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Listen to this chapter • 2:45

[1] “But now I am mocked by people younger than I, by young men whose fathers are not worthy to run with my sheepdogs.

[2] A lot of good they are to me— those worn-out wretches!

[3] They are gaunt from poverty and hunger. They claw the dry ground in desolate wastelands.

[4] They pluck wild greens from among the bushes and eat from the roots of broom trees.

[5] They are driven from human society, and people shout at them as if they were thieves.

[6] So now they live in frightening ravines, in caves and among the rocks.

[7] They sound like animals howling among the bushes, huddled together beneath the nettles.

[8] They are nameless fools, outcasts from society.

[9] “And now they mock me with vulgar songs! They taunt me!

[10] They despise me and won’t come near me, except to spit in my face.

[11] For God has cut my bowstring. He has humbled me, so they have thrown off all restraint.

[12] These outcasts oppose me to my face. They send me sprawling and lay traps in my path.

[13] They block my road and do everything they can to destroy me. They know I have no one to help me.

[14] They come at me from all directions. They jump on me when I am down.

[15] I live in terror now. My honor has blown away in the wind, and my prosperity has vanished like a cloud.

[16] “And now my life seeps away. Depression haunts my days.

[17] At night my bones are filled with pain, which gnaws at me relentlessly.

[18] With a strong hand, God grabs my shirt. He grips me by the collar of my coat.

[19] He has thrown me into the mud. I’m nothing more than dust and ashes.

[20] “I cry to you, O God, but you don’t answer. I stand before you, but you don’t even look.

[21] You have become cruel toward me. You use your power to persecute me.

[22] You throw me into the whirlwind and destroy me in the storm.

[23] And I know you are sending me to my death— the destination of all who live.

[24] “Surely no one would turn against the needy when they cry for help in their trouble.

[25] Did I not weep for those in trouble? Was I not deeply grieved for the needy?

[26] So I looked for good, but evil came instead. I waited for the light, but darkness fell.

[27] My heart is troubled and restless. Days of suffering torment me.

[28] I walk in gloom, without sunlight. I stand in the public square and cry for help.

[29] Instead, I am considered a brother to jackals and a companion to owls.

[30] My skin has turned dark, and my bones burn with fever.

[31] My harp plays sad music, and my flute accompanies those who weep.

Job — Chapters