Study Desk

"If you're so smart, give us a lesson in how to address God. We're in the dark and can't figure it out. Do you think I'm dumb enough to challenge God? Wouldn't that just be asking for trouble? No one in his right mind stares straight at the sun on a clear and cloudless day. As gold comes from the northern mountains, so a terrible beauty streams from God.

"Can you catch the eye of the beautiful Pleiades sisters, or distract Orion from his hunt? Can you get Venus to look your way, or get the Great Bear and her cubs to come out and play? Do you know the first thing about the sky's constellations and how they affect things on Earth?

"Who do you think set the wild donkey free, opened the corral gates and let him go? I gave him the whole wilderness to roam in, the rolling plains and wide-open places. He laughs at his city cousins, who are harnessed and harried. He's oblivious to the cries of teamsters. He grazes freely through the hills, nibbling anything that's green.

"Are you the one who gave the horse his prowess and adorned him with a shimmering mane? Did you create him to prance proudly and strike terror with his royal snorts? He paws the ground fiercely, eager and spirited, then charges into the fray. He laughs at danger, fearless, doesn't shy away from the sword. The banging and clanging of quiver and lance don't faze him. He quivers with excitement, and at the trumpet blast races off at a gallop. At the sound of the trumpet he neighs mightily, smelling the excitement of battle from a long way off, catching the rolling thunder of the war cries.

God then confronted Job directly: "Now what do you have to say for yourself? Are you going to haul me, the Mighty One, into court and press charges?" Job answered: "I'm speechless, in awe—words fail me. I should never have opened my mouth! I've talked too much, way too much. I'm ready to shut up and listen." I Want Straight Answers God addressed Job next from the eye of the storm, and this is what he said: "I have some more questions for you, and I want straight answers. "Do you presume to tell me what I'm doing wrong? Are you calling me a sinner so you can be a saint? Do you have an arm like my arm? Can you shout in thunder the way I can? Go ahead, show your stuff. Let's see what you're made of, what you can do. Unleash your outrage. Target the arrogant and lay them flat. Target the arrogant and bring them to their knees. Stop the wicked in their tracks—make mincemeat of them! Dig a mass grave and dump them in it— faceless corpses in an unmarked grave. I'll gladly step aside and hand things over to you— you can surely save yourself with no help from me! "Look at the land beast, Behemoth. I created him as well as you. Grazing on grass, docile as a cow— Just look at the strength of his back, the powerful muscles of his belly. His tail sways like a cedar in the wind; his huge legs are like beech trees. His skeleton is made of steel, every bone in his body hard as steel. Most magnificent of all my creatures, but I still lead him around like a lamb! The grass-covered hills serve him meals, while field mice frolic in his shadow. He takes afternoon naps under shade trees, cools himself in the reedy swamps, Lazily cool in the leafy shadows as the breeze moves through the willows. And when the river rages he doesn't budge, stolid and unperturbed even when the Jordan goes wild. But you'd never want him for a pet— you'd never be able to housebreak him!"

God then confronted Job directly: "Now what do you have to say for yourself? Are you going to haul me, the Mighty One, into court and press charges?" Job answered: "I'm speechless, in awe—words fail me. I should never have opened my mouth! I've talked too much, way too much. I'm ready to shut up and listen." I Want Straight Answers God addressed Job next from the eye of the storm, and this is what he said: "I have some more questions for you, and I want straight answers. "Do you presume to tell me what I'm doing wrong? Are you calling me a sinner so you can be a saint? Do you have an arm like my arm? Can you shout in thunder the way I can? Go ahead, show your stuff. Let's see what you're made of, what you can do. Unleash your outrage. Target the arrogant and lay them flat. Target the arrogant and bring them to their knees. Stop the wicked in their tracks—make mincemeat of them! Dig a mass grave and dump them in it— faceless corpses in an unmarked grave. I'll gladly step aside and hand things over to you— you can surely save yourself with no help from me! "Look at the land beast, Behemoth. I created him as well as you. Grazing on grass, docile as a cow— Just look at the strength of his back, the powerful muscles of his belly. His tail sways like a cedar in the wind; his huge legs are like beech trees. His skeleton is made of steel, every bone in his body hard as steel. Most magnificent of all my creatures, but I still lead him around like a lamb! The grass-covered hills serve him meals, while field mice frolic in his shadow. He takes afternoon naps under shade trees, cools himself in the reedy swamps, Lazily cool in the leafy shadows as the breeze moves through the willows. And when the river rages he doesn't budge, stolid and unperturbed even when the Jordan goes wild. But you'd never want him for a pet— you'd never be able to housebreak him!"

"Look at the land beast, Behemoth. I created him as well as you. Grazing on grass, docile as a cow— Just look at the strength of his back, the powerful muscles of his belly. His tail sways like a cedar in the wind; his huge legs are like beech trees. His skeleton is made of steel, every bone in his body hard as steel. Most magnificent of all my creatures, but I still lead him around like a lamb! The grass-covered hills serve him meals, while field mice frolic in his shadow. He takes afternoon naps under shade trees, cools himself in the reedy swamps, Lazily cool in the leafy shadows as the breeze moves through the willows. And when the river rages he doesn't budge, stolid and unperturbed even when the Jordan goes wild. But you'd never want him for a pet— you'd never be able to housebreak him!"

"Or can you pull in the sea beast, Leviathan, with a fly rod and stuff him in your creel? Can you lasso him with a rope, or snag him with an anchor? Will he beg you over and over for mercy, or flatter you with flowery speech? Will he apply for a job with you to run errands and serve you the rest of your life? Will you play with him as if he were a pet goldfish? Will you make him the mascot of the neighborhood children? Will you put him on display in the market and have shoppers haggle over the price? Could you shoot him full of arrows like a pin cushion, or drive harpoons into his huge head? If you so much as lay a hand on him, you won't live to tell the story. What hope would you have with such a creature? Why, one look at him would do you in! If you can't hold your own against his glowering visage, how, then, do you expect to stand up to me? Who could confront me and get by with it? I'm in charge of all this—I run this universe!

"But I've more to say about Leviathan, the sea beast, his enormous bulk, his beautiful shape. Who would even dream of piercing that tough skin or putting those jaws into bit and bridle? And who would dare knock at the door of his mouth filled with row upon row of fierce teeth? His pride is invincible; nothing can make a dent in that pride. Nothing can get through that proud skin— impervious to weapons and weather, The thickest and toughest of hides, impenetrable!

"He snorts and the world lights up with fire, he blinks and the dawn breaks. Comets pour out of his mouth, fireworks arc and branch. Smoke erupts from his nostrils like steam from a boiling pot. He blows and fires blaze; flames of fire stream from his mouth. All muscle he is—sheer and seamless muscle. To meet him is to dance with death. Sinewy and lithe, there's not a soft spot in his entire body— As tough inside as out, rock-hard, invulnerable. Even angels run for cover when he surfaces, cowering before his tail-thrashing turbulence. Javelins bounce harmlessly off his hide, harpoons ricochet wildly. Iron bars are so much straw to him, bronze weapons beneath notice. Arrows don't even make him blink; bullets make no more impression than raindrops. A battle ax is nothing but a splinter of kindling; he treats a brandished harpoon as a joke. His belly is armor-plated, inexorable— unstoppable as a barge. He roils deep ocean the way you'd boil water, he whips the sea like you'd whip an egg into batter. With a luminous trail stretching out behind him, you might think Ocean had grown a gray beard! There's nothing on this earth quite like him, not an ounce of fear in that creature! He surveys all the high and mighty— king of the ocean, king of the deep!"

After Job had interceded for his friends, God restored his fortune—and then doubled it! All his brothers and sisters and friends came to his house and celebrated. They told him how sorry they were, and consoled him for all the trouble God had brought him. Each of them brought generous housewarming gifts.

God blessed Job's later life even more than his earlier life. He ended up with fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, one thousand teams of oxen, and one thousand donkeys. He also had seven sons and three daughters. He named the first daughter Dove, the second, Cinnamon, and the third, Darkeyes. There was not a woman in that country as beautiful as Job's daughters. Their father treated them as equals with their brothers, providing the same inheritance.

Job lived on another 140 years, living to see his children and grandchildren—four generations of them! Then he died—an old man, a full life.

So, rebel-kings, use your heads; Upstart-judges, learn your lesson: Worship God in adoring embrace, Celebrate in trembling awe. Kiss Messiah! Your very lives are in danger, you know; His anger is about to explode, But if you make a run for God—you won't regret it!

A David Psalm, When He Escaped for His Life from Absalom, His Son God ! Look! Enemies past counting! Enemies sprouting like mushrooms, Mobs of them all around me, roaring their mockery: "Hah! No help for him from God!"

But you, God , shield me on all sides; You ground my feet, you lift my head high; With all my might I shout up to God , His answers thunder from the holy mountain.

Complain if you must, but don't lash out. Keep your mouth shut, and let your heart do the talking. Build your case before God and wait for his verdict.

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm When I call, give me answers. God, take my side! Once, in a tight place, you gave me room; Now I'm in trouble again: grace me! hear me! You rabble—how long do I put up with your scorn? How long will you lust after lies? How long will you live crazed by illusion? Look at this: look Who got picked by God ! He listens the split second I call to him. Complain if you must, but don't lash out. Keep your mouth shut, and let your heart do the talking. Build your case before God and wait for his verdict. Why is everyone hungry for more? "More, more," they say. "More, more." I have God's more-than-enough, More joy in one ordinary day Than they get in all their shopping sprees. At day's end I'm ready for sound sleep, For you, God , have put my life back together.

Close the book on Evil, God , but publish your mandate for us. You get us ready for life: you probe for our soft spots, you knock off our rough edges. And I'm feeling so fit, so safe: made right, kept right. God in solemn honor does things right, but his nerves are sandpapered raw. Nobody gets by with anything. God is already in action— Sword honed on his whetstone, bow strung, arrow on the string, Lethal weapons in hand, each arrow a flaming missile. Look at that guy! He had sex with sin, he's pregnant with evil. Oh, look! He's having the baby—a Lie-Baby! See that man shoveling day after day, digging, then concealing, his man-trap down that lonely stretch of road? Go back and look again—you'll see him in it headfirst, legs waving in the breeze. That's what happens: mischief backfires; violence boomerangs. I'm thanking God, who makes things right. I'm singing the fame of heaven-high God .

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm God ! God! I am running to you for dear life; the chase is wild. If they catch me, I'm finished: ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions, dragged into the forest and left unlooked for, unremembered. God , if I've done what they say— betrayed my friends, ripped off my enemies— If my hands are really that dirty, let them get me, walk all over me, leave me flat on my face in the dirt. Stand up, God; pit your holy fury against my furious enemies. Wake up, God. My accusers have packed the courtroom; it's judgment time. Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel, throw out the false charges against me. I'm ready, confident in your verdict: "Innocent." Close the book on Evil, God , but publish your mandate for us. You get us ready for life: you probe for our soft spots, you knock off our rough edges. And I'm feeling so fit, so safe: made right, kept right. God in solemn honor does things right, but his nerves are sandpapered raw. Nobody gets by with anything. God is already in action— Sword honed on his whetstone, bow strung, arrow on the string, Lethal weapons in hand, each arrow a flaming missile. Look at that guy! He had sex with sin, he's pregnant with evil. Oh, look! He's having the baby—a Lie-Baby! See that man shoveling day after day, digging, then concealing, his man-trap down that lonely stretch of road? Go back and look again—you'll see him in it headfirst, legs waving in the breeze. That's what happens: mischief backfires; violence boomerangs. I'm thanking God, who makes things right. I'm singing the fame of heaven-high God .