Study Desk

"I'll quote your own words back to you: "‘This is how God treats the wicked, this is what evil people can expect from God Almighty: Their children—all of them—will die violent deaths; they'll never have enough bread to put on the table. They'll be wiped out by the plague, and none of the widows will shed a tear when they're gone. Even if they make a lot of money and are resplendent in the latest fashions, It's the good who will end up wearing the clothes and the decent who will divide up the money. They build elaborate houses that won't survive a single winter. They go to bed wealthy and wake up poor. Terrors pour in on them like flash floods— a tornado snatches them away in the middle of the night, A cyclone sweeps them up—gone! Not a trace of them left, not even a footprint. Catastrophes relentlessly pursue them; they run this way and that, but there's no place to hide— Pummeled by the weather, blown to kingdom come by the storm.'"

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.

"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!

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.

I call to you, God, because I'm sure of an answer. So—answer! bend your ear! listen sharp! Paint grace-graffiti on the fences; take in your frightened children who Are running from the neighborhood bullies straight to you.

Their hearts are hard as nails, their mouths blast hot air. They are after me, nipping my heels, determined to bring me down, Lions ready to rip me apart, young lions poised to pounce. Up, God : beard them! break them! By your sword, free me from their clutches; Barehanded, God , break these mortals, these flat-earth people who can't think beyond today. I'd like to see their bellies swollen with famine food, The weeds they've sown harvested and baked into famine bread, With second helpings for their children and crusts for their babies to chew on.

That's why I'm thanking you, God , all over the world. That's why I'm singing songs that rhyme your name. God's king takes the trophy; God's chosen is beloved. I mean David and all his children— always.

Our children and their children will get in on this As the word is passed along from parent to child. Babies not yet conceived will hear the good news— that God does what he says.

Come, children, listen closely; I'll give you a lesson in God worship.

I once was young, now I'm a graybeard— not once have I seen an abandoned believer, or his kids out roaming the streets. Every day he's out giving and lending, his children making him proud.

class="psalm-title"> A David Psalm Don't bother your head with braggarts or wish you could succeed like the wicked. In no time they'll shrivel like grass clippings and wilt like cut flowers in the sun. Get insurance with God and do a good deed, settle down and stick to your last. Keep company with God , get in on the best. Open up before God , keep nothing back; he'll do whatever needs to be done: He'll validate your life in the clear light of day and stamp you with approval at high noon. Quiet down before God , be prayerful before him. Don't bother with those who climb the ladder, who elbow their way to the top. Bridle your anger, trash your wrath, cool your pipes—it only makes things worse. Before long the crooks will be bankrupt; God -investors will soon own the store. Before you know it, the wicked will have had it; you'll stare at his once famous place and—nothing! Down-to-earth people will move in and take over, relishing a huge bonanza. Bad guys have it in for the good guys, obsessed with doing them in. But God isn't losing any sleep; to him they're a joke with no punch line. Bullies brandish their swords, pull back on their bows with a flourish. They're out to beat up on the harmless, or mug that nice man out walking his dog. A banana peel lands them flat on their faces— slapstick figures in a moral circus. Less is more and more is less. One righteous will outclass fifty wicked, For the wicked are moral weaklings but the righteous are God -strong. God keeps track of the decent folk; what they do won't soon be forgotten. In hard times, they'll hold their heads high; when the shelves are bare, they'll be full. God-despisers have had it; God 's enemies are finished— Stripped bare like vineyards at harvest time, vanished like smoke in thin air. Wicked borrows and never returns; Righteous gives and gives. Generous gets it all in the end; Stingy is cut off at the pass. Stalwart walks in step with God ; his path blazed by God , he's happy. If he stumbles, he's not down for long; God has a grip on his hand. I once was young, now I'm a graybeard— not once have I seen an abandoned believer, or his kids out roaming the streets. Every day he's out giving and lending, his children making him proud. Turn your back on evil, work for the good and don't quit. God loves this kind of thing, never turns away from his friends. Live this way and you've got it made, but bad eggs will be tossed out. The good get planted on good land and put down healthy roots.

No, the children of his servants will get it, The lovers of his name will live in it.

A Solomon Psalm Give the gift of wise rule to the king, O God, the gift of just rule to the crown prince. May he judge your people rightly, be honorable to your meek and lowly. Let the mountains give exuberant witness; shape the hills with the contours of right living. Please stand up for the poor, help the children of the needy, come down hard on the cruel tyrants. Outlast the sun, outlive the moon— age after age after age. Be rainfall on cut grass, earth-refreshing rain showers. Let righteousness burst into blossom and peace abound until the moon fades to nothing. Rule from sea to sea, from the River to the Rim.

If I'd have given in and talked like this, I would have betrayed your dear children. Still, when I tried to figure it out, all I got was a splitting headache... Until I entered the sanctuary of God. Then I saw the whole picture: The slippery road you've put them on, with a final crash in a ditch of delusions. In the blink of an eye, disaster! A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare! We wake up and rub our eyes.... Nothing. There's nothing to them. And there never was.

O God! Your way is holy! No god is great like God! You're the God who makes things happen; you showed everyone what you can do— You pulled your people out of the worst kind of trouble, rescued the children of Jacob and Joseph.

He planted a witness in Jacob, set his Word firmly in Israel, Then commanded our parents to teach it to their children So the next generation would know, and all the generations to come— Know the truth and tell the stories so their children can trust in God, Never forget the works of God but keep his commands to the letter. Heaven forbid they should be like their parents, bullheaded and bad, A fickle and faithless bunch who never stayed true to God.

All they did was sin even more, rebel in the desert against the High God. They tried to get their own way with God, clamored for favors, for special attention. They whined like spoiled children, "Why can't God give us a decent meal in this desert? Sure, he struck the rock and the water flowed, creeks cascaded from the rock. But how about some fresh-baked bread? How about a nice cut of meat?"

A long time ago you spoke in a vision, you spoke to your faithful beloved: "I've crowned a hero, I chose the best I could find; I found David, my servant, poured holy oil on his head, And I'll keep my hand steadily on him, yes, I'll stick with him through thick and thin. No enemy will get the best of him, no scoundrel will do him in. I'll weed out all who oppose him, I'll clean out all who hate him. I'm with him for good and I'll love him forever; I've set him on high—he's riding high! I've put Ocean in his one hand, River in the other; he'll call out, ‘Oh, my Father—my God, my Rock of Salvation!' Yes, I'm setting him apart as the First of the royal line, High King over all of earth's kings. I'll preserve him eternally in my love, I'll faithfully do all I so solemnly promised. I'll guarantee his family tree and underwrite his rule. If his children refuse to do what I tell them, if they refuse to walk in the way I show them, If they spit on the directions I give them and tear up the rules I post for them— I'll rub their faces in the dirt of their rebellion and make them face the music. But I'll never throw them out, never abandon or disown them. Do you think I'd withdraw my holy promise? or take back words I'd already spoken? I've given my word, my whole and holy word; do you think I would lie to David? His family tree is here for good, his sovereignty as sure as the sun, Dependable as the phases of the moon, inescapable as weather."

So don't return us to mud, saying, "Back to where you came from!" Patience! You've got all the time in the world—whether a thousand years or a day, it's all the same to you. Are we no more to you than a wispy dream, no more than a blade of grass That springs up gloriously with the rising sun and is cut down without a second thought? Your anger is far and away too much for us; we're at the end of our rope. You keep track of all our sins; every misdeed since we were children is entered in your books. All we can remember is that frown on your face. Is that all we're ever going to get? We live for seventy years or so (with luck we might make it to eighty), And what do we have to show for it? Trouble. Toil and trouble and a marker in the graveyard. Who can make sense of such rage, such anger against the very ones who fear you?

Oh! Teach us to live well! Teach us to live wisely and well! Come back, God —how long do we have to wait?— and treat your servants with kindness for a change. Surprise us with love at daybreak; then we'll skip and dance all the day long. Make up for the bad times with some good times; we've seen enough evil to last a lifetime. Let your servants see what you're best at— the ways you rule and bless your children. And let the loveliness of our Lord, our God, rest on us, confirming the work that we do. Oh, yes. Affirm the work that we do!