They were relaxed and enjoying themselves when the men of the city, a gang of local hell-raisers all, surrounded the house and started pounding on the door. They yelled for the owner of the house, the old man, “Bring out the man who came to your house. We want to have sex with him.”

The Israelite tribes sent messengers throughout the tribe of Benjamin saying, “What’s the meaning of this outrage that took place among you? Surrender the men right here and now, these hell-raisers of Gibeah. We’ll put them to death and burn the evil out of Israel.” But they wouldn’t do it. The Benjaminites refused to listen to their brothers, the People of Israel. Instead they raised an army from all their cities and rallied at Gibeah to go to war against the People of Israel. In no time at all they had recruited from their cities twenty-six divisions of sword-wielding infantry. From Gibeah they got seven hundred hand-picked fighters, the best. There were another seven hundred supermarksmen who were ambidextrous—they could sling a stone at a hair and not miss.

“All the buried dead are in torment, and all who’ve been drowned in the deep, deep sea. Hell is ripped open before God, graveyards dug up and exposed. He spreads the skies over unformed space, hangs the earth out in empty space. He pours water into cumulus cloud-bags and the bags don’t burst. He makes the moon wax and wane, putting it through its phases. He draws the horizon out over the ocean, sets a boundary between light and darkness. Thunder crashes and rumbles in the skies. Listen! It’s God raising his voice! By his power he stills sea storms, by his wisdom he tames sea monsters. With one breath he clears the sky, with one finger he crushes the sea serpent. And this is only the beginning, a mere whisper of his rule. Whatever would we do if he really raised his voice!”

The wicked bought a one-way ticket to hell. No longer will the poor be nameless— no more humiliation for the humble. Up, God! Aren’t you fed up with their empty strutting? Expose these grand pretensions! Shake them up, God! Show them how silly they look.

I’m happy from the inside out, and from the outside in, I’m firmly formed. You canceled my ticket to hell— that’s not my destination!

When besieged, I’m calm as a baby. When all hell breaks loose, I’m collected and cool.

Desperate, I throw myself on you: you are my God! Hour by hour I place my days in your hand, safe from the hands out to get me. Warm me, your servant, with a smile; save me because you love me. Don’t embarrass me by not showing up; I’ve given you plenty of notice. Embarrass the wicked, stand them up, leave them stupidly shaking their heads as they drift down to hell. Gag those loudmouthed liars who heckle me, your follower, with jeers and catcalls.

These things add up. Every one of us needs to pray; when all hell breaks loose and the dam bursts we’ll be on high ground, untouched.

This is what happens to those who live for the moment, who only look out for themselves: Death herds them like sheep straight to hell; they disappear down the gullet of the grave; They waste away to nothing— nothing left but a marker in a cemetery. But me? God snatches me from the clutch of death, he reaches down and grabs me.

Haul my betrayers off alive to hell—let them experience the horror, let them feel every desolate detail of a damned life.

Those who are out to get me are marked for doom, marked for death, bound for hell. They’ll die violent deaths; jackals will tear them limb from limb. But the king is glad in God; his true friends spread the joy, While small-minded gossips are gagged for good.

Bless our God, O peoples! Give him a thunderous welcome! Didn’t he set us on the road to life? Didn’t he keep us out of the ditch? He trained us first, passed us like silver through refining fires, Brought us into hardscrabble country, pushed us to our very limit, Road-tested us inside and out, took us to hell and back; Finally he brought us to this well-watered place.

Father of orphans, champion of widows, is God in his holy house. God makes homes for the homeless, leads prisoners to freedom, but leaves rebels to rot in hell.

God, you’re my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you. Put me on your salvation agenda; take notes on the trouble I’m in. I’ve had my fill of trouble; I’m camped on the edge of hell. I’m written off as a lost cause, one more statistic, a hopeless case. Abandoned as already dead, one more body in a stack of corpses, And not so much as a gravestone— I’m a black hole in oblivion. You’ve dropped me into a bottomless pit, sunk me in a pitch-black abyss. I’m battered senseless by your rage, relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger. You turned my friends against me, made me horrible to them. I’m caught in a maze and can’t find my way out, blinded by tears of pain and frustration. I call to you, God; all day I call. I wring my hands, I plead for help. Are the dead a live audience for your miracles? Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you? Does your love make any difference in a graveyard? Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell? Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark, your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

But God, you did walk off and leave us, you lost your temper with the one you anointed. You tore up the promise you made to your servant, you stomped his crown in the mud. You blasted his home to kingdom come, reduced his city to a pile of rubble Picked clean by wayfaring strangers, a joke to all the neighbors. You declared a holiday for all his enemies, and they’re celebrating for all they’re worth. Angry, you opposed him in battle, refused to fight on his side; You robbed him of his splendor, humiliated this warrior, ground his kingly honor in the dirt. You took the best years of his life and left him an impotent, ruined husk. How long do we put up with this, God? Are you gone for good? Will you hold this grudge forever? Remember my sorrow and how short life is. Did you create men and women for nothing but this? We’ll see death soon enough. Everyone does. And there’s no back door out of hell. So where is the love you’re so famous for, Lord? What happened to your promise to David? Take a good look at your servant, dear Lord; I’m the butt of the jokes of all nations, The taunting jokes of your enemies, God, as they dog the steps of your dear anointed. Blessed be God forever and always! Yes. Oh, yes.

He forgives your sins—every one. He heals your diseases—every one. He redeems you from hell—saves your life! He crowns you with love and mercy—a paradise crown. He wraps you in goodness—beauty eternal. He renews your youth—you’re always young in his presence.

I love God because he listened to me, listened as I begged for mercy. He listened so intently as I laid out my case before him. Death stared me in the face, hell was hard on my heels. Up against it, I didn’t know which way to turn; then I called out to God for help: “Please, God!” I cried out. “Save my life!” God is gracious—it is he who makes things right, our most compassionate God. God takes the side of the helpless; when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me.

Post a guard at my mouth, God, set a watch at the door of my lips. Don’t let me so much as dream of evil or thoughtlessly fall into bad company. And these people who only do wrong— don’t let them lure me with their sweet talk! May the Just One set me straight, may the Kind One correct me, Don’t let sin anoint my head. I’m praying hard against their evil ways! Oh, let their leaders be pushed off a high rock cliff; make them face the music. Like a rock pulverized by a maul, let their bones be scattered at the gates of hell.

Pay close attention, friend, to what your father tells you; never forget what you learned at your mother’s knee. Wear their counsel like a winning crown, like rings on your fingers. Dear friend, if bad companions tempt you, don’t go along with them. If they say—“Let’s go out and raise some hell. Let’s beat up some old man, mug some old woman. Let’s pick them clean and get them ready for their funerals. We’ll load up on top-quality loot. We’ll haul it home by the truckload. Join us for the time of your life! With us, it’s share and share alike!”— Oh, friend, don’t give them a second look; don’t listen to them for a minute. They’re racing to a very bad end, hurrying to ruin everything they lay hands on. Nobody robs a bank with everyone watching, Yet that’s what these people are doing— they’re doing themselves in. When you grab all you can get, that’s what happens: the more you get, the less you are.

Wise friends will rescue you from the Temptress— that smooth-talking Seductress Who’s faithless to the husband she married years ago, never gave a second thought to her promises before God. Her whole way of life is doomed; every step she takes brings her closer to hell. No one who joins her company ever comes back, ever sets foot on the path to real living.

The lips of a seductive woman are oh so sweet, her soft words are oh so smooth. But it won’t be long before she’s gravel in your mouth, a pain in your gut, a wound in your heart. She’s dancing down the perfumed path to Death; she’s headed straight for Hell and taking you with her. She hasn’t a clue about Real Life, about who she is or where she’s going.

So, friends, listen to me, take these words of mine most seriously. Don’t fool around with a woman like that; don’t even stroll through her neighborhood. Countless victims come under her spell; she’s the death of many a poor man. She runs a halfway house to hell, fits you out with a shroud and a coffin.

Madame Prostitute Calls Out, Too

Then there’s this other woman, Madame Prostitute— brazen, empty-headed, frivolous. She sits on the front porch of her house on Main Street, And as people walk by minding their own business, calls out, “Are you confused about life, don’t know what’s going on? Steal off with me, I’ll show you a good time! No one will ever know—I’ll give you the time of your life.” But they don’t know about all the skeletons in her closet, that all her guests end up in hell.

Good men and women travel right into life; sin’s detours take you straight to hell.

A Way That Leads to Hell

Lady Wisdom builds a lovely home; Sir Fool comes along and tears it down brick by brick.