Job 15
Eliphaz's Second Response to Job
or
You Presume Too Much
based on Job 15
do you alone have wisdom
Job 15:8
Job 15:8
Then Eliphaz the Temanite replied:
Would a wise man respond with such notions,
or inhale the hot wind from the east?
If he argued with empty emotions,
then what good are his words in the least?
Without reverence, you are not fearful,
and you've hindered devotion to God.
For your sin gives your mouth quite the earful,
and you've chosen the language of fraud.
Your own mouth — and not I — has condemned you;
and your lips, with each word that you blurt.
The first man to be born? I commend you!
But, does that make you older than dirt?
Have you been to God's council and listened?
Is all wisdom dispensed from your vault?
Tell us, what are the things we are missing?
The confusion is clearly our fault.
On our side is the last generation,
even older than your father's birth.
Is God's comfort of no consolation?
Do his gentle, calm words have no worth?
What has gotten you all-fired excited?
Tell us, why are you glaring that way?
All your rage against God has ignited
with the evil and foul words you say.
What is man, that he'd ever be blameless?
Born of woman, yet perfectly right?
Look, God trusts not his holy and nameless;
even heaven’s not pure in his sight.
How less pure is a man — without merit,
who treats sin like its water to drink!
If you'll listen, then I will declare it:
what I've seen, all I know and I think.
So confirmed by the wise men still breathing,
things their fathers had never concealed;
to whom land had been passed by bequeathing,
before strangers had walked through their field.
All his life has the wicked man suffered;
a long life — what the ruthless men lack.
And the terror he hears can't be buffered;
when life's good, still he watches his back.
He despairs of escaping the darkness,
for he knows he is marked for the spear.
Like a vulture that hunts for a carcass;
he’s aware his destruction is near.
Overwhelmed, he lives life filled with anguish,
like a king who's preparing for war;
shakes his fist like God's one he could vanquish
and he's ready to settle a score,
rushing headlong toward God — he is charging
with his thick shield defiantly raised.
Rich and pampered, his jowls are enlarging
and he's bulging with fat at his waist;
he will live in the cities that crumble,
in the houses where nobody sleeps,
in abandoned homes ready to tumble
and are destined to be rubbled heaps.
Now, his riches and wealth will be taken,
his possessions won't spread through the land.
From the darkness, there is no escaping;
for the hot flame of God has been fanned,
like a tree that a fire is burning,
by God's breath he is carried away.
Should he lean on his own self-discerning,
let the empty reward be his pay.
In the prime of his life he'll be taken,
any growth in his branches will stop.
From his vine, unripe grapes will be shaken;
from his olive tree, blossoms will drop.
For the godless are barren tomorrow,
and their homes built on bribes, fire consumes.
When their troubles conceive, they birth sorrow,
for deception is grown in their wombs.
or inhale the hot wind from the east?
If he argued with empty emotions,
then what good are his words in the least?
Without reverence, you are not fearful,
and you've hindered devotion to God.
For your sin gives your mouth quite the earful,
and you've chosen the language of fraud.
Your own mouth — and not I — has condemned you;
and your lips, with each word that you blurt.
The first man to be born? I commend you!
But, does that make you older than dirt?
Have you been to God's council and listened?
Is all wisdom dispensed from your vault?
Tell us, what are the things we are missing?
The confusion is clearly our fault.
On our side is the last generation,
even older than your father's birth.
Is God's comfort of no consolation?
Do his gentle, calm words have no worth?
What has gotten you all-fired excited?
Tell us, why are you glaring that way?
All your rage against God has ignited
with the evil and foul words you say.
What is man, that he'd ever be blameless?
Born of woman, yet perfectly right?
Look, God trusts not his holy and nameless;
even heaven’s not pure in his sight.
How less pure is a man — without merit,
who treats sin like its water to drink!
If you'll listen, then I will declare it:
what I've seen, all I know and I think.
So confirmed by the wise men still breathing,
things their fathers had never concealed;
to whom land had been passed by bequeathing,
before strangers had walked through their field.
All his life has the wicked man suffered;
a long life — what the ruthless men lack.
And the terror he hears can't be buffered;
when life's good, still he watches his back.
He despairs of escaping the darkness,
for he knows he is marked for the spear.
Like a vulture that hunts for a carcass;
he’s aware his destruction is near.
Overwhelmed, he lives life filled with anguish,
like a king who's preparing for war;
shakes his fist like God's one he could vanquish
and he's ready to settle a score,
rushing headlong toward God — he is charging
with his thick shield defiantly raised.
Rich and pampered, his jowls are enlarging
and he's bulging with fat at his waist;
he will live in the cities that crumble,
in the houses where nobody sleeps,
in abandoned homes ready to tumble
and are destined to be rubbled heaps.
Now, his riches and wealth will be taken,
his possessions won't spread through the land.
From the darkness, there is no escaping;
for the hot flame of God has been fanned,
like a tree that a fire is burning,
by God's breath he is carried away.
Should he lean on his own self-discerning,
let the empty reward be his pay.
In the prime of his life he'll be taken,
any growth in his branches will stop.
From his vine, unripe grapes will be shaken;
from his olive tree, blossoms will drop.
For the godless are barren tomorrow,
and their homes built on bribes, fire consumes.
When their troubles conceive, they birth sorrow,
for deception is grown in their wombs.
|
|
|
|
|