Job 30
New Living Translation
Job Speaks of His Anguish
30 “But now I am mocked by people younger than I,
by young men whose fathers are not worthy to run with my sheepdogs.
2 A lot of good they are to me—
those worn-out wretches!
3 They are gaunt from poverty and hunger.
They claw the dry ground in desolate wastelands.
4 They pluck wild greens from among the bushes
and eat from the roots of broom trees.
5 They are driven from human society,
and people shout at them as if they were thieves.
6 So now they live in frightening ravines,
in caves and among the rocks.
7 They sound like animals howling among the bushes,
huddled together beneath the nettles.
8 They are nameless fools,
outcasts from society.
9 “And now they mock me with vulgar songs!
They taunt me!
10 They despise me and won’t come near me,
except to spit in my face.
11 For God has cut my bowstring.
He has humbled me,
so they have thrown off all restraint.
12 These outcasts oppose me to my face.
They send me sprawling
and lay traps in my path.
13 They block my road
and do everything they can to destroy me.
They know I have no one to help me.
14 They come at me from all directions.
They jump on me when I am down.
15 I live in terror now.
My honor has blown away in the wind,
and my prosperity has vanished like a cloud.
16 “And now my life seeps away.
Depression haunts my days.
17 At night my bones are filled with pain,
which gnaws at me relentlessly.
18 With a strong hand, God grabs my shirt.[a]
He grips me by the collar of my coat.
19 He has thrown me into the mud.
I’m nothing more than dust and ashes.
20 “I cry to you, O God, but you don’t answer.
I stand before you, but you don’t even look.
21 You have become cruel toward me.
You use your power to persecute me.
22 You throw me into the whirlwind
and destroy me in the storm.
23 And I know you are sending me to my death—
the destination of all who live.
24 “Surely no one would turn against the needy
when they cry for help in their trouble.
25 Did I not weep for those in trouble?
Was I not deeply grieved for the needy?
26 So I looked for good, but evil came instead.
I waited for the light, but darkness fell.
27 My heart is troubled and restless.
Days of suffering torment me.
28 I walk in gloom, without sunlight.
I stand in the public square and cry for help.
29 Instead, I am considered a brother to jackals
and a companion to owls.
30 My skin has turned dark,
and my bones burn with fever.
31 My harp plays sad music,
and my flute accompanies those who weep.
Footnotes
- 30:18 As in Greek version; Hebrew reads hand, my garment is disfigured.
Job 30
The Message
The Pain Never Lets Up
30 1-8 “But no longer. Now I’m the butt of their jokes—
young thugs! whippersnappers!
Why, I considered their fathers
mere inexperienced pups.
But they are worse than dogs—good for nothing,
stray, mangy animals,
Half-starved, scavenging the back alleys,
howling at the moon;
Homeless ragamuffins
chewing on old bones and licking old tin cans;
Outcasts from the community,
cursed as dangerous delinquents.
Nobody would put up with them;
they were driven from the neighborhood.
You could hear them out there at the edge of town,
yelping and barking, huddled in junkyards,
A gang of beggars and no-names,
thrown out on their ears.
9-15 “But now I’m the one they’re after,
mistreating me, taunting and mocking.
They abhor me, they abuse me.
How dare those scoundrels—they spit in my face!
Now that God has undone me and left me in a heap,
they hold nothing back. Anything goes.
They come at me from my blind side,
trip me up, then jump on me while I’m down.
They throw every kind of obstacle in my path,
determined to ruin me—
and no one lifts a finger to help me!
They violate my broken body,
trample through the rubble of my ruined life.
Terrors assault me—
my dignity in shreds,
salvation up in smoke.
16-19 “And now my life drains out,
as suffering seizes and grips me hard.
Night gnaws at my bones;
the pain never lets up.
I am tied hand and foot, my neck in a noose.
I twist and turn.
Thrown facedown in the muck,
I’m a muddy mess, inside and out.
What Did I Do to Deserve This?
20-23 “I shout for help, God, and get nothing, no answer!
I stand to face you in protest, and you give me a blank stare!
You’ve turned into my tormenter—
you slap me around, knock me about.
You raised me up so I was riding high
and then dropped me, and I crashed.
I know you’re determined to kill me,
to put me six feet under.
24-31 “What did I do to deserve this?
Did I ever hit anyone who was calling for help?
Haven’t I wept for those who live a hard life,
been heartsick over the lot of the poor?
But where did it get me?
I expected good but evil showed up.
I looked for light but darkness fell.
My stomach’s in a constant churning, never settles down.
Each day confronts me with more suffering.
I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone.
I stand in the congregation and protest.
I howl with the jackals,
I hoot with the owls.
I’m black-and-blue all over,
burning up with fever.
My fiddle plays nothing but the blues;
my mouth harp wails laments.”
Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
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Copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson