking, there was still a final solution to the agony of existence.  Death.  Not dying to be reborn.  Rather, ending it all.  Finished.  Real rest.  If there is no afterlife of reward and punishment, why go on suffering?  Perhaps that’s the real question for all of us.  If you didn’t fear or yearn for another world, why keep going in this one?  If the Church didn’t teach that suicide was a sin, if there were no Hell on the other side, no Heaven to soothe your wounds, why continue?  This is certainly Job’s question.  His wife even suggested it.  “Bless God and die.”  But Job doesn’t end it.  Perhaps this is the most paradoxical situation in Job’s story.  What keeps him going?  After all that he has endured, why does he still want to live?

This verse and this word hold out a welcomed offer to stop the pain.  Yet Job rejects the invitation.  His decision to press on opens the door for us to examine our own motivations.  Set aside the promise of heavenly peace.  Erase the idea of eternal punishment.  The ask yourself, “Why do I keep going?”  The answer just might be the most important lesson from Job.

Topical Index: rest, nûaḥ, afterlife, suicide, Job 3:17-18

^[1] Coppes, L. J. (1999). 1323 נוַּח. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 562). Moody Press.