The Living Bible (161 page)
Authors: Inc. Tyndale House Publishers
Tags: #BIBLES / Other Translations / Text
A reply to Job from Eliphaz the Temanite:
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“Will you let me say a word? For who could keep from speaking out?
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In the past
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you have told many a troubled soul to trust in God
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and have encouraged those who are weak or falling, or lie crushed upon the ground or are tempted to despair.
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But now when trouble strikes, you faint and are broken.
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“At such a time as this should not trust in God still be your confidence? Shouldn’t you believe that God will care for those who are good?
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Stop and think! Have you ever known a truly good and innocent person who was punished? Experience teaches that it is those who sow sin and trouble who harvest the same.
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They die beneath the hand of God.
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Though they are fierce as young lions, they shall all be broken and destroyed.
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Like aged, helpless lions they shall starve, and all their children shall be scattered.
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“This truth was given me in secret, as though whispered in my ear.
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It came in a nighttime vision as others slept.
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Suddenly, fear gripped me; I trembled and shook with terror,
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as a spirit passed before my face—my hair stood up on end.
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I felt the spirit’s presence, but couldn’t see it standing there. Then out of the dreadful silence came this voice:
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“‘Is mere man more just than God? More pure than his Creator?’
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“If God cannot trust his own messengers (for even angels make mistakes), how much less men made of dust, who are crushed to death as easily as moths!
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They are alive in the morning, but by evening they are dead, gone forever with hardly a thought from anyone.
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Their candle of life is snuffed out. They die and no one cares.
“They cry for help but no one listens; they turn to their gods, but none gives them aid.
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They die in helpless frustration, overcome by their own anger.
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Those who turn from God may be successful for the moment, but then comes sudden disaster.
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Their children are cheated, with no one to defend them.
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Their harvests are stolen, and their wealth slakes the thirst of many others, not themselves!
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Misery comes upon them to punish them for sowing seeds of sin.
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Mankind heads for sin and misery as predictably as flames shoot upwards from a fire.
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“My advice to you is this: Go to God and confess your sins to him.
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For he does wonderful miracles, marvels without number.
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He sends the rain upon the earth to water the fields,
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and gives prosperity to the poor and humble, and takes sufferers to safety.
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“He frustrates the plans of crafty men.
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They are caught in their own traps; he thwarts their schemes.
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They grope like blind men in the daylight; they see no better in the daytime than at night.
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“God saves the fatherless and the poor from the grasp of these oppressors.
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And so at last the poor have hope, and the fangs of the wicked are broken.
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“How enviable the man whom God corrects! Oh, do not despise the chastening of the Lord when you sin.
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For though he wounds, he binds and heals again.
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He will deliver you again and again so that no evil can touch you.
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“He will keep you from death in famine and from the power of the sword in time of war.
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“You will be safe from slander; no need to fear the future.
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“You shall laugh at war and famine; wild animals will leave you alone.
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Dangerous animals will be at peace with you.
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“You need not worry about your home while you are gone; nothing shall be stolen from your barns.
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“Your sons shall become important men; your descendants shall be as numerous as grass!
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You shall live a long, good life; like standing grain, you’ll not be harvested until it’s time!
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I have found from experience that all of this is true. For your own good, listen to my counsel.”
Job’s reply:
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“Oh, that my sadness and troubles were weighed.
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For they are heavier than the sand of a thousand seashores. That is why I spoke so rashly.
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For the Lord has struck me down with his arrows; he has sent his poisoned arrows deep within my heart. All God’s terrors are arrayed against me.
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When wild donkeys bray, it is because their grass is gone; oxen do not low when they have food; a man complains when there is no salt in his food. And how tasteless is the uncooked white of an egg—my appetite is gone when I look at it; I gag at the thought of eating it!
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“Oh, that God would grant the thing I long for most—to die beneath his hand and be freed from his painful grip.
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This, at least, gives me comfort despite all the pain—that I have not denied the words of the holy God.
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Oh, why does my strength sustain me? How can I be patient till I die?
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Am I unfeeling, like stone? Is my flesh made of brass?
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For I am utterly helpless, without any hope.
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“One should be kind to a fainting friend, but you have accused me without the slightest fear of God.
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My brother, you have proved as unreliable as a brook; it floods when there is ice and snow, but in hot weather, disappears. The caravans turn aside to be refreshed, but there is nothing there to drink, and so they perish.
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When caravans from Tema and from Sheba stop for water there, their hopes are dashed. And so my hopes in you are dashed—you turn away from me in terror and refuse to help.
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But why? Have I ever asked you for one slightest thing? Have I begged you for a present?
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Have I ever asked your help?
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All I want is a reasonable answer—then I will keep quiet. Tell me, what have I done wrong?
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“It is wonderful to speak the truth, but your criticisms are not based on fact. Are you going to condemn me just because I impulsively cried out in desperation?
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That would be like injuring a helpless orphan, or selling a friend.
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Look at me! Would I lie to your face?
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Stop assuming my guilt, for I am righteous. Don’t be so unjust.
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Don’t I know the difference between right and wrong? Would I not admit it if I had sinned?
“How mankind must struggle. A man’s life is long and hard, like that of a slave.
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How he longs for the day to end. How he grinds on to the end of the week and his wages.
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And so to me also have been allotted months of frustration, these long and weary nights.
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When I go to bed I think, ‘Oh, that it were morning,’ and then I toss till dawn.
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“My skin is filled with worms and blackness. My flesh breaks open, full of pus.
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My life drags by—day after hopeless day.
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My life is but a breath, and nothing good is left.
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You see me now, but not for long. Soon you’ll look upon me dead.
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As a cloud disperses and vanishes, so those who die shall go away forever—
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gone forever from their family and their home—never to be seen again.
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Ah, let me express my anguish. Let me be free to speak out of the bitterness of my soul.
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“O God, am I some monster that you never leave me alone?
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Even when I try to forget my misery in sleep, you terrify with nightmares.
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I would rather die of strangulation than go on and on like this.
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I hate my life. Oh, leave me alone for these few remaining days.
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What is mere man that you should spend your time persecuting him?
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Must you be his inquisitor every morning and test him every moment of the day?
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Why won’t you leave me alone—even long enough to spit?
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“Has my sin harmed you, O God, watcher of mankind? Why have you made me your target, and made my life so heavy a burden to me?
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Why not just pardon my sin and take it all away? For all too soon I’ll lie down in the dust and die, and when you look for me, I shall be gone.”
