Job 6
About JobWritten by AI
Job is a long poem framed by a short story. A good man loses his wealth, his children, and his health, and no one tells him why. The writer and the date are unknown: the story is set in the age of the patriarchs, but the book may have been written much later, and Christians hold different views on when. Some Jewish tradition credits Moses.
After two prose chapters, Job and three friends trade speeches in rounds. The friends insist suffering must be punishment for sin; Job insists he is innocent and pleads for God to answer him. A younger man, Elihu, speaks next. Then the LORD Himself answers out of the whirlwind, and the story closes in prose.
Read the friends with care. They say many true things about God, but they apply them wrongly, and at the end God says they have not spoken of Him accurately as Job has (42:7). Watch for Job's flashes of hope in the dark: “I know that my Redeemer lives.”
Before you read Job 6Written by AI
Job replies. His grief outweighs the sand of the sea, which is why his words have been rash. He longs for God to end his life, and he says his friends have failed him like streams that dry up in the heat. He asks them to show him plainly where he has gone wrong.
Job Replies: My Complaint Is Just
Then Job replied:
“If only my grief could be weighed
and placed with my calamity on the scales.
For then it would outweigh the sand of the seas—
no wonder my words have been rash.
For the arrows of the Almighty have pierced me;
my spirit drinks in their poison;
the terrors of God are arrayed against me.
Does a wild donkey bray over fresh grass,
or an ox low over its fodder?
Is tasteless food eaten without salt,
or is there flavor in the white of an egg?
My soul refuses to touch them;
they are loathsome food to me.
If only my request were granted
and God would fulfill my hope:
that God would be willing to crush me,
to unleash His hand and cut me off!
It still brings me comfort,
and joy through unrelenting pain,
that I have not denied
the words of the Holy One.
What strength do I have, that I should still hope?
What is my future, that I should be patient?
Is my strength like that of stone,
or my flesh made of bronze?
Is there any help within me
now that success is driven from me?
A despairing man should have the kindness of his friend,
even if he forsakes the fear of the Almighty.
But my brothers are as faithless as wadis,
as seasonal streams that overflow,
darkened because of the ice
and the inflow of melting snow,
but ceasing in the dry season
and vanishing from their channels in the heat.
Caravans turn aside from their routes;
they go into the wasteland and perish.
The caravans of Tema look for water;
the travelers of Sheba hope to find it.
They are confounded because they had hoped;
their arrival brings disappointment.
For now you are of no help;
you see terror, and you are afraid.
Have I ever said, ‘Give me something;
offer me a bribe from your wealth;
deliver me from the hand of the enemy;
redeem me from the grasp of the ruthless’?
Teach me, and I will be silent.
Help me understand how I have erred.
How painful are honest words!
But what does your argument prove?
Do you intend to correct my words,
and treat as wind my cry of despair?
You would even cast lots for an orphan
and barter away your friend.
But now, please look at me.
Would I lie to your face?
Reconsider; do not be unjust.
Reconsider, for my righteousness is at stake.
Is there iniquity on my tongue?
Can my mouth not discern malice?