Job 30
30
Mockers
1But now those younger than I mock me,
whose fathers I refused to put beside my sheepdogs.
2Their strength, what’s it to me,
their energy having perished?
3Stiff from want and hunger,
those who gnaw dry ground,
yesterday’s desolate waste,
4who pluck off the leaves on a bush,
the root of the broom—
a shrub is their food.
5People banish them from society,
shout at them as if to a thief;
6so they live in scary ravines,
holes in the ground and rocks.
7Among shrubs, they make sounds like donkeys;
they are huddled together under a bush,
8children of fools and the nameless,
whipped out of the land.
Specific mocking behavior
9And now I’m their song;
I’m their cliché!
10They detest me, keep their distance,
don’t withhold spit from my face.
11Because he loosened my bowstring and afflicted me,
they throw off restraint in my presence.
12On the right, upstarts#30.12 Heb uncertain rise and target my feet,
build their siege ramps against me,
13destroy my road, profit from my fall,
with no help.
14They advance as if through a destroyed wall;#30.14 Or a wide opening
they roll along beneath the ruin.
15Terrors crash upon me;
they sweep away my honor like wind;
my safety disappears like a cloud.
Accusation against God
16Now my life is poured out on me;
days of misery have seized me.
17At night he bores my bones;
my gnawing pain won’t rest.
18With great force he grasps#30.18 LXX my clothing;#30.18 Heb uncertain
it binds me like the neck of my shirt.
19He hurls me into mud;
I’m a cliché, like dust and ashes.
20I cry to you, and you don’t answer;
I stand up, but you just look at me.
21You are cruel to me,
attack me with the strength of your hand.
22You lift me to the wind and make me ride;
you melt me in its roar.
23I know you will return me to death,
the house appointed for all the living.
Job’s agony
24Surely he won’t strike someone in ruins
if in distress he cries out to him,
25if I didn’t weep for those who have a difficult day
or my soul grieve for the needy;
26for I awaited good, but evil came;
I expected light, but gloom arrived.
27My insides, churning, are never quiet;
days of affliction confront me.
28I walk in the dark, lacking sunshine;
I rise in the assembly and cry out.
29I have become a brother to jackals,
a companion to young ostriches.
30My skin is charred;
my bones are scorched by the heat.
31My lyre is for mourning,
my flute, a weeping sound.
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Job 30: CEB
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