Home Master Index
←Prev   Job 16 as rendered by/in  Next→ 


16:1  Then Job reiterated his innocence.
16:2  Job: All the things from you sound the same. You are all terrible as comforters!
16:3  Have we reached the end of your windy words, or are you sick with something that compels you to argue with me?
16:4  If we were to trade places, I could rattle on as you do. I could compose eloquent speeches as you do and shake my head smugly at you and your problems.
16:5  But I believe I would use my words to encourage you; my lips would move only to offer you relief.
16:6  And yet, I am not you, you are not me, and my words are of no real use: When I speak, my pain is not relieved; if I remain silent, it does not go away.
16:7  God has drained me utterly; He has made those near to me desolate—killed my family and my servants.
16:8  You have shriveled me up; my withered form stands as a witness against me; my body, haggard and thin, testifies to my face.
16:9  In anger He hunts me down and tears at me; in rancor His teeth grind on my flesh; His eyes are locked on me as a foe, eager to destroy still more of me.
16:10  My foes taunt me, their mouths gape in derision, they slap my cheek in disgust, and they conspire against me.
16:11  God has forsaken me to young thugs and flung me into the hands of evildoers who lie in wait for me.
16:12  I was living a good life—a quiet, peaceful life— when He began to beat on me; He throttled my neck, tore me apart, and then propped me up at the far end of the field, making me a target.
16:13  His archers have now gathered around me. In cold blood He splits my belly open and spills my bile on the earth.
16:14  He charged like a soldier storming a stronghold until my walls were breached, broken down, one after another.
16:15  Job: Well, I have sewed the sackcloth to my very skin and buried my mighty forehead in the dirt.
16:16  My face, red and hot, boils over in tears; the shadow of darkness lies heavy on my eyelids,
16:17  No matter that my hands are free of violence, and my prayer is pure.
16:18  O earth, do not conceal my blood! And when they seek to silence my cry, refuse a place for its burial.
16:19  Look! Even at this very moment, my witness is there, in heaven; my advocate is seated on high.
16:20  My only friends scoff at me; they persist in mocking me; even now my eyes well up in tears to God,
16:21  Appealing to God as a mere man, as a human being might for the sake of his friend.
16:22  Only a few years left now, and I will go down the path from which I cannot return.