Job

Then Job spoke again:

“If my misery could be weighed and my troubles be put on the scales,

they would outweigh all the sands of the sea. That is why I spoke impulsively.

For the Almighty has struck me down with his arrows. Their poison infects my spirit. God’s terrors are lined up against me.

Don’t I have a right to complain? Don’t wild donkeys bray when they find no grass, and oxen bellow when they have no food?

Don’t people complain about unsalted food? Does anyone want the tasteless white of an egg?

My appetite disappears when I look at it; I gag at the thought of eating it!

“Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant my desire.

I wish he would crush me. I wish he would reach out his hand and kill me.

At least I can take comfort in this: Despite the pain, I have not denied the words of the Holy One.

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

Do I have the strength of a stone? Is my body made of bronze?

No, I am utterly helpless, without any chance of success.

“One should be kind to a fainting friend, but you accuse me without any fear of the Almighty.

My brothers, you have proved as unreliable as a seasonal brook that overflows its banks in the spring

when it is swollen with ice and melting snow.

But when the hot weather arrives, the water disappears. The brook vanishes in the heat.

The caravans turn aside to be refreshed, but there is nothing to drink, so they die.

The caravans from Tema search for this water; the travelers from Sheba hope to find it.

They count on it but are disappointed. When they arrive, their hopes are dashed.

You, too, have given no help. You have seen my calamity, and you are afraid.

But why? Have I ever asked you for a gift? Have I begged for anything of yours for myself?

Have I asked you to rescue me from my enemies, or to save me from ruthless people?

Teach me, and I will keep quiet. Show me what I have done wrong.

Honest words can be painful, but what do your criticisms amount to?

Do you think your words are convincing when you disregard my cry of desperation?

You would even send an orphan into slavery or sell a friend.

Look at me! Would I lie to your face?

Stop assuming my guilt, for I have done no wrong.

Do you think I am lying? Don’t I know the difference between right and wrong?