Job 19 – The Amalgamation
I finished this just as I was about to read through Job for my daily read a chapter. It has been almost two years (July 1) since I started down this path. My goal of finishing next year is optimistic, but I really want to finish by June 30, 2024. I really enjoy this, but my pace feels right. Anyway, I know it is helping me, and I pray that it helps someone else as well.
Job 19
Then Job spoke out saying:
How long will you torment me,
Crushing me with words?
Ten times now you have insulted me,
Are you not ashamed to wrong me?
If indeed I have erred,
Does my error adhere to me?
Though you vaunt yourselves above me,
Use my disgrace as an argument against me,
Know then that God has subverted my cause.
Surrounded me with His siege works.
Behold, I cry out of wrong, but am not answered,
I callout, but there is no judgement.
He has hedged my way, I cannot pass.
He has set darkness upon my path.
He has stripped me of my glory,
Taken the crown from my head.
He has broken down every part of me, myself is gone,
He has uprooted hope in myself like a tree.
His anger is kindled against me,
He regards me as His adversary.
His troops advance in force,
Laid up their siege works against me,
Encamped around my tabernacle.
He has alienated me from my brethren,
My acquaintances are wholly estranged from me.
My relatives and intimate friends no longer visit,
The guest in my house have forgotten me.
My slave girls count me as a stranger,
I have become an alien in their eyes.
I summon my servant, but he does not respond,
Though I plead with my own words.
My breath has become repulsive to my wife,
Would be loathsome even to my own children.
Even young children find me revolting,
When I appear, they ridicule.
My close friends and confidants abhor me,
Those I love have turned against me.
My skin and my flesh cling to my bones,
I have escaped with the skin of my teeth,
Have pity on me, you who are my friends, have pity on me,
For the hand of God has touched me.
Why do you, like God, persecute me,
Not satisfied with my flesh?
O that my words were recorded,
That they were inscribed on a copper scroll.
O that with iron pen and with lead,
That they were hewn in rock forever.
For I know that my Redeemer lives,
That on the last day, He will testify upon the dust.
Though my skin has been disfigured,
I behold God’s work in my flesh.
I myself behold Him,
With my own eyes, I see Him,
Not another.
My heart within me is consumed with longing.
When you say, ‘Look how he is persecuted,
The root of the matter must be found in him.”
Be afraid of the sword,
For your iniquity of outrage is worthy of punishment by the sword.
The you will know there is judgement.