Job 4–7: The First Cycle Begins: Eliphaz, and Job's Answer
Scripture: Berean Standard Bible
Then Eliphaz the Temanite replied:
“If one ventures a word with you, will you be wearied?Yet who can keep from speaking?Surely you have instructed many,and have strengthened their feeble hands.Your words have steadied those who stumbled;you have braced the knees that were buckling.But now trouble has come upon you, and you are weary.It strikes you, and you are dismayed.Is your reverence not your confidence,and the uprightness of your ways your hope?
Consider now, I plead:
Who, being innocent, has ever perished?Or where have the upright been destroyed?As I have observed, those who plow iniquityand those who sow trouble reap the same.By the breath of God they perish,and by the blast of his anger they are consumed.The lion may roar, and the fierce lion may growl,yet the teeth of the young lions are broken.The old lion perishes for lack of prey,and the cubs of the lioness are scattered.
Now a word came to me secretly;my ears caught a whisper of it.In disquieting visions in the night,when deep sleep falls on men,fear and trembling came over meand made all my bones shudder.Then a spirit glided past my face,and the hair on my body bristled.It stood still,but I could not discern its appearance;a form loomed before my eyes,and I heard a whispering voice:
‘Can a mortal be more righteous than God,or a man more pure than his Maker?If God puts no trust in his servants,and he charges his angels with error,how much more those who dwell in houses of clay,whose foundations are in the dust,who can be crushed like a moth!They are smashed to pieces from dawn to dusk;unnoticed, they perish forever.Are not their tent cords pulled up,so that they die without wisdom?’“Call out if you please, but who will answer?To which of the holy ones will you turn?For resentment kills a fool,and envy slays the simple.I have seen a fool taking root,but suddenly his house was cursed.His sons are far from safety,crushed in court without a defender.The hungry consume his harvest,taking it even from the thorns,and the thirsty pant after his wealth.For distress does not spring from the dust,and trouble does not sprout from the ground.Yet man is born to troubleas surely as sparks fly upward.
However, if I were you, I would appeal to Godand lay my cause before him—the One who does great and unsearchable things,wonders without number.He gives rain to the earthand sends water upon the fields.He sets the lowly on high,so that mourners are lifted to safety.He thwarts the schemes of the crafty,so that their hands find no success.He catches the wise in their craftiness,and sweeps away the plans of the cunning.They encounter darkness by dayand grope at noon as in the night.He saves the needy from the sword in their mouthand from the clutches of the powerful.So the poor have hope,and injustice shuts its mouth.
Blessed indeed is the man whom God corrects;so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty.For he wounds, but he also binds;he strikes, but his hands also heal.He will rescue you from six calamities;no harm will touch you in seven.In famine he will redeem you from death,and in battle from the stroke of the sword.You will be hidden from the scourge of the tongue,and will not fear havoc when it comes.You will laugh at destruction and famine,and need not fear the beasts of the earth.For you will have a covenant with the stones of the field,and the wild animals will be at peace with you.You will know that your tent is secure,and find nothing amiss when inspecting your home.You will know that your offspring will be many,your descendants like the grass of the earth.You will come to the grave in full vigor,like a sheaf of grain gathered in season.
Indeed, we have investigated, and it is true!So hear it and know for yourself.”
Then Job replied:
“If only my grief could be weighedand 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 grantedand 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 deniedthe 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 menow 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 iceand the inflow of melting snow,but ceasing in the dry seasonand 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 orphanand 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?“Is not man consigned to labor on earth?Are not his days like those of a hired hand?Like a slave he longs for shade;like a hireling he waits for his wages.So I am allotted months of futility,and nights of misery are appointed me.When I lie down I think:‘When will I get up?’But the night drags on,and I toss and turn until dawn.My flesh is clothed with wormsand encrusted with dirt;my skin is cracked and festering.My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle;they come to an end without hope.
Remember that my life is but a breath.My eyes will never again see happiness.The eye that beholds me will no longer see me.You will look for me, but I will be no more.As a cloud vanishes and is gone,so he who goes down to Sheol does not come back up.He never returns to his house;his place remembers him no more.
Therefore I will not restrain my mouth;I will speak in the anguish of my spirit;I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.Am I the sea, or the monster of the deep,that you must keep me under guard?When I think my bed will comfort meand my couch will ease my complaint,then you frighten me with dreamsand terrify me with visions,so that I would prefer strangling and deathover my life in this body.I loathe my life! I would not live forever.Leave me alone, for my days are but a breath.
What is man that you should exalt him,that you should set your heart upon him,that you attend to him every morning,and test him every moment?Will you never look away from me,or leave me alone to swallow my spittle?If I have sinned, what have I done to you,O watcher of mankind?Why have you made me your target,so that I am a burden to you?Why do you not pardon my transgressionand take away my iniquity?For soon I will lie down in the dust;you will seek me, but I will be no more.”