Chapter 41 is an extension of the argument found in chapter 40, in which God uses examples from nature to show just how little Job understands about being in control. As the creators of Bible footnotes everywhere insist on pointing out, many scholars try to explain away the leviathan as little more than a crocodile. I guess it could be that simple, but I don't think so. I prefer to call the leviathan a leviathan and take the description at face value.
But for me Chapter 42 is the real treat. Job's response should humble anyone not named "God":
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.
I'm guilty of doing this just about every day. Sometimes I think Christians fall in love with the Bible simply because it allows us to feel like we're holding a paginated, leather-bound version of God in our hands. It's comforting and empowering to believe that God has revealed His truth to us in exhaustive fashion—what idiots we can be.
The Bible is God's message to us, not an unabridged owner's manual. And it's not as though anyone really understands the Bible completely either. We can study it and grasp its truth to give us ample wisdom for all that we do and experience . . . but no man's Bible knowledge is without its problems and limitations.
Yet I can go months on end feeling as though I get it, I don't need the Bible, and I understand God perfectly well enough to go about my daily routine without trampling all over His plans and desires for me.
Job realized how limited his understanding was, repented, prayed on his friends behalf, and received all sorts of wonderful gifts from the Lord. Just on the other side of his sufferings and grumblings was a mountain of blessings. I wonder how much of that I've missed because I've been lost in my own darkened stream of consciousness?
Not too much, I hope.