Job 30:1-31

  • Job describes his changed situation (1-31)

    • Mocked by worthless ones (1-15)

    • Seemingly no help from God (20, 21)

    • “My skin has blackened” (30)

30  “Now they laugh at me+—Men younger than I am,Whose fathers I would have refusedTo put with the dogs that guarded my flock.   Of what use was the power of their hands to me? Their vigor has perished.   They are worn out from want and hunger;They gnaw at the parched groundThat was already ruined and desolated.   They gather the salt herb from the bushes;Their food is the root of broom trees.   They are driven out of the community;+People shout at them as they would at a thief.   They live on the slopes of ravines,*In holes in the ground and in the rocks.   From the bushes they cry outAnd huddle together among the nettles.   As sons of the senseless and the nameless ones,They have been driven* out of the land.   But now they mock me even in their songs;+I have become an object of scorn* to them.+ 10  They detest me and keep their distance from me;+They do not hesitate to spit in my face.+ 11  Because God has disarmed me* and humbled me,They throw off all restraint* in my presence. 12  On my right they rise up like a mob;They put me to flightAnd put up barriers of destruction in my path. 13  They tear up my roadwaysAnd make my calamity worse,+Without anyone to stop them.* 14  They come as if through a wide breach in the wall;They roll in amid the devastation. 15  Terror overwhelms me;My dignity is driven away like the wind,And my salvation vanishes like a cloud. 16  Now my life* ebbs from me;+Days of affliction+ take hold of me. 17  Aching pierces my bones* at night;+The gnawing pain never stops.+ 18  With great force my garment is disfigured;*Like the collar of my garment, it chokes me. 19  God has thrown me down into the mud;I am reduced to dust and ashes. 20  I cry to you for help, but you do not answer me;+I stand up, but you just look at me. 21  You have cruelly turned against me;+With the full might of your hand, you assault me. 22  You pick me up and carry me off with the wind;Then you toss me about in the storm.* 23  For I know that you will bring me down to death,To the house where everyone living will meet. 24  But no one would strike at a broken man*+As he cries for help during his time of disaster. 25  Have I not wept for those who have fallen on hard times?* Have I* not grieved for the poor?+ 26  Although I hoped for good, bad came;I expected the light, but darkness came. 27  The churning inside me did not stop;Days of affliction confronted me. 28  I walk about gloomy;+ there is no sunlight. In the assembly, I rise and cry for help. 29  I have become a brother to jackalsAnd a companion to the daughters of the ostrich.+ 30  My skin has blackened and fallen off;+My bones burn from the heat.* 31  My harp is used only for mourning,And my flute* for the sound of weeping.


Or “wadis.”
Lit., “scourged.”
Lit., “a proverb; a byword.”
Lit., “loosened my bowstring.”
Or “They cast off the bridle.”
Or possibly, “Without anyone helping them.”
Or “soul.”
Lit., “My bones are bored through.”
Or possibly, “The severity of my affliction disfigures me.”
Or possibly, “dissolve me with a crash.”
Lit., “a heap of ruins.”
Or “who are having a hard day?”
Or “Has my soul.”
Or possibly, “fever.”
Or “pipe.”