“In famine, he’ll keep you from starving, in war, from being gutted by the sword. You’ll be protected from vicious gossip and live fearless through any catastrophe. You’ll shrug off disaster and famine, and stroll fearlessly among wild animals. You’ll be on good terms with rocks and mountains; wild animals will become your good friends. You’ll know that your place on earth is safe, you’ll look over your goods and find nothing amiss. You’ll see your children grow up, your family lovely and graceful as orchard grass. You’ll arrive at your grave ripe with many good years, like sheaves of golden grain at harvest.

Eliphaz Attacks Again

You Trivialize Religion

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, babbling baloney? 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?

“Didn’t those who worked for me say, ‘He fed us well. There were always second helpings’? And no stranger ever had to spend a night in the street; my doors were always open to travelers. Did I hide my sin the way Adam did, or conceal my guilt behind closed doors Because I was afraid what people would say, fearing the gossip of the neighbors so much That I turned myself into a recluse? You know good and well that I didn’t.