Job 30:20-31
Job 30:20-31 The Message (MSG)
“I shout for help, God, and get nothing, no answer! I stand to face you in protest, and you give me a blank stare! You’ve turned into my tormenter— you slap me around, knock me about. You raised me up so I was riding high and then dropped me, and I crashed. I know you’re determined to kill me, to put me six feet under. “What did I do to deserve this? Did I ever hit anyone who was calling for help? Haven’t I wept for those who live a hard life, been heartsick over the lot of the poor? But where did it get me? I expected good but evil showed up. I looked for light but darkness fell. My stomach’s in a constant churning, never settles down. Each day confronts me with more suffering. I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone. I stand in the congregation and protest. I howl with the jackals, I hoot with the owls. I’m black-and-blue all over, burning up with fever. My fiddle plays nothing but the blues; my mouth harp wails laments.”
Job 30:20-31 King James Version (KJV)
I cry unto thee, and thou dost not hear me: I stand up, and thou regardest me not. Thou art become cruel to me: With thy strong hand thou opposest thyself against me. Thou liftest me up to the wind; thou causest me to ride upon it, And dissolvest my substance. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. Howbeit he will not stretch out his hand to the grave, Though they cry in his destruction. Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the poor? When I looked for good, then evil came unto me: And when I waited for light, there came darkness. My bowels boiled, and rested not: The days of affliction prevented me. I went mourning without the sun: I stood up, and I cried in the congregation. I am a brother to dragons, And a companion to owls. My skin is black upon me, And my bones are burned with heat. My harp also is turned to mourning, And my organ into the voice of them that weep.
Job 30:20-31 New American Standard Bible - NASB 1995 (NASB1995)
I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer me; I stand up, and You turn Your attention against me. You have become cruel to me; With the might of Your hand You persecute me. You lift me up to the wind and cause me to ride; And You dissolve me in a storm. For I know that You will bring me to death And to the house of meeting for all living. “Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, Or in his disaster therefore cry out for help? Have I not wept for the one whose life is hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? When I expected good, then evil came; When I waited for light, then darkness came. I am seething within and cannot relax; Days of affliction confront me. I go about mourning without comfort; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help. I have become a brother to jackals And a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black on me, And my bones burn with fever. Therefore my harp is turned to mourning, And my flute to the sound of those who weep.
Job 30:20-31 New Century Version (NCV)
“I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you just look at me. You have turned on me without mercy; with your powerful hand you attacked me. You snatched me up and threw me into the wind and tossed me about in the storm. I know you will bring me down to death, to the place where all living people must go. “Surely no one would hurt those who are ruined when they cry for help in their time of trouble. I cried for those who were in trouble; I have been very sad for poor people. But when I hoped for good, only evil came to me; when I looked for light, darkness came. I never stop being upset; days of suffering are ahead of me. I have turned black, but not by the sun. I stand up in public and cry for help. I have become a brother to wild dogs and a friend to ostriches. My skin has become black and peels off, as my body burns with fever. My harp is tuned to sing a sad song, and my flute is tuned to moaning.
Job 30:20-31 American Standard Version (ASV)
I cry unto thee, and thou dost not answer me: I stand up, and thou gazest at me. Thou art turned to be cruel to me; With the might of thy hand thou persecutest me. Thou liftest me up to the wind, thou causest me to ride upon it; And thou dissolvest me in the storm. For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. Howbeit doth not one stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? When I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness. My heart is troubled, and resteth not; Days of affliction are come upon me. I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help. I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches. My skin is black, and falleth from me, And my bones are burned with heat. Therefore is my harp turned to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of them that weep.
Job 30:20-31 New International Version (NIV)
“I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me. You turn on me ruthlessly; with the might of your hand you attack me. You snatch me up and drive me before the wind; you toss me about in the storm. I know you will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all the living. “Surely no one lays a hand on a broken man when he cries for help in his distress. Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor? Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness. The churning inside me never stops; days of suffering confront me. I go about blackened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. I have become a brother of jackals, a companion of owls. My skin grows black and peels; my body burns with fever. My lyre is tuned to mourning, and my pipe to the sound of wailing.
Job 30:20-31 New King James Version (NKJV)
“I cry out to You, but You do not answer me; I stand up, and You regard me. But You have become cruel to me; With the strength of Your hand You oppose me. You lift me up to the wind and cause me to ride on it; You spoil my success. For I know that You will bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living. “Surely He would not stretch out His hand against a heap of ruins, If they cry out when He destroys it. Have I not wept for him who was in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor? But when I looked for good, evil came to me; And when I waited for light, then came darkness. My heart is in turmoil and cannot rest; Days of affliction confront me. I go about mourning, but not in the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help. I am a brother of jackals, And a companion of ostriches. My skin grows black and falls from me; My bones burn with fever. My harp is turned to mourning, And my flute to the voice of those who weep.
Job 30:20-31 Amplified Bible (AMP)
“I cry to You for help, [Lord,] but You do not answer me; I stand up, but You [only] gaze [indifferently] at me. “You have become harsh and cruel to me; With the might of Your hand You [keep me alive only to] persecute me. “You lift me up on the wind and cause me to ride [upon it]; And You toss me about in the tempest and dissolve me in the storm. “For I know that You will bring me to death And to the house of meeting [appointed] for all the living. ¶“However, does not one falling in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand? Or in his disaster [will he not] therefore cry out for help? “Did I not weep for one whose life was hard and filled with trouble? Was not my heart grieved for the needy? “When I expected good, then came evil [to me]; And when I waited for light, then came darkness. “I am seething within and my heart is troubled and cannot rest; Days of affliction come to meet me. “I go about mourning without comfort [my skin blackened by disease, not by the heat of the sun]; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help. “I am a brother to [howling] jackals, And a companion to ostriches [which scream dismally]. “My skin falls from me in blackened flakes, And my bones are burned with fever. “Therefore my lyre (harp) is used for [the sound of] mourning, And my flute for the [sound of the] voices of those who weep.
Job 30:20-31 New Living Translation (NLT)
“I cry to you, O God, but you don’t answer. I stand before you, but you don’t even look. You have become cruel toward me. You use your power to persecute me. You throw me into the whirlwind and destroy me in the storm. And I know you are sending me to my death— the destination of all who live. “Surely no one would turn against the needy when they cry for help in their trouble. Did I not weep for those in trouble? Was I not deeply grieved for the needy? So I looked for good, but evil came instead. I waited for the light, but darkness fell. My heart is troubled and restless. Days of suffering torment me. I walk in gloom, without sunlight. I stand in the public square and cry for help. Instead, I am considered a brother to jackals and a companion to owls. My skin has turned dark, and my bones burn with fever. My harp plays sad music, and my flute accompanies those who weep.
Job 30:20-31 English Standard Version 2016 (ESV)
I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me. You have turned cruel to me; with the might of your hand you persecute me. You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm. For I know that you will bring me to death and to the house appointed for all living. “Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in his disaster cry for help? Did not I weep for him whose day was hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? But when I hoped for good, evil came, and when I waited for light, darkness came. My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction come to meet me. I go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. I am a brother of jackals and a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat. My lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.