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Take a breath, find your place, and read deeply. Discover the joy of reading God’s word with the Immerse New Living Translation (NLT) Bible.
This daily Bible podcast will take you through the Bible in a year following the Immerse Bible Reading Experience. So grab your family and small group and go through the Bible in a year together with Immerse. Each of the 6 volumes is available online or at your favorite Christian bookstore.
Henry: Welcome To Immerse: The
Daily Bible Reading Experience.
Day three hundred and twenty.
Then job spoke again.
I have heard all this before,
what miserable comforters you are.
Won't you ever stop blowing hot air?
I what makes you keep on talking?
I could say the same things.
If you were in my place, I could spout
off criticism and shake my head at you,
but if it were me, I would encourage you.
I would try to take away your grief.
Instead, I suffer.
If I defend myself and I suffer no less.
If I refuse to speak, oh God, you
have ground me down and devastated my
family as if to prove I have sinned.
You've reduced me to skin and bones.
My gaunt flesh testifies against me.
God hates me and angrily tears me apart.
He snaps his teeth at me and
pierces me with his eyes.
People jeer and laugh at me.
They slap my cheek in contempt,
A mob gathers against me.
God has handed me over to sinners.
He has tossed me into
the hands of the wicked.
I was living quietly
until he shattered me.
He took me by the neck
and broke me in pieces.
Then he set me up as his target,
and now his archers surround me.
His arrows pierce me without mercy.
The ground is wet with my blood.
Again and again, he smashes against
me, charging at me like a warrior.
I wear burlap to show my grief.
My pride lies in the dust.
My eyes are red with weeping dark shadows.
Circle my eyes.
Yet I have done no wrong, and
my prayer is pure O Earth.
Do not conceal my blood.
Let it cry out on my behalf.
Even now, my witness is in heaven.
My advocate is there on high.
My friends scorned me, but
I pour out my tears to God.
I need someone to mediate between God and
me as a person, mediates between friends.
For soon I must go down that road
from which I will never return.
My spirit is crushed, and my
life is nearly snuffed out.
The grave is ready to receive me.
I am surrounded by mockers.
I watch how bitterly they taunt me.
You must defend my innocence,
oh God, since no one else will
stand up for me, you have closed
their minds to understanding.
But do not let them triumph.
They betray their friends for
their own advantage, so let
their children faint with hunger.
God has made a mockery of me among
the people they spit in my face.
My eyes are swollen with weeping and
I am, but a shadow of my former self.
The virtuous are horrified
when they see me.
The innocent rise up against the
ungodly, the righteous keep moving
forward, and those with clean
hands become stronger and stronger.
As for all of you, come back with
a better argument, though I still
won't find a wise man among you.
My days are over.
My hopes have disappeared.
My heart's desires are broken.
These men say that night is day.
They claim that the darkness is light.
What if I go to the grave
and make my bed in darkness?
What if I call the grave my father
and the maggot my mother or my sister?
Where then is my hope?
Can anyone find it?
No.
My hope will go down with me to the grave.
We will rest together in the dust.
Then Bill dead.
The shoe height replied, how
long before you stop talking?
Speak sense If you want us to answer.
Do you think we are mere animals?
Do you think we are stupid?
You may tear out your hair and anger,
but will that destroy the earth?
Will it make the rocks tremble?
Surely the light of the
wicked will be snuffed out.
The sparks of their fire will not glow.
The light in their tent will grow dark.
The lamp hanging above
them will be quenched.
The confident stride of the
wicked will be shortened.
Their own schemes will be their downfall.
The wicked walk into a net.
They fall into a pit.
A trap grabs them by the heel.
A snare holds them tight.
A noose lies hidden on the ground.
A rope is stretched across their path.
Terrors surround the wicked
and trouble them at every step.
Hunger depletes their strength and
calamity waits for them to stumble.
Disease, eats their skin
death, devours their limbs.
They are torn from the security
of their homes and are brought
down to the king of terrors.
The homes of the wicked will burn down
burning sulfur reigns on their houses.
Their roots will dry up and
their branches will wither.
All memory of their existence
will fade from the earth.
No one will remember their names.
They will be thrust from light into
darkness, driven from the world.
They will have neither children
nor grandchildren, nor any survivor
in the place where they lived.
People in the West are
appalled at their fate.
People in the East are horrified.
They will say, this was the
home of a wicked person, the
place of one who rejected God.
Then Job spoke again.
How long will you torture me?
How long will you try to
crush me with your words?
You have already insulted me 10 times.
You should be ashamed of treating
me so badly, even if I have sinned.
That is my concern, not yours.
You think you're better than I am
using my humiliation as evidence
of my sin, but it is God who has
wronged me, capturing me and his net.
I cry out help, but no one answers me.
I protest.
But there is no justice.
God has blocked my way, so I cannot move.
He has plunged my path into darkness.
He has stripped me of my honor and
removed the crown from my head.
He has demolished me on every
side, and I am finished.
He has uprooted my hope
like a fallen tree.
His fury burns against me.
He counts me as an enemy.
His troops advance.
They build up roads to attack me.
They camp all around my tent.
My relatives stay far away and my
friends have turned against me.
My family is gone and my close
friends have forgotten me.
My servants and maids
consider me a stranger.
I am like a foreigner to them.
When I call my servant, he doesn't come.
I have to plead with him.
My breath is repulsive to my wife.
I am rejected by my own family.
Even young children despise
me when I stand to speak.
They turn their backs on me.
My close friends detest me.
Those I loved have turned against me.
I have been reduced to skin
and bones and have escaped
death by the skin of my teeth.
Have mercy on me, my friends.
Have mercy for the hand
of God has struck me.
Must you also persecute me like God does?
Haven't you chewed me up enough?
Oh, that my words could be recorded.
Oh, that they could be inscribed
on a monument carved with an
iron chisel, and filled with lead
engraved forever in the rock.
But as for me, I know that
my redeemer lives and he will
stand upon the earth at last.
After my body has decayed yet
in my body, I will see God.
I will see him for myself.
Yes, I will see him with my own eyes.
I am overwhelmed at the thought.
How dare you go on persecuting
me, saying it's his own fault.
You should fear punishment yourselves
for your attitude deserves punishment.
Then you will know that
there is indeed a judgment.
Benzo far, the neite replied.
I must reply because I
am greatly disturbed.
I've had to endure your insults, but
now my spirit prompts me to reply.
Don't you realize that from the beginning
of time, ever since people were first
placed on the earth, the triumph of the
wicked has been short-lived and the joy
of the godless has been only temporary.
Though the pride of the godless reaches
to the heavens and their heads touch the
clouds, yet they will vanish forever,
thrown away like their own dung.
Those who knew them will
ask, where are they?
They will fade like a
dream and not be found.
They will vanish like
a vision in the night.
Those who once saw them
will see them no more.
Their families will never see them again.
Their children will beg from the poor for
they must give back their stolen riches.
Though they are young, their
bones will lie in the dust.
They enjoyed the sweet taste
of wickedness, letting it
melt under their tongue.
They savored it, holding it long
in their mouths, but suddenly the
food in their bellies turned sour,
A poisonous venom in their stomach.
They will vomit the wealth they swallowed.
God won't let them keep it down.
They will suck the poison of cobras.
The Viper will kill them.
They will never again enjoy streams of
olive oil or rivers of milk and honey.
They will give back
everything they worked for.
Their wealth will bring them
no joy for they oppressed the
poor and left them destitute.
They foreclosed on their homes.
They were always greedy
and never satisfied.
Nothing remains of all the things
they dreamed about, nothing is left
after they finish gorging themselves.
Therefore, their prosperity
will not endure in the midst
of plenty, they will run into
trouble and be overcome by misery.
May God give them a belly full of trouble.
May God reign down his anger upon them.
When they try to escape an iron weapon,
a bronze tipped arrow will pierce them.
The arrow is pulled from their back
and the arrow had glistens with blood.
The terrors of death are upon them.
Their treasures will be
thrown into deepest darkness.
A wildfire will devour their goods
consuming All they have left, the
heavens will reveal their guilt and
the earth will testify against them.
A flood will sweep away their house.
God's anger will descend on them.
In Torrance.
This is the reward that
God gives the wicked.
It is the inheritance Decreed by God.
This concludes today's
Immer Reading experience.
Thank you for joining us.