Study Desk

"God, don't forget that I'm only a puff of air! These eyes have had their last look at goodness. And your eyes have seen the last of me; even while you're looking, there'll be nothing left to look at. When a cloud evaporates, it's gone for good; those who go to the grave never come back. They don't return to visit their families; never again will friends drop in for coffee.

"Put the question to our ancestors, study what they learned from their ancestors. For we're newcomers at this, with a lot to learn, and not too long to learn it. So why not let the ancients teach you, tell you what's what, instruct you in what they knew from experience? Can mighty pine trees grow tall without soil? Can luscious tomatoes flourish without water? Blossoming flowers look great before they're cut or picked, but without soil or water they wither more quickly than grass. That's what happens to all who forget God— all their hopes come to nothing. They hang their life from one thin thread, they hitch their fate to a spider web. One jiggle and the thread breaks, one jab and the web collapses. Or they're like weeds springing up in the sunshine, invading the garden, Spreading everywhere, overtaking the flowers, getting a foothold even in the rocks. But when the gardener rips them out by the roots, the garden doesn't miss them one bit. The sooner the godless are gone, the better; then good plants can grow in their place.

"There's no way that God will reject a good person, and there is no way he'll help a bad one. God will let you laugh again; you'll raise the roof with shouts of joy, With your enemies thoroughly discredited, their house of cards collapsed."

"So how could I ever argue with him, construct a defense that would influence God? Even though I'm innocent I could never prove it; I can only throw myself on the Judge's mercy. If I called on God and he himself answered me, then, and only then, would I believe that he'd heard me. As it is, he knocks me about from pillar to post, beating me up, black-and-blue, for no good reason. He won't even let me catch my breath, piles bitterness upon bitterness. If it's a question of who's stronger, he wins, hands down! If it's a question of justice, who'll serve him the subpoena? Even though innocent, anything I say incriminates me; blameless as I am, my defense just makes me sound worse.

"Believe me, I'm blameless. I don't understand what's going on. I hate my life! Since either way it ends up the same, I can only conclude that God destroys the good right along with the bad. When calamity hits and brings sudden death, he folds his arms, aloof from the despair of the innocent. He lets the wicked take over running the world, he installs judges who can't tell right from wrong. If he's not responsible, who is?

"God and I are not equals; I can't bring a case against him. We'll never enter a courtroom as peers. How I wish we had an arbitrator to step in and let me get on with life— To break God's death grip on me, to free me from this terror so I could breathe again. Then I'd speak up and state my case boldly. As things stand, there is no way I can do it."

Job prayed: "Here's what I want to say: Don't, God, bring in a verdict of guilty without letting me know the charges you're bringing. How does this fit into what you once called ‘good'— giving me a hard time, spurning me, a life you shaped by your very own hands, and then blessing the plots of the wicked? You don't look at things the way we mortals do. You're not taken in by appearances, are you? Unlike us, you're not working against a deadline. You have all eternity to work things out. So what's this all about, anyway—this compulsion to dig up some dirt, to find some skeleton in my closet? You know good and well I'm not guilty. You also know no one can help me.

"Do you think you can explain the mystery of God? Do you think you can diagram God Almighty? God is far higher than you can imagine, far deeper than you can comprehend, Stretching farther than earth's horizons, far wider than the endless ocean. If he happens along, throws you in jail then hauls you into court, can you do anything about it? He sees through vain pretensions, spots evil a long way off— no one pulls the wool over his eyes! Hollow men, hollow women, will wise up about the same time mules learn to talk.

"Still, if you set your heart on God and reach out to him, If you scrub your hands of sin and refuse to entertain evil in your home, You'll be able to face the world unashamed and keep a firm grip on life, guiltless and fearless. You'll forget your troubles; they'll be like old, faded photographs. Your world will be washed in sunshine, every shadow dispersed by dayspring. Full of hope, you'll relax, confident again; you'll look around, sit back, and take it easy. Expansive, without a care in the world, you'll be hunted out by many for your blessing. But the wicked will see none of this. They're headed down a dead-end road with nothing to look forward to—nothing."

"I'm ridiculed by my friends: ‘So that's the man who had conversations with God!' Ridiculed without mercy: ‘Look at the man who never did wrong!' It's easy for the well-to-do to point their fingers in blame, for the well-fixed to pour scorn on the strugglers. Crooks reside safely in high-security houses, insolent blasphemers live in luxury; they've bought and paid for a god who'll protect them.

"But ask the animals what they think—let them teach you; let the birds tell you what's going on. Put your ear to the earth—learn the basics. Listen—the fish in the ocean will tell you their stories. Isn't it clear that they all know and agree that God is sovereign, that he holds all things in his hand— Every living soul, yes, every breathing creature? Isn't this all just common sense, as common as the sense of taste? Do you think the elderly have a corner on wisdom, that you have to grow old before you understand life?

"True wisdom and real power belong to God; from him we learn how to live, and also what to live for. If he tears something down, it's down for good; if he locks people up, they're locked up for good. If he holds back the rain, there's a drought; if he lets it loose, there's a flood. Strength and success belong to God; both deceived and deceiver must answer to him. He strips experts of their vaunted credentials, exposes judges as witless fools. He divests kings of their royal garments, then ties a rag around their waists. He strips priests of their robes, and fires high officials from their jobs. He forces trusted sages to keep silence, deprives elders of their good sense and wisdom. He dumps contempt on famous people, disarms the strong and mighty. He shines a spotlight into caves of darkness, hauls deepest darkness into the noonday sun. He makes nations rise and then fall, builds up some and abandons others. He robs world leaders of their reason, and sends them off into no-man's-land. They grope in the dark without a clue, lurching and staggering like drunks."

"Yes, I've seen all this with my own eyes, heard and understood it with my very own ears. Everything you know, I know, so I'm not taking a backseat to any of you. I'm taking my case straight to God Almighty; I've had it with you—I'm going directly to God. You graffiti my life with lies. You're a bunch of pompous quacks! I wish you'd shut your mouths— silence is your only claim to wisdom.

"Listen now while I make my case, consider my side of things for a change. Or are you going to keep on lying ‘to do God a service'? to make up stories ‘to get him off the hook'? Why do you always take his side? Do you think he needs a lawyer to defend himself? How would you fare if you were in the dock? Your lies might convince a jury—but would they convince God? He'd reprimand you on the spot if he detected a bias in your witness. Doesn't his splendor put you in awe? Aren't you afraid to speak cheap lies before him? Your wise sayings are knickknack wisdom, good for nothing but gathering dust.

"So hold your tongue while I have my say, then I'll take whatever I have coming to me. Why do I go out on a limb like this and take my life in my hands? Because even if he killed me, I'd keep on hoping. I'd defend my innocence to the very end. Just wait, this is going to work out for the best—my salvation! If I were guilt-stricken do you think I'd be doing this— laying myself on the line before God? You'd better pay attention to what I'm telling you, listen carefully with both ears. Now that I've laid out my defense, I'm sure that I'll be acquitted. Can anyone prove charges against me? I've said my piece. I rest my case.

"Please, God, I have two requests; grant them so I'll know I count with you: First, lay off the afflictions; the terror is too much for me. Second, address me directly so I can answer you, or let me speak and then you answer me. How many sins have been charged against me? Show me the list—how bad is it? Why do you stay hidden and silent? Why treat me like I'm your enemy? Why kick me around like an old tin can? Why beat a dead horse? You compile a long list of mean things about me, even hold me accountable for the sins of my youth. You hobble me so I can't move about. You watch every move I make, and brand me as a dangerous character.

"I've a thing or two to tell you, so listen up! I'm letting you in on my views; It's what wise men and women have always taught, holding nothing back from what they were taught By their parents, back in the days when they had this land all to themselves: Those who live by their own rules, not God's, can expect nothing but trouble, and the longer they live, the worse it gets. Every little sound terrifies them. Just when they think they have it made, disaster strikes. They despair of things ever getting better— they're on the list of people for whom things always turn out for the worst. They wander here and there, never knowing where the next meal is coming from— every day is doomsday! They live in constant terror, always with their backs up against the wall Because they insist on shaking their fists at God, defying God Almighty to his face, Always and ever at odds with God, always on the defensive.

"When I speak up, I feel no better; if I say nothing, that doesn't help either. I feel worn down. God, you have wasted me totally—me and my family! You've shriveled me like a dried prune, showing the world that you're against me. My gaunt face stares back at me from the mirror, a mute witness to your treatment of me. Your anger tears at me, your teeth rip me to shreds, your eyes burn holes in me—God, my enemy! People take one look at me and gasp. Contemptuous, they slap me around and gang up against me. And God just stands there and lets them do it, lets wicked people do what they want with me. I was contentedly minding my business when God beat me up. He grabbed me by the neck and threw me around. He set me up as his target, then rounded up archers to shoot at me. Merciless, they shot me full of arrows; bitter bile poured from my gut to the ground. He burst in on me, onslaught after onslaught, charging me like a mad bull.

"O Earth, don't cover up the wrong done to me! Don't muffle my cry! There must be Someone in heaven who knows the truth about me, in highest heaven, some Attorney who can clear my name— My Champion, my Friend, while I'm weeping my eyes out before God. I appeal to the One who represents mortals before God as a neighbor stands up for a neighbor. "Only a few years are left before I set out on the road of no return."

"O God, pledge your support for me. Give it to me in writing, with your signature. You're the only one who can do it! These people are so useless! You know firsthand how stupid they can be. You wouldn't let them have the last word, would you? Those who betray their own friends leave a legacy of abuse to their children.