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Job Cries Out to God

“My days fly faster than a weaver’s shuttle.
    They end without hope.

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25 “My life passes more swiftly than a runner.
    It flees away without a glimpse of happiness.

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15 Where then is my hope?
    Can anyone find it?

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24 As the Scriptures say,

“People are like grass;
    their beauty is like a flower in the field.
The grass withers and the flower fades.

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12 My life has been blown away
    like a shepherd’s tent in a storm.
It has been cut short,
    as when a weaver cuts cloth from a loom.
    Suddenly, my life was over.
13 I waited patiently all night,
    but I was torn apart as though by lions.
    Suddenly, my life was over.

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11 My days are over.
    My hopes have disappeared.
    My heart’s desires are broken.

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A Call to Holy Living

13 So prepare your minds for action and exercise self-control. Put all your hope in the gracious salvation that will come to you when Jesus Christ is revealed to the world.

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14 How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.

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11 The hot sun rises and the grass withers; the little flower droops and falls, and its beauty fades away. In the same way, the rich will fade away with all of their achievements.

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12 In those days you were living apart from Christ. You were excluded from citizenship among the people of Israel, and you did not know the covenant promises God had made to them. You lived in this world without God and without hope.

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25 When will you stop running?
    When will you stop panting after other gods?
But you say, ‘Save your breath.
    I’m in love with these foreign gods,
    and I can’t stop loving them now!’

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A voice said, “Shout!”
    I asked, “What should I shout?”

“Shout that people are like the grass.
    Their beauty fades as quickly
    as the flowers in a field.
The grass withers and the flowers fade
    beneath the breath of the Lord.
    And so it is with people.

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32 The wicked are crushed by disaster,
    but the godly have a refuge when they die.

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For they are like a breath of air;
    their days are like a passing shadow.

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15 Our days on earth are like grass;
    like wildflowers, we bloom and die.
16 The wind blows, and we are gone—
    as though we had never been here.

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11 My life passes as swiftly as the evening shadows.
    I am withering away like grass.

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You sweep people away like dreams that disappear.
    They are like grass that springs up in the morning.
In the morning it blooms and flourishes,
    but by evening it is dry and withered.

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22 For soon I must go down that road
    from which I will never return.

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15 God might kill me, but I have no other hope.[a]
    I am going to argue my case with him.

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Footnotes

  1. 13:15 An alternate reading in the Masoretic Text reads God might kill me, but I hope in him.

11 But I don’t have the strength to endure.
    I have nothing to live for.

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