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Job Frames His Plea to God

10 “I am disgusted with my life.
    Let me complain freely.
    My bitter soul must complain.
I will say to God, ‘Don’t simply condemn me—
    tell me the charge you are bringing against me.
What do you gain by oppressing me?
    Why do you reject me, the work of your own hands,
    while smiling on the schemes of the wicked?
Are your eyes like those of a human?
    Do you see things only as people see them?
Is your lifetime only as long as ours?
    Is your life so short
that you must quickly probe for my guilt
    and search for my sin?
Although you know I am not guilty,
    no one can rescue me from your hands.

“‘You formed me with your hands; you made me,
    yet now you completely destroy me.
Remember that you made me from dust—
    will you turn me back to dust so soon?
10 You guided my conception
    and formed me in the womb.[a]
11 You clothed me with skin and flesh,
    and you knit my bones and sinews together.
12 You gave me life and showed me your unfailing love.
    My life was preserved by your care.

13 “‘Yet your real motive—
    your true intent—
14 was to watch me, and if I sinned,
    you would not forgive my guilt.
15 If I am guilty, too bad for me;
    and even if I’m innocent, I can’t hold my head high,
    because I am filled with shame and misery.
16 And if I hold my head high, you hunt me like a lion
    and display your awesome power against me.
17 Again and again you witness against me.
    You pour out your growing anger on me
    and bring fresh armies against me.

18 “‘Why, then, did you deliver me from my mother’s womb?
    Why didn’t you let me die at birth?
19 It would be as though I had never existed,
    going directly from the womb to the grave.
20 I have only a few days left, so leave me alone,
    that I may have a moment of comfort
21 before I leave—never to return—
    for the land of darkness and utter gloom.
22 It is a land as dark as midnight,
    a land of gloom and confusion,
    where even the light is dark as midnight.’”

Footnotes

  1. 10:10 Hebrew You poured me out like milk / and curdled me like cheese.

To Find Some Skeleton in My Closet

10 “I can’t stand my life—I hate it!
    I’m putting it all out on the table,
    all the bitterness of my life—I’m holding back nothing.”

2-7 Job prayed:

“Here’s what I want to say:
Don’t, God, bring in a verdict of guilty
    without letting me know the charges you’re bringing.
How does this fit into what you once called ‘good’—
    giving me a hard time, spurning me,
    a life you shaped by your very own hands,
    and then blessing the plots of the wicked?
You don’t look at things the way we mortals do.
    You’re not taken in by appearances, are you?
Unlike us, you’re not working against a deadline.
    You have all eternity to work things out.
So what’s this all about, anyway—this compulsion
    to dig up some dirt, to find some skeleton in my closet?
You know good and well I’m not guilty.
    You also know no one can help me.

8-12 “You made me like a handcrafted piece of pottery—
    and now are you going to smash me to pieces?
Don’t you remember how beautifully you worked my clay?
    Will you reduce me now to a mud pie?
Oh, that marvel of conception as you stirred together
    semen and ovum—
What a miracle of skin and bone,
    muscle and brain!
You gave me life itself, and incredible love.
    You watched and guarded every breath I took.

13-17 “But you never told me about this part.
    I should have known that there was more to it—
That if I so much as missed a step, you’d notice and pounce,
    wouldn’t let me get by with a thing.
If I’m truly guilty, I’m doomed.
    But if I’m innocent, it’s no better—I’m still doomed.
My belly is full of bitterness.
    I’m up to my ears in a swamp of affliction.
I try to make the best of it, try to brave it out,
    but you’re too much for me,
    relentless, like a lion on the prowl.
You line up fresh witnesses against me.
    You compound your anger
    and pile on the grief and pain!

18-22 “So why did you have me born?
    I wish no one had ever laid eyes on me!
I wish I’d never lived—a stillborn,
    buried without ever having breathed.
Isn’t it time to call it quits on my life?
    Can’t you let up, and let me smile just once
Before I die and am buried,
    before I’m nailed into my coffin, sealed in the ground,
And banished for good to the land of the dead,
    blind in the final dark?”