I’m Taking My Case to God
13 1-5 “Yes, I’ve seen all this with my own eyes,
heard and understood it with my very own ears.
Everything you know, I know,
so I’m not taking a backseat to any of you.
I’m taking my case straight to God Almighty;
I’ve had it with you—I’m going directly to God.
You graffiti my life with lies.
You’re a bunch of pompous quacks!
I wish you’d shut your mouths—
silence is your only claim to wisdom.
6-12 “Listen now while I make my case,
consider my side of things for a change.
Or are you going to keep on lying ‘to do God a service’?
to make up stories ‘to get him off the hook’?
Why do you always take his side?
Do you think he needs a lawyer to defend himself?
How would you fare if you were in the witness stand?
Your lies might convince a jury—but would they convince God?
He’d reprimand you on the spot
if he detected a bias in your witness.
Doesn’t his splendor put you in awe?
Aren’t you afraid to speak cheap lies before him?
Your wise sayings are knickknack wisdom,
good for nothing but gathering dust.
13-19 “So hold your tongue while I have my say,
then I’ll take whatever I have coming to me.
Why do I go out on a limb like this
and take my life in my hands?
Because even if he killed me, I’d keep on hoping.
I’d defend my innocence to the very end.
Just wait, this is going to work out for the best—my salvation!
If I were guilt-stricken do you think I’d be doing this—
laying myself on the line before God?
You’d better pay attention to what I’m telling you,
listen carefully with both ears.
Now that I’ve laid out my defense,
I’m sure that I’ll be acquitted.
Can anyone prove charges against me?
I’ve said my piece. I rest my case.
Why Does God Stay Hidden and Silent?
20-27 “Please, God, I have two requests;
grant them so I’ll know I count with you:
First, lay off the afflictions;
the terror is too much for me.
Second, address me directly so I can answer you,
or let me speak and then you answer me.
How many sins have been charged against me?
Show me the list—how bad is it?
Why do you stay hidden and silent?
Why treat me like I’m your enemy?
Why kick me around like an old tin can?
Why beat a dead horse?
You compile a long list of mean things about me,
even hold me accountable for the sins of my youth.
You hobble me so I can’t move about.
You watch every move I make,
and brand me as a dangerous character.
28 “Like something rotten, human life fast decomposes,
like a moth-eaten shirt or a mildewed blouse.”
If We Die, Will We Live Again?
14 1-17 “We’re all adrift in the same boat:
too few days, too many troubles.
We spring up like wildflowers in the desert and then wilt,
transient as the shadow of a cloud.
Do you occupy your time with such fragile wisps?
Why even bother hauling me into court?
There’s nothing much to us to start with;
how do you expect us to amount to anything?
Mortals have a limited life span.
You’ve already decided how long we’ll live—
you set the boundary and no one can cross it.
So why not give us a break? Ease up!
Even ditchdiggers get occasional days off.
For a tree there is always hope.
Chop it down and it still has a chance—
its roots can put out fresh sprouts.
Even if its roots are old and gnarled,
its stump long dormant,
At the first whiff of water it comes to life,
buds and grows like a sapling.
But men and women? They die and stay dead.
They breathe their last, and that’s it.
Like lakes and rivers that have dried up,
parched reminders of what once was,
So mortals lie down and never get up,
never wake up again—never.
Why don’t you just bury me alive,
get me out of the way until your anger cools?
But don’t leave me there!
Set a date when you’ll see me again.
If we humans die, will we live again? That’s my question.
All through these difficult days I keep hoping,
waiting for the final change—for resurrection!
Homesick with longing for the creature you made,
you’ll call—and I’ll answer!
You’ll watch over every step I take,
but you won’t keep track of my missteps.
My sins will be stuffed in a sack
and thrown into the sea—sunk in deep ocean.
18-22 “Meanwhile, mountains wear down
and boulders break up,
Stones wear smooth
and soil erodes,
as you relentlessly grind down our hope.
You’re too much for us.
As always, you get the last word.
We don’t like it and our faces show it,
but you send us off anyway.
If our children do well for themselves, we never know it;
if they do badly, we’re spared the hurt.
Body and soul, that’s it for us—
a lifetime of pain, a lifetime of sorrow.”
Eliphaz Attacks Again
You Trivialize Religion
15 1-16 Eliphaz of Teman spoke a second time:
“If you were truly wise, would you sound so much like a
windbag, belching hot air?
Would you talk nonsense in the middle of a serious argument,
Look at you! You trivialize religion,
turn spiritual conversation into empty gossip.
It’s your sin that taught you to talk this way.
You chose an education in fraud.
Your own words have exposed your guilt.
It’s nothing I’ve said—you’ve incriminated yourself!
Do you think you’re the first person to have to deal with these things?
Have you been around as long as the hills?
Were you listening in when God planned all this?
Do you think you’re the only one who knows anything?
What do you know that we don’t know?
What insights do you have that we’ve missed?
Gray beards and white hair back us up—
old folks who’ve been around a lot longer than you.
Are God’s promises not enough for you,
spoken so gently and tenderly?
Why do you let your emotions take over,
lashing out and spitting fire,
Pitting your whole being against God
by letting words like this come out of your mouth?
Do you think it’s possible for any mere mortal to be sinless in God’s sight,
for anyone born of a human mother to get it all together?
Why, God can’t even trust his holy angels.
He sees the flaws in the very heavens themselves,
So how much less we humans, smelly and foul,
who lap up evil like water?
Always at Odds with God
17-26 “I’ve a thing or two to tell you, so listen up!
I’m letting you in on my views;
It’s what wise men and women have always taught,
holding nothing back from what they were taught
By their parents, back in the days
when they had this land all to themselves:
Those who live by their own rules, not God’s, can expect nothing but trouble,
and the longer they live, the worse it gets.
Every little sound terrifies them.
Just when they think they have it made, disaster strikes.
They despair of things ever getting better—
they’re on the list of people for whom things always turn out for the worst.
They wander here and there,
never knowing where the next meal is coming from—
every day is doomsday!
They live in constant terror,
always with their backs up against the wall
Because they insist on shaking their fists at God,
defying God Almighty to his face,
Always and ever at odds with God,
always on the defensive.
27-35 “Even if they’re the picture of health,
trim and fit and youthful,
They’ll end up living in a ghost town
sleeping in a hovel not fit for a dog,
a ramshackle shack.
They’ll never get ahead,
never amount to much of anything.
And then death—don’t think they’ll escape that!
They’ll end up shriveled weeds,
brought down by a puff of God’s breath.
There’s a lesson here: Whoever invests in lies,
gets lies for interest,
Paid in full before the due date.
They’ll be like fruit frost-killed before it ripens,
like buds sheared off before they bloom.
The godless are fruitless—a barren crew;
a life built on bribes goes up in smoke.
They have sex with sin and give birth to evil.
Their lives are wombs for breeding deceit.”
Job Defends Himself
If You Were in My Shoes
16 1-5 Then Job defended himself:
“I’ve had all I can take of your talk.
What a bunch of miserable comforters!
Is there no end to your windbag speeches?
What’s your problem that you go on and on like this?
If you were in my shoes,
I could talk just like you.
I could put together a terrific tirade
and really let you have it.
But I’d never do that. I’d console and comfort,
make things better, not worse!
6-14 “When I speak up, I feel no better;
if I say nothing, that doesn’t help either.
I feel worn down.
God, you have wasted me totally—me and my family!
You’ve shriveled me like a dried prune,
showing the world that you’re against me.
My gaunt face stares back at me from the mirror,
a mute witness to your treatment of me.
Your anger tears at me,
your teeth rip me to shreds,
your eyes burn holes in me—God, my enemy!
People take one look at me and gasp.
Contemptuous, they slap me around
and gang up against me.
And God just stands there and lets them do it,
lets wicked people do what they want with me.
I was contentedly minding my business when God beat me up.
He grabbed me by the neck and threw me around.
He set me up as his target,
then rounded up archers to shoot at me.
Merciless, they shot me full of arrows;
bitter bile poured from my gut to the ground.
He burst in on me, onslaught after onslaught,
charging me like a mad bull.
15-17 “I sewed myself a shroud and wore it like a shirt;
I lay facedown in the dirt.
Now my face is blotched red from weeping;
look at the dark shadows under my eyes,
Even though I’ve never hurt a soul
and my prayers are sincere!
The One Who Represents Mortals Before God
18-22 “O Earth, don’t cover up the wrong done to me!
Don’t muffle my cry!
There must be Someone in heaven who knows the truth about me,
in highest heaven, some Attorney who can clear my name—
My Champion, my Friend,
while I’m weeping my eyes out before God.
I appeal to the One who represents mortals before God
as a neighbor stands up for a neighbor.
“Only a few years are left
before I set out on the road of no return.”