Study Desk

"I'm not deceived. I know what you're up to, the plans you're cooking up to bring me down. Naively you claim that the castles of tyrants fall to pieces, that the achievements of the wicked collapse. Have you ever asked world travelers how they see it? Have you not listened to their stories Of evil men and women who got off scot-free, who never had to pay for their wickedness? Did anyone ever confront them with their crimes? Did they ever have to face the music? Not likely—they're given fancy funerals with all the trimmings, Gently lowered into expensive graves, with everyone telling lies about how wonderful they were.

"Good people see bad people crash, and call for a celebration. Relieved, they crow, ‘At last! Our enemies—wiped out. Everything they had and stood for is up in smoke!'

"I travel East looking for him—I find no one; then West, but not a trace; I go North, but he's hidden his tracks; then South, but not even a glimpse.

"But if Judgment Day isn't hidden from the Almighty, why are we kept in the dark? There are people out there getting by with murder— stealing and lying and cheating. They rip off the poor and exploit the unfortunate, Push the helpless into the ditch, bully the weak so that they fear for their lives. The poor, like stray dogs and cats, scavenge for food in back alleys. They sort through the garbage of the rich, eke out survival on handouts. Homeless, they shiver through cold nights on the street; they've no place to lay their heads. Exposed to the weather, wet and frozen, they huddle in makeshift shelters. Nursing mothers have their babies snatched from them; the infants of the poor are kidnapped and sold. They go about patched and threadbare; even the hard workers go hungry. No matter how backbreaking their labor, they can never make ends meet. People are dying right and left, groaning in torment. The wretched cry out for help and God does nothing, acts like nothing's wrong!

"Then there are those who avoid light at all costs, who scorn the light-filled path. When the sun goes down, the murderer gets up— kills the poor and robs the defenseless. Sexual predators can't wait for nightfall, thinking, ‘No one can see us now.' Burglars do their work at night, but keep well out of sight through the day. They want nothing to do with light. Deep darkness is morning for that bunch; they make the terrors of darkness their companions in crime.

"They are scraps of wood floating on the water— useless, cursed junk, good for nothing. As surely as snow melts under the hot, summer sun, sinners disappear in the grave. The womb has forgotten them, worms have relished them— nothing that is evil lasts. Unscrupulous, they prey on those less fortunate. However much they strut and flex their muscles, there's nothing to them. They're hollow. They may have an illusion of security, but God has his eye on them. They may get their brief successes, but then it's over, nothing to show for it. Like yesterday's newspaper, they're used to wrap up the garbage. You're free to try to prove me a liar, but you won't be able to do it."

Having waited for Zophar, Job now resumed his defense: "God-Alive! He's denied me justice! God Almighty! He's ruined my life! But for as long as I draw breath, and for as long as God breathes life into me, I refuse to say one word that isn't true. I refuse to confess to any charge that's false. There is no way I'll ever agree to your accusations. I'll not deny my integrity even if it costs me my life. I'm holding fast to my integrity and not loosening my grip— and, believe me, I'll never regret it.

"Let my enemy be exposed as wicked! Let my adversary be proven guilty! What hope do people without God have when life is cut short? when God puts an end to life? Do you think God will listen to their cry for help when disaster hits? What interest have they ever shown in the Almighty? Have they ever been known to pray before?

"I've given you a clear account of God in action, suppressed nothing regarding God Almighty. The evidence is right before you. You can all see it for yourselves, so why do you keep talking nonsense?

"We all know how silver seams the rocks, we've seen the stuff from which gold is refined, We're aware of how iron is dug out of the ground and copper is smelted from rock. Miners penetrate the earth's darkness, searching the roots of the mountains for ore, digging away in the suffocating darkness. Far from civilization, far from the traffic, they cut a shaft, and are lowered into it by ropes. Earth's surface is a field for grain, but its depths are a forge Firing sapphires from stones and chiseling gold from rocks. Vultures are blind to its riches, hawks never lay eyes on it. Wild animals are oblivious to it, lions don't know it's there. Miners hammer away at the rock, they uproot the mountains. They tunnel through the rock and find all kinds of beautiful gems. They discover the origins of rivers, and bring earth's secrets to light.

"God alone knows the way to Wisdom, he knows the exact place to find it. He knows where everything is on earth, he sees everything under heaven. After he commanded the winds to blow and measured out the waters, Arranged for the rain and set off explosions of thunder and lightning, He focused on Wisdom, made sure it was all set and tested and ready. Then he addressed the human race: ‘Here it is! Fear-of-the-Lord—that's Wisdom, and Insight means shunning evil.'"

Job now resumed his response: "Oh, how I long for the good old days, when God took such very good care of me. He always held a lamp before me and I walked through the dark by its light. Oh, how I miss those golden years when God's friendship graced my home, When the Mighty One was still by my side and my children were all around me, When everything was going my way, and nothing seemed too difficult.

"When I walked downtown and sat with my friends in the public square, Young and old greeted me with respect; I was honored by everyone in town. When I spoke, everyone listened; they hung on my every word. People who knew me spoke well of me; my reputation went ahead of me. I was known for helping people in trouble and standing up for those who were down on their luck. The dying blessed me, and the bereaved were cheered by my visits. All my dealings with people were good. I was known for being fair to everyone I met. I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame, Father to the needy, and champion of abused aliens. I grabbed street thieves by the scruff of the neck and made them give back what they'd stolen. I thought, ‘I'll die peacefully in my own bed, grateful for a long and full life, A life deep-rooted and well-watered, a life limber and dew-fresh, My soul suffused with glory and my body robust until the day I die.'

"But no longer. Now I'm the butt of their jokes— young ruffians! whippersnappers! Why, I considered their fathers mere inexperienced pups. But they are worse than dogs—good for nothing, stray, mangy animals, Half-starved, scavenging the back alleys, howling at the moon; Homeless guttersnipes chewing on old bones and licking old tin cans; Outcasts from the community, cursed as dangerous delinquents. Nobody would put up with them; they were driven from the neighborhood. You could hear them out there at the edge of town, yelping and barking, huddled in junkyards, A gang of beggars and no-names, thrown out on their ears.

"I shout for help, God, and get nothing, no answer! I stand to face you in protest, and you give me a blank stare! You've turned into my tormenter— you slap me around, knock me about. You raised me up so I was riding high and then dropped me, and I crashed. I know you're determined to kill me, to put me six feet under.

"What did I do to deserve this? Did I ever hit anyone who was calling for help? Haven't I wept for those who live a hard life, been heartsick over the lot of the poor? But where did it get me? I expected good but evil showed up. I looked for light but darkness fell. My stomach's in a constant churning, never settles down. Each day confronts me with more suffering. I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone. I stand in the congregation and protest. I howl with the jackals, I hoot with the owls. I'm black-and-blue all over, burning up with fever. My fiddle plays nothing but the blues; my mouth harp wails laments."

"I made a solemn pact with myself never to undress a girl with my eyes. So what can I expect from God? What do I deserve from God Almighty above? Isn't calamity reserved for the wicked? Isn't disaster supposed to strike those who do wrong? Isn't God looking, observing how I live? Doesn't he mark every step I take?

"If I've let myself be seduced by a woman and conspired to go to bed with her, Fine, my wife has every right to go ahead and sleep with anyone she wants to. For disgusting behavior like that, I'd deserve the worst punishment you could hand out. Adultery is a fire that burns the house down; I wouldn't expect anything I count dear to survive it.

"Did I set my heart on making big money or worship at the bank? Did I boast about my wealth, show off because I was well-off? Was I ever so awed by the sun's brilliance and moved by the moon's beauty That I let myself become seduced by them and worshiped them on the sly? If so, I would deserve the worst of punishments, for I would be betraying God himself.

"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.