Job answered in the darkness. “How long are you and your friends going to torment me? Have you no shame reproaching an innocent man on his death bed? If I’m guilty, prove it. As I said before, God has dealt this blow against me for reasons I don’t understand. He has stripped me of my glory and left me without any justice, and he no longer answers my prayers.
“In his unjustified anger, God made me his enemy. His legions surround me on every side and attack. My family is gone, and everyone I knew are now strangers. You call yourself my friend, but you utterly fail me. My former house guests have forgotten me. My wife is disgusted with me and sleeps in a neighboring tent. All hope has been ripped up by its roots and goes down with me to the grave.”
Job heard movement in the dark around him and realized he and Bildad were now joined by another party. Whether Zophar or Eliphaz or both, it didn’t matter. They were all equally malignant fixtures in his home.
“Have pity on me, please. God’s hand has crushed me completely. Why do you also batter me with your words? Are you not satisfied that I am a festering bag of dust?
“I wish I could engrave my words in stone for posterity because I know that my Vindicator lives. In the end, he’ll be the last one standing. After I die, he’ll stand beside me at the judgment.”
Inspiration: Job 19
With this last pronouncement, Job carried himself to his tent, leaving his unwelcome guests to stay or go. Closing the goatskin flap behind him, he felt his way in the dark to his bed, and with eyes closed, he prayed.
“My soul is ripped open, and my days are poured out. I’m ready for the grave. The mockers wait outside to provoke me.
“God, give me your word that you’ll preserve my name. You’ve obviously prevented them from understanding, so surely they cannot win in the end. Those who betray their friends curse their own offspring to the same blindness. Eliphaz and his lot have smeared my good name in the dirt where people spit and piss.
“I’m also blind, but from grief, and my body is only a shadow of what it once was. Any sane passerby would groan at my turmoil, but my friends aren’t among them.
“One day the righteous will prevail and come out on top, but for me, my days are done, my plans have been dashed, and all my hope is gone. If I go and embrace the grave as my father and welcome the worms as my mother and sister, where is the hope? I’ll tell you where! My hope has gone with me into the dust from whence I came.”
Inspiration: Job 17
“I’m weak,” Job said almost in a whisper. “How weak and frail are all mortals. How full of sorrow. A man flourishes for an instant, then like a spring blossom, he withers.
“Why are you so severe with us? Why do you demand a payment of blood for our impurities when we’re born impure?
“Why can’t you give mortals a break? Unlike the tree, we’re here for a moment, and then we die. If a tree comes down, even an ancient tree, it grows again with a little water. But cut a man down and bury him, and where’s his soul?
“Like water drying up from a lake, we lie down, never to rise again unless the heavens fall. I wish you’d hide me in the grave for a time, but remember me when all is said and done. Is that wishful thinking? After we die, will we live again? The thought of it soothes my torment, giving me a strange hope in death.”
Inspiration: Job 14