JOB.
Chapter 15.
Then Eliphaz from Teman replied ⌞to Job⌟, 
“Should a wise person answer with endless details and fill his stomach with the east wind? 
Should he argue with words that don’t help, with speeches that don’t help ⌞anyone⌟? 
Yes, you destroy the fear ⌞of God⌟ and diminish devotion to God. 
Your sin teaches you what to say. You choose ⌞to talk with⌟ a sly tongue. 
Your ⌞own⌟ mouth condemns you, not I. Your lips testify against you. 
“Were you the first human to be born? Were you delivered before the hills ⌞existed⌟? 
Did you listen in on God’s council meeting and receive a monopoly on wisdom? 
What do you know that we don’t know? What do you understand that we don’t? 
Both the old and the gray-haired are among us. They are older than your father. 
Isn’t God’s comfort enough for you, even when gently spoken to you? 
Why have your emotions carried you away? Why do your eyes flash 
when you turn against God and spit these words out of your mouth? 
Why should a mortal be considered faultless or someone born of a woman be considered righteous? 
If God doesn’t trust his holy ones, and the heavens are not pure in his sight, 
how much less will he trust the one who is disgusting and corrupt, the one who drinks wickedness like water. 
“I’ll tell you; listen to me! I’ll relate what I have seen. 
I’ll tell you what wise people have declared and what was not kept secret from their ancestors. 
(The land was given to them alone, and no stranger passed through their land.) 
“The wicked person is tortured all his days. Only a few years are reserved for the ruthless person. 
Terrifying sounds are in his ears. While he enjoys peace, the destroyer comes to him. 
He doesn’t believe he’ll return from the dark. He is destined ⌞to be killed⌟ with a sword. 
He wanders around for food and asks, ‘Where is it?’ He knows that his ruin is close at hand. 
“The day of darkness troubles him. Distress and anguish terrify him like a king ready for battle. 
He stretches out his hand against God and attacks the Almighty like a warrior. 
He stubbornly charges at him with a thick shield. 
“His face is bloated with fat, and he is fat around the waist. 
He lives in ruined cities where no one dwells, in houses that are doomed to be piles of rubble. 
He won’t get rich, and his wealth won’t last. His possessions won’t spread out over the land. 
“He won’t escape the darkness. A flame will shrivel his branches. He will be blown away by his own breath. 
He shouldn’t trust in worthless things and deceive himself because he will get worthless things in return. 
It will happen before his time has come, and his branch will not become green. 
He will drop his unripened grapes like a vine and throw off his blossoms like an olive tree 
because a mob of godless people produces nothing, and fire burns up the tents of those who offer bribes. 
They conceive trouble and give birth to evil. Their wombs produce deception.” 
