The Message (MSG)

There’s Nothing to My Life

1-6 “Human life is a struggle, isn’t it?

It’s a life sentence to hard labor.

Like field hands longing for quitting time

and working stiffs with nothing to hope for but payday,

I’m given a life that meanders and goes nowhere—

months of aimlessness, nights of misery!

I go to bed and think, ‘How long till I can get up?’

I toss and turn as the night drags on—and I’m fed up!

I’m covered with maggots and scabs.

My skin gets scaly and hard, then oozes with pus.

My days come and go swifter than the click of knitting needles,

and then the yarn runs out—an unfinished life!

7-10 “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.

11-16 “And so I’m not keeping one bit of this quiet,

I’m laying it all out on the table;

my complaining to high heaven is bitter, but honest.

Are you going to put a muzzle on me,

the way you quiet the sea and still the storm?

If I say, ‘I’m going to bed, then I’ll feel better.

A little nap will lift my spirits,’

You come and so scare me with nightmares

and frighten me with ghosts

That I’d rather strangle in the bedclothes

than face this kind of life any longer.

I hate this life! Who needs any more of this?

Let me alone! There’s nothing to my life—it’s nothing

but smoke.

17-21 “What are mortals anyway, that you bother with them,

that you even give them the time of day?

That you check up on them every morning,

looking in on them to see how they’re doing?

Let up on me, will you?

Can’t you even let me spit in peace?

Even suppose I’d sinned—how would that hurt you?

You’re responsible for every human being.

Don’t you have better things to do than pick on me?

Why make a federal case out of me?

Why don’t you just forgive my sins

and start me off with a clean slate?

The way things are going, I’ll soon be dead.

You’ll look high and low, but I won’t be around.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/7-30afd4cbd51bd3ded91486297361c970.mp3?version_id=97—

Does God Mess Up?

1-7 Bildad from Shuhah was next to speak:

“How can you keep on talking like this?

You’re talking nonsense, and noisy nonsense at that.

Does God mess up?

Does God Almighty ever get things backward?

It’s plain that your children sinned against him—

otherwise, why would God have punished them?

Here’s what you must do—and don’t put it off any longer:

Get down on your knees before God Almighty.

If you’re as innocent and upright as you say,

it’s not too late—he’ll come running;

he’ll set everything right again, reestablish your fortunes.

Even though you’re not much right now,

you’ll end up better than ever.

To Hang Your Life from One Thin Thread

8-19 “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.

20-22 “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.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/8-025187c24103c73ac30f42f911a7e5cb.mp3?version_id=97—

How Can Mere Mortals Get Right with God?

1-13 Job continued by saying:

“So what’s new? I know all this.

The question is, ‘How can mere mortals get right with God?’

If we wanted to bring our case before him,

what chance would we have? Not one in a thousand!

God’s wisdom is so deep, God’s power so immense,

who could take him on and come out in one piece?

He moves mountains before they know what’s happened,

flips them on their heads on a whim.

He gives the earth a good shaking up,

rocks it down to its very foundations.

He tells the sun, ‘Don’t shine,’ and it doesn’t;

he pulls the blinds on the stars.

All by himself he stretches out the heavens

and strides on the waves of the sea.

He designed the Big Dipper and Orion,

the Pleiades and Alpha Centauri.

We’ll never comprehend all the great things he does;

his miracle-surprises can’t be counted.

Somehow, though he moves right in front of me, I don’t see him;

quietly but surely he’s active, and I miss it.

If he steals you blind, who can stop him?

Who’s going to say, ‘Hey, what are you doing?’

God doesn’t hold back on his anger;

even dragon-bred monsters cringe before him.

14-20 “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.

If God’s Not Responsible, Who Is?

21-24 “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?

25-31 “My time is short—what’s left of my life races off

too fast for me to even glimpse the good.

My life is going fast, like a ship under full sail,

like an eagle plummeting to its prey.

Even if I say, ‘I’ll put all this behind me,

I’ll look on the bright side and force a smile,’

All these troubles would still be like grit in my gut

since it’s clear you’re not going to let up.

The verdict has already been handed down—‘Guilty!’—

so what’s the use of protests or appeals?

Even if I scrub myself all over

and wash myself with the strongest soap I can find,

It wouldn’t last—you’d push me into a pigpen, or worse,

so nobody could stand me for the stink.

32-35 “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.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/9-4840df67b051b357fd695d5cbc514299.mp3?version_id=97—

To Find Some Skeleton in My Closet

1 “I can’t stand my life—I hate it!

I’m putting it all out on the table,

all the bitterness of my life—I’m holding back nothing.”

2-7 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.

8-12 “You made me like a handcrafted piece of pottery—

and now are you going to smash me to pieces?

Don’t you remember how beautifully you worked my clay?

Will you reduce me now to a mud pie?

Oh, that marvel of conception as you stirred together

semen and ovum—

What a miracle of skin and bone,

muscle and brain!

You gave me life itself, and incredible love.

You watched and guarded every breath I took.

13-17 “But you never told me about this part.

I should have known that there was more to it—

That if I so much as missed a step, you’d notice and pounce,

wouldn’t let me get by with a thing.

If I’m truly guilty, I’m doomed.

But if I’m innocent, it’s no better—I’m still doomed.

My belly is full of bitterness.

I’m up to my ears in a swamp of affliction.

I try to make the best of it, try to brave it out,

but you’re too much for me,

relentless, like a lion on the prowl.

You line up fresh witnesses against me.

You compound your anger

and pile on the grief and pain!

18-22 “So why did you have me born?

I wish no one had ever laid eyes on me!

I wish I’d never lived—a stillborn,

buried without ever having breathed.

Isn’t it time to call it quits on my life?

Can’t you let up, and let me smile just once

Before I die and am buried,

before I’m nailed into my coffin, sealed in the ground,

And banished for good to the land of the dead,

blind in the final dark?”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/10-aaa0798038d2b6a79055629a55966683.mp3?version_id=97—

How Wisdom Looks from the Inside

1-6 Now it was the turn of Zophar from Naamath:

“What a flood of words! Shouldn’t we put a stop to it?

Should this kind of loose talk be permitted?

Job, do you think you can carry on like this and we’ll say nothing?

That we’ll let you rail and mock and not step in?

You claim, ‘My doctrine is sound

and my conduct impeccable.’

How I wish God would give you a piece of his mind,

tell you what’s what!

I wish he’d show you how wisdom looks from the inside,

for true wisdom is mostly ‘inside.’

But you can be sure of this,

you haven’t gotten half of what you deserve.

7-12 “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 overhiseyes!

Hollow men, hollow women, will wise up

about the same time mules learn to talk.

Reach Out to God

13-20 “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.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/11-19a01b66c20ebbd5a950f7ae0459df37.mp3?version_id=97—

Put Your Ear to the Earth

1-3 Job answered:

“I’m sure you speak for all the experts,

and when you die there’ll be no one left to tell us how to live.

But don’t forget that I also have a brain—

I don’t intend to play second fiddle to you.

It doesn’t take an expert to know these things.

4-6 “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.

7-12 “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

thatGodis 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?

From God We Learn How to Live

13-25 “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.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/12-8c0d30f41fc0db4fdfa3f6ff11ad21e1.mp3?version_id=97—

I’m Taking My Case to God

1-5 “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.

6-12 “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

convinceGod?

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.

13-19 “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.

Why Does God Stay Hidden and Silent?

20-27 “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.

28 “Like something rotten, human life fast decomposes,

like a moth-eaten shirt or a mildewed blouse.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/13-7cfcffc067d4a975965ca4efad6e4eb2.mp3?version_id=97—

If We Die, Will We Live Again?

1-17 “We’re all adrift in the same boat:

too few days, too many troubles.

We spring up like wildflowers in the desert and then wilt,

transient as the shadow of a cloud.

Do you occupy your time with such fragile wisps?

Why even bother hauling me into court?

There’s nothing much to us to start with;

how do you expect us to amount to anything?

Mortals have a limited life span.

You’ve already decided how long we’ll live—

you set the boundary and no one can cross it.

So why not give us a break? Ease up!

Even ditchdiggers get occasional days off.

For a tree there is always hope.

Chop it down and it still has a chance—

its roots can put out fresh sprouts.

Even if its roots are old and gnarled,

its stump long dormant,

At the first whiff of water it comes to life,

buds and grows like a sapling.

But men and women? They die and stay dead.

They breathe their last, and that’s it.

Like lakes and rivers that have dried up,

parched reminders of what once was,

So mortals lie down and never get up,

never wake up again—never.

Why don’t you just bury me alive,

get me out of the way until your anger cools?

But don’t leave me there!

Set a date when you’ll see me again.

If we humans die, will we live again? That’s my question.

All through these difficult days I keep hoping,

waiting for the final change—for resurrection!

Homesick with longing for the creature you made,

you’ll call—and I’ll answer!

You’ll watch over every step I take,

but you won’t keep track of my missteps.

My sins will be stuffed in a sack

and thrown into the sea—sunk in deep ocean.

18-22 “Meanwhile, mountains wear down

and boulders break up,

Stones wear smooth

and soil erodes,

as you relentlessly grind down our hope.

You’re too much for us.

As always, you get the last word.

We don’t like it and our faces show it,

but you send us off anyway.

If our children do well for themselves, we never know it;

if they do badly, we’re spared the hurt.

Body and soul, that’s it for us—

a lifetime of pain, a lifetime of sorrow.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/14-2daa98d903cc9e5ce577f24d3bddadab.mp3?version_id=97—

You Trivialize Religion

1-16 Eliphaz of Teman spoke a second time:

“If you were truly wise, would you sound so much like a

windbag, belching hot air?

Would you talk nonsense in the middle of a serious argument,

babbling baloney?

Look at you! You trivialize religion,

turn spiritual conversation into empty gossip.

It’s your sin that taught you to talk this way.

You chose an education in fraud.

Your own words have exposed your guilt.

It’s nothing I’ve said—you’ve incriminated yourself!

Do you think you’re the first person to have to deal with these things?

Have you been around as long as the hills?

Were you listening in when God planned all this?

Do you think you’re the only one who knows anything?

What do you know that we don’t know?

What insights do you have that we’ve missed?

Gray beards and white hair back us up—

old folks who’ve been around a lot longer than you.

Are God’s promises not enough for you,

spoken so gently and tenderly?

Why do you let your emotions take over,

lashing out and spitting fire,

Pitting your whole being against God

by letting words like this come out of your mouth?

Do you think it’s possible for any mere mortal to be sinless in God’s sight,

for anyone born of a human mother to get it all together?

Why, God can’t even trust his holy angels.

He sees the flaws in the very heavens themselves,

So how much less we humans, smelly and foul,

who lap up evil like water?

Always at Odds with God

17-26 “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 whattheywere 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.

27-35 “Even if they’re the picture of health,

trim and fit and youthful,

They’ll end up living in a ghost town

sleeping in a hovel not fit for a dog,

a ramshackle shack.

They’ll never get ahead,

never amount to a hill of beans.

And then death—don’t think they’ll escape that!

They’ll end up shriveled weeds,

brought down by a puff of God’s breath.

There’s a lesson here: Whoever invests in lies,

gets lies for interest,

Paid in full before the due date.

Some investment!

They’ll be like fruit frost-killed before it ripens,

like buds sheared off before they bloom.

The godless are fruitless—a barren crew;

a life built on bribes goes up in smoke.

They have sex with sin and give birth to evil.

Their lives are wombs for breeding deceit.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/15-d8bba00061e798c2136080d26cd6f2eb.mp3?version_id=97—

If You Were in My Shoes

1-5 Then Job defended himself:

“I’ve had all I can take of your talk.

What a bunch of miserable comforters!

Is there no end to your windbag speeches?

What’s your problem that you go on and on like this?

If you were in my shoes,

I could talk just like you.

I could put together a terrific harangue

and really let you have it.

But I’d never do that. I’d console and comfort,

make things better, not worse!

6-14 “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.

15-17 “I sewed myself a shroud and wore it like a shirt;

I lay facedown in the dirt.

Now my face is blotched red from weeping;

look at the dark shadows under my eyes,

Even though I’ve never hurt a soul

and my prayers are sincere!

The One Who Represents Mortals Before God

18-22 “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.”

—https://d1b84921e69nmq.cloudfront.net/85/32k/JOB/16-94a2ef85ad0136a685a835551c18a917.mp3?version_id=97—