Old Testament · Poetry and wisdom

Job chapter 13

My own eyes have seen every bit of this. My own ears heard it and worked it out.Whatever you know, I know. I don’t come up short next to any of you.But it is I want to speak to. It is God I want to with.You three the truth. Every one of you is a doctor who cures nothing.If only the three of you would shut your mouths completely. That would be the wisest thing you have done yet.Now hear my argument. Pay attention to my own lips are making.Are you going to speak crookedly on God’s behalf? Are you going to lie for him?Will you show him favoritism? Will you be the ones who argue God’s side in court?Would it go well for you if he you the way you are examining me? Can you trick him the way a man gets tricked?He will put you in your place, absolutely he will, if you play favorites behind closed doors.Won’t the sheer weight of him terrify you? Won’t the dread of him fall on you?Your wise sayings are proverbs made of ash. Your defenses are walls of wet clay.Be quiet and let me talk. Then let whatever is coming come.Why do I carry my own flesh in my teeth and ?Look — he may well kill me. . I am still going to defend the way I have lived, right to his face.And that alone will be my — no man with something to hide would come anywhere near him.Listen. Listen closely to what I am about to say. Let my statement go all the way into your ears.There — I have . I know I will be .Who is going to bring a charge against me? Because if anyone can make it stick, I will go quiet and die.Only two things — don’t do these to me, and then I won’t hide from your face.Take your hand off me, and stop terrifying me with your dread.Then call, and I will answer. Or let me speak, and you answer me.How many and failures do I actually have? Show me the . Show me where I failed.Why do you from me and treat me like your ?Are you really going to terrorize a leaf the wind is already carrying off? Are you going to run down a piece of dry straw?Because you against me and hand me back the wrongs I did when I was young.You lock my feet in . You watch every path I take. You scratch a line around the soles of my feet.And a man wears through like something rotting, like a coat the moths have already eaten.