Job’s Present Misery
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1 “But now they mock me, those who are younger1 than I, whose fathers I disdained too much2 to put with my sheep dogs.3 2 Moreover, the strength of their4 hands – what use was it to me?
Men whose strength5 had perished; 3 gaunt6 with want and hunger, they would gnaw7 the parched land, in former time desolate and waste.8 4 By the brush9 they would gather10 herbs from the salt marshes,11 and the root of the broom tree was their food.
5 They were banished from the community12 – like they would shout at thieves14 – 6 so that they had to live15 in the dry stream beds,16 in the holes of the ground, and among the rocks.
7 They brayed17 like animals among the bushes and were huddled together18 under the nettles. 8 Sons of senseless and nameless people,19 they were driven out of the land with whips.20 Job’s Indignities
9 “And now I have become their taunt song;
I have become a byword21 among them. 10 They detest me and maintain their distance;22 they do not hesitate to spit in my face.
11 Because God has untied23 my tent cord and afflicted me, people throw off all restraint in my presence.24 12 On my right the young rabble25 rise up; they drive me from place to place,26 and build up siege ramps27 against me.28 13 They destroy29 my path; they succeed in destroying me30 without anyone assisting31 them. 14 They come in as through a wide breach;
amid the crash32 they come rolling in.33 15 Terrors are turned loose34 on me; they drive away35 my honor like the wind, and like a cloud my deliverance has passed away.
Job’s Despondency
16 “And now my soul pours itself out within me;36 days of suffering take hold of me.
17 Night pierces37 my bones;38 my gnawing pains39 never cease. 18 With great power God40 grasps my clothing;41 he binds me like the collar42 of my tunic. 19 He has flung me into the mud,
and I have come to resemble dust and ashes.
20 I cry out to you,43 but you do not answer me; I stand up,44 and you only look at me.45 21 You have become cruel to me;46 with the strength of your hand you attack me.47 22 You pick me up on the wind and make me ride on it;48 you toss me about49 in the storm.50 23 I know that you are bringing51 me to death, to the meeting place for all the living.
The Contrast With the Past
24 “Surely one does not stretch out his hand
when he cries for help in his distress.53 25 Have I not wept for the unfortunate?54 Was not my soul grieved for the poor?
26 But when I hoped for good, trouble came;
when I expected light, then darkness came.
27 My heart55 is in turmoil56 unceasingly;57 the days of my affliction confront me.
28 I go about blackened,58 but not by the sun; in the assembly I stand up and cry for help.
29 I have become a brother to jackals
and a companion of ostriches.59 30 My skin has turned dark on me;60 my body61 is hot with fever.62 31 My harp is used for63 mourning and my flute for the sound of weeping.