Job 19-21

The Message

^7-12 “Look at me—I shout ‘Murder!’ and I’m ignored;
    I call for help and no one bothers to stop.
God threw a barricade across my path—I’m stymied;
    he turned out all the lights—I’m stuck in the dark.
He destroyed my reputation,
    robbed me of all self-respect.
He tore me apart piece by piece—I’m ruined!
    Then he yanked out hope by the roots.
He’s angry with me—oh, how he’s angry!
    He treats me like his worst enemy.
He has launched a major campaign against me,
    using every weapon he can think of,
    coming at me from all sides at once.

^21-22 “Oh, friends, dear friends, take pity on me.
    God has come down hard on me!
Do you have to be hard on me, too?
    Don’t you ever tire of abusing me?

^23-27 “If only my words were written in a book—
    better yet, chiseled in stone!
Still, I know that God lives—the One who gives me back my life—
    and eventually he’ll take his stand on earth.
And I’ll see him—even though I get skinned alive!—
    see God myself, with my very own eyes.
    Oh, how I long for that day!

^28-29 “If you’re thinking, ‘How can we get through to him,
    get him to see that his trouble is all his own fault?’
Forget it. Start worrying about yourselves.
    Worry about your own sins and God’s coming judgment,
    for judgment is most certainly on the way.”

^4-11 “Don’t you even know the basics,
    how things have been since the earliest days,
    when Adam and Eve were first placed on earth?
The good times of the wicked are short-lived;
    godless joy is only momentary.
The evil might become world famous,
    strutting at the head of the celebrity parade,
But still end up in a pile of dung.
    Acquaintances look at them with disgust and say, ‘What’s that?’
They fly off like a dream that can’t be remembered,
    like a shadowy illusion that vanishes in the light.
Though once notorious public figures, now they’re nobodies,
    unnoticed, whether they come or go.
Their children will go begging on skid row,
    and they’ll have to give back their ill-gotten gain.
Right in the prime of life,
    and youthful and vigorous, they’ll die.

^12-19 “They savor evil as a delicacy,
    roll it around on their tongues,
Prolong the flavor, a dalliance in decadence—
    real gourmets of evil!
But then they get stomach cramps,
    a bad case of food poisoning.
They gag on all that rich food;
    God makes them vomit it up.
They gorge on evil, make a diet of that poison—
    a deadly diet—and it kills them.
No quiet picnics for them beside gentle streams
    with fresh-baked bread and cheese, and tall, cool drinks.
They spit out their food half-chewed,
    unable to relax and enjoy anything they’ve worked for.
And why? Because they exploited the poor,
    took what never belonged to them.

^20-29 “Such God-denying people are never content with what they have or who they are;
    their greed drives them relentlessly.
They plunder everything
    but they can’t hold on to any of it.
Just when they think they have it all, disaster strikes;
    they’re served up a plate full of misery.
When they’ve filled their bellies with that,
    God gives them a taste of his anger,
    and they get to chew on that for a while.
As they run for their lives from one disaster,
    they run smack into another.
They’re knocked around from pillar to post,
    beaten to within an inch of their lives.
They’re trapped in a house of horrors,
    and see their loot disappear down a black hole.
Their lives are a total loss—
    not a penny to their name, not so much as a bean.
God will strip them of their sin-soaked clothes
    and hang their dirty laundry out for all to see.
Life is a complete wipeout for them,
    nothing surviving God’s wrath.
There! That’s God’s blueprint for the wicked—
    what they have to look forward to.”

^4-16 “It’s not you I’m complaining to—it’s God.
    Is it any wonder I’m getting fed up with his silence?
Take a good look at me. Aren’t you appalled by what’s happened?
    No! Don’t say anything. I can do without your comments.
When I look back, I go into shock,
    my body is racked with spasms.
Why do the wicked have it so good,
    live to a ripe old age and get rich?
They get to see their children succeed,
    get to watch and enjoy their grandchildren.
Their homes are peaceful and free from fear;
    they never experience God’s disciplining rod.
Their bulls breed with great vigor
    and their cows calve without fail.
They send their children out to play
    and watch them frolic like spring lambs.
They make music with fiddles and flutes,
    have good times singing and dancing.
They have a long life on easy street,
    and die painlessly in their sleep.
They say to God, ‘Get lost!
    We’ve no interest in you or your ways.
Why should we have dealings with God Almighty?
    What’s there in it for us?’
But they’re wrong, dead wrong—they’re not gods.
    It’s beyond me how they can carry on like this!

^17-21 “Still, how often does it happen that the wicked fail,
    or disaster strikes,
    or they get their just deserts?
How often are they blown away by bad luck?
    Not very often.
You might say, ‘God is saving up the punishment for their children.’
    I say, ‘Give it to them right now so they’ll know what they’ve done!’
They deserve to experience the effects of their evil,
    feel the full force of God’s wrath firsthand.
What do they care what happens to their families
    after they’re safely tucked away in the grave?

^27-33 “I’m not deceived. I know what you’re up to,
    the plans you’re cooking up to bring me down.
Naively you claim that the castles of tyrants fall to pieces,
    that the achievements of the wicked collapse.
Have you ever asked world travelers how they see it?
    Have you not listened to their stories
Of evil men and women who got off scot-free,
    who never had to pay for their wickedness?
Did anyone ever confront them with their crimes?
    Did they ever have to face the music?
Not likely—they’re given fancy funerals
    with all the trimmings,
Gently lowered into expensive graves,
    with everyone telling lies about how wonderful they were.

³⁴ “So how do you expect me to get any comfort from your nonsense?
    Your so-called comfort is a tissue of lies.”