Job 30
Even outcasts spit at me
A bunch of nobodies insult me
1But now they make fun of me.These are men younger than me.
Their fathers weren’t fit to sit with my sheep dogs.
2These people [1] are worthless to me.
Any get up and go these nobodies had
Has got up, left, and gone.
3Poor and starving, at the brink of death,
They claw the ground for something to eat.
4They pick leaves from bushes
And eat broom tree roots. [2]
5Civilized people don't want them around,
And chased them away like they’re thieves.
6Some live along gully trails,
Those dry riverbed wadis. [3]
Others in caves and among rocks.
7They huddle behind the bushes
And cry with a bray,
More creature than human.
8They are the insignificant,
The disgraced,
And the driven from the land.
9These are the people who mock me.
I’m the punch line to their vulgar jokes.
Job: They hate me
10They hate meAnd act like they’re better than me.
They spit at the sight of my face.
11God has cut my bowstring,
Leaving me weak and humiliated.
So, these people demean me
Every chance they get.
12These outcasts mob me
And knock me down.
Over and over. It never stops.
13They block my way,
And tear me down.
They don’t need any help for that.
14I have no defenses left.
Nobodies crash in on me whenever they want.
Reputation gone with the wind
15My reputation is blowing in the wind.My wealth flew away with the clouds.
All I have left is terror.
16My life is fading to black.
Dark misery is all I can see.
17My bones ache through the night
Because pain doesn’t sleep.
God is hurting me
18God grabs me by my robe,Pulls me up by my collar
19And throws me to ground,
Like I belong in the dirt.
20I call you, but you say nothing.
I stand, but all you do is stare.
21You’re cruel to me.
You’re powerful,
And you use that power to hurt me.
22You saddle me to a tornado
And tell me to enjoy the ride.
You leave me alone in the storm,
Drenched in the rain.
23I know you’re going to kill me.
You kill everyone.
It’s a fact of life. We all die.
Job: I help people
24I would never refuse to help someoneWhen they call on me in a disaster.
25Didn’t you see me crying
For people facing hard times?
Couldn’t you tell how it hurt me
To watch the needy suffer?
26But when I prayed for help,
All I got was got more pain.
When I looked for life to lighten up,
Darkness came and settled in.
27I’ve got an ache in my gut,
Sick all the time.
28There’s no happy sunshine in my life.
I’m the one crying for help in a crowd.
29But all they hear is the bray of an animal,
A hoot or a howl
A jackal or an owl.
30My skin dries black and falls away
My bones are set on fire.
31All the lyre does is tell me to mourn.
And the flute just makes me cry.
Footnotes
130:2
It’s unclear if Job is talking about the fathers in verse one or the sons. Whichever, here he seems to demean them. But in the verses that follow, he describes them as terribly poor and starving, and he seems to pity them.
230:4
Roots of the Middle Eastern broom tree (Retama raetam) are not for eating. They’re toxic when eaten. Herders of the region eat their fruit and flowers. They also use the fruit, flowers, and leaves as medicine.
330:6
A wadi is usually a dry riverbed in the often dry Middle East. It’s a natural trail when it’s dry. But when rain comes, a wadi can fill very quickly and wash away anyone using the wadi as a pathway.
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