Job 30:1-31
“But now those who are younger than I am make fun of me.
I wouldn’t even put their parents with my sheep dogs!
Their strong hands couldn’t give me any help.
That’s because their strength was gone.
They were weak because they were needy and hungry.
They wandered through dry and empty deserts at night.
Among the bushes they gathered salty plants.
They ate the roots of desert bushes.
They were driven away from human society.
They were shouted at as if they were robbers.
They were forced to live in dry stream beds.
They had to stay among rocks
and in holes in the ground.
Like donkeys they cried out among the bushes.
There they crowded together and hid.
They were so foolish that no one respected them.
They were driven out of the land.
“Now their children laugh at me.
They make fun of me with their songs.
They hate me. They stay away from me.
They even dare to spit in my face.
God has made my body weak.
It’s like a tent that has fallen down.
So those children do what they want to in front of me.
Many people attack me on my right side.
They lay traps for my feet.
They come at me from every direction.
They tear up the road I walk on.
They succeed in destroying me.
They say, ‘No one can help him.’
They attack me like troops smashing through a wall.
Among the destroyed buildings they come rolling in.
Terrors sweep over me.
My honor is driven away as if by the wind.
My safety vanishes like a cloud.
“Now my life is slipping away.
Days of suffering grab hold of me.
At night my bones hurt.
My aches and pains never stop.
God’s great power becomes like clothes to me.
He chokes me like the neck of my shirt.
He throws me down into the mud.
I’m nothing but dust and ashes.
“God, I cry out to you. But you don’t answer me.
I stand up. But all you do is look at me.
You do mean things to me.
You attack me with your mighty power.
You pick me up and blow me away with the wind.
You toss me around in the storm.
I know that you will bring me down to death.
That’s what you have appointed for everyone.
“No one would crush people
when they cry out for help in their trouble.
Haven’t I wept for those who are in trouble?
Haven’t I felt sorry for poor people?
I hoped good things would happen, but something evil came.
I looked for light, but all I saw was darkness.
My insides are always churning.
Nothing but days of suffering are ahead of me.
My skin has become dark, but the sun didn’t do it.
I stand up in the community and cry out for help.
I’ve become a brother to wild dogs.
Owls are my companions.
My skin grows black and peels.
My body burns with fever.
My lyre is tuned to sadness.
My flute makes a sound like weeping.
Job 31:1-40
“I made an agreement with my eyes.
I promised not to look at a young woman with impure thoughts.
What do we receive from God above?
What do we get from the Mighty One in heaven?
Sinful people are destroyed.
Trouble comes to those who do what is wrong.
Doesn’t God see how I live?
Doesn’t he count every step I take?
“I haven’t told any lies.
My feet haven’t hurried to cheat others.
So let God weigh me in honest scales.
Then he’ll know I haven’t done anything wrong.
Suppose my steps have turned away from the right path.
Suppose my heart has wanted what my eyes have seen.
Or suppose my hands have become ‘unclean.’
Then may others eat what I’ve planted.
May my crops be pulled up by the roots.
“Suppose my heart has been tempted by a woman.
Or suppose I’ve prowled around my neighbor’s home.
Then may my wife grind another man’s grain.
May other men sleep with her.
Wanting another woman would have been an evil thing.
It would have been a sin that should be judged.
It’s like a fire that burns down to the grave.
It would have caused my crops to be pulled up by the roots.
“Suppose I haven’t treated any of my male and female servants fairly
when they’ve brought charges against me.
Then what will I do when God opposes me?
What answer will I give him
when he asks me to explain myself?
Didn’t he who made me make my servants also?
Didn’t the same God form us inside our mothers?
“I haven’t said no to what poor people have wanted.
I haven’t let widows lose their hope.
I haven’t kept my bread to myself.
I’ve shared it with children whose fathers had died.
From the time I was young, I’ve helped those widows.
I’ve raised those children as a father would.
Suppose I’ve seen people dying
because they didn’t have enough clothes.
I’ve seen needy people
who didn’t have enough to keep warm.
And they didn’t give me their blessing
when I warmed them with wool from my sheep.
Suppose I’ve raised my hand
against children whose fathers have died.
And I did it because I knew
I had power in the courts.
Then let my arm fall from my shoulder.
Let it be broken off at the joint.
I was afraid God would destroy me.
His glory terrifies me.
So I’d never do things like that.
“Suppose I’ve put my trust in gold.
I’ve said to pure gold, ‘You make me feel secure.’
And I’m happy because I’m so wealthy.
I’m glad because my hands have earned so much.
Suppose I’ve worshiped the sun in all its glory.
I’ve bowed down to the moon in all its beauty.
My heart has been secretly tempted.
My hand has thrown kisses to the sun and moon.
Then these things would have been sins that should be judged.
And I wouldn’t have been faithful to God in heaven.
“I wasn’t happy when hard times came to my enemies.
I didn’t enjoy seeing the trouble they had.
I didn’t allow my mouth to sin
by asking for bad things to happen to them.
The workers in my house always said,
‘Job always gives plenty of food to everyone.’
No stranger ever had to spend the night in the street.
My door was always open to travelers.
I didn’t hide my sin as other people do.
I didn’t hide my guilt in my heart.
I was never afraid of the crowd.
I never worried that my relatives might hate me.
I didn’t have to keep quiet or stay inside.
“I wish someone would listen to me!
I’m signing my name to everything I’ve said.
I hope the Mighty One will give me his answer.
I hope the one who brings charges against me will write them down.
I’ll wear them on my shoulder.
I’ll put them on my head like a crown.
I’ll give that person a report of every step I take.
I’ll present it to him like I would to a ruler.
“Suppose my land cries out against me.
And all its soil is wet with tears.
Suppose I’ve used up its crops without paying for them.
Or I’ve broken the spirit of its renters.
Then let thorns grow instead of wheat.
Let stinkweed come up instead of barley.”
The words of Job end here.
Job 32:1-22
The Speech of Elihu
So the three men stopped answering Job, because he thought he was right. But Elihu the Buzite was very angry with Job. That’s because Job said he himself was right instead of God. Elihu was the son of Barakel. He was from the family of Ram. Elihu was also very angry with Job’s three friends. They hadn’t found any way to prove that Job was wrong. But they still said he was guilty. Elihu had waited before he spoke to Job. That’s because the others were older than he was. But he saw that the three men didn’t have anything more to say. So he was very angry.
Elihu the Buzite, the son of Barakel, said,
“I’m young, and you are old.
So I was afraid to tell you what I know.
I thought, ‘Those who are older should speak first.
Those who have lived for many years
should teach people how to be wise.’
But the spirit in people gives them understanding.
The breath of the Mighty One gives them wisdom.
Older people aren’t the only ones who are wise.
They aren’t the only ones who understand what is right.
“So I’m saying you should listen to me.
I’ll tell you what I know.
I waited while you men spoke.
I listened to your reasoning.
While you were searching for words,
I paid careful attention to you.
But not one of you has proved that Job is wrong.
None of you has answered his arguments.
Don’t claim, ‘We have enough wisdom to answer Job.’
Let God, not a mere man, prove that he’s wrong.
Job hasn’t directed his words against me.
I won’t answer him with your arguments.
“Job, these men are afraid.
They don’t have anything else to say.
They’ve run out of words.
Do I have to keep on waiting, now that they are silent?
They are just standing there with nothing to say.
I too have something to say.
I too will tell what I know.
I’m full of words.
My spirit inside me forces me to speak.
Inside I’m like wine that is bottled up.
I’m like new wineskins ready to burst.
I must speak so I can feel better.
I must open my mouth and reply.
I’ll treat everyone the same.
I won’t praise anyone without meaning it.
If I weren’t honest when I praised people,
my Maker would soon take me from this life.
