When those thugs try to knife me in the back, make them look foolish. Frustrate all those who are plotting my downfall. Make them like cinders in a high wind, with God’s angel working the bellows. Make their road lightless and mud-slick, with God’s angel on their tails. Out of sheer cussedness they set a trap to catch me; for no good reason they dug a ditch to stop me. Surprise them with your ambush— catch them in the very trap they set, the disaster they planned for me.

But when I was down they threw a party! All the nameless misfits of the town came chanting insults about me. Like barbarians desecrating a shrine, they destroyed my reputation.

Don’t let these liars, my enemies, have a party at my expense, Those who hate me for no reason, winking and rolling their eyes. No good is going to come from that crowd; They spend all their time cooking up gossip against those who mind their own business. They open their mouths in ugly grins, Mocking, “Ha-ha, ha-ha, thought you’d get away with it? We’ve caught you hands down!”

But those who want the best for me, Let them have the last word—a glad shout!— and say, over and over and over, “God is great—everything works together for good for his servant.” I’ll tell the world how great and good you are, I’ll shout Hallelujah all day, every day.

The God-rebel tunes in to sedition— all ears, eager to sin. He has no regard for God, he stands insolent before him. He has smooth-talked himself into believing That his evil will never be noticed. Words gutter from his mouth, dishwater dirty. Can’t remember when he did anything decent. Every time he goes to bed, he fathers another evil plot. When he’s loose on the streets, nobody’s safe. He plays with fire and doesn’t care who gets burned.

Wicked borrows and never returns; Righteous gives and gives. Generous gets it all in the end; Stingy is cut off at the pass.

The cuts in my flesh stink and grow maggots because I’ve lived so badly. And now I’m flat on my face feeling sorry for myself morning to night. All my insides are on fire, my body is a wreck. I’m on my last legs; I’ve had it— my life is a vomit of groans.

Lord, my longings are sitting in plain sight, my groans an old story to you. My heart’s about to break; I’m a burned-out case. Cataracts blind me to God and good; old friends avoid me like the plague. My cousins never visit, my neighbors stab me in the back. My competitors blacken my name, devoutly they pray for my ruin. But I’m deaf and mute to it all, ears shut, mouth shut. I don’t hear a word they say, don’t speak a word in response. What I do, God, is wait for you, wait for my Lord, my God—you will answer! I wait and pray so they won’t laugh me off, won’t smugly strut off when I stumble.

“Tell me, what’s going on, God? How long do I have to live? Give me the bad news! You’ve kept me on pretty short rations; my life is a string too short to be saved. Oh! we’re all puffs of air. Oh! we’re all shadows in a campfire. Oh! we’re just spit in the wind. We make our pile, and then we leave it.

“What am I doing in the meantime, Lord? Hoping, that’s what I’m doing—hoping You’ll save me from a rebel life, save me from the contempt of idiots. I’ll say no more, I’ll shut my mouth, since you, Lord, are behind all this. But I can’t take it much longer. When you put us through the fire to purge us from our sin, our dearest idols go up in smoke. Are we also nothing but smoke?

I’ve preached you to the whole congregation, I’ve kept back nothing, God—you know that. I didn’t keep the news of your ways a secret, didn’t keep it to myself. I told it all, how dependable you are, how thorough. I didn’t hold back pieces of love and truth For myself alone. I told it all, let the congregation know the whole story.

Now God, don’t hold out on me, don’t hold back your passion. Your love and truth are all that keeps me together. When troubles ganged up on me, a mob of sins past counting, I was so swamped by guilt I couldn’t see my way clear. More guilt in my heart than hair on my head, so heavy the guilt that my heart gave out.

But all who are hunting for you— oh, let them sing and be happy. Let those who know what you’re all about tell the world you’re great and not quitting. And me? I’m a mess. I’m nothing and have nothing: make something of me. You can do it; you’ve got what it takes— but God, don’t put it off.

Dignify those who are down on their luck; you’ll feel good—that’s what God does. God looks after us all, makes us robust with life— Lucky to be in the land, we’re free from enemy worries. Whenever we’re sick and in bed, God becomes our nurse, nurses us back to health.

I said, “God, be gracious! Put me together again— my sins have torn me to pieces.” My enemies are wishing the worst for me; they make bets on what day I will die. If someone comes to see me, he mouths empty platitudes, All the while gathering gossip about me to entertain the street-corner crowd. These “friends” who hate me whisper slanders all over town. They form committees to plan misery for me.

The rumor goes out, “He’s got some dirty, deadly disease. The doctors have given up on him.” Even my best friend, the one I always told everything —he ate meals at my house all the time!— has bitten my hand.

A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek; I want to drink God, deep drafts of God. I’m thirsty for God-alive. I wonder, “Will I ever make it— arrive and drink in God’s presence?” I’m on a diet of tears— tears for breakfast, tears for supper. All day long people knock at my door, Pestering, “Where is this God of yours?”

These are the things I go over and over, emptying out the pockets of my life. I was always at the head of the worshiping crowd, right out in front, Leading them all, eager to arrive and worship, Shouting praises, singing thanksgiving— celebrating, all of us, God’s feast!

When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse everything I know of you, From Jordan depths to Hermon heights, including Mount Mizar. Chaos calls to chaos, to the tune of whitewater rapids. Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers crash and crush me. Then God promises to love me all day, sing songs all through the night! My life is God’s prayer.

We’ve been hearing about this, God, all our lives. Our fathers told us the stories their fathers told them, How single-handedly you weeded out the godless from the fields and planted us, How you sent those people packing but gave us a fresh start. We didn’t fight for this land; we didn’t work for it—it was a gift! You gave it, smiling as you gave it, delighting as you gave it.

You’re my King, O God— command victories for Jacob! With your help we’ll wipe out our enemies, in your name we’ll stomp them to dust. I don’t trust in weapons; my sword won’t save me— But it’s you, you who saved us from the enemy; you made those who hate us lose face. All day we parade God’s praise— we thank you by name over and over.

All this came down on us, and we’ve done nothing to deserve it. We never betrayed your Covenant: our hearts were never false, our feet never left your path. Do we deserve torture in a den of jackals? or lockup in a black hole?

Get up, God! Are you going to sleep all day? Wake up! Don’t you care what happens to us? Why do you bury your face in the pillow? Why pretend things are just fine with us? And here we are—flat on our faces in the dirt, held down with a boot on our necks. Get up and come to our rescue. If you love us so much, Help us!

(Her wedding dress is dazzling, lined with gold by the weavers; All her dresses and robes are woven with gold. She is led to the king, followed by her virgin companions. A procession of joy and laughter! a grand entrance to the king’s palace!)

“Set your mind now on sons— don’t dote on father and grandfather. You’ll set your sons up as princes all over the earth. I’ll make you famous for generations; you’ll be the talk of the town for a long, long time.”